tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1245033946154915122024-03-13T12:22:03.007-07:00The Marrow of Life“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, To put to rout all that was not life and not when I had come to die Discover that I had not lived.” - Henry ThoreauJenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-37417126150840671842019-02-03T11:50:00.002-08:002019-02-03T11:50:25.273-08:00My 28 Mantras
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1. Accentuate the positive</div>
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2. Say "Yes" whenever possible</div>
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3. People are generally good and more like you than not </div>
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4. Always be honest because the truth will out</div>
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5. God is the best Dad </div>
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6. Grudges aren't worth it </div>
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7. With God, all things will be fair and there will be wonderful surprises</div>
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8. Always go back to what you know</div>
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9. Help however and whenever you can</div>
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10. There is always a choice</div>
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11. Pick up the child before picking up the mess</div>
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12. You can always start over</div>
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13. Give flowers to the living</div>
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14. Be kind and have courage to keep hoping on</div>
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15. No matter what you've done, you can always come back home</div>
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16. You might as well be believing</div>
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17. Be enchanted </div>
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18. It doesn't hurt to ask</div>
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19. Bear witness to your feelings and other's</div>
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20. Do what you love and love what you do </div>
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21. Don't hold back joy </div>
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22. Be so kind that people would have to be fools not to like you</div>
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23. Falling in love is worth the risk of falling apart </div>
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24. You can learn anything if you're willing to take the time </div>
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25. Listen to your body </div>
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26. Oxytocin, Empathy, Sleep,<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> and Exercise = the remedy for most ailments </span></div>
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27. Let us reason together </div>
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28. Beauty requires attentiveness </div>
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<br />Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-21871453132332491822018-05-21T20:19:00.002-07:002018-05-21T20:19:37.650-07:00Morning Glow: Wake Up Slow <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have a secret pleasure--waking up slowly. It's my term for waking up without any alarm and without any need to rush out of bed. I love it. This might surprise you since I am a go getter with a productivity complex. But despite the fact that I'm not someone who has a difficult time waking up, and that I never press the snooze button (I didn't even know the purpose of said button until College), I love wasting time in bed. I get up when I need to get up, but when I don't NEED to get up, I sometimes just don't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There's something about the stillness of morning air, the birds singing, the sun beams filling a room up with the radiance of light, and the recognition of my body wrapped in cotton sheets and fluffy down. It's my thinking time. It's my dreaming time. It's my planning time. It's my cuddle time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wonder if this love of morning moments might have stemmed from the many mornings as a kid when I would sneak into my parents' bedroom and crawl in bed with my mom. We'd cuddle together and both fall back asleep. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The romantic in me wants to believe that these morning moments are even better when shared with another person. That someone's head on this empty pillow and another pair of feet twisting in and out of the comforter might make these moments glimmer even more. The realist in me knows that sometimes people don't like to be cuddled, don't like to be washed over with another's body heat, don't like to be still when so much is calling them out and about, don't like to pillow talk, and don't wake up at the same time without an alarm clock. I realize that, more often than not, I might keep these morning moments to myself and for myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But, there's just something about it. </span><br />
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<br />Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-23142528710449731002018-05-14T23:17:00.000-07:002018-05-14T23:19:49.765-07:00What Once Was Lost<div style="text-align: center;">
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I don't tend to lose things. I rarely misplace them. Honestly, I am that person who notices when something is slightly out of place. (Making it difficult for anyone to throw me a surprise party, or sneak into my room to borrow a shirt without my knowing). But, I've fallen into a strange pattern of losing things.<br />
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#1. My Driver's License: Fell out of my pocket trick or treating with my nephews. I was pretty certain it ended up in a kid's bag to be used as a play credit card.<br />
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#2. My Gold Pearl Necklace (given to me by my father): Placed in a storage bin before my Shakespearean Themed Birthday party, completely gone after it--I feared it accidentally made its way out with the trash.<br />
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#3. My Cell Phone: After texting an "I'm about to board the plane" text, my phone somehow stayed behind at the SLC airport while I traveled on to Chicago. If there is one place I don't expect to find a lost phone again, it is an airport.<br />
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#4 My Claddagh Ring: I never used to wear rings, but for the last few years, I have adopted the habit of wearing this ring nearly every day. It's my signature, my status, my conversation starter, my comfort, and my favorite ring. Ever since I was a little girl admiring my cousin's claddagh ring, I wanted one. During a trip to Jamestown, as a teenager, I finally found it. And I must say, after traveling through Ireland and Scotland, I can tell you that my claddagh is the best one out there. Hence, my complete sadness when I discovered that it wasn't on my finger the other day. I knew I'd put it on that morning, but had zero recollection of ever taking it off.<br />
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In each of these instances, I found myself cycling through puzzlement, determination, resignation, and restitution. There were fears: lost identity, lost memory, lost security, lost comfort. And there were questions: Is humanity inherently good? Are misplaced items actually lost? What part of the brain stores the memory of where I put that necklace? I reached out to everyone I could think of for help, to put our brains together, to unite our collective memories and find the objects. I prayed-- A lot. Prayed to be able to remember where I put that necklace, that if someone found my ID and my Phone that they might be a good person who would want to restore it to me. In the end, I always ended up at the place of resignation: the acceptance that things are things, that life would go on without even the seemingly important things, that I could replace my ID and Phone, that my father wasn't in a necklace, and that my identity wasn't in a ring. I'd go on without them.<br />
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But, then, all that was lost was returned.<br />
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#1. When I went to the DMV to apply for a new ID, someone had turned my old one in the day before.<br />
#2. When I got up off my praying knees, I thought to check a hidden compartment in my purse. I had dumped that purse out before, but this time--the necklace was there.<br />
#3. Someone found my phone and turned it in to the airport Lost and Found. My friend called in and made sure the phone stayed safely at the SLC baggage claim until I returned.<br />
#4. My niece found my ring sitting by the couch where I had been napping the day before. I must have taken it off in my sleep, or just before I went to sleep.<br />
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I'm writing this post because I believe there's something I'm supposed to learn here. No, it's not that I won't lose anything, or that every time I pray to find something, I do. In fact, before I lost the Driver's License, I lost my house key while on a run. I prayed loudly to be able to find that and I never did. It is something else...something along the lines of recognizing what's important and what is not. Something about discovering that God knows where lost items are, but most importantly, he knows the whereabouts of each lost person. Something about learning to utilize my intellect, my assets, and fellow humans, to find those that are lost. Something about cherishing the lost and found, the second chances, and miracles. Something.<br />
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<br />Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-50584830615870823122018-01-06T11:17:00.002-08:002018-01-06T11:34:33.475-08:002017 Year In Review A year ago, I was unsteady and uncertain about embarking into 2017. You can read all about it <a href="http://marrowoflife.blogspot.com/2017/01/ring-out-wild-bells.html" target="_blank">here</a>. But this year has been more than I ever expected.<br />
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<b><u>India</u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgavNPVIWQ-p5ItUYf7pO3dGvqsb-hhN-1NW_BBKVEzlWIOhc8HAt78EuLZySY42-KvW01l9_o92Ux-BOTRO27VmstPb35bAp7MZlIWpqzo6rfZwBMuBSPhRkRMIloxNrgUZwCXS06e9sHZ/s1600/16681788_1260798420671216_5946525461894939535_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgavNPVIWQ-p5ItUYf7pO3dGvqsb-hhN-1NW_BBKVEzlWIOhc8HAt78EuLZySY42-KvW01l9_o92Ux-BOTRO27VmstPb35bAp7MZlIWpqzo6rfZwBMuBSPhRkRMIloxNrgUZwCXS06e9sHZ/s320/16681788_1260798420671216_5946525461894939535_n.jpg" width="240" /></a>I had the once in a lifetime opportunity to travel to India for my friend's wedding. It feels like a strange dream now, but it happened and I wrote about some of it <a href="http://marrowoflife.blogspot.com/2017/07/everything-i-never-wanted-to-be.html" target="_blank">here</a>. My favorite experience was celebrating with Aarti and Deepak and discovering Hindu wedding rituals. The amount of love and generosity we received from Aarti's family was remarkable. It was also a great adventure to be back together with my 7 roommates from college. 24 hour plane rides can't stop us! </div>
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<b><u>New York / Connecticut / DC </u></b></div>
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After the most stressful semester of my existence so far, Andrea and I decided to take a break on the East Coast. We walked and ate our way through two of the best cities stopping at every art museum along the way. </div>
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<b><u>Moab / Mesa Verde </u></b></div>
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Tammy, Grace, Mom, and I ventured down south for some hiking. Some of my favorite moments were back bending with Grace in front of an arch and cheering my mom on as she maneuvered her way through tunnels and up ladders at Mesa Verde.<br />
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<b><u>Chicago/ Michigan </u></b></div>
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2017 marks my first time to the Windy City, and you know what? I really liked it. Chicago has a feel all its own. I especially loved the Art Institute. However, I also loved being in Michigan to celebrate my cousin's wedding.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0MGLAIWVuDo20rT_hGTOwOeKEKVIxUoaZAgzGgQJ33PgUgvUTpK8Eai_qlheT7sFkxzbIywqoCzMBiusSdcXhfRPt1GZxEnxUCWHIoHAYvkG55Q3074CXRhcreWACWDFrTV7ESCWPIukC/s1600/19105537_1383253851759005_5895615608903271418_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0MGLAIWVuDo20rT_hGTOwOeKEKVIxUoaZAgzGgQJ33PgUgvUTpK8Eai_qlheT7sFkxzbIywqoCzMBiusSdcXhfRPt1GZxEnxUCWHIoHAYvkG55Q3074CXRhcreWACWDFrTV7ESCWPIukC/s320/19105537_1383253851759005_5895615608903271418_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><u>St. George </u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtozuCEc0L1sm_Zm8xYIm_56W8_5MXS8Cn52H8sMZvc5xiIb7pAApoJlw6reHJ8Jc7zRoYegKYnkjzp3N2w3XqQUWU2Ywsd426EV6_cXs1ZIa_1DFy3PXXQYAT1DH8SVTOehuIKrKaK4O_/s1600/20170612_203751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtozuCEc0L1sm_Zm8xYIm_56W8_5MXS8Cn52H8sMZvc5xiIb7pAApoJlw6reHJ8Jc7zRoYegKYnkjzp3N2w3XqQUWU2Ywsd426EV6_cXs1ZIa_1DFy3PXXQYAT1DH8SVTOehuIKrKaK4O_/s320/20170612_203751.jpg" width="320" /></a>Thanks to the Hales for buying a beautiful property in St. George, we had the chance to spend some time in St. George this year. I've discovered a new appreciation for that city of red plateaus. I especially enjoy swimming with the kids and hiking around Snow Canyon. </div>
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<b><u>San Diego</u></b></div>
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2017 also marked the first year for our Thorup family reunion. We settled on San Diego because we love the beach and because my dad loved San Diego. Between Sea World, Lego Land, and the San Diego Zoo, we were constantly on the go. However, we made sure to have a few beach days for building sand castles and boogie boarding. We began the first Thorup family Boogie boarding school for all the little ones. They did great! </div>
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<b><u>Shakespeare Festival </u></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWhEUDfmTJP0C71k3iq3Nsp0XTAg5dYMoFny1RVlnku1wA3sKj3LE_4zAjc4LjZpHt87huYfThlcPKrS7P-6wuWLaZY-Xayek97YyRLB9HklKcakWIQGxdmM-rdHULVMnb4CtmWsPXfw5/s1600/21106331_1460714404012949_7794176515855909337_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWhEUDfmTJP0C71k3iq3Nsp0XTAg5dYMoFny1RVlnku1wA3sKj3LE_4zAjc4LjZpHt87huYfThlcPKrS7P-6wuWLaZY-Xayek97YyRLB9HklKcakWIQGxdmM-rdHULVMnb4CtmWsPXfw5/s320/21106331_1460714404012949_7794176515855909337_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>I discovered the Student Pass at the Utah Shakespeare Festival this year--it is a total steal. It also just so happened to be the year <i>As You Like It</i> was being performed, which is the play featured most prominently in my Thesis. </div>
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<b><u>Defending my Thesis </u></b></div>
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I successfully defended my Thesis this year! According to my committee, it was one of the most enjoyable thesis defenses they've ever attended at BYU. I feel like I've actually accomplished something i'm proud of, that I could claim as a contribution to society, even though I know that likely no one will read it. </div>
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<b><u>Applying to PhD programs</u></b></div>
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The end of this year has been filled and flustered by PhD applications. I never intended to go to a PhD program. I'm surprised by the possibility. However, there is something inside of me pushing me to do it. It just feels like I'm supposed to try. So...I'm going to try. I've applied to 8 schools. Cross your fingers for good news in 2018! </div>
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<b><u>New Babies </u></b></div>
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We welcomed two new little ones into our family this year: James Wise Thorup on Oct 31st and Harrison Robert Thorup on December 21st!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUucKhhyphenhypheniH-fBNOpgpcoAJdTKxjroYvPx11oY7jvWGKGPQ6qLCqV7pJy_Wa0l76TltqblIi4RPvEQqGEq5z6UUbMkxPwehZAVB1HhqRSSlpW_i1sc39W1KNAKpiqXbkBg0noC4Fo_GjtR/s1600/IMG_2208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="864" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUucKhhyphenhypheniH-fBNOpgpcoAJdTKxjroYvPx11oY7jvWGKGPQ6qLCqV7pJy_Wa0l76TltqblIi4RPvEQqGEq5z6UUbMkxPwehZAVB1HhqRSSlpW_i1sc39W1KNAKpiqXbkBg0noC4Fo_GjtR/s320/IMG_2208.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b><u>Bravery</u></b> </div>
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I tried some new things this year: I took a contemporary dance class, I started Bikrum Yoga (more affectionately known as Hot Yoga), and I attempted to be more brave with my heart. Even though that hurt more often than not, it somehow healed a lot of the ache. Explain that one to me! </div>
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But amidst all of these adventures there are always the simple pleasures of the every day: teaching, writing, reading, laughing with friends, spending time with family, etc. It's a good life.<br />
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So here's to 2018. I'm feeling pretty good about you, so please don't disappoint ;-) </div>
Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-60227640376364385052018-01-06T11:17:00.001-08:002018-01-06T11:17:20.523-08:00Eating My Way Through The Big Apple: A Food Diary <div style="text-align: left;">
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After many requests following my Instagram post in NYC, I've decided to give you my Manhattan Menu. Enjoy!</div>
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: x-large;"><i>Chelsea Market</i></span></div>
<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Tacos No. 1: </span></u></b><br />
Carne Asada & Pollo<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>L'Arte Gelato:</u></b></span><br />
(not pictured) Pistachio + Vanilla<br />
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<i style="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Downtown </span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Flavors + Hot Dog Stand </u></b></span><br />
(not pictured) Fruit Cup, Rosemary and Olive Oil Potato Chips, Black and White Cookie, and Hot Dog with Ketchup<br />
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<i style="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Little Italy </span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Ferrara's Bakery </u></b></span><br />
Canoli (eaten too fast to be pictured) and Lobster Tail<br />
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<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: x-large;"><i>Brooklyn </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Grimaldi's </u></b></span><br />
Small Pizza + Italian Sausage<br />
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<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: x-large;"><i>Uptown </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Sarabeth's </u></b></span><br />
Buttermilk Pancakes, Basket of Muffins, Farmer's Omelette<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Levain Bakery </u></b></span><br />
(not pictured) Chocolate Chip Walnut, Oatmeal Raisin, Chocolate Peanut Butter Cookies<br />
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<b style="font-size: x-large;"><u>Thomas St. Barista </u></b><br />
Poached Egg over Avocado Toast, Fresh Squeeze OJ, and Oatmeal<br />
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<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: x-large;"><i>Mid-Town </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Whole Foods </u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;">A smattering of hot and cold foods eaten as a picnic in Bryant Park (not pictured) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Eataly </u></b></span><br />
Spaghetti and Arugula Salad<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span>Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-11039258001074518762017-07-09T17:53:00.000-07:002018-01-06T21:59:38.421-08:0020 Reasons I'm Still Single...according to everyone else <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4hEBQLojHZ7exOFq-Ppqw8mfiMxFCYRjuYBVdkOflHb2OL7TlRUb1TTTcsNzUle9tSmTogpIT_DpXlxAUAj0UW7ACJX7OqrmrQHeBxzY8QHkAJN3UfTQxGiU8toBvWvP8NYfPA-PJdiY/s1600/20170708_233022-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1478" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4hEBQLojHZ7exOFq-Ppqw8mfiMxFCYRjuYBVdkOflHb2OL7TlRUb1TTTcsNzUle9tSmTogpIT_DpXlxAUAj0UW7ACJX7OqrmrQHeBxzY8QHkAJN3UfTQxGiU8toBvWvP8NYfPA-PJdiY/s400/20170708_233022-1.jpg" width="368" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Page from my 2016-2017 planner </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">1. I'm too tall</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">2. I'm too smart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">3. I'm too intimidating</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">4. I'm too picky</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">5. I'm too liberal </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">6. I still want to get married in the Temple</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">7. I'm considering a PhD program</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">8. I'm not social enough</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">9. I spend too much time with my family and friends</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">10. I'm too independent</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">11. I act like I'm already married</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">12. I don't play hard to get</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">13. My type tends to land somewhere between 1 and 2 on the Kinsey Scale</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">14. I don't stay put long enough</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">15. I am too busy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">16. I don't give guys a chance</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">17. I am afraid of getting hurt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">18. I am afraid of having a relationship actually work</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">19. My body isn't symmetrical</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">20. Boys are stupid</span><br />
<br />Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-62649948266330977382017-07-02T14:32:00.001-07:002017-07-02T14:36:52.029-07:00Everything I never Wanted to Be I flew to India in late January to attend the wedding of one of my dearest friends. Before arriving, I had been told to prepare for an assault to the senses. I thought I was prepared for the smells, the colors, the sounds, the tastes, etc. However, what I wasn't prepared for was the way India would show me my own inhumanity.<br />
<br />
The wedding was spectacular! Truly, it was a once in a lifetime experience being part of an Indian wedding. I will likely never again attend a wedding ceremony in the middle of the night, nor feel as glamorous as I did wearing my Sarees. During this time, we were showed endless hospitality and generosity by the bride's family. It is something I will never forget.<br />
<br />
I will also never forget the people of India, especially the children. The first day we arrived in Hyderabad, we ventured out to one of the famous forts. While there, fifteen people asked to take my picture (and I'm certain many took a picture without asking). Even though I was wearing typical Indian clothing (lent to me by my friend), as a 5 foot 8 inch tall, blonde, curly haired, blue-eyed, extremely pale, american female, I was conspicuous--to say the least.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXWFZ0rowUv5UXbTWj5VEcouy2m0GQa3fQX_ZylJmlXn4bQyNZRrctjK_5WlTix7vRQdVBoWX12O4lM9s7CQum8p82MYnPRhNJmWOqVLBwJct1PmrvfQsXLmDhq3R1APK6sRUtGbudkeI/s1600/16708251_1260769207340804_2887043490173461825_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXWFZ0rowUv5UXbTWj5VEcouy2m0GQa3fQX_ZylJmlXn4bQyNZRrctjK_5WlTix7vRQdVBoWX12O4lM9s7CQum8p82MYnPRhNJmWOqVLBwJct1PmrvfQsXLmDhq3R1APK6sRUtGbudkeI/s320/16708251_1260769207340804_2887043490173461825_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>As someone who doesn't typically turn heads in a room, the attention was flattering. Women wanted their children to be in photos with me, calling me beautiful. I imagined what would happen to these photos--"here, look at this american I saw today!" I hoped none of them ended up in scrapbooks or framed on walls because I don't feel that I deserve that kind of attention as a complete stranger. Still, feeling like a movie star was flattering. Though, it also quickly became tiring. I couldn't go on tours without being stopped by someone. While I began the trip eagerly accepting to take photos with these strangers, I ended it coarsely and curtly answering, "No."<br />
<br />
India's overstimulation wore me down and closed me up over the 10 days. On the streets, especially in the markets, I could not walk without being prodded. If it wasn't someone wanting a photo, it's someone begging me to look at their wares, step into their shop, take their tour, buy their trinkets, feed their child, etc. The thing is, I know it isn't with mal intent, it's just business. They need money, and I might have it. Even if I say, "No, I am not interested," maybe I could be persuaded, or worn down enough to give in. I understand. But, there was little let-up and it soon took a toll on me.<br />
<br />
I was worn down, but not in the way they wanted. I wasn't warming up, I was just turning off. I soon mastered the art of putting my sunglasses on, looking straight ahead, and walking. (If I don't acknowledge them, maybe they'll go away?) I became coarse, hard, admonishing men for heckling me and hiding my face from children in need. I, literally, turned my back on humanity.<br />
<br />
I wasn't ignorant of it. I noticed this creeping coarseness and attempted to combat it early on. Maybe if I never have cash on me, then I can tell these kids I don't have any money, and they will move on to someone better? (This sometimes worked....most of the time they didn't believe me. It was "No" = "try harder.")<br />
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OR if I can't offer them money, maybe I could at least offer them a smile, some human connection to remind them that they matter and are still a someone sharing this planet with me? I tried.<br />
<br />
One little girl followed me for about 7 minutes asking me to buy an elephant keychain. I told her I wasn't going to buy anything. (didn't work). I told her I didn't have any money. (didn't work). So, I asked her what her name was. She answered while still pushing these keychains at me, telling me they were a good price. I agreed with her and told her my name. I said I was from America and that I was a teacher. I asked her if she went to school. She said she did--a bit defensively--and then lowered her price. But, as I tried to keep talking with her, it became apparent that she did not want to converse with me. She wanted me to buy these keychains, that is all.<br />
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<br />
You've maybe heard about the slumdogs in India, and you might know about how the money they earn rarely goes to helping the actual kids. I knew about this too, and while I wanted to help them, desperately wanted to save each one--I knew that nothing I did was going to be enough. Even my money wouldn't help these people.<br />
<br />
When our car was parked--or stalled at an intersection--women and children would tap on the windows to get us to look at them. I will never forget the toddler's face covered in flies and the woman carrying her. They'd motion their hands toward their mouths, begging us for money, food...human kindness. Instead, I had to look away. Once, or twice, I even ducked in my seat, knowing that if they couldn't see me, they wouldn't tap on the window. I didn't know what else to do. I just couldn't keep looking at them and not helping them, so I ran away.<br />
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Humanity's ever present need just pulled at me. It made me tired. It made me numb. It made me realize that it would be easier and less emotionally taxing if I just didn't engage. And that realization, scared me to death. I was becoming everything I never wanted to be.<br />
<br />
As I rested my head on the back seat of the car, wondering if the young boy would disappear, Ingrid Michaelson's lyrics popped into my head:<br />
<br />
<i>"People are dying, I close my blinds. All that I know is I'm breathing now. I want to change the world, instead I sleep. I want to believe in more than you and me. But, all that I know is I'm breathing. All I can do is keep breathing." </i><br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-58171800032094335522017-01-16T15:13:00.003-08:002017-01-16T15:13:57.814-08:00Ring out Wild Bells <div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve never been good with goodbyes. It seems to be something
I resist, or at least something that is foreign to my essence. I think I said too many
goodbyes in 2016. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, before I jump into yet another wail against 2016, I want to
preface by admitting that a lot of beautiful and lovely experiences happened in
2016. It began pretty hopeful, as I recall. I have always liked the number 16
and I thought that maybe this year would be my lucky one. For a while, it
really did feel lucky. I received the teaching internship I’d always wanted, I
received good news after good news regarding funding for my upcoming trip to
London, and everything seemed to be moving in my favor. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
London was lovely as always. I found treasures in theatres,
archives, and gardens. I went back to the Lake District where my soul expands
and every doubt flies away on the wind. I hiked Arthur’s seat in full yellow
bloom. I was in my absolute favorite place with one of my absolute favorite
people. My thesis seemed to be taking shape, the prospectus would pass easily, and
I felt confident in what I did and who I was becoming. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like I said, there were many wonderful experiences in 2016.
I went camping, horseback riding, skiing, hiking, running, dancing, and
sledding. I wrote a lot and read a lot. But, the truth is, 2016 left me rubbed raw. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In July of 2016, I said goodbye to my Dad, or more
accurately, I didn’t say goodbye. After my father was diagnosed with ALS, I
always made an effort to tell him “goodbye” and “I love you” when I left the
house. Though, on the 4<sup>th</sup> of July, I was so caught up in getting
everyone out the door on time to see the fireworks, and my father was in such a
state of sleepy unconsciousness, that I don’t think I even said goodbye. I don’t
feel unsettled about that though. I know my Dad knew how much I loved him, and
I’d made sure to tell him everything I wanted to long before that fateful
night. I guess it’s ok because as I mentioned, I’m not very good with goodbyes anyhow.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few months later, I said goodbye to the only guy I’ve ever
truly loved. While I didn’t feel the absence of my father too often, I felt
this absence unceasingly. I discovered that both of these men were anchors,
pillars, and constants in my life. Having them there everyday and then suddenly
gone the next was unsettling and unsteadying. Everything felt wrong and
completely unexplainable. Finally, I watched the world turn upside down on
November 8<sup>th </sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and the
continuing slaughter in Syria, and realized I’d said goodbye to something /
someone else, another anchor—my childlike self. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I used to radiate hopefulness, optimism, exuberance, wonder,
trust, and a belief that everything was going to be ok. I lived by the mantra
that humans were inherently good and that when you try your best to be your
best, your efforts are met with abundant miracles and blessings. I laughed a
lot. I was playful. I got excited about little things like chalk drawings and
peaches on trees. 2016 forced me to grow up. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t mean to sound so dramatic. Frankly, dramatic
requires far more energy and vigor than I feel capable of right now. It’s just
that I’ve never felt so rocked by a year before, and I’m trying to figure that
out. So, here I am, saying goodbye to 2016 and a hesitant hello to 2017. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
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<!--StartFragment-->
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
2017, I’m coming to you unsteady and unraveled. I’d like to
say I’m coming with an open heart, but last time I went to chat with my heart,
I discovered that she’s retreated, leaving a “closed for repairs” sign up on
the door. (I don’t blame her for resenting me. I coaxed her to risk sticking
her neck out so far and so vulnerably. So, if she just wants to lay on the
floor and trace her fingers through the carpet for a while, I don’t blame her).
I’ll just wait and plow forward into this year of unknown and uncertainty with or
without her. Still, here’s hoping for a new year of lovely, beautiful
experiences and growing up. 2017, be good to us please. <o:p></o:p></div>
Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-20154092758894214492016-12-11T15:39:00.000-08:002016-12-11T15:39:14.049-08:00Happy Birthday Dad<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Daddy,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy Birthday! I’m wondering if birthdays become
insignificant once you’ve died, or if your death day becomes a new type of
birthday? It still surprises me that you’re not here anymore. Lately, people
have been checking up on me, asking me how I’m doing and if this holiday season
has been especially difficult. Ashamedly, I often don’t realize
that they’re referring to the absence of you. Truth be told, though I often
feel your physical absence, I rarely feel you gone. Remarkably, I see you still
taking care of me and our family. You planned so well, and you take care of us
so well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dad, I’m having a hard time filling your shoes. I tried to
rake the leaves in the yard, but I couldn’t get all of it done before the snow
came. The side yard is still covered in leaves; I’m sorry. How did you get all
of the leaves out of the flower beds? I’m struggling on that one. Do the leaves
just decompose and feed the soil? I sure hope so. Michelle and I cleaned out
the rain gutters. You’ll never believe what we found! The gutters were clogged
with all sorts of debris from when we got the new roof—tiles, nails, etc. Those
workers sure left a mess. After we cleared it out, the gutters poured forth
water like a fountain into the yard. You would have been happy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We thought we weren’t going to do a big Thanksgiving dinner
this year, but you know Mom, she has a hard time not hosting. I think she
really misses you. I think she needed to host a Post-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving
because she misses you. I tried to clean the table up just the way you taught
me, making sure the nice silverware doesn’t go in the dishwasher, and washing
each goblet by hand. It’s a lot of work. You did a lot of work. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We put up both Christmas trees successfully, and managed to
force that giant bough over the door. I’m so glad you told Michelle about how
the lanterns have electrical plugs inside them! I had no idea. We have yet to
tackle putting lights up on the house. I don’t know if we’ll ever get to it. It
kind of makes me sad because you always did such a nice job. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I say that I rarely feel you gone, I don’t mean to say
I don’t miss you. I miss you a lot. I miss your steadiness and stability. I
haven’t been feeling so steady or stable recently. I really miss hearing you
sing in the choir. I started crying in the car the other day because the
station was playing Rutter’s “Candlelight Carol” and it made me think of you. I
miss you whenever I eat mashed potatoes. I miss the way you used to grumble
every time I put up that loud Santa Claus that greets people at the door. I
think Michelle keeps turning it off though, so the battle continues. I miss the
way you’d set up a little wrapping station in your bedroom and watch old
Christmas specials while we assigned you which gifts go to which person and
under which tree. You were always so helpful. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t expect we’ll be getting a big basket of goodies this
year from that one organization that always sent you a big basket. Those
baskets were extravagant, to say the least. I loved unpacking them with you and
awing over the expensive cheeses and random baubles. People sure loved and
appreciated what you did for them. I know I did. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, I am realizing that I have a lot I want to talk to you
about, so maybe I’ll try to write more often. I think I’d like that. Anyway, I
just wanted to remind you how much I love you on your birthday. I wanted to
tell you that I miss you, but that I know you’re not too far away. I wanted to
thank you for taking care of me and supporting me, even now. You taught me how
to be a real Lady, and a resourceful one at that. I love you Daddy <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-33984021794681458982016-08-03T16:44:00.002-07:002016-08-03T16:44:52.472-07:00I Love London <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I love London. I love the way Big Ben is bathed in rose gold when the sun sets. I love all of the parks and green spaces around the city. I love the trees in those parks, the stately umbrellas of green. I love watching the male pigeons puff up their feathers and twirl in circles hoping to entice a female. I love seeing the world's most obedient dogs trotting along without need of a lead next to their masters, or occasionally being pushed in a baby pram. I love that you can run into a Calvary brigade at the park. I love the kids in wellies scootering around, and the school children in their uniforms. </span><br />
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I love the feeling of victory when catching the Tube right before the doors close. I love how Londoners are completely certain that you stand to the right and walk on the left, but completely uncertain if that applies to every day sidewalk movement. I love the markets and the many flower stands that seemingly pop up out of nowhere. I love finding blue plaques all around the city telling me where people of merit once lived. I love that on sunny days, no matter the temperature, Londoners will be sun bathing in their bikinis in the park. </div>
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I love the ale drenched air of pubs. I love drinking Elderflower Presse at every opportunity. I love chocolate orange cookies from Ben's Cookies and Pistachio Almond Cronuts from Dum Dum Donuts. I love Paul Rhodes bakery. I love Hob Nob biscuits and pear drop sweeties. I love the custom of afternoon tea with scones and clotted cream. I love finding great Indian Food. </div>
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I love how small the theaters are here. I love being a groundling at the Globe, even in the rain. I love biking down Pall Mall under arches and British flags. I love how the Brits pronounce most things so properly, but then throw in startling sounds like Pasta (pronounced like Fast) or Pall Mall (pronounced like Pal Mal). I love going to Evensong. I love walking across the Golden Jubilee Bridge and along the bank of the Thames. I love Trafalgar square with its buskers and its giant lion statues. I love all of the art museums, all of them. </div>
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I love the looks we get when we ask waiters for suggestions, especially when we ask things like "Is the blueberry muffin good?" I love the reaction when we announce we are from Utah (my favorites so far have been 'Yee-Hah!" and "that's a pretty progressive state"). I love duvets and towel warming racks. I love the meadows of that unfortunately named, Rape. I love foxgloves and poppies. I love the cheese. I love corner yogurt and muesli. I love sassy Ffiona and her delicious french toast. </div>
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I love the men in navy blue suits. I love the young man sitting on the bench in hide park with his shoes off, just reading. I love the white haired man feeding the pigeons. I love Louis, the host at Wagamamas and Jade, the shop girl who works at the flower stand by the globe. I love Kurt, who helps manage Dan Hillier's artwork. I love Robin for the way he uses the word beautiful so sincerely. I love the wander-lust surrounding the city. </div>
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But, despite how much I love this place, I also love the feeling of coming home. I love being with my family. I love driving my car. I love sleeping in my comfy bed and having my closet full of clothes. I love an abundance of vegetables, fruit, and water. I love how efficient americans are. I love seeing the moon and the stars. I love sunny weather. I love relaxing back into the regularity of each day. For sometimes it takes the splendor of a city like London to remind us what is splendid about normality. </div>
Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-16815669755197626192016-05-08T06:07:00.000-07:002016-05-08T06:07:45.218-07:00Serendipity in Rome <div style="text-align: left;">
<u>Everything feels bigger in Rome</u></div>
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My time in Rome has proved serendipitous as there seemed to be a moment of perfect timing each day. </div>
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Our first taste of serendipity came with the weather. While we encountered rain, it always seemed to come at the exact right time. It poured and poured the entire time we walked inside the Vatican museum, but let up enough for us to travel over to the Pantheon. Once we were in the Pantheon, Andrea and I sat looking up at the Oculus. I looked at Andrea and said, "I bet this is incredible when it rains." We began hoping it would rain just enough for us to see the rain come down through the oculus. Sometimes your wishes come true. </div>
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A light misty sprinkle of rain poured into the Pantheon and kindly let up as we left. </div>
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For Appian Way, the Colosseum, the Forum, and all other outdoor experiences, we had beautiful sunny weather. </div>
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<b style="text-align: center;">Serendipity. </b></div>
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Walking into St. Peter's Basilica will knock the wind right out of you. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVxLmbmp0WOw7bIGivBoLzw2mUmGj6wRqElizm2ffS1FssfPzmfnzq55m5viPOxlo5b7ylZxv_fAza9aTMhpZJ9Mu-gUBQ9AU3_ASWQDpEqhVd1XLbEF_KjsAgspNoWQL7_gG_f2CL9O0/s1600/13100755_1010524729031921_3303499407663848725_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVxLmbmp0WOw7bIGivBoLzw2mUmGj6wRqElizm2ffS1FssfPzmfnzq55m5viPOxlo5b7ylZxv_fAza9aTMhpZJ9Mu-gUBQ9AU3_ASWQDpEqhVd1XLbEF_KjsAgspNoWQL7_gG_f2CL9O0/s320/13100755_1010524729031921_3303499407663848725_n.jpg" width="240" /></a>If you don't collapse from having to wait in line forever to go through security, the sheer opulence and majesty of the Basilica will take your breath away. Honestly, I've never been somewhere so opulent. Surely, the Catholic church isn't hurting for money. We happened to make it into the Basilica a few hours before it closed. The sun rays were descending on the high altar and the Basilica was preparing for Mass. While they close off a large portion of the Basilica for Mass, if you just tell one of the guards you'd like to participate in the Mass, they will let you through the barriers and up to the beautiful throne of St. Peter. While I couldn't understand everything that was said during the service, I am relatively familiar enough with Catholic Mass to grasp the main parts. One part that I think is truly lovely is the "greeting" where the members of the congregation turn to the members seated around them and greet them with a smile, handshake, and a wish for God's peace to be with them. There was a lovely couple seated next to us that greeted us and those seated on the other side of them and proceeded to finally greet each other with a tender kiss. While I am grateful that the LDS church doesn't open temples and temple ceremonies to gawking tourists, I was happy to be part of mass at St. Peter's that day. </div>
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<b>Serendipity. </b></div>
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Finally, I know that everyone believes they have found the best gelato in Rome, but I really think we might have it. It might also be the most expensive Gelato in Rome though... </div>
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We began our Gelato tour with Gioletti's, a relatively famous gelateria which had a whole crowd inside waiting for gelato. I admit it was delicious, but still not as good as Don Nino. </div>
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Don Nino is located near the Pantheon. We decided to go in because it was "aesthetically" the best looking Gelato shop we'd seen. Their signature flavor, Don Nino, is a mixture of Almond and Pistachio, and it is to die for. I had that with the Ricotta. Yum! We soon became good friends with the workers at Don Nino, who would tease us for our poor Italian and laugh with us as we teased back. While Don Nino, is honestly the best Gelato I had in Rome, the best Gelato I had for the cheapest price was on the Isle of Trebina. Trebinos had really delicious gelato for only 2 Euros! </div>
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<b>Tune in Next time for London Adventures! </b></div>
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Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-82147440069203578072016-01-31T22:00:00.000-08:002016-01-31T22:00:05.607-08:00Dear 24Dear 24 --<br />
This is going to be quite a year for you. There are some GREAT things ahead, but also some pretty difficult things. Can I offer you a bit of advice?<br />
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<li>On January 24th, don't take your water bottle to the dinner party. Just trust me on this one. </li>
<li>176/200 does not equal 76% </li>
<li>Don't drive to school the first day of Fall semester, you'll be late. </li>
<li>Make really clear and detailed Lesson Plans as you are teaching </li>
<li>When you buy your new glasses, take someone with you for a second opinion. Also, they did in fact get the prescription correct the first time. It is just going to take some time getting used to such a change from your old glasses. </li>
<li>When you go to Sand Hollow State Park, bring your beach umbrella! </li>
<li>DO NOT, DO NOT drive from Las Vegas to California on a Sunday afternoon. Also, only one lane exits off in other states, be sure you are in the farthest right lane. </li>
<li>Your key is fine, the door just needs some WD40. Call Daniel, he'll fix it. Also, do it before your date with Dad to see <i>Fiddler on The Roof. </i></li>
<li>Apply to TA the London Theatre Study Abroad program and suggest having two Graduate students go</li>
<li>Submit abstracts to present at conferences </li>
<li>You are going to make some amazing friends in the graduate program. Seek out the red head with bangs, you are going to need her this next year. Trust me. </li>
<li>Buy the Norton Shakespeare Anthology 3rd edition on Amazon, you'll save $40. </li>
<li>Go to the Weepies Concert with Tammy</li>
<li>Don't park in the parking spaces at BYU Salt Lake Center that have the pole in front of them </li>
<li>Leave yourself open Martin Luther King day and be sure to bring your black dress. </li>
<li>Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself. Be kind, but be firm. </li>
<li>Either rent the boogie boards, or buy the nicer ones. Also, Casa del mar is going to have the easiest boogie boarding waves</li>
<li>West Coast Swing will get easier and better; keep practicing. </li>
<li>Don't buy that foam mattress topper</li>
<li>Don't leave the garage door open on Christmas Eve</li>
<li>DO NOT wait in the drive through line at Wendys to get Tammy her Dr. Pepper. More importantly, do not attempt to balance the Dr. Pepper on the pizza boxes. Also, don't decide to put those boxes on the Kitchen table. Trust me on this one. </li>
<li>Try to catch the bouquet at each wedding you go to.</li>
<li>Don't wear your yellow Toms to Liberty Park after Sarah's Wedding Reception. On second thought, do. It will be a good lesson for you. </li>
<li>Bring speakers to the 4th of July Fireworks. You'll be disappointed with the lack of music otherwise. </li>
<li>Dance, stay up late, laugh </li>
<li>Listen to both your head and your heart </li>
<li>Try to get that first writing assignment in your Poe class done earlier. You think you're going to have time to revise during Conference weekend, but trust me when I say it will be nigh impossible to get that paper written that weekend. That's going to be a hard weekend. I'm sorry. </li>
<li>Embrace your superpower</li>
<li>Remember your anchors </li>
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I guess I'll see you next year!</div>
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Love, 25Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-43484643301273410202015-08-18T12:12:00.003-07:002015-08-18T12:12:50.090-07:00Drive Home With Me <div style="text-align: center;">
I've clocked out for my last time and I'm headed home for the day, want to join me? </div>
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I'd love to share my favorite parts of this commute with you before I don't make it anymore. </div>
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1st: As we sit here under the eagle gate, we better check to see if "extremely attractive young man" is crossing the street. I'm not one to usually gawk at men, or care about their looks much, but there is this one young man who has crossed in front of my car on at least two occasions who just makes me so happy. I don't find "my type" very often, so when I do, it is exciting. I think he works downtown because he has a work badge and he's walking from downtown at just about closing time. I know it is unlikely I'll ever meet him, he might be married, he might be gay, or a real jerk, but no matter what, it is refreshing to know "this type" exists. Also, he's got great style! </div>
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2nd: Next, we'll pass by the stunning Cathedral of the Madeline with it's Gothic gargoyles. If the bells are ringing, let's turn the radio off, roll the windows down, and drink in the Doppler effect. I wonder if people stop to listen to those bells often enough?</div>
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3rd: The Bride Shop window will be coming up on our right. There are three dressed mannequins in the window. These wedding dresses cycle every week, so it is customary to peak at the window and choose which of the three dresses is our favorite. I really like the neckline on the one on the left. </div>
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4th: South Temple is one of my favorite streets for beautiful old houses. These are the magnificent mansions of the past with turrets, columns, big windows, and cornices. The Governor's mansion is only one of the lovely homes we'll pass. My personal favorite is the blue one with the big turret. It is currently up for sale, and I may have contemplated living there for a whole split second once.</div>
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5th: Here's the park. This park enjoys some of the most interesting patrons. My favorite are the quidditch players running around with sticks between their legs and aiming for three tall hoops. I've also seen some martial artists here as well. </div>
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6th: This old cemetery happens to be the home of a giant herd of deer. Occasionally they will be grazing by the fence and we can catch a glimpse. I wonder if they know how to get out of there.<br />
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Thanks for joining me on my drive.<br />
It's nice to have company. </div>
Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-56655137125182328122015-07-31T13:45:00.002-07:002015-07-31T13:45:30.502-07:00Dancing Extra Slow <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Today, I feel like dancing extra, extra slow; closing my eyes
and letting my soul take over. </div>
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Drinking in the magic of two bodies becoming one
body wrapped in the movement of music. </div>
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I hear that Billie Holiday, sultry
sound releasing my heart from its shuttered gables.</div>
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I see temples mirroring
hands clasped in purpose and connection. </div>
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I feel lungs inhaling the essence of our being. </div>
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But mostly, sense is lost because we are dancing
extra, extra slow. <o:p></o:p></div>
Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-55003999162395399572015-06-21T16:10:00.002-07:002015-06-24T12:56:13.771-07:00The Bouquet Chronicles <div style="text-align: center;">
A few years ago I wrote a post titled "Weddings, Weddings, Weddings," which you can access <a href="http://marrowoflife.blogspot.com/2013/06/weddings-weddings-weddings.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>. In this post, I quoted Jane Austen profusely and discussed the many weddings I attended along with the bouquets I did not catch. </div>
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Although older, not much has changed...except one thing:<br />
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Between the end of April and the end of June this year, I have attended the weddings of six of my closest friends.These women have each played a special part in my life, and have shaped me in distinct ways. Two I have known since Jr. High, three I have shared my college experience with, and one has danced her way into my heart and stolen my shoes. However, I haven't just attended these weddings, but I've also played the role of bridesmaid in half of them. This means, throwing showers, getting pedicures and manicures, buying gifts, being in photos, car decorating, taking care of logistics, fitting into bridesmaid outfits, cake eating, dancing, and finally, CATCHING THE BOUQUET!!!<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>I've been attempting to catch the bouquet for years.</b></i></span> I've tried different angles. I've tried asking the bride to throw it right at me, and still it eluded me. You'd think my height would give me some advantage, but nope. I'd been having about as much luck catching the bouquet as I have catching a man. Coincidence? Maybe, but I can't pass up a good analogy. Due to popular demand, here are the best tips I have for catching love from my many years of not catching the bouquet. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBmIR3avuPfPr7Ex5PO0TSTbWGEV-4gYoKJUQz3Zb2AGz1Ve3rDKZmZAUDoYkelHZDO6vBfYaGQqoIpXFUQm9__-o3uPuUO_3UXMBDgj8D1CWZjAoI_1_V7IxAF7b7pcbIApBs7alFEze/s1600/IMG_20150607_112522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBmIR3avuPfPr7Ex5PO0TSTbWGEV-4gYoKJUQz3Zb2AGz1Ve3rDKZmZAUDoYkelHZDO6vBfYaGQqoIpXFUQm9__-o3uPuUO_3UXMBDgj8D1CWZjAoI_1_V7IxAF7b7pcbIApBs7alFEze/s200/IMG_20150607_112522.jpg" width="200" /></a>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-align: center;">Keep yourself open and ready to catch whatever comes your way</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-align: center;">You must align yourself properly </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-align: center;">Sometimes it is simply a matter of being in the right spot at the right time </span></li>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If you really want it, be prepared to fight for it </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-align: center;">It is not as fulfilling when you have to pick it up off the ground</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-align: center;">Sometimes both you and the bouquet take a beating before you come together</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-align: center;">It's OK to let a few slip into the hands of more willing and ready ladies</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-align: center;">Always be on the lookout for "sneak attacks" who come out of nowhere and steal your bouquet</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-align: center;"> Sometimes set-ups work, and sometimes they don't. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; text-align: center;">Despite failures, keep showing up with the hope that today you might catch the bouquet<b> </b></span></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns-X1eIFnfOm8Kz9pLqbNc4ddrAIdgTUs0uPfdi0at5Fwzlj0SMEa9Ef6poSikwOP_NKRXSnFMjf7O4rOwF8xkpBgG7A6gn4KuACyBM_5UU1-9q04fcXOLpsqj162d5NzsOJxdUlNHAOP/s1600/11351122_832804536803942_1270896599061164207_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns-X1eIFnfOm8Kz9pLqbNc4ddrAIdgTUs0uPfdi0at5Fwzlj0SMEa9Ef6poSikwOP_NKRXSnFMjf7O4rOwF8xkpBgG7A6gn4KuACyBM_5UU1-9q04fcXOLpsqj162d5NzsOJxdUlNHAOP/s320/11351122_832804536803942_1270896599061164207_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwTY1KgNY40t98m9LpnDfN0CSbKWGazGFb0H3NKHbr5jaufEiHXg-BgIh3TqQEOVU1e2W1wjsL2qR7r7HuDLN0WbzFD2lYMJ9rw12iItF9OTc2uACN-u3Roup-LccnzPU62VGXTHm5oJK/s1600/11174673_817039405047122_352711346281584411_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwTY1KgNY40t98m9LpnDfN0CSbKWGazGFb0H3NKHbr5jaufEiHXg-BgIh3TqQEOVU1e2W1wjsL2qR7r7HuDLN0WbzFD2lYMJ9rw12iItF9OTc2uACN-u3Roup-LccnzPU62VGXTHm5oJK/s320/11174673_817039405047122_352711346281584411_o.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><b><i>"Always a bridesmaid, never a bride"</i></b> </span><span style="text-align: left;">might</span><span style="text-align: left;"> be my motto this summer, but despite being completely single and having practically all of my best friends find their eternal companions, these weddings have left me feeling full instead of empty. As I watched these ladies run off with their other halves into the unknown of forever, I felt transported to the days of tutus and tea parties when I used to believe that good people always got their happy endings and true love was the most powerful magic of all. It felt good to be there again. I feel happy for these new husbands and wives, and hopeful for my own future fairy tale.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhyYvjGhkEzQQMyb0AXcVVKGZwoiiqdt5-x6_HIIf60ghuO4amFLNpY44SXP7Tq10foZCiT438uqjqORFEwi8BiVsCzGUsjLgvPYX5dq-U2mtOr5wlHdg5W78W1PkoDb0GFBowza1-xkZ/s1600/10848004_843261532424909_4247133894631226713_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzhyYvjGhkEzQQMyb0AXcVVKGZwoiiqdt5-x6_HIIf60ghuO4amFLNpY44SXP7Tq10foZCiT438uqjqORFEwi8BiVsCzGUsjLgvPYX5dq-U2mtOr5wlHdg5W78W1PkoDb0GFBowza1-xkZ/s320/10848004_843261532424909_4247133894631226713_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes finding love is like catching the bouquet at the wedding.</span></i></b> It may take a lot of tries, and a lot of failures. It may fall into the hands of a girl who looks like she is no older than twelve, or even stolen out of your hands by a little boy who shouldn't even be in the game. You may run full speed only to fall flat on your face in the grass, but despite all the failed attempts, l<span style="text-align: center;">ove is beautiful, healing, and worth every possible attempt to catch it.</span><br />
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And when you do finally catch it, don't be ashamed to let out a <span style="font-size: x-large;">victorious roar! </span> </div>
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Yes, I finally caught the bouquet, but catching the bouquet is not the end of this story. Undoubtedly, there will be more weddings, and I'll show up with arms extended to catch another opportunity at love. So, perhaps not much has changed after all, but before you point out my lack of Jane Austen quotes...<br />
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Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-46198678843631825792015-05-18T13:40:00.004-07:002015-05-18T13:41:40.205-07:00Clenched (I rediscovered this poem of mine penned in the back of one of my college notebooks Spring 2013)<br />
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My fingers feel new,</div>
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pale and pink like a baby freshly washed.</div>
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They ache as they uncurl</div>
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Released from the tension of holding on too tightly for too long. </div>
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Spaces between my fingers expand to hollow imprints </div>
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left behind from too much pressure.</div>
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Scars fade from bleeding red to hopeful white</div>
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blending into the milky paleness of my skin</div>
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Once locked, now free.</div>
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Free to reach and feel</div>
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Free to shake with uneasiness and vulnerability </div>
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Free to work the ground and feather through the grassy blades</div>
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Free to write once more </div>
Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-83205737852876411832015-05-14T15:24:00.002-07:002015-05-14T15:24:33.335-07:00Come <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I want to be your hiding place, your safe haven, your pillow of comfort. </span></div>
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(Come to me)</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bring your streaking rain storms and sniffled thunder</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">for I've packed my puddle jumpers and warm hope </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I'll wrap you in blankets of affection and pour you a cup of steaming love. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just come to me.</span></div>
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(come)</div>
Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-73605800725913074962015-05-04T13:18:00.000-07:002015-05-04T13:18:01.122-07:00Be Ye Therefore Perfect <div style="text-align: center;">
I am not perfect.<br />
I have a weakness. </div>
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It's not comparing myself to others.</div>
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It's comparing myself to...me.<br />
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Perfectionism is occasionally discussed in the Mormon culture with a focus on not comparing ourselves to others or assuming everyone has a perfect "Molly-Mormon" lifestyle that we somehow have to obtain. I've observed a room full of women commiserate with each other about the habit of comparing ourselves to other women and feeling unworthy when we don't measure up. Apparently this is a huge struggle, and I don't discount that, but that is not the struggle with which I grapple. Oh sure, I have my share of comparing myself, but it isn't often with other women, it is usually with myself, or more appropriately, my "perfect" self. This is a different side of perfectionism, and I think it needs to be discussed. It takes a righteous desire to be good and turns it into an unrealistic expectation to be perfect NOW! </div>
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I guess I'm what some people would call a "pleaser." I like to please people, I like to appease contention, I like to feel productive and fulfilled, I like to have purpose, and want so desperately to do the right thing all the time. Because of this, I am quick to say "I'm sorry" and can't last long when a relationship isn't in equilibrium. It gnaws at me telling me that something is wrong, that perhaps I did something wrong, and even if I didn't, I need to figure out how to make things right. </div>
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But, what is right? What is wrong? And what is wrong with being wrong? Some people hold strongly to the belief that whatever we choose to be or do, is fine and perfectly human. We can't judge the man who continuously drinks his money away because there is something beautiful in his pain and desperation. It's the "whatever you choose to be is great, just be a good one!" mentality. As a humanist, I strive to see that beauty in imperfect humanness, but I also feel strongly that there are in fact rights and wrongs as determined by God's laws. Sometimes this pull between my imperfect humanity, or natural man, and my desire to be like God causes cognitive dissonance and a distinctly uncomfortable imbalance.<br />
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Luckily, we are not left alone to constantly free-fall in areas of grey. We've been given the opportunity to receive personal revelation from God. We are told that if we ask, we shall receive, and are invited to "reason together, that [we] may understand" (D&C 50:10). We are also given the gift of the Holy Ghost to to testify unto us the things that are true and warn us when we give in to things that are not. Perhaps the most loving gift of all is Christ's atonement which allows us to make mistakes, be wrong, and still have the opportunity to wipe that all away. It is a freely given atoning love, and it can change our concept of perfection.<br />
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In Matthew 5:48, Christ says "Be ye, therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." Even before I recognized the word perfect as meaning complete, this idea never bothered me because we have been taught to be like Christ and in doing so, develop to become as our Father in heaven is. But, I guess I didn't weigh in the difficulty of taking a mortal, human being, born with weakness and telling her to become like a perfect being, in order to become a god. Woah. Suddenly, I'm holding myself to an unrealistic expectation to be frankly "perfect." <br />
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May I introduce my idea of "perfect" Jenny? She is the epitome of balance. She spends just enough time with her family to feel that she is nourishing that most important relationship, while also serving and interacting with friends who buoy her up and make her happy. She is constantly seeking to better herself through learning and discovering new perspectives and insights. She isn't idle or lazy. When the spirit tells her to do something, she does it without hesitation or kick back. She is selfless and serving, but also takes care of herself. She knows who she is and where she's going, and knows God will help her get there. She is healthy in spirit and body, and helps others to be their best selves. She is beautiful without being vain, she is funny without being crude, she is gentle without being weak, and she is strong without being coarse. She is perfectly trying to be Christlike. Her path is straight and her promises are sure.<br />
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So that's who I am comparing myself to because that is who i'm trying to become, and the truth is, I'm falling short. It is exhausting keeping up with that! "<i><b>The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak</b></i>" (Matt 26:41). The real trouble is I fight myself when my desires don't match what I think they should be, and beat myself up for being weak. Unknowingly, I've allowed Satan to sneak into my thoughts and discourage me. "You're better than this. Why don't you ever learn? It doesn't matter how righteous your desires are if you're not brave enough to make the hard decisions. Are you sure that's the right thing? I can't believe you're putting your selfish feelings above this. Is this the best choice, and if it isn't, why do you still want it? Time is ticking. Why is it taking you so long? You are not living to your full potential. You should do this, feel this, be this. etc."<br />
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These feelings drown out peace, assurance, and joy. Men are that they might have <span style="color: #cc0000;">Joy</span>, not guilt trips! These feelings are full of fear, doubt, and discouragement. They are heavy. They leave me feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, but the difficult thing is that I'm not entirely sure how to take leave of them. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjwGzH70CmpFyeqQ_hs4XzYwCUT0OIFjCUQTxDsJLWN-ABogaNjWmeo8ju40dXnP-ClnesubpTRLGYYWeB-EGwikavoXOwB5zT4ofbdBFlunIAFjG1FOhO394fKR8FQPcybea9kAtlX77k/s1600/112b955a688ca9cb5ad910b246fbbddd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjwGzH70CmpFyeqQ_hs4XzYwCUT0OIFjCUQTxDsJLWN-ABogaNjWmeo8ju40dXnP-ClnesubpTRLGYYWeB-EGwikavoXOwB5zT4ofbdBFlunIAFjG1FOhO394fKR8FQPcybea9kAtlX77k/s1600/112b955a688ca9cb5ad910b246fbbddd.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhfQDARRB6wszNDjXl8VvN02yYTOJu7rYNGPvb6m0NfTkhGPO7wIzIruAZVAEbDqUI4IQ0KRVrtE4OOeNNZ4oZ8xeNZWsE7Ws2XgjPuFgr5HJr8VMGwB4hUbnQaDP5WmSpPm9eWNJ7KPYZ/s1600/7fe5d28d88a32f994a30adab3573bb72.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhfQDARRB6wszNDjXl8VvN02yYTOJu7rYNGPvb6m0NfTkhGPO7wIzIruAZVAEbDqUI4IQ0KRVrtE4OOeNNZ4oZ8xeNZWsE7Ws2XgjPuFgr5HJr8VMGwB4hUbnQaDP5WmSpPm9eWNJ7KPYZ/s320/7fe5d28d88a32f994a30adab3573bb72.jpg" width="291" /></a>It's a struggle. It's a weakness. But, what I'm coming to realize is that weakness does not equal failure, and being perfect does not mean I don't make mistakes. As Elder Gerrit W. Gong put it, "<i>We can cease to be idle (See D&C 88:124) without running faster than we have strength (see Mosiah 4:27). We can be 'anxiously engaged in a good cause' (D&C 58:27) while also periodically pausing to 'be still, and know that I am God' (Psalm 46:10; see also D&C 101:16)."</i> I'm in the process of perfecting, and that is a process of trial and error. As a work in progress, I am enough. It is certainly not easy, but Christ's atoning love comforts me and enables me:</div>
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<i><b>"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest...For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:28,30) </b></i></div>
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In a way, I have to be imperfect in order to need a perfect savior. We all do. True perfection only comes through reliance on him, letting go of myself, and becoming weak. <b>"<i>I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them" (Ether 2:27) </i></b></div>
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Even as this imbalanced, imperfect, human, I am enough, and his grace is sufficient for me. "By his grace, [I] may be perfect in Christ" (Moroni 10). </div>
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Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-27757306730828650132015-03-20T20:58:00.000-07:002015-03-20T20:59:08.594-07:00One Year Reviewed Musically: 2014 So I meant to post this back at the beginning of the year. It was a new idea for me to review my last year in terms of songs. I realize few, if any, of you will actually listen to all these songs, and even fewer will understand why I chose each one of them. However, I figure it is a good documentation for my future self to look back and listen to some of the feels I had in 2014. By clicking on the song titles, you will be linked to a youtube video playing that song. Enjoy!<br />
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January = "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48YcZsB3sgk" target="_blank">"Corner of the Sky"</a> by <i>Pippin </i>and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFroMQlKiag" target="_blank">"I'm Just a Bill"</a> from <i>Schoolhouse Rock</i><br />
February = <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKB1Q9EMs50" target="_blank">"Welcome to New York"</a> by <i>Taylor Swift </i><br />
March = <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Al2Rm9aR5Fs" target="_blank">"Mueva La Booty"</a> by <i>Raul Acosta y Oro Solido </i><br />
April = <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrkwgTBrW78" target="_blank">"Revolution" </a>by <i>Beatles</i><br />
May = <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmrOB_q3tjo" target="_blank">"Keep Your Head Up"</a> by <i>Andy Grammer" </i><br />
June = <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDsr4etJlwc" target="_blank">"Starts with Goodbye" </a> by <i>Carrie Underwood </i><br />
July = "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=22zB6Soc2Gk" target="_blank">A Little Bit Stronger" </a>by <i>Sara Evans </i>and "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCCJCILiX3o" target="_blank">Amnesia"</a> by <i>5 Seconds of Summer </i><br />
August = <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NXR90hMDpro" target="_blank">"I almost Do"</a> by <i>Taylor Swift </i><br />
September = <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_4utiBscIE" target="_blank">"Sort of"</a> by <i>Ingrid Michaelson </i>and "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LyeIpnMPX48" target="_blank">All Good things"</a> by <i>The Weepies </i><br />
October = "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCWnVznnWcs" target="_blank">Shake It Out"</a> by <i>Florence + the Machine <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gaEyWhwXC7c" target="_blank">"</a></i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gaEyWhwXC7c" target="_blank">Same Situation"</a> by <i>Joni Mitchell</i><br />
November = "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxSeC3laoBY" target="_blank">Tell Me"</a> by <i>He is We, </i> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ye5oho2idFQ" target="_blank">"Not Your Year"</a> by <i>Weepies</i><br />
December = "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOYOce5iU0g" target="_blank">Are we There Yet?" </a>by <i>Ingrid Michaelson </i> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUgwM1Ky228" target="_blank">"Closer to Fine"</a> by <i>Indigo Girls </i><br />
<i><br /></i>Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-18389579357139695162015-02-13T11:52:00.001-08:002015-02-13T11:52:51.362-08:00Dear Future Boyfriend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy Valentines day! A song came on my ipod yesterday and it made me think of you, so this is me just dropping a note with a quick heads up. You probably don't even know me yet, but here are 20 things you might need to know up front:<br />
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1. I have Popsicle feet and cold hands. Yes, it will startle you often and I'm sorry about that. Please don't pull your hand away simply because mine happens to be frozen.<br />
2. I apparently shed like a German shepherd, so prepare to find blonde hairs on your jacket, in your car, on your person... sorry.<br />
3. I don't like Salt and Vinegar chips or Greek olives and I probably never will. <br />
4. I don't understand the art of good condiments. I generally take my sandwiches dry, so if i'm making a sandwich for you, be patient with me when I skimp on the mayo.<br />
5. If you spontaneously dance with me while we're cooking, or anywhere at all, I'll probably fall in love with you.<br />
6. Sharing what I love is one way I say "I love you," so when I share a favorite movie or song, please don't ridicule it. I'm sharing a part of me with you.<br />
7. I have a small mouth. Thus explaining my horror when the waitress at Red Robin brings out that huge burger. (How ever am I supposed to bite into that?)<br />
8. Sacrificing my sleep is another way I say "I Love You."<br />
9. I'm going to want a bite of your food, and I may just sneak a french fry or two.<br />
10. I like to talk...a lot, but it'll feel useless if you don't talk back. I'm shooting for deep conversation, not introspective monologues.<br />
11. Just fair warning, I really won't like it if you are playing on your phone during sacrament meeting. That kinda irks me.<br />
12. I am the world's worst rock skipper; can you teach me? I also need tremendous help with my Frisbee skills and bubble gum blowing skills.<br />
13. I'm a mouth breather, so I sleep with my lips slightly ajar. Also, since my nose isn't too helpful, if you kiss me too long, I may need to break for a breath.<br />
14. I bruise like a peach and i'm probably not going paint-balling with you because of it. <br />
15. Yes, everything can be made into a song, and any word can lead to song lyrics.<br />
16. Honestly, I melt for love letters. If you write me a heart-felt letter for my birthday every year, I will be completely satisfied.<br />
17. I love going on walks with you - anytime, anywhere, any season.<br />
18. I'm a planner, so if you've made a plan and a back up plan for our special evening, I'm going to be super impressed.<br />
19. If you can tell i'm getting frazzled, just pull me in for a hug and kiss me on the forehead. I'll be fine quickly with a good dose of affection.<br />
20. I promise to be incredibly patient, but in return you need to be patient with my heart. I am thinking through everything and need time to do so. :)<br />
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Did I just scare you away now? I sure hope not because when I love, I love deep. I want to surprise you at work or school with a homemade lunch, and help you study for that horrible final. I want to write you a love letter and make you feel better. I want to take you to places you've never discovered and to thoughts you've never considered. So whenever you're ready, let me know! Otherwise, I'll find you later on. Happy Valentines day.<br />
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Love,<br />
your future girlfriend<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">---- For more----</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Meghan Trainor's "Dear Future Husband" - Click <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mp7qWfDANrU" target="_blank">here</a></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Amanda Torroni's poem - Click <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/322992604500717879/" target="_blank">here</a></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Joni Mitchell's "All I Want" Click <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wq2jhs19_V8" target="_blank">here</a></span>Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-54858505097378584872015-02-05T16:23:00.002-08:002015-02-06T15:35:31.741-08:00Oranges<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes there is nothing more satisfying than the sweet, tangy taste of an Orange.</div>
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I once named oranges to be "ambrosia".</div>
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Although I don't love the orange dusting it leaves on my fingers, I will always adore the scent lingering on my skin. </div>
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My grandpa used to love oranges. I remember him peeling an orange all in one peel. He would hold the spiraling rind up for me to admire before handing me a section of orange. I felt I had accomplished something magnificent the first time I successfully peeled an orange in one peel. I wish he could have seen it, maybe he did. </div>
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When I think of Christmas, I often think of oranges. Our neighbor religiously gives us a giant white box of oranges for Christmas each year. And for as long as I can remember, I have found an orange stuffed in the foot of my stocking Christmas morning. I asked my mother once why we always received an orange, to which she told me about her parents growing up during the depression. She told me that oranges were considered a great and expensive treat. I had never thought of oranges that way before.</div>
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As a child, I played a lot of soccer games. Half time seemed to always include orange slices. I remember putting the soft side of the slice in my mouth and sucking out all the juice. I would discard the rest and reach for another. My mother told me I was wasting the orange that way. </div>
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Oranges are apparently the cure to all sickness. Whenever I felt a cold coming on, my mother would tell me to eat lots of oranges. I know it is because of the vitamin C, and to this day I grab an orange when my throat is feeling itchy. Whoever said "an apple a day keeps the doctor away" must have mixed up his fruits. </div>
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Wintertime is orange time. It is the fruit I assume to be in season during the winter. Why is that? Do oranges grow well in the winter? All I know is that oranges and apples were my affordable produce purchases during those winter semesters. However, I remember a specific summer night watching the meteor shower out on the tramp. There were oranges and grapes, blankets and stars, and life was perfect for one evening. </div>
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They are simple things, oranges. Rarely anyone's favorite fruit. They aren't even my favorite fruit, but they are a constant. They are reliable. Sometimes they are a pain to peel, they get stringy fibers all over, and sometimes they are sour, but I guess we are all like that sometimes. Perhaps if we are willing to dig deep, pull away at the strings, and endure the occasional sourpuss, people can be our ambrosia. </div>
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Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-81671649067612887902015-01-03T22:17:00.001-08:002015-01-03T22:17:50.163-08:00A Happy New Year <div style="text-align: center;">
This time of year we often briskly wish people "Happy New Year" in parting without thinking what we are actually wishing them. It's simple, I guess. We wish them a brand new year with the hope that it will be happier than the last. </div>
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2014 was quite the year for me. I moved across the country and back again, I learned more about politics than ever before, I gained new friends, reunited with old ones, traveled by bus, plane, train, boat, and automobile, visited at least 6 art museums, attended about 20 live theater performances, I discovered the reality of exhaustion and the will to continue, I lost hair and gained wrinkles, I was brave, I welcomed deep sadness into the depths of my heart, I was exhilarated, I went on more first dates than ever before, I made some big decisions, I started new jobs, I taught politics, piano, English, and theater, I relied on the strength of my family, I ran, I took three road trips, bought a new car, and finally, I looked at myself in the mirror and felt beautifully satisfied with my imperfections! </div>
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Of course my year was so much more than that. It was the little things, the people who entered and exited my life, the lessons learned, the emotions felt and expressed, the struggles, the rejoicings, all of it! I realize that new years usually bring about resolutions, but this year I've decided to simply write out hopes I have for the upcoming year. Here are a few:</div>
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<i>I hope...</i></div>
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<b>I'm more patient with my heart this year</b></div>
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<b>I stay fit and confident</b></div>
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<b>I let go of the past in order to embrace the future</b></div>
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<b>I celebrate the joy of others</b></div>
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<b>I am close enough to the spirit to feel directed on my decisions about Graduate School</b></div>
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<b>I am brave enough to step out of my comfort zones</b></div>
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<b>I'm bold with my feelings and careful with my words</b></div>
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<b>I hope I allow myself the opportunity to be imperfect </b></div>
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<b>I laugh and cry so hard it hurts long after I'm finished</b></div>
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<b>I fall in love again</b></div>
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<b>I gain greater understanding of God's plan for me</b></div>
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<b>I learn to trust that plan</b></div>
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<b>I make a difference in someone else's life </b></div>
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<b>I can be a missionary</b></div>
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<b>I will write, travel, sigh, and of course....</b></div>
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<b>always stay hopeful </b></div>
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So here's to a happy new year! May we be courageous enough to try something new in order to be happier. </div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>What are your new year resolutions, or hopes?</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>You may also like:</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>---- "Not your Year" by the Weepies</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>----- Alfred Lord Tennyson - "Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come..."</b></span></div>
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Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-3400355025106291362014-12-10T15:21:00.000-08:002014-12-12T15:47:05.196-08:00Receiving the Gift of Christmas <div style="text-align: center;">
Christmas isn't about presents;</div>
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It's about GIFTS. </div>
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I know Christmas isn't about Santa or the packages under the tree, but the importance of gifts should not be overlooked at Christmas-time. Sometimes we try to incriminate the commercialized gifts of Christmas in order to heighten the spiritual importance of the season. But, the center of this holiday is in fact a gift. </div>
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Christmas is a celebration of the gift of Christ, but what kind of Christ do we receive? I know this may seem like a strange question, but it is something I've been ruminating on recently. At Easter we tend to focus on the majesty and power of Christ and his ministry; we celebrate the gifts of his miracles, his atonement, his sacrifice, resurrection, and power to save. This is a man of majesty and glory extending to us the gifts of immortality and salvation. But, what kind of Christ are we given at Christmas? </div>
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A sweet and tender babe. </div>
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Yes, this baby is the Messiah, the Lord of lords, the King of Kings, the Prince of peace, and he will perform the greatest gift of love known to all mankind, but for this one moment, he is the baby asleep in the hay. To his bedside come shepherds bringing admiration, wise men bringing frankincense, gold, and myrrh, a father bringing support and protection, and a mother giving not only of her physical body, but surely a soothing kiss and loving words. Being so small and new, what could this little baby possibly give? </div>
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The gift of HOPE and A PROMISE FULFILLED</div>
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Prophets had foretold of his coming for thousands of years and these prophecies were recorded in the Old Testament and also the Book of Mormon. Believers held onto the promise of a deliverer who would come and redeem them. He was a gift long expected. What must it have been like to believe in Christ when he had not yet come? </div>
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The Book of Mormon provides a testament of the people living in the Americas at the time just before Christ's birth. Some of these people began to believe that "the time was past for the words to be fulfilled...therefore [the] joy and [the] faith concerning this thing hath been in vain" (3 Nephi:1:5-6). But, others continued to "watch steadfastly for that day and that night and that day which should be as one day as if there were no night, that they might know that their faith had not been in vain" (3 Nephi 1:8). </div>
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I imagine little doubts crept into the minds of those who believed, but harassment quickly turned to a life or death situation as "a day was set apart by the unbelievers, that all those who believed in those traditions should be put to death except the sign should come to pass" (3 Nephi 1:9). </div>
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The joy is that he came and the promise was fulfilled. </div>
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Not only to those in America, but to those from the House of Israel awaiting their deliverance in the West, this baby brought the gift of hope and the assurance that their faith had not been in vain. </div>
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So maybe Christmas isn't about Santa and toys, but it most certainly is about a baby and his gift to each of us. Here is hope. Here is the hope to fuel our faith in God's promises made to each of us. Here is the hope of Christ's promise to save our souls and heal our sorrows. </div>
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In the midst of our holiday giving, let us remember and receive this precious gift. </div>
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Merry Christmas! </div>
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Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-32765414144862633612014-11-26T15:54:00.003-08:002014-11-26T15:54:49.286-08:00Defined by Numbers <div style="text-align: center;">
I decided last night that I don't want to be defined by numbers. </div>
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I am not the size etched in the waistline of my jeans. </div>
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I am not an age</div>
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I am not a percentage </div>
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I am not a test score</div>
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I am not a number. </div>
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When I think to the times my heart sinks the most, it is often in the realization of man's inhumanity to man. During the Holocaust, one way the victims were dehumanized was through losing their names and identities. Each person was assigned and branded a number to replace their name. Similarly, slaves and prisoners were also branded with numbers. I think to one of my favorite musicals, "Les Miserables," where Jean Valjean is referred to as 24601 in the very opening song:</div>
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JAVERT: "Five years for what you did</div>
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The rest because you tried to run</div>
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Yes, 24601"</div>
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JEAN VALJEAN: "My name is Jean Valjean"</div>
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JAVERT: "And I am Javert</div>
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Do not forget my name!</div>
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Do not forget me, 24601"</div>
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Thankfully, I am not branded with a number in this manner. However, I see people define themselves with statistics and numbers all the time. I do not want numbers to define who I am. I am not a number; I cannot be a number because a number has no way of grasping my entirety. A number doesn't show you how funny my hair looks in the morning, or the way I crinkle my nose when I laugh. Yes, numbers can do amazing things in computers, machines, codes, etc. But, they cannot define who I am; that power is all mine. </div>
Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-124503394615491512.post-80775684034089073512014-11-21T15:48:00.001-08:002014-12-18T13:47:41.428-08:00I'd Like to Clarify One or Two Things<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Perpetua; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> I have received various responses to my continuous effort to keep marriage near the top of my priority list. I realize that the majority of these comments are meant to comfort me in my singleness, but sometimes they just crawl underneath my skin. "Jenny, how old are you?" (answer) "Oh please, you are so young. Stop worrying so much." OR "When I was your age, I had no intention of getting married. Focus on just enjoying your life. Travel. Start your path to a career. If marriage happens, great! You don't need a man to be successful." AND "Think of all the amazing women who were not married until their thirties -(<i>Insert endless amount of names here</i>). Look at all the wonderful things they accomplished and the great husbands they found!" I'm not saying that I disagree with any of this. I know it was all given to help me feel better and be better, and I appreciate that, but here's the thing...</span></div>
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I was on a date with a friend a while back. He inquired whether one of our mutual friends was married, so I said "No, she is not." To which he returned, "Jenny, are you really that depressed you are not married yet?!" -- I sat stunned at the thought that my unemotional answer would elicit such an emotional response. Is this what everyone thinks? To those of you with his same question, i'd like to clarify one or two things. </div>
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#1. <b>It has nothing to do with how old I am: </b>My parents were married at the age of 25 and my siblings followed suit. I never grew up with the notion that I needed to be married at a young age. In fact, the earliest age I wanted to be married was 23. (Funny how we think we know how an age feels long before we get there) I don't advocate rushing into marriage, or putting it off. I believe people simply want to feel ready when that big day comes, and we are all ready at different times. As I stated, I am just barely in my designated age bracket for marriage. I don't feel like an old spinster, or that all my friends are married. This is not about age, it is about timing. I had a dear friend once express how nice it would be if God simply sent me a letter one day saying, "Dear Jenny, you're going to get married in a couple years. You don't need to worry so much. Please just work on enjoying the opportunities i'm providing you to be ready." I'm not frustrated that I'm 23 and unmarried. I'm simply trying to plan my life around an unknown. </div>
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#2. <b>I want to stop worrying about this. </b>Another close friend of mine once suggested that if we all stopped worrying so much about dating, maybe it would just happen naturally. He's getting married now, so maybe he's right. No one should try to force marriage; we want that natural progression from friend to boyfriend, boyfriend to love of my life, love of my life to husband, etc. But despite how natural this process should be, the constant preaching about effort adds a lot of pressure. The worries creep in that I am responsible for my situation, I am not putting myself out there enough, i'm not stepping out of my comfort zone enough, i'm not vulnerable enough, I'm not attractive enough, I'm too picky, i'm not picky enough, i'm not going on enough dates, i'm not accessible, i'm waiting for a guy who doesn't exist, i'm not good at this, and I should just be done. So you tell me, how do I not worry about this? </div>
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#3. <b>Depressed is not the word, and Marriage isn't actually the issue. </b>I'm not upset that I am not married, or even overly sad. I'm still so young as you've all mentioned previously. You see, I am not actually worried about getting married right now at all.Yes, marriage would fit fine into my life right now if I were in love with someone I wanted to marry, and yes I still want to make marriage the priority. But to be honest, i'm not anxious about marriage, i'm anxious about falling in love again. </div>
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There's the rub. I'm not envious that all my friends are getting married; i'm envious they have someone to pour their heart into. I've tried to just embrace the whole "I am single woman, hear me roar!" mentality and it doesn't stick. I don't like the "dating around" stage because I'm just no good at it. But, it's impossible to simply skip to the good part, so here I am. I guess i'm learning patience, but what I really want to learn is that my heart is capable of falling in love again. Even if it breaks, at least i'd know it still works. For a while, I feared the beating of my heart was slowing to that monotone sound of a dead-straight line. I looked at it helplessly, crying out for someone to please save it. With a transfusion of love from my friends and family, I began pumping large doses of hope back into my little heart. It resuscitated temporarily, but continues deflating. I've decided there must be a hole; something must be missing. I'm not sure how to fix it, except to find a receptacle for the love that is bleeding out uncontrollably.</div>
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So here's the clarification: I am not depressed that I am not married yet, and I don't feel pressured to get married soon. I'm depressed that i'm so bad at being single, and I feel pressured to fall in love again before my heart empties completely. </div>
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Jenny Thoruphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02648290188494700483noreply@blogger.com0