<?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-1127209242024322389</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:57:56.401-07:00</updated><category term='peacocks'/><category term='lake'/><category term='happy hour'/><category term='summer'/><category term='margaritas'/><category term='ornaments'/><category term='giraffes'/><category term='Seattle'/><category term='parade'/><title type='text'>fancy peacock</title><subtitle type='html'>all dressed up and nowhere to go</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-8451785545038215967</id><published>2009-04-20T20:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T16:55:02.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the peacockerator</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;EMP = exceptionally melodramatic princess?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;EMP = eloquently marching peacock?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;EMP = &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.empsfm.org/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;experience music project&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;SFM = single female monkey?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;SFM = seventeen fantastic meatloaves?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;No!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;SFM = science fiction museum!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And here in Seattle, you can get them both *at the same venue*, all for the low low price of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;. When you go on the first Thursday of every month, that is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I did just that a few weeks ago. I'd been to the EMP way back in my high school days but didn't really take the time to appreciate it, so I was excited to go back as a real live, real mature adult. Alas, I didn't factor in the free factor, which meant that every other cheapskate in the city would be there as well. With their babies. In strollers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Still, it was kind of fun to mill around. The best part is where they have the "Sound Lab" where you can practice playing real instruments and get tutorials from the computer. It's like Rock Band, except you actually have to play the instrument "correctly" rather than just hitting buttons. So naturally I was exceptionally good at it. Ha. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SfD-hlOAlLI/AAAAAAAAAJM/OYqdEWEXeU8/s400/peacockerator.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328038212059305138" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The new feature was the Science Fiction Museum downstairs, and believe it or not this was my favorite part. This coming from a girl who's read maybe four sci fi books in her life and has never seen Star Wars, Star Trek, or any other such nerdery. But I learned a lot, that's for sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Like, I'm not the only person who's obsessed with robots. At least cute, cartoony ones. There was a whole ROOM full of miniatures there. It brought me right back to the days when I loved The Jetsons and wanted a &lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/CS/blogs/strollerderby/rosie.jpg"&gt;Rosie&lt;/a&gt; for my very own. All of these robots had names too! Which made me think, if I were a robot, what would my name be? The Peacockerator, methinks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-8451785545038215967?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/8451785545038215967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=8451785545038215967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/8451785545038215967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/8451785545038215967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2009/04/peacockerator.html' title='the peacockerator'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SfD-hlOAlLI/AAAAAAAAAJM/OYqdEWEXeU8/s72-c/peacockerator.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-826047163911802701</id><published>2009-04-20T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T17:42:13.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Vitamin D(elightful)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;OK, Springtime has got me motivated to blog again. Really, though, I have so many good excuses for letting it fall off my list of things to do:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1. Broken printer made self-portraits impossible to print.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;2. A wicked injury only compounded my laziness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;3. Umm....maybe that's it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Don't worry, though, I've got tons of anecdotes saved up to share!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Let me start with a story that involves hard boiled eggs, oiled middle-aged men, spoiled girls, and foiled meal plans. (ha! rhyming is fun!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;**********************************************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sunday brought a moderately warm day in Seattle, and what better place to spend it than at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.seattle.gov/parks/park_detail.asp?ID=243"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Golden Gardens&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;? The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/seattle"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;yelp&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; crowd was holding a barbecue, and not just any bbq, but a food-eating contest. You know, hot dogs with the buns soaked in water, hard-boiled eggs, watermelon. The kind where if you don't puke, you lose. Gluttony at its best. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Like an idiot I ate a huge brunch right beforehand so wasn't able to partake in the full festivities. This freed me up to be time-keeper for the first contest--egg eating. I'll spare you the details, but the winner was able to down eight eggs in only two minutes. (Insert moment of silence for the Chickens That Weren't because of this event.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/Se5nCJdVZCI/AAAAAAAAAJE/updgxqgDafs/s400/golden+gardens.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327308695822230562" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Of course any good day at the beach involves some intense people-watching. We weren't disappointed, for sitting at the adjacent table was a svelt young gentleman of approximately 50 years of age. His pasty skin and bird legs were out in all their glory. I'm not sure what his goal was--it was hardly warm enough to be in just shorts, and hardly sunny enough to catch a tan--but he was wholly unconcerned. If you got it, flaunt it, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And there was this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;totally&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; spoiled girl hanging around! She was playing volleyball with her boyfriend, except she had this hurkin cast on her left foot. Of course she wasn't very quick and her skills were rusty--basically she stood there hitting the ball in all directions while the poor guy went chasing after it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Then she threw a big fit when he wanted to eat &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;her &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Cheetos. She got what was coming to her, though, because a second later a gust of wind sent the whole plate flying upside-down, and the only person who got to enjoy those chips was Lola the Dog. Spoiled Girl almost cried. Karma's not so nice, is it, girly? (note: that girl was me)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-826047163911802701?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/826047163911802701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=826047163911802701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/826047163911802701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/826047163911802701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2009/04/vitamin-delightful.html' title='Vitamin D(elightful)'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/Se5nCJdVZCI/AAAAAAAAAJE/updgxqgDafs/s72-c/golden+gardens.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-3500179333276488622</id><published>2008-12-21T12:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T13:24:12.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the water cycle</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;As Sissy and I frolicked in the snow at Green Lake the other day, I reached another level of understanding about the water cycle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Anyone who knows me knows about my beef with Condensation (shudder). I never thought I would despise any form of water more than those pesky droplets that seem to pop up at the most inconvenient time. But ladies and gentlemen, I give you my SECOND least favorite part of the water cycle...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;SLUSH!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SU6viJkDyJI/AAAAAAAAAII/zM9pUpKZw7c/s320/IMG_2269.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282352414169745554" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Vile substance! Ruining otherwise beautiful snow. Staining my oh-so-classy Ugg boots. Seeping up the legs of my (mostly) clean jeans. Collecting dirty street water. Ick! Ick! Ick! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;But once I was able to quench the rage that boiled within me and tore my eyes from the cesspool at my feet, I was able to enjoy the scenery. And what better way to enjoy the scenery than to add your own personal touch to it, in the form of a snow angel? That's what I thought too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SU6sBIU2xPI/AAAAAAAAAIA/h2RpUGXGn9M/s320/JCs+037.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282348548366976242" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Here's the conversation that preceded this picture:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sissy: I dare you to do a snow angel!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Alli: Mmmm...no thanks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;(pause)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sissy (sounding hopeful): Do you dare &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;to do a snow angel?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Well, I'm not one to be showed up, so we both did them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ahh, to be 6 again. Before it was frowned upon for adults to whitewash each other. Before I didn't mind getting soaking wet from playing in the snow. Before the stupid water cycle became apparent in my everyday life...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-3500179333276488622?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/3500179333276488622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=3500179333276488622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/3500179333276488622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/3500179333276488622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/12/water-cycle.html' title='the water cycle'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SU6viJkDyJI/AAAAAAAAAII/zM9pUpKZw7c/s72-c/IMG_2269.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-3468695614420729512</id><published>2008-12-07T10:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T19:52:54.481-08:00</updated><title type='text'>secret santa surprise!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I opened the mailbox to find a package addressed to *me*! I ripped it open and found these two adorable pendants inside, straight from my favorites list. The only problem was, I hadn't placed an order from them. Curious...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/ST3rPNRbllI/AAAAAAAAAHo/LPKBVpxH_Lc/s320/IMG_2229.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277632984841426514" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't worry, I didn't commit theft. My friends and I do a secret santa gift exchange every year, and whoever drew my name must have had the items sent directly to my doorstep. Best friend EVAR (even though I still don't know her identity)!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, you have to check out their shop, &lt;a href="http://homestudio.etsy.com/"&gt;HomeStudio&lt;/a&gt;. The specialize in pendants made out of Scrabble tiles with the letter on one side and a glossy image on the other. There's a crazy selection of designs--flowers! birds! patterns! vespas! phrases! and all of them so stinkin' cute! I was going to post pictures of more of my favorites, but there are too gosh-darn many. Go there! Go there now!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-3468695614420729512?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/3468695614420729512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=3468695614420729512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/3468695614420729512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/3468695614420729512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/12/secret-santa-surprise.html' title='secret santa surprise!'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/ST3rPNRbllI/AAAAAAAAAHo/LPKBVpxH_Lc/s72-c/IMG_2229.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-158182811751917562</id><published>2008-12-04T19:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T19:49:00.512-08:00</updated><title type='text'>going once...going twice...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I don't know if you knew this, but I'm quite a catch. This was no news to me, so in an effort to harness that power, I put myself up for auction to raise money for a worthy cause (The Arthritis Foundation). Yes, indeed, one lucky person would be the recipient of two and a half hours of time with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;moi! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;And if that wasn't enough sugar, I also agreed to throw in a home-made pie to sweeten the deal. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/STTBXn4EjFI/AAAAAAAAAHg/x3yyg-VSRGs/s400/IMG_2191_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275053675143007314" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Alright, let me back up a step. I signed up to do the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.seattlejinglebellrun.org/site/PageServer"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Jingle Bell Run&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; with a team of fellow yelpers, and we decided to try and be the top fund-raising team. People were throwing all kinds of ideas out there--bake sales, karaoke night, etc. Then someone suggested a date auction, and I jumped all over that scheme. At first I offered to do a combination bake-a-cake, then jump-out-of-it prize, but was asked to tone it down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The worst part of the experience was having to write a review of myself. How to convey what a catch I am without sounding conceited? It took me several hours (two minutes) late at night (during my lunch break) to perfect &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/alli-d-seattle#hrid:k8wvVNKymUZWeXFkr3c_Sg"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;this masterpiece&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Clearly my words of wisdom paid off. Rather than having no one bid on me, as I'd feared, there apparently was a bit of a bidding war going on over Miss FancyPeacock! I ended up being the 'prize' that raked in the most money--$150! If anyone ever told you it doesn't feel good to have a price attached to you, they were LYING! Because as the bids went up, so did my self esteem.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Sad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;There was no live bidding, as my drawing would suggest. Instead this event all took place via the Internets, where those interested would privately place their bid to the man in charge. I have yet to go on this 'date,' but will fill in all the deets after it happens, have no fear! And while it might be too late for YOU to bid on me, feel free to donate to the cause anyway!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-158182811751917562?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/158182811751917562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=158182811751917562' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/158182811751917562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/158182811751917562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/12/going-oncegoing-twice.html' title='going once...going twice...'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/STTBXn4EjFI/AAAAAAAAAHg/x3yyg-VSRGs/s72-c/IMG_2191_2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-6323060811595988658</id><published>2008-12-01T19:08:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T20:57:58.327-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the oh-snap!-ple cup</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yeah yeah, I know it's a little belated, but can we just talk about the Apple Cup for a minute? I'm a Coug fan to the core, and I did some serious trash-talking the weeks before the big game against the Huskies. Even wore my WSU sweatshirt to school the day before to make sure everyone knew where my loyalties lied. (laid? I'm good at grammar) Anyway, even though I was excited for the game I wasn't so sure they were actually going to pull it off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Despite my worries, I hopped on the good ol' public transit an hour before the game and headed to lovely Georgetown, where a group of my friends were gathering to watch the game at the Marco Polo. It was quite a harrowing experience involving all kinds of odors from people of all walks of life, natch. I'm not going to lie to you and say that my own pits were dry when I stepped off the bus, but I made it there in one pi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;ece at least.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Let me tell you a little bit about the Marco Polo. It made good first impressions, with a marquee that was pro-Cougs and a sea of Crimson upon entering. Decor was pretty sparse, probably because they'd spent all their budget on a real-live Nascar to put in the corner (well worth it, if you ask me)! Somehow my friends had managed to snag the only table with its own built-in fireplace, and we cuddled up with some plush footballs (purchased at Bartell's) to do some major rah-rah-ing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The bartender/waiters were right on top of things, and within 2 minutes of sitting down I had already Tapped The Rockies and was sipping a $2 pint of Coors Light. Then, after only another 2 minutes, a basket o' bacon was randomly dropped off at our table. Were we about to ask questions? No. And as if things couldn't get any better, my team wasn't even losing yet! (They weren't ahead, either, but that's besides the point.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;At halftime, after our bacon appetizer, we ordered Cougar Gold Cheeseburgers, made with cheese from Pullman's infamous Ferdinand's Dairy. I asked for jo-jo's with mine, but apparently it was my lucky day because they accidentally brought their house fries--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;crinkle-cut &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;fries--instead. And then brought the jo-jo's too. Man, did I get my fill of starch. I may have eaten my weight in their fry sauce too. Each table had its very own bottle of the stuff. Dangerous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 243px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/STS9651k8pI/AAAAAAAAAHY/Wkn-BmAjUhw/s400/IMG_2193.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275049883213296274" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So, ya. The Cougs trailed til the 4th quarter, then miraculously tied it up at the last minute. Then, my new best friend--the UW kicker--totally missed some clutch field goals and we WON in double overtime. Oh, SNAP!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Pictured above: My interpretation of the Glory that is the Marco Polo. And yes, I *am* doing The Sprinkler.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-6323060811595988658?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/6323060811595988658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=6323060811595988658' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/6323060811595988658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/6323060811595988658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/12/oh-snap-ple-cup.html' title='the oh-snap!-ple cup'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/STS9651k8pI/AAAAAAAAAHY/Wkn-BmAjUhw/s72-c/IMG_2193.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-2788876003997259727</id><published>2008-11-18T19:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T19:46:16.332-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ringy-dingy</title><content type='html'>Look at how cute this is! I was browsing etsy.com a minute ago, and this caught my eye. Here's the &lt;a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?ref=cat2_list_4&amp;amp;listing_id=15176570"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;. I think I would walk a little taller with this on my finger. &lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 289px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SSOLTH4czBI/AAAAAAAAAHI/QMkF7cGRbsI/s320/il_430xN.37835164.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270209149603204114" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-2788876003997259727?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/2788876003997259727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=2788876003997259727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2788876003997259727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2788876003997259727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/11/ringy-dingy.html' title='ringy-dingy'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SSOLTH4czBI/AAAAAAAAAHI/QMkF7cGRbsI/s72-c/il_430xN.37835164.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-5517443209857277533</id><published>2008-10-05T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-05T10:00:01.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'>peacock and grinder, sittin' in a tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And now, a snippet of the conversation inside my head while I was eating an Italian Grinder from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.royalgrinders.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Royal Grinders&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; last night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Peacock: "I am in love with this sandwich."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Immature taunting voice: "So why don't you marry it?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Peacock: "Yes. I will. Italian Grinder will be my king and I shall be his queen."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Immature taunting voice: *pause* "I know you are, but what am I?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Peacock: "That doesn't even make sense. Leave me alone with my sandwich."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SOQYruJdiwI/AAAAAAAAAGA/8ElVLj9F_WY/s400/royal+grinders.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252350204821998338" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;uh. ma. gawd. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that Royal Grinder might be the best sandwich I've ever had. Start with a yummy soft-on-the-inside, flaky-on-the-outside french bread roll, add a generous helping of pepperoni, salami, and other various meats, top with read onion and cheese, and bake until bubbly. *drools* It's like the best pizza you ever had, except in sandwich form. And without the messy sauce. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Tried gelato for the first time, too. Business was a little slow, so the guy working let us have more than the usual 2-sample limit. Spicy Chocolate? A little POW! in the background. Raspberry? Classic. Rose? Dainty! And so healthy for you! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Note To Sissy: Next time, I'm getting my own sandwich. I'm all about sharing and all, but don't you be comin' between me and my love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-5517443209857277533?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/5517443209857277533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=5517443209857277533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/5517443209857277533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/5517443209857277533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/10/peacock-and-grinder-sittin-in-tree.html' title='peacock and grinder, sittin&apos; in a tree'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SOQYruJdiwI/AAAAAAAAAGA/8ElVLj9F_WY/s72-c/royal+grinders.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-2607205871956990031</id><published>2008-10-04T08:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T08:30:00.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tastes (cough!) like chicken</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;This summer Sissy and I had a contest to see who could run around Green Lake the most times. We never bothered to define any stakes for the bet, but tensions were high as the tallies started adding up. I won't say who won (because I'm humble and don't like to brag), but I can proudly say that I learned a lot about my community during my twice-weekly(ish) jaunts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;If you ever make it out to Green Lake, here are some people you can expect to meet:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SNGGYeCcuWI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/DfOkWJnIouQ/s200/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247122795801655650" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;1. Spanish Lessons. Possibly the most famous of all lake frequenter, this gentleman &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;roams the south side of the lake offering language lessons while you walk. Never asked what his price is; maybe it's free. You'll recognize him by the large white plastic vest he wears that says SPANISH LESSONS in big red letters. And also because, in my opinion, he looks a bit like the Pringles man with white hair. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;2. Roller Skater Man. This guy rocks his way around the lake on old-school roller skates, listening to the music in his head (I never notice any headphones) and doing fancy footwork.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;3. Bulldog in the Baby Stroller. Enough said there. But makes one wonder: does this dog have a disability?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;4. Poor-Man's Circus Performers. Several people do some crazy stunts. Tightropes strung between trees. Stilt-runners. Really Tall or Strangely Propelled Bicycles. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SOQTlDP32UI/AAAAAAAAAF4/JyBkyjL_JSo/s400/greenlake+bugs.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252344592668809538" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;5. Girl Who Eats Live Insects. Otherwise knows as fancypeacock writer. (me!) I swear, I must have inhaled at least 5 gnats this summer. And each time, it would be halfway up my nose/down my windpipe before I could react. Oh well, down the hatch! (And to the ones up my nose: Where did you end up? Are you still there?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-2607205871956990031?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/2607205871956990031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=2607205871956990031' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2607205871956990031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2607205871956990031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/10/tastes-cough-like-chicken.html' title='tastes (cough!) like chicken'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SNGGYeCcuWI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/DfOkWJnIouQ/s72-c/images.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-9078199560663203014</id><published>2008-09-28T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T17:01:08.485-07:00</updated><title type='text'>brew ha ha!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Oktoberfest, Part Two (zwei)!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Day 2 of the Fremont Oktoberfest was slightly more family-(and figure-!) friendly. It was the Brew Ha-Ha! 5k fun run. And who can show up to a German-themed run without proper attire? 99% of the participants, as it turns out. The other 1%? That would be Cousin and me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SOQOwH0szFI/AAAAAAAAAFw/CfgW_6A5B9s/s400/brew+ha+ha.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252339285317438546" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;After committing to do the run on Saturday evening, we each went to our respective sewing machines to whip up an original costume. Cousin's involved a Value-Village tutu, a green felt skirt to go over the top, a quaint peasant top, and a brown and green dirndl. I dug through Sissy's fabric stash and fashioned some lederhosen out of some brown canvas and big ol' gold buttons. Ya, I know, they're traditionally men's wear, but I made them more lady-friendly with a generous helping of pink ric-rac. If we had planned ahead, we could have gone to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mydirndl.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;mydirndl.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; for all of our German wardrobe needs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Anyway, we got all gussied up early Sunday morning and headed down to Fremont. It wasn't until we were walking toward the registration booth that I started to realize: No one else was dressed up. No, no. There were hundreds of young athletes there, all in their hardest-core running gear. To any outsider, it would have looked like the starting line for the New York marathon. Except for us. We certainly got some funny looks. What, like they'd never seen two girls running a three-mile race in argyle knee socks? Pfft. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The race itself was uneventful. It maybe wasn't the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;fastest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; I'd ever run, but dang. I looked good. Too bad they only gave out trophies to people who "Finished First." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-9078199560663203014?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/9078199560663203014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=9078199560663203014' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/9078199560663203014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/9078199560663203014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/09/brew-ha-ha.html' title='brew ha ha!'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SOQOwH0szFI/AAAAAAAAAFw/CfgW_6A5B9s/s72-c/brew+ha+ha.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-7366343306121746964</id><published>2008-09-23T17:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T18:28:50.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>and even more culture</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ahh, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fremontoktoberfest.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Fremont Oktoberfest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;. A Seattle institution since 1997, and voted one of USA Today's Top Ten Oktoberfests In The World! (There were a lop of caps in that sentence. So you know it's good.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SNmXD-yiuJI/AAAAAAAAAFo/_9RjsUKt4qA/s400/IMG_1743_3.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249392935327414418" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Cousin and I braved the possibility of rain on Saturday evening for the opportunity to listen to some live music, sample some local beers, people-watch some unique individuals, appreciate fine German culture, and apparently (though no one warned me of this in advance), run into ex-boyfriends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So, here's the scoop: You show up, pay $20, get a miniature plastic mug (stein) and some tokens, and are let loose among hundreds of other young Seattleites who love them some beers (biers). You can purchase some sausages (wurst) or Ye Olde Kettle Korn and listen to traditional German musicians like Justin Timberlake and Chingy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;There are around four different tents with beers you can sample. Make sure you also bring your patience, because the lines can get a little longish, and since the mugs are so mini, you're better off getting straight back in line as soon as you get your pour. (But that's how I usually roll anyway!) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Please allow me to digress for a moment to coin a new term:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;thirstynoyed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;|thur.sti.noid| &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;adj.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;  the feeling of irritation caused by extreme thirst &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;      (see also)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;hangry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; |hain.gree| &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;adj.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; the feeling of irritation caused by extreme hunger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;     (see also)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;hypothermad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; |hi.poh.thur.mad| &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;adj.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; feeling of irritation caused by extreme cold&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Thank you. More on Day 2 of the Oktoberfest experience later. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-7366343306121746964?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/7366343306121746964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=7366343306121746964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7366343306121746964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7366343306121746964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/09/and-even-more-culture.html' title='and even more culture'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SNmXD-yiuJI/AAAAAAAAAFo/_9RjsUKt4qA/s72-c/IMG_1743_3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-624315890919496673</id><published>2008-09-17T19:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T20:36:30.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a dose of culture</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Fact: On the 2nd Thursday of every month, West Seattle has an art walk. (Check out their blog &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://westseattleartwalk.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;here!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;) Businesses feature local artists and stay open late so people, such as Yours Truly (as depicted below), can stroll around and get a glimpse of the art scene of the moment. &lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SNHLZiptpAI/AAAAAAAAAFg/DJ_8J3f3TG0/s400/IMG_1739.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247198680522269698" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;For reasons that would require a whole different blog entry, I went last week for the first time. It was a lovely evening, and my companion and I took a nice long walk down California and did some browsing. I've been to art walks in other neighborhoods, like Ballard and Greenwood, but this one was exceptionally cool. The art was amazing, and all the people were so friendly! Plus some places had snacks and wine laid out, equally as artfully as the pieces on display. (As I've said before, I'd eat a piece of bark smothered in pond scum if it was presented in an appealing manner!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Featured in my own sad attempt at artwork today is a clipping from a postcard I picked up along the way. The art was by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dianeculhaneart.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Diane Culhane &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;and was some of the coolest I saw. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Good job, West Seattle. It was well worth the drive from Seattle Proper. (Note to self: next Second Thursday, go with a companion who doesn't give me The Tights.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-624315890919496673?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/624315890919496673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=624315890919496673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/624315890919496673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/624315890919496673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/09/dose-of-culture.html' title='a dose of culture'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SNHLZiptpAI/AAAAAAAAAFg/DJ_8J3f3TG0/s72-c/IMG_1739.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-7649977022407037430</id><published>2008-09-16T18:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T18:43:05.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>adventures in public transport</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SNBc4n7HFZI/AAAAAAAAAFI/pXkyTC1v4Fs/s1600-h/IMG_1731_2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SNBc4n7HFZI/AAAAAAAAAFI/pXkyTC1v4Fs/s400/IMG_1731_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246795693745968530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ridden the Metro lately? I'm a big fan. For only a measly $1.50, you get whisked away to any location you might desire without having to worry about sitting in traffic, dealing with road rage, or parking fees!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I hopped on the 16 (my favorite route!) last Friday to head downtown for a haircut. For maybe the first time ever, I felt like I knew what I was doing as I slid my fare into the coin machine, asked for a transfer, and took a seat. And, unlike the last time I rode, I didn't trip while going up the steps! So cool. So collected. So urban.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The trip there was uneventful; lots of young working-folk with their iPods and No Eye Contact. The ride home however, which took place at around 1:00, had a slightly different feel. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I just barely missed one bus, so I had a good twenty minute wait at the busstop on 3rd and Bell. Cue Old Lady with Walker and Cigarette Addiction, who sidled up beside me. I took the opportunity to casually step away and brush up on all the downtown routes, courtesy of the large Metro Kiosk nearby. Excellent. Board the bus (finally) and remember to Pay As You Leave. Sit down next to nice young woman reading the Bible and decide to forego the iPod and just people watch. There were several tourists aboard, asking other patrons and the driver about where they should get off. Only once did the bus actually stop at a random street corner to let said tourists dismount, as they were headed in the complete wrong direction. A nice young woman, clearly a Seattleite, was helpful in figuring that out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A few minutes into the ride, my phone rang, and feeling like a jerk, I answered it. While I gabbed with Sissy, a fight ensued between the afore-mentioned nice young woman and her riding partner, an older woman in a wheelchair. Think mud-slinging, obscenity-laced argument. Some key phrases: "ya &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;bleep&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;in freeloader!" and "yer makin a fool outta yerself!" Anyway, the rest of the bus fell into an uncomfortable silence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;As soon as I ended my phone conversation, I got a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;tap-tap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; on the shoulder from a dear older man sitting across the aisle. "Shouldn't the driver ask them to get off?" he wanted my opinion. Since the ladies were in clear earshot, I felt awkward answering, so I gave a vague nod. He proceeded to entertain me for the next 15 minutes with PG jokes ("What kind of lights were on Noah's Ark? FLOOD lights!"), his philosophy on life ("People should just take life one day at a time and not freak out over little things), and some classroom suggestions for me when he found out I was a teacher (Leaf rubbings for fall! Who knew?!). Oh yeah, and he gave me his copy of the Seattle Times so I could brush up on my current events. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So, for you newbies, here are some tips for riding public transit:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1. Know where the route is going BEFORE you board.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;2. Watch your step while you board.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;3. Never EVER forego the iPod.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;On the upside, you will most likely dismount feeling like the most normal person in the world!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-7649977022407037430?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/7649977022407037430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=7649977022407037430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7649977022407037430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7649977022407037430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/09/adventures-in-public-transport.html' title='adventures in public transport'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SNBc4n7HFZI/AAAAAAAAAFI/pXkyTC1v4Fs/s72-c/IMG_1731_2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-7859163113500235010</id><published>2008-08-19T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T20:16:59.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is so unfair.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.anthropologie.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Anthropologie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; is the kind of store that makes me ask myself, "Why oh WHY can't I win the lottery?" Because everything in there is so dang cute. But, alas, it is a tad on the expensive side. But, really, just go in there and admire all the dainty, lady-like dresses and sweaters with sweet little appliques. Try to keep your squealing to a minimum (it's something I have a hard time with). Or, if you can't make it to the store, go to my oldest sister's house and look in her closet. Every time I see her, she's wearing something totally adorable, and when asked where she got it, her answer is invariably, "Anthro!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I am in love with their housewares and other knick-knacks mostly. I was getting heart palpitations when I was in here the other day. Take a look!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Peacock-themed Notebooks!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SKuIzIoxF-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/GY-H1RCA2uo/s320/p_00085.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236429403821512674" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Birdy Plates!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SKuIzRUdI_I/AAAAAAAAAE4/M8KAxIlKAbI/s320/p_00086.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236429406152238066" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Generally Covetable Kitchen Accoutrements!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SKuIzboKQ5I/AAAAAAAAAFA/pxqNkpN08nk/s320/p_00087.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236429408919241618" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Someday it will all be mine. Oh yes, it WILL be mine!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-7859163113500235010?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/7859163113500235010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=7859163113500235010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7859163113500235010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7859163113500235010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/08/life-is-so-unfair.html' title='Life is so unfair.'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SKuIzIoxF-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/GY-H1RCA2uo/s72-c/p_00085.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-7447552606285267940</id><published>2008-08-07T17:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T18:00:30.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>priceless!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Would you pay $300,000 for this little number? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SJuX9Z64cEI/AAAAAAAAAEo/QaB6GMjWZBY/s320/i12181482601118198043.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231942473306632258" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I know I would! If I had that kind of cash lying around, that is. Alas, some Elvis fan beat me to the punch. Apparently this was his favorite jumpsuit. Can you blame him? Just listen to this description (quoted from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://ca.news.yahoo.com/s/capress/080807/entertainment/elvis_peacock_jumpsuit"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;this article&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"The white outfit with a plunging V-neck and high collar features a blue-and-gold peacock design hand-embroidered on the front and back and along the pant legs. It is cinched at the waist by a wide belt decorated in gold medallions in a design resembling the eye of a peacock feather."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Those have got to be the 2 greatest sentences ever constructed in the English language. I mean, it's no wonder he became The King. The man had style. I gotta get me some of that action.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-7447552606285267940?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/7447552606285267940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=7447552606285267940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7447552606285267940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7447552606285267940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/08/priceless.html' title='priceless!'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SJuX9Z64cEI/AAAAAAAAAEo/QaB6GMjWZBY/s72-c/i12181482601118198043.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-1509660330260456506</id><published>2008-07-21T15:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:35.522-08:00</updated><title type='text'>can she bake a cherry pie?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SIUVAEj9_MI/AAAAAAAAAEY/x4gBhzAyFww/s1600-h/IMG_1673.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SIUVAEj9_MI/AAAAAAAAAEY/x4gBhzAyFww/s320/IMG_1673.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225606033602116802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Cherry? No. But she CAN bake a peach pie! Notice the Fancy Schmancy Lattice Top (my first attempt--not as hard as you'd think!). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I feel like a true homemaker. Recently I've been thinking that I probably should have been born about 80 years ago. Here's why:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;1. I love to bake. Bread. Pies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;2. And cook. Meatloaf. Soup.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;3. Currently, I've been spending about an hour a day knitting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;4. I like to wear tasteful dresses and pearls around the house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;OK, maybe not that last one. But I feel like I would have made an excellent 50's housewife. I found a website that gives helpful &lt;a href="http://www.mannet.com.au/html/moreflect_8.htm"&gt;reflections&lt;/a&gt; for the ideal spouse for that era. Totally doable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Can't you just see it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SIUeS2iHI0I/AAAAAAAAAEg/oHMXTq1WHrw/s320/50shousewife.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225616251858395970" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Ahh, those were the good old days. Which is, apparently, debatable. Check out &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5ixcPnbjac"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;this video&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;from YouTube, then read the comments that follow. Yeesh. I love when people get all worked up. Let's just bake a pie and get along.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-1509660330260456506?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/1509660330260456506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=1509660330260456506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/1509660330260456506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/1509660330260456506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/07/can-she-bake-cherry-pie.html' title='can she bake a cherry pie?'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SIUVAEj9_MI/AAAAAAAAAEY/x4gBhzAyFww/s72-c/IMG_1673.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-2032354626212870112</id><published>2008-07-14T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:35.739-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Look! I crafted!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;Check out the peacock I embroidered!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SHueF8nw-oI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/e-F1fvD1jhQ/s320/IMG_1485.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222942017875671682" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;OK, I'm aware that it's basically the same image as the one I painted on the rock (see my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/peacock-palooza.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;first post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;), but I'm still proud. Oh yeah, I forgot: I was supposed to be really good at embroidering by now. It's a hobby that I think I could get into, but then I ask myself: "Self, what are you going to do with all this stuff you embroider?" Because right now, this little baby is just sitting in my room, a loose piece of fabric with nothing cute on which to be affixed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Any ideas? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-2032354626212870112?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/2032354626212870112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=2032354626212870112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2032354626212870112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2032354626212870112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/07/look-i-crafted.html' title='Look! I crafted!'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SHueF8nw-oI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/e-F1fvD1jhQ/s72-c/IMG_1485.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-7881633369869441524</id><published>2008-07-10T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:36.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'>amphibious vehicles rock!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yesterday I went on another field trip with the kiddos from school. We &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ridetheducksofseattle.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Rode The Ducks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SHY5sjaioqI/AAAAAAAAAEI/mnNJE6QcvVE/s320/IMG_0326.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221424255566258850" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It was pretty fun, in a tourist-y sort of way. Most of the kids I was with had been hundreds of times before, but it was my first time. Here are some things to remember if you ever decide to go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1. Buy a quacker. It's a duck-call noisemaker. I know, you think it sounds &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;like it would be annoying. But it's only annoying if you don't have one of your own. One of those if-you-can't-beat-'em, join-'em things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;2. Warm up your vocal chords. You'll be expected to sing along to some really cheesy music. Think YMCA and Walk Like an Egyptian.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;3. Stretch beforehand. You'll also be expected to dance (please see above songs).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;4. Leave your inhibitions at home. So what if you spot someone you know walking by on the sidewalk? So what if the locals sneer at you? Soon enough you'll get over it and be waving at people like crazy. (Side note: On the bus ride home, I still felt compelled to get people to wave back at us. I had to remind myself that this is only appropriate whilst riding the ducks.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;You'll also see some pretty cool sights of Seattle. Such as:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Gasworks Park&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SHY1R4SPBJI/AAAAAAAAAD4/0w-HElOTpDk/s320/IMG_0331.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221419399265584274" /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The Skyline from Lake Union&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SHY1SSrZvzI/AAAAAAAAAEA/EzNZA_-cWXc/s320/IMG_0328.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221419406350466866" /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I highly recommend going with a group of kids, because the other ducks that I saw, filled with adults and teenagers, didn't look like they were having nearly as much fun. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sadly, the true highlight for me was the cute guy that was working there. We shared a special moment when he asked me what group we were from, and we rolled eyes at each other over the din of quackers and he told me (a bit sarcastically) to have fun. I'm pretty sure we're getting married.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-7881633369869441524?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/7881633369869441524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=7881633369869441524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7881633369869441524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7881633369869441524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/07/amphibious-vehicles-rock.html' title='amphibious vehicles rock!'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SHY5sjaioqI/AAAAAAAAAEI/mnNJE6QcvVE/s72-c/IMG_0326.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-1997624070484847653</id><published>2008-07-09T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T10:09:42.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>yelp!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;So I just discovered this website last night (thanks to my ultra-hip sister!) called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com"&gt;yelp.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. What is this craziness, you might ask? Well, let me tell you. It's a place where you can go write reviews of stuff. Restaurants, bars, stores, etc. Sort of like what I've been doing on this blog. Except the people on there are way funnier than I am. Seriously, I spent a good 2 hours last night browsing, and another 2 this morning. I am officially obsessed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Thus far I have:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;a. Created an account&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;b. Written 5 reviews&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;c. Gotten some good compliments! You can flag other people's reviews as helpful, funny, or cool. I'm sitting at 3 helpful, 3 funny, and 5 cool. Yesss! People DO like me! I AM funny! (Molly, I'll be pissed if you were the only one who responded!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Who has two thumbs and is going to be yelp!ing like crazy? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.yelp.com/user_details?userid=D3nssk-bsIlKWpfmb9pCAw"&gt;This girl!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-1997624070484847653?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/1997624070484847653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=1997624070484847653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/1997624070484847653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/1997624070484847653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/07/yelp.html' title='yelp!'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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-1127209242024322389.post-5922194681189961460</id><published>2008-06-29T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:36.536-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lake'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer'/><title type='text'>speaking of summer...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Could it BE any nicer this weekend? I've been spending some quality time down by Greenlake (Green Lake?) catching some rays. I feel very proud of myself, because two short years ago I was going through a Paranoid Phase where I would not go into the sun. Like, at all. Think barbecue-by-the-pool, everyone-else-is-enjoying-the-sun, and Allison-is-by-herself-under-the-umbrella. Granted, I'm still a little obsessive about putting on sunscreen, but I feel like I've come a long way. Not that I could be considered "tan" by any sense of the word. Maybe "not translucent."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;A view from where I was sitting yesterday:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGgi8l06jVI/AAAAAAAAADo/JPzyfdXh97M/s320/IMG_1660.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217458592650267986" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I know, I know, you're saying to yourself, "Get a pedicure, Allison." Or you're saying, "Wow. She wasn't kidding about being not tan." Or maybe, "The grass looks pretty weed-ridden." Leave me alone! Just enjoy the scenery.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-5922194681189961460?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/5922194681189961460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=5922194681189961460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/5922194681189961460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/5922194681189961460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/speaking-of-summer.html' title='speaking of summer...'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGgi8l06jVI/AAAAAAAAADo/JPzyfdXh97M/s72-c/IMG_1660.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-2376738933221675942</id><published>2008-06-28T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:37.213-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Seattle'/><title type='text'>Parade Numero Dos</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;So last weekend was the &lt;a href="www.fremontfair.com"&gt;Fremont Solstice Festival&lt;/a&gt; here in Seattle. My sister, her boyfriend and I walked down there to observe the craziness. And whoa, mama, was it crazy. Not only were there jillions of people there, but half of them were either naked or wearing tie-dye. Oh yeah, and there was a guy in the sandwich shop that was all bent out of shape that they didn't serve beer. (Unlike the Beer Garden at the Flag Day parade, might I add.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But there were several things in this parade that certainly were not part of the Flag Day celebration! For example: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGaBJ4IhOnI/AAAAAAAAADA/LeTyvhhOexg/s320/IMG_1536.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216999225042221682" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;People On Stilts. With Huge Hands.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGaBKMR-GjI/AAAAAAAAADI/JzB9VOOndlY/s320/solstice+drag.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216999230450571826" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Guys Dressed In Drag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;And, not pictured, since this is a family-friendly blog: Nude Bicyclists. Seriously. They strip down, paint their bodies, and ride around in all their glory. It's not really clear if they're an official part of the parade or just jump on in there, but no one's really complaining about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;There were some other cool floats and stuff, though, too. Lots of bands and dancers and whatnot. Here are a few of my favorites:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGaBKgqAMHI/AAAAAAAAADQ/k9rNeQJhSh0/s320/solstice+float.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216999235920081010" /&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGaBKwOt4nI/AAAAAAAAADY/SdtYYWJQ1d0/s320/solstice+suns.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216999240100602482" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;All in all, it was a great way to celebrate the first day of summer! To do for next spring: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;1. Tone muscles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;2. Buy a bike&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;3. Stock up on body paint&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-2376738933221675942?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/2376738933221675942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=2376738933221675942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2376738933221675942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2376738933221675942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/parade-numero-dos.html' title='Parade Numero Dos'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGaBJ4IhOnI/AAAAAAAAADA/LeTyvhhOexg/s72-c/IMG_1536.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-8946369553747978718</id><published>2008-06-24T07:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:37.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Parade Numero Uno</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ack! It's been too long. When I started this blog I was just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;certain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; I'd be bubbling with exciting tales from my summer. Then I remembered one important detail: I'm not a very exciting person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;One of the Most Memorable Experiences from this month was going to see my brother and sister-in-law (expecting the first niece of the family!) over father's day weekend. They live in a pretty small town in eastern Washington, which apparently has the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;most famous&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Flag Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;celebration&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; in the nation! (Like anybody could ever know that.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Highlights&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGEEyDsr_aI/AAAAAAAAACw/M-YvsQXdXP8/s320/p_00047.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455101504454050" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Parade!  Not pictured: Thousands of Old Cars, Whitman County Princesses, Horse Poop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGEEym5V6ZI/AAAAAAAAAC4/7e4fvs26Erw/s320/p_00048.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455110952774034" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Beer Garden! (Serving Canadian beer on tap--figure that one out for me).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Also not pictured: Huge Inflatable Kids' Toy, craft booths, cheap and delicious bbq food. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;Stay tuned for a summary of one of Seattle's most famous parades. I'll be comparing and contrasting the two.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-8946369553747978718?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/8946369553747978718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=8946369553747978718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/8946369553747978718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/8946369553747978718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/parade-numero-uno.html' title='Parade Numero Uno'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SGEEyDsr_aI/AAAAAAAAACw/M-YvsQXdXP8/s72-c/p_00047.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-3541355190036340845</id><published>2008-06-13T11:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:38.169-08:00</updated><title type='text'>the life aquatic</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Time for Phase 2 of "Places to Go In Seattle":&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:48px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-size:48px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;The&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://seattleaquarium.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt; Seattle Aquarium&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Seriously this time. I went on a "field trip" with the daycare kids at school the other day, and it was a really good time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Maybe it was because, even though I was out in public with a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SFLDQ2pYzpI/AAAAAAAAACI/Hvicnv3x5vg/s320/dome.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211442413135515282" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;bunch of kids, this time it wasn't teens and preteens. But I think it was because I felt like I was back in my own childhood. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I used to be a pretty big fan of The Little Mermaid, right? So &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;their underwater observatory (right) made me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; practically break out into the song "Under the Sea" (in my best Sebastian Jamaican accent, of course) and recreate some choreographed dance that I'm sure my sister and I had made up to go along with it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;And, OK, so maybe I wasn't technically a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kid&lt;/span&gt; when Finding Nemo came out, but I thought it was cute that they had clown fish and whatever-Dori-is-fish in the same tank together. Best friends!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SFLFxjp_hcI/AAAAAAAAACo/wSTQsLbBP1Y/s320/p_00034.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211445173996717506" /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SFLEz3BlN_I/AAAAAAAAACY/TxCq7Bv0NuI/s320/dori.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211444114044041202" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;They had tons of other cool stuff that I wasn't able to get good pictures of. My favorites:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;1. Giant octopus, which we got to see ripping the head off of a fish (cue Ursula singing "Poor Unfortunate Souls")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;2. Petting zoo - grope all the sea anemones and cucumbers like you always dreamed about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;3. Sea otters&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;4. Limited time only - &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mermaid Exhibit&lt;/span&gt;. OK, just kidding about that one. Those things are way too hard to catch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-3541355190036340845?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/3541355190036340845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=3541355190036340845' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/3541355190036340845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/3541355190036340845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/life-aquatic.html' title='the life aquatic'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SFLDQ2pYzpI/AAAAAAAAACI/Hvicnv3x5vg/s72-c/dome.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-3100225372199008581</id><published>2008-06-08T10:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:39.097-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ornaments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='giraffes'/><title type='text'>the perks</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Don't let anyone try and tell you otherwise: There are some &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sweet &lt;/span&gt;perks to being a teacher. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;1. Summers off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;2. Daily treats--there's always at least one kid in the school passing out birthday cupcakes during recess&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;3. End-of-the-year gifts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;It's this final thing that I'd like to focus on today. Friday was the last day of school this year (boo-yah) so there was pretty much a constant trickle of kids coming in with little trinkets for yours truly. Here are some of the highlights:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;This line of hand-crafted mini-stuffed-animal ornaments. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;(Made by a parent, named by Me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEwTKt-vypI/AAAAAAAAABQ/XvFFUwC4Ixs/s1600-h/drabbit.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEwTKt-vypI/AAAAAAAAABQ/XvFFUwC4Ixs/s320/drabbit.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209559943823215250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;Bunnasus (bunny + pegasus)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEwTL3r_JgI/AAAAAAAAABY/ZnB0dUJUyqM/s1600-h/girragon.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEwTL3r_JgI/AAAAAAAAABY/ZnB0dUJUyqM/s320/girragon.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209559963608753666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Girragon (giraffe + dragon -- see where I'm going here?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;Cute, huh? Giraffes are another one of my favorite animals, so I got the giggles about that one. Plus, here's an image of the Bunnasus vs. Girragon Staring Contest. I had to snap the picture real fast because I was afraid one of them was going to burst into flames. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEwTOEy2L0I/AAAAAAAAABo/oAJUTfB9hDQ/s320/standoff.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209560001486925634" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I guess it was Year of the Ornament, because I also got this funny teacher angel ornament. I like how it's a real photo-slash-illustration. It reminds me of &lt;a href="http://www.collageartist.com/"&gt;Claudine Hellmuth&lt;/a&gt;'s artwork.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEwTM_T571I/AAAAAAAAABg/-WKV-WkpStY/s320/teacher+angel.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209559982835101522" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Thanks, kids, for giving me something to blog about!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-3100225372199008581?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/3100225372199008581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=3100225372199008581' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/3100225372199008581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/3100225372199008581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/perks.html' title='the perks'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEwTKt-vypI/AAAAAAAAABQ/XvFFUwC4Ixs/s72-c/drabbit.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-7545233022634391897</id><published>2008-06-05T14:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:39.738-08:00</updated><title type='text'>frequently asked questions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Nearly everyone I've mentioned that I'm starting a blog to has asked &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"What's your theme going to be?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Hmm. I hadn't thought of that. I'm not really into "thinking ahead before I start a project." OK? Can't I just be my normal casual, witty self without having to conform to a theme? My theme is: to have no theme!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Except here are some things I'd like to cover:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;1. Places to Go in Seattle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;2. Funny/Annoying Things that Kids Do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;3. Making Fun of Things (Mostly Myself)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;4. Cool Stuff That I Like&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;How do you like them apples?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So in my first attempt at following a theme, I would like my post today to cover Topic #1: Places to Go in Seattle. Or, more specifically this time,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Places You Should NEVER Go In Seattle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Ahem. Let me set the scene for you a little bit. I'm a teacher, right? Eighth grade. School is out tomorrow (Praise the Lord!--and I really mean that because I also teach at a Catholic school). So today, as a big reward to all of the middle school kids who have been crossing guards all year, we took them to (drumroll please):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Wild Waves!&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEheHlz1XeI/AAAAAAAAABA/KfqFGTLSluU/s320/p_00013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208516453555592674" /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The only water/theme park around. Except, it turns out that this place opens its door two--count them, two--days every year for this specific purpose: for schools to take huge groups of kids as some sort of end-of-the-year treat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Here is why you should never go, at least not during the first week of June.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;1. It rains. (And I usually defend Seattle about the amount of rain we get here; it's not as bad as it's made out to &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;be. But today it was just...dumping.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;2. Kids don't prepare for the rain, and they tend to whine &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just a smidge &lt;/span&gt;when they are cold and wet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;3. There is no real under cover place for teachers/chaperones to huddle, except for one small dining area. &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Which is overrun with whining, wet kids.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;4. There are lots of kids there. Think thousands. Think thousands of teens and preteens. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;5. When thousands of teens and preteens get together, it's generally a mess because&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;a. They all want to have PDA with each other,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;b. They all think they're the coolest kid there,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;c. They have Voice Modulation Disorder and Are Not Capable of Being Quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEheIFz1XfI/AAAAAAAAABI/nsgq6rD6ruY/s320/p_00012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208516462145527282" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Other than that, it seems like a great place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-7545233022634391897?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/7545233022634391897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=7545233022634391897' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7545233022634391897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/7545233022634391897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/frequently-asked-questions.html' title='frequently asked questions'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEheHlz1XeI/AAAAAAAAABA/KfqFGTLSluU/s72-c/p_00013.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-2736954111190262635</id><published>2008-06-04T16:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:39.892-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='margaritas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='happy hour'/><title type='text'>goal achieved!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For quite some time now, one of my main goals in life has been to become a "regular" somewhere. I think I've finally reached that status at the local Mexican restaurant, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://guaymasgreenlake.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Tacos Guaymas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; , near Green Lake in Seattle. My sister Molly and I have been going there pretty regularly for about 2 years. We always go for happy hour and order the same thing every time. Me: house margarita, on the rocks, with salt. Her: house margarita, on the rocks, no salt. (Hey, we can't do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; exactly the same!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEcjc1z1XdI/AAAAAAAAAA4/bIhlfJsrSI0/s320/margaritas" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208170472465063378" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Anyway, we had a "dry spell" for a few months where we didn't go in. We went back a few weeks ago, and the regular waitress was like, "Hey! Long time no see." And she knew our drinks. (Plus she knew to keep them coming!) Yessss. My life is complete.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;New goal: Find the yummiest margarita in Seattle. This is something I think I can do this summer. Are you in, sister?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-2736954111190262635?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/2736954111190262635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=2736954111190262635' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2736954111190262635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2736954111190262635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/goal-achieved.html' title='goal achieved!'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SEcjc1z1XdI/AAAAAAAAAA4/bIhlfJsrSI0/s72-c/margaritas' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-5873081933085678001</id><published>2008-06-02T15:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:40.037-08:00</updated><title type='text'>best friends!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; "&gt;Meet my best friend, Clorox Disinfecting Wipes! (DW, I call her.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SER5XFz1XcI/AAAAAAAAAAw/5nQIU4M-3Ps/s320/p_00010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207420506750672322" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Indeed, good ol' DW is always there for me. I can always count on her to help me clean up my messes and make my day a little brighter. Plus she smells good. And let's not forget CC (Clean-up Cleaner), DW's cousin who is also sitting right by my desk. We're pretty tight, too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I guess that speaks to what a whack-job I am. But I did mention in my profile that I may have mild OCD, so you shouldn't be too surprised. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Speaking of OCD (and I sincerely hope I'm not offending anyone who truly has it), do you want to know what the highlight of my day was? Long story short, I spent 2 hours this afternoon helping to copy, collate, stuff, and stamp envelopes for a mailer going out from the school where I teach. I'm a huge fan of sorting-slash-organizing things, so this task was like &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;crack&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;. Seriously, by the end of it I had it down  robot-style--no energy wasted on frivolous movements. No papers dropped. Not even one paper cut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I made those mailers my bitch!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-5873081933085678001?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/5873081933085678001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=5873081933085678001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/5873081933085678001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/5873081933085678001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/best-friends.html' title='best friends!'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SER5XFz1XcI/AAAAAAAAAAw/5nQIU4M-3Ps/s72-c/p_00010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1127209242024322389.post-2292573523645494684</id><published>2008-06-01T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:52:40.245-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='peacocks'/><title type='text'>peacock-a-palooza</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Have you heard that peacocks have the biggest egos in all of the animal kingdom? Neither had I. That's why I made it up. It's OK. I'm a scientist. I'm allowed to make those sorts of lofty claims. I'm sure there's someone out there researching it right now. But, seriously, where do you think they got the term &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;cocky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;I painted this rock yesterday to better communicate my feelings about peacocks. They're pretty much my favorite animal. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SELTHlz1XZI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6OePuaYglkA/s320/peacock1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206956246555778450" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Here are a few legitimate facts about peacocks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;1. Female peahens (only the males are called peacocks--very fitting if you ask me!) choose their mates based on the size, color and quality of their tail feathers. Apparently "quivering of the tail feathers" is also part of the ritual. Who knew birds could be so human-ish?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;2. Peacocks have been called "urban guard dogs" because people used to keep them as pets, and they apparently make some freakin' loud call when humans approach. Apparently it's all the rage for "stately British homes"; they make signs to hang on their gates that say: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;CAUTION! Beware of Peacock. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;(OK, I made that last part up, too.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;3. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;My personal favorite: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A group of peacocks is referred to as a "party". I kid you not. A party of peacocks! Who wouldn't want to receive &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; evite? In fact, I'm feeling an idea for our summer theme party coming on...Door prizes for Fanciest Plume, Sexiest Courtship Dance and Most Startling Squawk. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1127209242024322389-2292573523645494684?l=fancypeacock.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/feeds/2292573523645494684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1127209242024322389&amp;postID=2292573523645494684' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2292573523645494684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1127209242024322389/posts/default/2292573523645494684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fancypeacock.blogspot.com/2008/06/peacock-palooza.html' title='peacock-a-palooza'/><author><name>fancy peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08728688192194325441</uri><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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hArkwSTcdzE/SELTHlz1XZI/AAAAAAAAAAU/6OePuaYglkA/s72-c/peacock1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
