<?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-191656619961550787</id><updated>2011-10-17T06:31:15.265-07:00</updated><category term='house'/><category term='Museum'/><category term='reunion'/><category term='no pants'/><category term='dreams'/><category term='dinner'/><category term='Naked'/><category term='care package'/><category term='laura'/><category term='intro'/><category term='elephant'/><category term='Josh'/><title type='text'>Slumber Happenings</title><subtitle type='html'>I've never remembered my dreams....that is until I moved back to the Midwest in the fall of 2010.  All of a sudden I have been having vivid and sometimes disturbing dreams.  Instead of waking up confused each morning, I thought it would be more fun to share them with anyone who wishes to read.  What do you think they mean?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-946321109802803370</id><published>2011-10-17T06:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-17T06:26:52.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dream from 10/16/10 that I found typed out in an email:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"&gt;I was shopping with my mom at a mall and I bought a whole bag full of things that were on clearance at an expensive store, including a mini tea set. &amp;nbsp;When we left the store, I was looking through my bag of things and noticed the tea set was originally marked at $330. I freaked out because I realized I had forgotten to check how much everything had cost before I bought it. &amp;nbsp;Then I opened the tea seat and saw the mini pieces were all broken, too. &amp;nbsp;I started to go back to the store, but realizing they wouldn't let me return it because it was on clearance. &amp;nbsp;Then I pulled out my receipt and realized it had been marked down to where everything I had purchased that day only added up to $7.99 and then I was excited I had made such a good deal.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"&gt;At one point at the mall, my mom got mad at me for absolutely no reason and I got frustrated and walked out. At this point, I was holding two pairs of tennis shoes in my arms. &amp;nbsp;When I walked around the building (which was now a high school or some sort), two guys started taunting me and stole my shoes, ran away a bit, and then threw them back at me, hitting me. &amp;nbsp;Then they guys ran off. After picking up the shoes, I went inside so they wouldn't bother me anymore. &amp;nbsp;At this point, the school turned back into a mall. &amp;nbsp;I walked past the food court and saw Michelle (who I used to play dodgeball with in San Diego), but she didn't respond when I yelled her name. &amp;nbsp;Then I saw Teresa (my old roommate and best friend from San Diego). &amp;nbsp;She kinda half smiled when I yelled her name, but seemed too into her conversation to bother talking to me. &amp;nbsp;I remember being really sad and wondering why she wouldn't call me when she knew I was in town. &amp;nbsp;I headed toward the parking garage to go to my car and leave. &amp;nbsp;It was really dark inside with a long walkway (kinda of like an under ground sewage system) before actually getting to the cars. &amp;nbsp;I noticed a large man following me and tried to stay calm. &amp;nbsp;He said something but I largely ignored him and kept walking - trying to get to my car in case he tried anything. &amp;nbsp;Then, he pulled out a syringe of some sort and stabbed the needle into the back of my right leg, below the knee. &amp;nbsp;He put some liquid into me, pulled out the needle and did the same thing to the front of my left leg below the knee. &amp;nbsp;At this point, I saw that Teresa and one of her friends had been following me and when they saw this guy was dangerous, they faked the needle stabbing, too, and fell down so he would think they were harmless. &amp;nbsp;But I know they were watching me to make sure I was okay. &amp;nbsp;Whatever it was, it made my legs go numb from the knees down and I ended up falling and sitting on the curb in the dark. &amp;nbsp;I'm not sure what happened to the man, but he couldn't do anything either. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"&gt;Then it flashed to me sitting in my home with 5 or 6 people I know there. &amp;nbsp;Mr. Julian (my neighbor and old teacher from our school) and his son, Matt, who used to be a friend of mine and is now a firefighter came in with a couple other big guys to check on me. &amp;nbsp;They had heard what happened and wanted to make sure I was okay. &amp;nbsp;One of the guys with them was wearing a giant diaper (like he lost a bet or something). &amp;nbsp;Then, Matt handed me a tazer wrapped in a washcloth and told me I should keep it with me. &amp;nbsp;He said it wasn't illegal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-946321109802803370?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/946321109802803370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=946321109802803370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/946321109802803370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/946321109802803370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/10/dream-from-101610-that-i-found-typed.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-2609160778368693669</id><published>2011-10-01T05:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-01T05:05:50.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that the GAP at the mall was closing....except it was a salon store where you buy shampoo, etc. &amp;nbsp; It was the last day and I was closing the store by myself when a huge group of usual customers came in and surprised me to say goodbye. &amp;nbsp;By the end of the night I noticed one of the customers had left her baby with us because she couldn't care for it. &amp;nbsp;I remember feeling ill equipped to be a parent and talking to Josh about it. &amp;nbsp; He ended up going on a hike through the woods and meeting up with a wise native american woman who helped ease his worries and he came back convincing me that we should go ahead and keep this baby who needs us and everything would be okay. &amp;nbsp;I stood at the end of the trail where I met Josh that day and laid out a couple things knowing I would come back on Thursday and hike the trail myself, hoping to have the same sense of peace about the whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also remember thinking about adoption papers and how I needed a specific folder for them to go inside my lock box where I could keep all the important information safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-2609160778368693669?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/2609160778368693669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=2609160778368693669' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2609160778368693669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2609160778368693669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/10/last-night-i-had-dream-that-gap-at-mall.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-7849876744144259315</id><published>2011-09-30T16:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-30T16:18:54.118-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>REPOST THIS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-7849876744144259315?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/7849876744144259315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=7849876744144259315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/7849876744144259315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/7849876744144259315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/09/repost-this-depression-hotline-1-630.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-80175771067497236</id><published>2011-08-11T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-11T06:14:07.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night was the first of (what I imagine will be) many wedding dreams.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was meeting all my girlfriends the day of the wedding at a restaurant.  Our table was in front of a giant projection screen where we were scheduled to watch a show (don't remember what show/movie it was).  I remember Aunt Jana and Kiernan showing up last and sitting down at the table with us.  When it was time to get ready for the wedding, we left the restaurant and I remember the exit was like a haunted house.  Once you pressed the button that opened the doors, there were 4-5 men dressed up in terrifying costumes.  It was as if I had been there before, because I asked one of the people who worked there to tell them not to scare me...especially this one shorter guy whose face was painted all white with scary black painted features.   They were really creepy, but the employee walked out with me and basically told them to lay off as I left the restaurant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it jumped to me walking down the aisle (no bouquet).  I don't remember anything else about the ceremony.  All I recall is having a huge dinner afterward (it seemed like a fairly normal dinner, aside from its size...not reception-like). I remember my parents being there and the Sullivans, but there were many more in attendance.  Part way through the meal, it dawned on me that no one was taking pictures and then I realized the photographer never showed up.  I was devastated and ran away from the dinner crying.  A few people tried to follow, but my mom stopped them and told them to let me be.  As I was running up the stairs, I pictured myself walking down the aisle again and realized I didn't have a bouquet and that the florist must have forgotten, as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-80175771067497236?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/80175771067497236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=80175771067497236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/80175771067497236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/80175771067497236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/08/last-night-was-first-of-what-i-imagine.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-8725580964111432847</id><published>2011-08-05T06:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-05T06:28:57.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night's dream was so strange.  Lately all I've been having is dreams about folding clothes or dealing with things at GAP, because it's where I've been working (sometimes 9 hour days).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dream last night, I went to the mall for a GAP Conference of some sort.  I don't remember the beginning as much, but I remember afterward, they let us roam around the mall with our conference giveaway bags and name tags on.  It was a huge mall with 3 or 4 floors. I walked around a little bit and then decided to go into Old Navy because I knew I could use my employee discount there.  When I walked in, the main floor had clothes, but only in half of the room.  You were required to walk through a maze of lane lines...as if you were in line for a rollercoaster.  The first half of walking through that floor, the walls were all empty and I couldn't understand why.  The second half had clothes lining the walls mostly out of reach, but none looked interesting anyway.  I thought there must be more than this, so I took the stairs down to the basement hoping the Old Navy was just remodeling and there would be more options down there.  To my confusion, it was dark and no clothes to be found.  Instead, it lead me through the basement on a maze through a haunted house. I remember being quite scared a few times - especially when I cut through to find the exit and then realized it wouldn't open without a huge metal key that you were supposed to find earlier in the haunted house.  I ran back for it and got myself out of there as fast as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was walking away from Old Navy, I realized I had a voicemail on my phone.  It was Julie (a person I was friends with years ago who lived in Brookville, IN).  She was crying to me because she couldn't get ahold of anyone else and I immediately called her back.  When she answered, she seemed so relieved to hear my voice and then told me something mumbled about her and Bill's engagement (she and old friend Bill Hodge are engaged in real life). Then she handed the phone off to someone and I realized it was Justin (boyfriend from when I was 17 from the same friend circle).  Justin started to explain that they went on a trip somewhere and Bill went off on a date with a girl. When Justin asked how many dates like this he'd been on while he and Julie were engaged, he said many.  While listening, I was weirded out, but also slowly coming to the conclusion that Bill had married someone 6 months ago...and never told Julie.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I woke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-8725580964111432847?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/8725580964111432847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=8725580964111432847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/8725580964111432847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/8725580964111432847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/08/last-nights-dream-was-so-strange.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-47432043103685152</id><published>2011-06-30T06:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T06:16:46.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Three strange dreams I can remember from last night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt I was helping out at a daycare facility as a second job.  All the kids I was watching had been picked up for the day so I was helping a woman with the three young ones who were left.  As we walked back inside from the playground to change a little girl's diaper, the other woman there asked me to pick up the two boys books or lunchboxes to help keep them from fighting (weird, I know.).   I picked up a lunchbox and a book off the shelf (there were only two options and one had pictures of the Peanuts crew on it).   At this point, two women walked up to pick up the girl that was being changed.  One of them said she was the girl’s aunt.  I walked back inside to let the woman know the girl’s Aunt was here and she rolled her eyes and complained saying we were going to have to walk around the block and use a payphone to call the police since she didn’t know of an Aunt coming to pick the girl up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden, it jumped to me boarding a plane for somewhere.  As I was getting ready to board, a woman stopped me and asked if I had purchased three books.  I said yes, because I remembered having three earlier.  Then it occurred to me that someone else was holding the third book as we walked through the line and then gave it to me after I had purchased the other two.  They asked to search my bags and found the third one and confronted me about not paying for it.  I tried to explain the mistake and then they asked to look at my bank statement to prove whether or not I had paid for them at all. I handed her my debit card….which she was somehow going to use to look up my account online.  I begged her to let me enter my own pin number when it came up on the screen so I could maintain safety.  She was going to allow me as long as I didn't tell anyone she let me behind the counter.  I remember looking over at the plane that was waiting and seeing my parents watch me skeptically through the plane window.  I was terrified because I realized I hadn't paid for the third book, but not intentionally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also had another dream where Josh and I were staying at a friend’s house.  Turns out it was Sarah Julian’s house.  In real life she is in college, but somehow she owned this huge mansion of a house.  I remember being very envious.  I also think she was only 16 in the dream.  When we were cleaning up sleeping bags in the morning from sleeping in the basement, Laura Galdorisi called (a friend from San Diego) and asked if she could drop off our wedding gift while we were there – I said sure.  Laura showed up with Megan Sullivan and disappeared into the downstairs.  I walked around the room trying to find them, but all the doors surrounding the room were closed.   Finally, we were sitting down at a table upstairs while Josh was packing up the car and Laura and Megan walked out holding a HUGE platter containing the largest helping of mashed potatoes I’ve ever seen with a bunch of toppings (mashed potato bar style).  Laura was so proud of her gift because she KNEW I loved mashed potatoes so much (not necessarily in real life).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-47432043103685152?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/47432043103685152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=47432043103685152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/47432043103685152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/47432043103685152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/06/three-strange-dreams-i-can-remember.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-2582036205529486801</id><published>2011-06-20T07:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T08:35:50.886-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Museum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Josh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naked'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>From what I remember of last night's dream: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh and I went to the Contemporary Art Museum in San Diego (although it did not look like the actual museum in San Diego).  When I turned around one dark corner, Josh was amidst the art completely naked.  He thought he was being funny until I yelled at him and said they have security cameras and we could get arrested.  He started sprinting for the front door and I tried to yell at him to come back as I grabbed his pile of clothes off the floor…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-2582036205529486801?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/2582036205529486801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=2582036205529486801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2582036205529486801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2582036205529486801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/06/from-what-i-remember-of-last-nights.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-9198244774446884065</id><published>2011-06-13T05:13:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T08:36:30.535-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dinner'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reunion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='no pants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laura'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamt I went house hunting with my boyfriend and his mother (both of whom I didn’t recognize in real life).  His m om had carpel tunnel and couldn’t get the needle and thread out of a piece of fabric so we helped.  She gave us a tour of this house they were looking at and was talking about how it only had one bedroom so they weren’t sure about it.  When we got to the bedroom, it wasn’t even enclosed with a  door - it was more of a wide hallway that was big enough for bedroom furniture.  In the back behind this hallway-type room, there was a small door that the three of us walked through and it was a skinny long room just big enough for a couple bunk beds end-to-end.  That’s where my boyfriend was going to stay.  It was so strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterward we went to dinner. (At this point, I’m with my actual fiancé, Josh). We were sitting at a table at an outdoor restaurant on the property of an old barn.  Our table was enclosed kind of like a phone booth, but bigger.  We spotted this girl Laura who went to my high school and her cute blonde boyfriend at a table across the way.  I haven’t seen her in 10 years and we kept looking at them.  When they got up from the table to go out and pay, she saw Josh staring at her and she walked over to our table.  For some reason I had taken my jeans off, so I had an extra table cloth wrapped around my waist. When she got to our table, her mother was with her.  She introduced herself and I told her who I was and she lit up and was excited to see me after so many years.  It then occurred to me that she was in town for the 10 year reunion.  I admitted that I would have completely missed it because I had forgotten and was going with my fiancé to see another house his mother might buy out in the country near Indiana.  When she said goodbye, I remember thinking I should hurry up and put my jeans back on before anyone saw….but I stood up and wrapped three sheets of paper around my left calf like I was making make-shift pant-legs out of them.  Then, I strung a rubber band around my leg to keep the papers rolled around my leg.  Before I got to the other leg my alarm went off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-9198244774446884065?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/9198244774446884065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=9198244774446884065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/9198244774446884065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/9198244774446884065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/06/last-night-i-dreamt-i-went-house.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-1929083486670688925</id><published>2011-06-11T15:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T08:37:53.106-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='elephant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='care package'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night in my dreams, I was making a care package of some sort. At first I thought it was to donate to a nonprofit that would give it to a child in need.  It had snacks, cereal, juice boxes, and a bunch of other stuff.  Then, all of a sudden I had a baby elephant next to me.  I had fostered this baby elephant and it was going away somewhere.  I opened up the big bag that held the contents of the care package to show my fiancé what I had packed.  I then pulled out big grey sweatpants and told him I had packed them so the elephant would have something that smelled like me and feel at home once he’s gone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the cute little elephant outside and he started running down the street with a huge elephant smile on his face.  He thought it was so funny to be running from me…his black leash dragging on the ground behind him as I chased him…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-1929083486670688925?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/1929083486670688925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=1929083486670688925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/1929083486670688925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/1929083486670688925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/06/last-night-in-my-dreams-i-was-making.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-6563808887604977108</id><published>2011-06-07T16:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T08:38:10.312-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='intro'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So I'm switching gears.  I never write in here anymore, but since I've been having weird dreams, it's all I've wanted to share with people...so why not share it here?  Most days I wake up after having strange dreams and remember every bit of them....but forget 10 minutes later and always wish I had written them down.  My goal is to open up my computer first thing in the morning and record the absurd dreams from the night before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told a friend of mine about this idea, and she encouraged me...and sent me the following which is a perfect start to this chapter of my blog: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Oq29flqBp70/Te63ehkH38I/AAAAAAAAET4/iDqb_e6JxUE/s1600/Dreams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="124" width="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Oq29flqBp70/Te63ehkH38I/AAAAAAAAET4/iDqb_e6JxUE/s200/Dreams.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;a href="http://thisisindexed.com/2011/06/there-were-dinosaurs-i-think/"&gt;via&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-6563808887604977108?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/6563808887604977108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=6563808887604977108' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/6563808887604977108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/6563808887604977108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2011/06/so-im-switching-gears.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Oq29flqBp70/Te63ehkH38I/AAAAAAAAET4/iDqb_e6JxUE/s72-c/Dreams.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-2708031410466511792</id><published>2010-05-15T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T12:53:01.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Three months with no post.  Suppose I'm not a true writer as I don't have the right 'flow' or consistency to keep a blog anyone will care about.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I just feel happy and blessed.  Blessed to have what I have.  Blessed to have an amazing supportive family...a job that pays me to do good things...friends that put up with me...and a man who loves me deeply.  I go through loads of ups and downs.  One day I'm floating with butterflies in my stomach and nothing but positive happy thoughts and dreams.  Another day I'm frustrated and ready for the next thing.  Hoping that something will happen to bring everything together to make those dreams from more positive days reality.   I realize all I can do is my best.  Keep praying and trying and stickin' to it, whatever 'it' is.  Enjoying the journey rather than wanting everything to happen immediately at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is next?  WHEN is next?  I wish I had insight into the next steps on my journey so I could plan everything else around it.  Knowing when the light at the end of the tunnel will appear would help me feel more confident.  Even if it's a long ways out - knowing it exists would be comfort.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-2708031410466511792?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/2708031410466511792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=2708031410466511792' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2708031410466511792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2708031410466511792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2010/05/three-months-with-no-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-2702586479586084389</id><published>2010-01-20T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T19:41:39.337-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/S1fMwqKwQnI/AAAAAAAAEQM/yquDIfNMJlQ/s1600-h/IMG_0335.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/S1fMwqKwQnI/AAAAAAAAEQM/yquDIfNMJlQ/s320/IMG_0335.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429033012143604338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stress.  Worry.  Anxiety. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But lots more Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for that I am thankful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-2702586479586084389?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/2702586479586084389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=2702586479586084389' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2702586479586084389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2702586479586084389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2010/01/love.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/S1fMwqKwQnI/AAAAAAAAEQM/yquDIfNMJlQ/s72-c/IMG_0335.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-2170241898715774874</id><published>2009-12-18T18:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T18:38:35.608-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Syw8fvVjK0I/AAAAAAAAEQE/o4SQE1ElPeY/s1600-h/0375756485.01._SS400_SCLZZZZZZZ_V1056438516_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Syw8fvVjK0I/AAAAAAAAEQE/o4SQE1ElPeY/s320/0375756485.01._SS400_SCLZZZZZZZ_V1056438516_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416770967800326978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few books by a woman named &lt;a href="http://www.sabrinawardharrison.com/ee/"&gt;Sabrina Ward Harrison&lt;/a&gt;.  She is a beautiful, personal artist and writes about life things along with her art.  Anyway...I was reading through some of the pages I had marked a while back and wanted to share a few of my favorites with you (from the book &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spilling-Open-Art-Becoming-Yourself/dp/0375756485/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1261190232&amp;sr=1-1"&gt;Spilling Open&lt;/a&gt;):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh this is what I need in love: spinning in the sun an laughing really hard.  I need desire and "Ahhh's" and I need to be told brave true words.  I need myself just as I am.  I need my voice.  I need a partner who will giggle &amp;amp; cherish me to my bones.  I need real, real, real genuineness and and I need strength.  I need true loving gestures &amp;amp; lots of drawing on the floor.  I need honest dinner time talking.  I need to be met halfway.  I need to feel needed.  I need to surrender.  I need to feel understood.  I need to not be mocked when I am being real.  I need true kindness and love that glows brightly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Remember I don't have to be cool.  I do not have to be slender.  I do not have to be tricky.  I do not have to be smooth.  I do not have to be silent.  I do not have to be loud.  I do not have to be slick.  I do not have to be her.  I do not have to be loved by him to be okay.  I do not have to hold on so tightly.  I do not have to agree to be accepted. I do not have to wear cover-up.  I do not have to be covered-up.  I do not have to predict.  I do not have to prepare (for the pain).  I do not have to grasp. I do not have to have the answer.  I do not have to be better.  I do not have to be cool.  I only have to be who I am."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I think God leaves me alone to let me find my own strength because no one else can give it to me for me.  Sometimes it is very lonely - but I know the lonely times teach me the most.  I must let go in order to let everything in."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Knowing someone else's life is passing away makes me want to show up living now - not 'then' when 'things' are taken care of and the weather is warm.  TODAY I have a chance to make a difference now.  I have the chance to help heal some of my own broken places and hopefully someone else's.  We must realize that what we do matters.  Our love matters truly.  What remains that is good to others long after I am gone (that's why we are here). Life is too short to be cruel.  It is too short to suck-in, hold in, not forgive. We just don't have time.  Love is all there is to do.  Forgive yourself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am realizing that I am enough as is - a work in progress.  I have looked at the love that surrounds me...the new love and hidden love and desired love.  But something changes when I slowly turn my love towards myself.  That's when my life becomes vividly full color. I think in healing ourselves we can take part in healing the world.  I can see the life in me, I can stop hiding my freckles.  I can look deeply into my own eyes and high up into the branches of trees.  I can become myself."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-2170241898715774874?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/2170241898715774874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=2170241898715774874' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2170241898715774874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2170241898715774874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-have-few-books-by-woman-named-sabrina.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Syw8fvVjK0I/AAAAAAAAEQE/o4SQE1ElPeY/s72-c/0375756485.01._SS400_SCLZZZZZZZ_V1056438516_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-2245008335001942865</id><published>2009-12-18T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T12:34:26.918-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A childhood friend, John's band: &lt;a href="http://www.apollorun.com/"&gt;Apollo Run&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with my family tomorrow!  Merry Christmas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="349"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7y0NTvAd4sE&amp;border=1&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7y0NTvAd4sE&amp;border=1&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="349"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-2245008335001942865?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/2245008335001942865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=2245008335001942865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2245008335001942865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2245008335001942865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/12/childhood-friend-johns-band-apollo-run.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-5246169983193371708</id><published>2009-12-15T13:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T13:34:29.058-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LkTyPzRzuwc&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LkTyPzRzuwc&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-5246169983193371708?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/5246169983193371708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=5246169983193371708' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/5246169983193371708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/5246169983193371708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-3255139044114229463</id><published>2009-12-02T20:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T20:59:39.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SxdFavF3kZI/AAAAAAAAEPg/fx6VK-MJI-k/s1600-h/photo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SxdFavF3kZI/AAAAAAAAEPg/fx6VK-MJI-k/s320/photo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410869802928935314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need some Christmas spirit.  Yes, it's just now December, but I feel like I'm missing out on the holidays and if I'm careful, they'll pass right by without me even noticing.   This was my first Thanksgiving not in Ohio and it was just weird.  I've always flown back to Ohio for Thanksgiving to be with family and friends.  We relax at home, play games as a family, have the Farmer family over for dinner and just laugh a lot.  And I get to spend time with favorite high school friends.  And it's colder and holiday-like.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being in California for Thanksgiving was different because of the weather, but also because it was a change in tradition.  We didn't spend the day with the Farmers and we didn't have a nice casual intimate dinner.  We were lucky enough to be with our family friends out here, but it was a much bigger more elaborate deal than I'm used to...and I missed out on seeing my best friends and, more importantly, the birth of little Calleigh McCane.  Oh I was so sad Wednesday and Thursday of last week.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I'm craving just a little bit of the holiday spirit.  I will be going with my family to Mexico on vacation for Christmas, so I won't get that warm homey feeling then, either.  I get to visit Ohio next weekend and get a little taste of home, but other than that I will have to get to work here bringing the holidays into our apartment.  I started with some Christmas lights around the TV to make me feel better.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perhaps I will convince my roommate to come with me and actually go out and buy a real tree for the first time since I was about 10.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-3255139044114229463?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/3255139044114229463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=3255139044114229463' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3255139044114229463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3255139044114229463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-need-some-christmas-spirit.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SxdFavF3kZI/AAAAAAAAEPg/fx6VK-MJI-k/s72-c/photo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-3443357023204936308</id><published>2009-11-21T16:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T16:38:05.267-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SwiHp6c9UKI/AAAAAAAAEPY/KIzGte3aVzc/s1600/IMG_3041.jpg"&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/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SwiHp6c9UKI/AAAAAAAAEPY/KIzGte3aVzc/s320/IMG_3041.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406720506793382050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Today I am so grateful for true friendships.  I just had coffee with my dear friend Becky - probably the one I am closest to out here in San Diego.  I poured out my heart to her...everything going on in my life...my doubts...my fears...my dreams...my excitement.  She listened earnestly and gave amazing comfort and support. She gave me real answers.  She is a true friend who cares deeply and I can't say how wonderful it is to have her in my life.  It's rare to find a friend with such a big heart and encouraging faith.  Thank you Becks.  You're one in a million.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-3443357023204936308?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/3443357023204936308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=3443357023204936308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3443357023204936308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3443357023204936308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/11/today-i-am-so-grateful-for-true.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SwiHp6c9UKI/AAAAAAAAEPY/KIzGte3aVzc/s72-c/IMG_3041.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-334340183676798256</id><published>2009-11-16T21:33:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T21:37:06.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SwI2PL1__fI/AAAAAAAAEPI/yIRoR6eEabE/s1600/IMG_3572.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SwI2PL1__fI/AAAAAAAAEPI/yIRoR6eEabE/s200/IMG_3572.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404942137303236082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;i miss josh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-334340183676798256?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/334340183676798256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=334340183676798256' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/334340183676798256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/334340183676798256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-miss-josh.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SwI2PL1__fI/AAAAAAAAEPI/yIRoR6eEabE/s72-c/IMG_3572.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-3647036778191943838</id><published>2009-11-12T19:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T22:40:12.251-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Svz_OwYcimI/AAAAAAAAEPA/oOVBtcskFzY/s1600-h/IMG_3575.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Svz_OwYcimI/AAAAAAAAEPA/oOVBtcskFzY/s320/IMG_3575.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403474281908439650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I have mentioned this in previous posts, but I feel as if my heart is planted in the midwest.  The past four years in California have been amazing.  This time has been instrumental in who I am today...personal discoveries, getting involved in the community, a fantastic job, wonderful people...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...but through all of that, I still find myself yearning to be in Ohio.  I've thought for a while I would eventually move back...and each day that goes by that desire grows.  True, I have even more reason to move back now.  A piece of my heart lives in Ohio and I yearn to be near.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So here I am, wondering what to do.  When to take a step towards Ohio.   How to take a step.   So many questions about leaving here and making my way there.  Do I wait for 'the right time' or do I just go ahead and take as many steps as possible until it happens?  And what if I move there and decide I miss it in California?   Both places are like home and I anticipate that I will always miss one place, no matter where I end up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Because there is no clear answer, I will continue to pray.  Continue to take baby steps until I feel clear direction (hopefully I will feel clear direction at some point!).  Any advice?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-3647036778191943838?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/3647036778191943838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=3647036778191943838' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3647036778191943838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3647036778191943838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-know-i-have-mentioned-this-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Svz_OwYcimI/AAAAAAAAEPA/oOVBtcskFzY/s72-c/IMG_3575.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-6877253661089934998</id><published>2009-10-12T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T20:06:48.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/StPs5IRA97I/AAAAAAAAEO4/v5I_vhNkO_0/s1600-h/IMG_3436.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/StPs5IRA97I/AAAAAAAAEO4/v5I_vhNkO_0/s320/IMG_3436.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391913645108164530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having an overwhelming day in terms of emotions.  I feel incredibly happy and excited....and yet worried and anxious at the same time.  When you come to a point in your life where you need to make a decision...a change...all of a sudden you wish doors would just open to point you in the right direction.  Sometimes having options can be a hard thing.  How do you know you're making the right choice?  I suppose you just take a leap and pray for the best, knowing you have people in your life who will support you regardless. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, yes....lots of vagueness, I know.  But I feel that the above applies to many things in my life that I don't need to go into detail about individually at this moment. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On another note, my best friend from high school ("Sass") came to visit this past weekend.  It was so nice to have her here for a bit and see my life.  And such an honor to be able to shop for a wedding dress with her!  Our first stop was the beach (photo above).  The rest of the weekend we went shopping, walked around, watched movies, relaxed, experienced Little Italy Festa, and just enjoyed hanging out with each other.  Shopping for wedding dresses with Sass was so much fun.  I loved seeing her facial expressions as she tried on each dress....knowing immediately what she thought.  And I loved seeing her face as she tried on 'the' dress (although she didn't necessarily settle on it yet).  I just saw her face light up and she couldn't hide her smile.  Seeing Sass happy is one of the most wonderful things I could experience...she deserves the world.   I have to admit, that it's very difficult to shop for wedding dresses without imagining yourself in one.  It's hard to talk about wedding plans without secretly planning your own in your head.  We all know that's a ways off and I'm desperately trying to stay grounded here.  Regardless - I loved the weekend. I love being dreamy. And I'm hoping to have some clear direction soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-6877253661089934998?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/6877253661089934998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=6877253661089934998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/6877253661089934998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/6877253661089934998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-having-overwhelming-day-in-terms-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/StPs5IRA97I/AAAAAAAAEO4/v5I_vhNkO_0/s72-c/IMG_3436.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-7355530977004466376</id><published>2009-09-27T17:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T17:11:57.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Sr_-wg7db8I/AAAAAAAAEOA/ownXrcmPoXs/s1600-h/IMG_0103.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Sr_-wg7db8I/AAAAAAAAEOA/ownXrcmPoXs/s320/IMG_0103.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386303788784906178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Sr_-e2Cz1bI/AAAAAAAAEN4/VpD_61TNRR4/s1600-h/IMG_0105.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Sr_-e2Cz1bI/AAAAAAAAEN4/VpD_61TNRR4/s320/IMG_0105.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386303485215233458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Sr_9wExU_1I/AAAAAAAAENw/fH8GsHLCHqI/s1600-h/IMG_0104.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Sr_9wExU_1I/AAAAAAAAENw/fH8GsHLCHqI/s320/IMG_0104.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386302681714589522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a crafty day.  After the Chargers game with family and friends (along with&lt;a href="http://www.newlywedsnextdoor.com/"&gt; Newlyweds Next Door&lt;/a&gt;), I came back and finally made a camera strap I've been wanting to make for a while after one of my favorite friends, Bre, showed me her finished strap.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a simple project for those of you who are new to sewing and it only took about 30 minutes from beginning to end.  You'll see that my cat, Geneva was a lot of help, sitting in the middle of my fabric.  :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To find this pattern, go to the &lt;a href="http://www.designspongeonline.com/2009/06/diy-wednesdays-camera-strap-cover.html"&gt;Design Sponge&lt;/a&gt; blog!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/191656619961550787-7355530977004466376?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/7355530977004466376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=7355530977004466376' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/7355530977004466376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/7355530977004466376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/09/it-was-crafty-day.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/Sr_-wg7db8I/AAAAAAAAEOA/ownXrcmPoXs/s72-c/IMG_0103.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-43791881783920155</id><published>2009-09-11T17:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T17:43:33.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>God's timing is so mysterious.  I expect He has a plan of some sort, although it's hard to imagine what that is at this time.  Do you ever just wanna know His plan so bad it makes you want to scream?  That's how I feel this week.  I want to know the purpose of the placement of people and things in my life at this moment.  I want to know what step to make next and what the outcome will be.  I want clear direction.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/191656619961550787-43791881783920155?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/43791881783920155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=43791881783920155' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/43791881783920155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/43791881783920155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/09/gods-timing-is-so-mysterious.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-2393170364248167764</id><published>2009-08-25T21:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T21:41:28.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A whole month?  Wow...sorry I'm so lame.  But, like most things, there is a perfectly good excuse:  I'm losing my mind!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been the most stressed I've ever been in my life.  Just too many things going on at once.  Work has been crazy with one less person around and I can't seem to get everything I need done.  On top of that, I have class two nights a week from 5:30-9:30.  And then we got fleas!  In our apartment!  So there were days of getting them off the cat, having someone come spray...and then a week or two later realizing they were back (sigh).  So yesterday they came and sprayed again.  And it's a much bigger ordeal than you would think.  All the stress has caused a headache to take residence in the left side of my face.  After 10 days of said headache I went away for the weekend to Chicago to visit friends and attend a wedding.  I had so much fun in Chi-town that I thought I had rid myself of the headache all together.  Until I arrived home Sunday night to cat barf on my down comforter and an evening of vacuuming and moving furniture in preparation of the flea spraying dude.  Today the headache is back.  Day 13.  I'm hoping I get some more things accomplished at work this week and when I finish class on Wednesday I will feel a little less stressed and this headache will surrender.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I promise not to complain in every post.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-2393170364248167764?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/2393170364248167764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=2393170364248167764' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2393170364248167764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2393170364248167764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/08/whole-month-wow.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-731787777707231052</id><published>2009-07-20T16:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T17:45:24.456-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SmUPjBLJpEI/AAAAAAAAENQ/RYyACCQuTlc/s1600-h/5694_107401952711_500362711_2354230_3616839_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SmUPjBLJpEI/AAAAAAAAENQ/RYyACCQuTlc/s320/5694_107401952711_500362711_2354230_3616839_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360708025739486274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Birthday fun!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First of all, happy birthday to &lt;a href="http://lisloves.blogspot.com/"&gt;Lis Loves&lt;/a&gt;!  She happens to be my blogger birthday twin. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Secondly, I have about a million things to be thankful for this 26th birthday of mine.  I had a super fun weekend with many friends from all walks of life.  The celebrating really started on Thursday for me when I got last minute tickets to Coldplay with a friend of mine.  We were in the pit about 10 feet from the stage and had a RIDICULOUS time.  That concert was right up there with Radiohead on my best concerts ever list. SO GOOD. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friday I got to sleep in a little and meet my co-workers at the beach around noon for an outside planning session.  We just enjoyed the sunshine for a bit before talking for a couple hours in the sun.  Later that evening we went to a local bar to hear our friends &lt;a href="http://www.moxybullets.com/"&gt;Moxy Bullets&lt;/a&gt; play.  I went to bed relatively early because Saturday I woke up at 5:45am!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saturday consisted of a whole lot of sunshine and fun.  A friend of mine invited me to join some folks on a boat around Mission Bay.  We cruised, went wakeboarding, tubing, stopped on fiesta island and watched the Over the Line tournament, and just had a bunch of fun.  That night my good friend Bryan and his girlfriend drove in from Arizona to enjoy birthday celebrations.  We went downtown with my roommate and another friend and had a couple drinks and danced for a bit.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sunday I had a pool party at a family friend's house (pictured above).  This is my third birthday pool party and it's the best way to celebrate in my opinion!  Just chilling in the sunshine hanging out with friends.  The best part about the day was just having good friends hanging out with me and having my parents show up in the middle of the day!  The reason this is exciting is because my mom finally moved out to San Diego so my parents are living 25 minutes from me now.  And Maggie, our golden retriever, too!  After the pool party we went to Balboa Park to see Moxy Bullets play (again) at the pride festival and then went out to eat dinner at Ortega's - YUMMY Mexican.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had a wonderful weekend, but MAN am I exhausted!  Thanks to all my friends (especially Teresa who helped out so much on Sunday) who helped me celebrate!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-731787777707231052?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/731787777707231052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=731787777707231052' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/731787777707231052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/731787777707231052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/07/birthday-fun-first-of-all-happy.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SmUPjBLJpEI/AAAAAAAAENQ/RYyACCQuTlc/s72-c/5694_107401952711_500362711_2354230_3616839_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-3158046654459815249</id><published>2009-07-13T17:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T17:38:10.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SlvQvpvOL2I/AAAAAAAAENI/Y051wpAwHWc/s1600-h/IMG_3203.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SlvQvpvOL2I/AAAAAAAAENI/Y051wpAwHWc/s320/IMG_3203.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358105698763681634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye house!  Goodbye Oxford!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This past weekend I flew back to Ohio to be together with my family in Oxford for one of the last times.  I grew up in Oxford and spent my first 21 years there.  My parents built our house on Deer Trail and we moved in when I was 6 years old.  This weekend we stood inside the empty house as a family and reminisced.  We measured our heights on the wall in the basement one more time, marking each height with a pen. We took photos, celebrated with dear friends, and shed tears (some of us, at least).   Oxford will always be home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-3158046654459815249?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/3158046654459815249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=3158046654459815249' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3158046654459815249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3158046654459815249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/07/goodbye-house-goodbye-oxford-this-past.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SlvQvpvOL2I/AAAAAAAAENI/Y051wpAwHWc/s72-c/IMG_3203.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-5130749390512535064</id><published>2009-07-06T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T16:57:57.057-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SlKPPphMi0I/AAAAAAAAENA/xgzOhut6hTY/s1600-h/IMG_3021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SlKPPphMi0I/AAAAAAAAENA/xgzOhut6hTY/s320/IMG_3021.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355500405902838594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kirkmont is the place where I feel at home the most.   I went to this camp from 3rd grade all the way through high school. It was the one thing throughout the year I told my parents I couldn't miss.  The people there are always encouraging and it's one place in the world where we all feel we can be who we are without judgement.  My faith grew exponentially through my experiences at Kirkmont and I love that place to the moon and back.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hadn't been to Kirkmont since 2001.  And then I got an email from a few people I used to camp with asking for counselors for this summer.  I decided to take a week off of work (two weeks ago) and fly back to Ohio to be a counselor and it was the best decision I've made all year.  My first trip back in 8 years was just as I remembered.  The people are the same, the songs are the same, the traditions are still in place, and my heart was just as full when I left. I went through camp withdrawal the moment I got home (and I still miss it terribly!).  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I couldn't possibly explain Kirkmont to where anyone else could understand unless they've been there.  But it warms my heart every time I look back through photos from the week.  I hope I can continue to go back for a week each year!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-5130749390512535064?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/5130749390512535064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=5130749390512535064' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/5130749390512535064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/5130749390512535064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/07/kirkmont-is-place-where-i-feel-at-home.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SlKPPphMi0I/AAAAAAAAENA/xgzOhut6hTY/s72-c/IMG_3021.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-1165463198102849719</id><published>2009-07-05T19:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T19:16:39.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>What is wrong with people??&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was just driving home from the grocery store and was in the left turn lane at a red light.  There was a man in front of me talking on his cell phone while he drove...illegally (for you non-Californians).  When the left turn arrow turned green, the man was still on his cell phone looking down.  I waited a few seconds and then gave my horn a light tap and when he looked up, gave a nice little wave - in my mind, letting him know I was just being polite to let him know the light hand changed.  He, however, did not find it so helpful.  He chose to drive into the middle of the intersection to turn, slow down until the light turned yellow, and then stuck his arm out of the window, fully extended, to make sure I saw then prompt middle finger he was throwing in my direction (still on the cell phone with the other hand).  Then, he continued through the intersection, leaving me in front of the next red left turn signal to wait through another round of traffic.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks jerk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And so I ask....WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE???&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-1165463198102849719?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/1165463198102849719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=1165463198102849719' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/1165463198102849719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/1165463198102849719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/07/what-is-wrong-with-people-i-was-just.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-3930999972934213705</id><published>2009-07-01T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T11:37:13.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Does anyone else out there use Google Reader?  I've been using it for quite sometime and can't get over how amazing it is.  Imagine having to go through each website on your own each day...to check and see if they've updated.  I follow around 30 blogs so this would be an incredible time waster if it wasn't for Google Reader!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've been following &lt;a href="http://www.newlywedsnextdoor.com/"&gt;Newlyweds Next Door &lt;/a&gt;for a while (she's a childhood friend) and she recently referred me to Lis Loves who I now follow on Google Reader, as well.  She is even my birthday twin!  She's giving away gifts during her birthday month...you should check it out &lt;a href="http://lisloves.blogspot.com/2009/07/birthday-giveaway.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-3930999972934213705?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/3930999972934213705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=3930999972934213705' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3930999972934213705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3930999972934213705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/07/does-anyone-else-out-there-use-google.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-4982385710617443211</id><published>2009-05-18T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T15:15:39.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I love to rollerblade - and yes I know that it's from the "90s". I'm not big on cooking and I get stressed out when I do cook for other people. I can't live without music and don't ever ask me what my favorite song is - it's just not possible. I will always be a midwestern girl at heart, although I can't imagine living anywhere but San Diego right now. I love food and will eat almost anything, but I hate olives. I hate when people say "why aren't you dating anyone??" as if I had a choice. I also hate that the peope I love the most...who know me best...are all the way in Ohio. I love that I get to help out less fortunate people every day through my job. I feel incredibly blessed to have had the family and life that I do. I wish I had unlimited money...not for myself...but so I could help all of the deserving people I hear about every day. And so I could visit my friends in Ohio more often. I don't like talking on the phone that much. I love holding hands and giving hugs. I had my first full cup of coffee this year. I don't need to eat dessert...unless you stick a chocolate chip cookie in front of me - I can't resist. I believe in God and Jesus with all my heart...but I constantly wish I understood the direction my life is going. I have a horrible time getting motivation to work out, but I'm finally doing it at least once a week for the first time in my life. I love to organize and I would come organize your closet for you for free if you asked. I know I'm a freak for that. I'm more of a t-shirt and jeans girl (which is why I don't fit in with the SoCal girls) - but every once and a while it's fun to get all dressed up. I wish I could find a church in San Diego I liked that was closer than 30 minutes away. I have a horrible habit of feeling extremely guilty when I make mistakes. I can't stand when people don't use their turn signal and I talk to other cars on the road when I'm driving. I'm an awful backseat driver, but I'm working on it. I'm a hopeless romantic. I love photography, even though I'm not very good at it. I'm also a facebook adict. I'm a pro at tetris and I dare you to challenge me. I'm an over-reminiscer. I wish I was more crafty. I secretly want to be a stay-at-home-mom some day. I want to go on adventures and try new things. I tend to underestimate myself and hardly ever try as hard as I could. I constantly wish I was something more...something better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-4982385710617443211?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/4982385710617443211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=4982385710617443211' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/4982385710617443211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/4982385710617443211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-love-to-rollerblade-and-yes-i-know.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-8376258805450991462</id><published>2008-12-22T15:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T19:24:50.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I am OH so grateful.   This year I helped participate in our company's holiday drive.  Our employees donated gifts for over 950 youth in San Diego this year.  I read some of the quotes from staff at San Diego Youth and Community Services (where we gave the donations) and was choking back tears at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SDYCS Executive Director&lt;br /&gt;“On behalf of the youth in our programs, I thank all of you at Qualcomm for your generosity and compassion.  Your donations during the Annual Holiday Toy Drive, put smiles on the faces of over 950 at-risk youth who often have to do with less because of the challenges they face.  We also appreciate all the volunteer time you contributed during the evenings and weekend to ensure the gifts would get to our youth.  We value your partnership with us and thank you again for making such a tremendous impact for youth in our community.”&lt;br /&gt;Walter Philips, SDYCS Executive Director&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bridgman Home- Deaf Group Home&lt;br /&gt;“I would just like to thank Qualcomm and all their dedicated staff for their holiday contributions.  Many of our youth have come from homes where the holidays were a stressful and sad time and where their family was unable to communicate with them.  So, for many of our youth, this holiday season is the first time they will be able to celebrate the holidays in a safe, warm, caring environment with others who are like them.  I realize it’s hard to know sometimes the impact that one person or a small group of people can have on someone’s life but I wanted to take a moment to thank each and every one of the staff at Qualcomm for their amazing generosity during this season.  These youth, youth who have grown up abused, neglect, and thrown away now have a place to call home and the ability, thanks to all of you, to celebrate that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, I can’t share photos of the youth because of confidentiality; however, I would like to take a moment to share an experience with one of the youth in the home.  All of our youth are teenagers, most of them above the age of 15 to help set the stage for this a bit.  One of our teens who has a history of severe abuse, trauma, deprivation, and neglect asked for a Barbie doll.  Yes, a Barbie doll!  When she opened her gift from one of the persons at Qualcomm, it was a Barbie doll with a set of clothes.  This teenager who has been through so much in her life began to cry.  Later, when I asked her what prompted that reaction, she said “it’s my very first doll.  I’ve never had one before!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that, I will say once again, thank you to all of the staff at Qualcomm.  Again, I know it can be hard to know the impact you might have on another person’s life; however, for this youth, someone gave her a childhood she never had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Holidays and all my best for a safe and warm Christmas!”&lt;br /&gt;Michele Cannon, MSW, PPS, Bridgman Group Home Director&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EC-Behavioral Center&lt;br /&gt;“In my whole life, I never would have imagined giving my child an IPod!”  This is coming from a mother of 6 who was homeless and recently found a home.  She was in tears and so thankful for the gift card to Target and extra wrapped gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The staff at the EC BHC were thrilled with last week’s delivery and completely grateful for the beautiful presents.  Our clients and families have been ecstatic and grateful for the thoughtful presents.”&lt;br /&gt;Rachelle Amini, Psy.D., MSWProgram Manager/Clinical Psychologist&lt;br /&gt;East County Behavioral Health Clinic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foster Care&lt;br /&gt;“In my many years working in foster care it has been incredible to see the generosity of people, even during challenging financial times.  All the act of kindness is greatly appreciated.”&lt;br /&gt;Monica Bradley, Foster Care Marketing &amp;amp; Retention Coordinator&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breaking Cycles&lt;br /&gt;" I wish to express my sincere appreciation for the wrapped gifts and gift certificates that were provided to the Breaking Cycles Program. All of the hard work and generosity of Qualcomm Inc. and its donors will be appreciated by the adolescents at the Youth Day Center and Reflections Program who will receive these gifts on December 22nd and 23rd 2008." Christopher Montoya, Center Director Breaking Cycles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quote from a 16 year old who received a $50.00 Target Gift Certificate today 12/22/08: "Thank You Qualcomm, this will help me buy a few things for my family that I would not have been able to afford - Merry Christmas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take Wing&lt;br /&gt;“We really appreciate all of the hard work and the wonderful gifts!  Qualcomm has helped make it possible for our youth and young adults to have a happy holiday and to put gifts under the tree for their kids as well.  Thanks so much for everything!”&lt;br /&gt;Kristin Krogh, Community Organizer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We just cannot thank Qualcomm enough for their hard work and dedication to giving our youth an unforgettable holiday.  These gifts might be the only gifts they receive these holidays and without your efforts this would have never been possible.  Once again, we appreciate everything you do during this time of the year and we thank you.”&lt;br /&gt;Raul Bautista -Take Wing Transitional Living Program, Case Manager&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quotes from youth:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thank you for the present you gave me, I loved it! I always wanted something so that I could hear music, now I am so happy I get to hear music and take it with me everywhere I go. So thank you again for the iPod Shuffle.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I liked my backpack. I am happy! I liked my gift card. Thank you. I liked my cards.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“When I got my gift I thought it was going to be a gift card, but I felt something heavy so when I opened it, it was an iPod Shuffle. I was going to faint because it’s my first iPod I’m going to use!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I feel happy because I can buy anything I want, for example - iPod Shuffle, clothes, shoes… anything I want.”&lt;br /&gt;“I love it! It’s like you read my mind! It’s just what I wanted!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-8376258805450991462?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/8376258805450991462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=8376258805450991462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/8376258805450991462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/8376258805450991462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/12/today-i-am-oh-so-grateful.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-686457583225617678</id><published>2008-12-15T19:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T20:00:33.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Colds are about the worst thing ever.  They're not bad enough to excuse yourself from going work - but they run you down and make you spit constantly and blow your nose 'till it's so raw it bleeds.  Ugg.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All I want right now is a massage and some soup.  And a cute guy to cuddle up next to and watch a movie. Is that too much to ask?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-686457583225617678?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/686457583225617678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=686457583225617678' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/686457583225617678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/686457583225617678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/12/colds-are-about-worst-thing-ever.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-7934315053305473221</id><published>2008-12-01T14:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T14:44:53.879-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yes, I'm a sporadic blogger.  Today I returned to San Diego after 6 fabulous days in Ohio.  Lately when I return to Ohio I have a sense of completeness when I'm there.  A yearning that makes me think I may want to return some day.  If I could find a job like the one I currently have back in the Cincinnati area I would seriously consider it. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; A year or two ago I would have said no time in the near future would I ever leave San Diego.  But as I stay here I continue to miss the people from my Midwest roots.  There's something very different about the people in Ohio.  Something I think I constantly search for in my friends out here.  I think it gets worse each time I return. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This was possibly the last time in Oxford for a while.  Mom is retiring in the Spring and moving out here in the Summer.  Then no more home in Ohio!  I have very mixed feelings about her move.  More than anything I wish San Diego was a short drive from the Cincinnati area.  I would even take a 5 hour drive. I just want to be near my friends again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-7934315053305473221?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/7934315053305473221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=7934315053305473221' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/7934315053305473221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/7934315053305473221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/12/yes-im-asporadicblogger.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-4359409583506838286</id><published>2008-11-14T19:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T19:25:22.394-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's been a while since I've posted...but I need to back up a bit and update about the election.  We all knew this would be a historic election, but I never knew it would be to this extent.  That morning, I went to the local library to cast my vote.  I had to wait 30 minutes in the rain - incredible!  The man behind me had two sweet kids in line with him who randomly burst out with American the Beautiful.  It was so appropriate and perfect.  The highest voter turnout ever...and Barak Obama as president.  Holy crap I'm excited!  Throughout the night I got text messages from my family talking about how proud they are.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mom: 8:16pm 11/4/08&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm so proud.  Tears are running down my face.  It's like independence day. President Obama!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dad: 9:26pm 11/4/08&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wow! What an amazing speech.  I will never forget this moment.  I am proud to be an American at this moment in our history.  My tears are those of incredible joy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had planned on going to the Sullivan's house to watch the election with a my dad and some of the Sullivan's friends.  But that afternoon, I found out that Qualcomm had 4 free tickets to the Madonna concert and Dan Sullivan had given me the opportunity to take them!  I was so excited and immediately called Denise, Teresa, and Becky to join me.  We arrived at the park and called the guy at Petco who came out and handed me 4 tickets, letting me know that if there was anything in the way of our view that we could trade them in for different seats.  We found our seats near the front of the stadium and were SO excited.  There was a speaker that was partially in our view, but no way were we going to complain about free seats!  About 20 minutes before the concert started, a woman from the park asked me if we'd like floor seats instead. Umm...YES!  So we got our wristbands and headed onto the floor.  There we ran into some friends of ours and found our seats - just one section from the stage (maybe 50 feet away).  The concert was incredible and Madonna was beyond elated.  She announced to the crowd Obama's victory (although I already had text messages from dad and Mike to let me know).  She must have said "I'm so happy right now" about 4 times.  During Ray of Light, she forgot the words to her song and stopped to laugh letting us know it was because she was so f*ing excited.  Before the last song or two, the whole crew came out wearing t-shirts with Obama's face that said "express yourself".  She saw the empty spaces from the aisles and said we should fill up all the empty space immediately.  Security held their ground and Madonna insisted Security let us through saying, "Let us celebrate together for once in our lives!"  We ended up running forward about 5 feet from the stage and each time she mentioned Obama the crowd erupted. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was certainly an incredible night that I will never forget.  Part of me wishes I had been with my dad and listened to Obama's speech that night live, but nothing will change the fact that I voted for Barak Obama on November 4th, 2008.  I sure hope he lives up to our expectations.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/191656619961550787-4359409583506838286?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/4359409583506838286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=4359409583506838286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/4359409583506838286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/4359409583506838286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/11/its-been-while-since-ive-posted.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-3657834675736784282</id><published>2008-11-05T23:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T23:37:02.617-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hope.  So many thoughts/emotions surrounding the election results from yesterday.  Foremost is the hope that Obama will bring.  More on that later.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For tonight: I feel a bit lost.  In a funk?  Unsure of myself.  Lack of confidence? yuck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-3657834675736784282?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/3657834675736784282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=3657834675736784282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3657834675736784282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3657834675736784282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/11/hope.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-1774746638210411369</id><published>2008-10-06T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T20:02:24.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today I picked up Chris Martin from the airport.  Back from the Navy for the first time in months.  I felt honored to be able to pick him up and hang out with him tonight.  It's also Kevin Lambert's birthday so we celebrated.  I wore my "That's What She Said" T-shirt, Chris wore his "Skyline" T-shirt...and we had skyline for dinner.  It was awesome!  Unfortunately, I didn't take good care of Chris' car while he was gone and so his battery was dead.  But we learned something new!!  Chris and I went, bought a new battery, and installed it.  I took photos!&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/191656619961550787-1774746638210411369?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/1774746638210411369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=1774746638210411369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/1774746638210411369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/1774746638210411369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/10/today-i-picked-up-chris-martin-from.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-3315863643614260437</id><published>2008-10-04T23:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T23:40:27.735-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOhhBknQV2I/AAAAAAAACbc/gc1so4lqLLs/s1600-h/IMG_3696.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOhhBknQV2I/AAAAAAAACbc/gc1so4lqLLs/s320/IMG_3696.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253555644963772258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a few minutes looking through old notes reminds me where I come from and what amazing people I am surrounded with.  Every single card and note (there had to be over a hundred) made me smile, laugh, or cry.  All because of wonderful, encouraging, people I've been blessed with over the years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-3315863643614260437?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/3315863643614260437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=3315863643614260437' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3315863643614260437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/3315863643614260437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/10/just-few-minutes-looking-through-old.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOhhBknQV2I/AAAAAAAACbc/gc1so4lqLLs/s72-c/IMG_3696.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-1999692256503695859</id><published>2008-10-03T23:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T23:41:22.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I can't explain the feeling of being at a live concert. I just went with Becky to see The Swell Season.  It was incredible.  These folks know how to put on a show (along with Iron &amp;amp; Wine who opened).  It's not only their incredible music, but their interaction with the audience.  They asked us to sing along, listened when people yelled comments, laughed with us, and even asked two girls to come on stage in dance because they noticed them in the audience.  They described their music and what it was meant to convey which added so much to the experience.  They talked about life issues like politics and your heart versus your brain.  And they made jokes and we all laughed.  I felt so connected.  There's nothing quite like music to speak to your soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-1999692256503695859?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/1999692256503695859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=1999692256503695859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/1999692256503695859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/1999692256503695859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-cant-explain-feeling-of-being-at-live.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-2569023768486468195</id><published>2008-10-02T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T21:39:25.705-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e359/snavely/MU.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e359/snavely/MU.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks until I head back to Miami.  I can't hardly stand the waiting.  I want to be Oxford with my mom and my favorite dog on the planet.  I want the small town feel of running into people you know no matter where you go. I want to experience fall and the chill in the air.  I want to see those friends who know me to the core and I feel 100% myself around.  I want to see my favorite choir sing and be able to stand up next to them and join in something bigger than myself.  I want to eat Skyline and Bagel &amp;amp; Deli. I want to feel at home.  I'm looking forward to October 24th.&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/191656619961550787-2569023768486468195?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/2569023768486468195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=2569023768486468195' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2569023768486468195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/2569023768486468195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/10/two-weeks-until-i-head-back-to-miami.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-191656619961550787.post-8964062998749432915</id><published>2008-10-02T21:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T21:15:36.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Miracles.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jamie &amp;amp; Andrew discovered today that they are expecting a precious little girl.  As soon as I received Jamie's text my heart twisted and tears formed in my eyes.  What a little miracle!  I can't explain the feeling in my heart aside from the fact that Jamie &amp;amp; Andrew are going to be fantastic parents.  I am beyond excited for them and hope that they will indulge me and allow me to share in their excitement.   I can only imagine finding the same news for myself someday and the emotions that will precede and follow.  What a gift!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/191656619961550787-8964062998749432915?l=ssnavely.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/feeds/8964062998749432915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=191656619961550787&amp;postID=8964062998749432915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/8964062998749432915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/191656619961550787/posts/default/8964062998749432915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ssnavely.blogspot.com/2008/10/miracles.html' title=''/><author><name>Snaves</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16404029848151836767</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_T1G_0-LhYx0/SOWbJWZb2oI/AAAAAAAACa8/5udJzdYmV-M/S220/IMG_1999.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
