Question of the Week: Question #18

<em>Have a question? I'd love to hear it, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol), friends! Today's question comes to us from <a href="http://www.whoamanaroundtown.blogspot.com">Shannon</a>, who asks...</em><br /><br /><strong>You have mentioned in past blogs that you don't drink. I was wondering, is that for medical reasons, social stigma, or just because you don't like it? Have you ever drank before? Do people in your family drink?</strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9iQzw6DQtkath0Q37onMG5t_nP-5SXwfrvh-OqhGBBP5VCetelN3cLu3hFYPUG4EFvLIHxpxR1QiUKJv1KS7b5dzXp26iM73izz5duRze5T8Z3bg2_uRCt4LiFEWEdZhNaGO82LM2B8/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724571453898339410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9iQzw6DQtkath0Q37onMG5t_nP-5SXwfrvh-OqhGBBP5VCetelN3cLu3hFYPUG4EFvLIHxpxR1QiUKJv1KS7b5dzXp26iM73izz5duRze5T8Z3bg2_uRCt4LiFEWEdZhNaGO82LM2B8/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a>The short answer: No. I don't not drink for medical reasons. I don't not drink because I'm a recovering alcoholic. Truth be told, I've never drank before. I know that's not the most popular answer for someone my age, but honestly? I've never understood the allure of drinking. There are too many instances where said drinking has gone beyond what would be considered social drinking and into the danger zone -- the kind that leave you stumbling and mumbling and running off to Las Vegas looking for the next available Elvis impersonator. What is appealing about that? I'd much rather wake up in the morning and remember what happened the night before than have zero recollection of anything. That would terrify me. Yes, some may think this is being a <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-confession-i-am-prude.html">prude</a>, but I suppose what is comes down to is not wanting to lose that control that comes with alcohol-induced inhibition. Because, really, you can enjoy anything just as well sober as you can when you've kicked back a few -- is that the correct term?<br /><br />Now don't get me wrong. I'll be the first to admit that I've developed my share of vices in my 30 years. At the top of my list is that pesky little devil known as retail therapy. It's evil, I tell you, pure evil. In fact, I'll be indulging in it today. I can shop with the best of them. So I suppose we all have our unhealthy habits, don't we? I guess drinking has just never been one of mine. Besides, being less than 4-feet tall, it probably wouldn't take too much to get me tipsy... xoxo<br /><br />[Photo via <a href="http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/2012/03/choose-you.html">Le Love</a>]

Question of the Week: Question #18

Have a question? I'd love to hear it, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol), friends! Today's question comes to us from Sha...

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Love Lounge: Did you have a quarter-life crisis?

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7084/6871697730_314b1fc5d1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7084/6871697730_314b1fc5d1.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 481px;" /></a>Did you have a quarter-life crisis, friends? I was reminded of my own little mid-'20s, post-college, what-the-heck-am-I-doing? meltdown when I discovered Lizzy Stewart's <a href="http://lizzystewartdiary.tumblr.com/">illustrations</a>. Her sentiments are spot-on -- all that wondering where your life is going, wondering why things aren't magically falling into place after graduation and seeing your late '20s looming on the horizon.<br /><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7244/6871710382_c680857261_z.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7244/6871710382_c680857261_z.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 510px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7110/7017824963_98760940c7.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7110/7017824963_98760940c7.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 488px;" /></a><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7119/6871728656_36ca955e00_b.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7119/6871728656_36ca955e00_b.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 735px;" /></a>It happened to me a few years after I graduated from college. It was one of those moments that sticks in your head like a movie you know you'll never forget. I was shopping, and as I was checking out, the cashier said, "<em>Thank you, ma''am.</em>"<br /><br /><em>Ma'am</em>.<br /><br />What happened after that is sort of a blur. I probably just mumbled a thank you in return and got out of there as fast as I could. When did I become a ma'am? How did I go from a youthful young lady to a ma'am, I thought? -- a term reserved for, well, lack of a better word, not me. Ma'ams were the sort of women you'd see playing afternoon Bingo and telling "<em>In my day</em>" stories. The fact was that I didn't feel like an adult. At all. So when had I become one? Somewhere along the way, I got to thinking that once I got that coveted college degree in my hands, everything would fall into place as if the stars were aligned just for me. I'd have everything figured out. <br /><br />The real truth? I was actually left more confused. Who was I? What did I want in life? Where was I going? For the first time since kindergarten, my "life canvas" was blank. It was time for <span style="font-style:italic;">me</span> to forge my own path, for <span style="font-style:italic;">me</span> to make my own to-do list and for <span style="font-style:italic;">me</span> to paint that canvas. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Did you feel like this when you were 25, friends? Do you know anyone who went through this? What has helped you deal with those growing pains the most? If you're not 25 yet, do you think you'll grapple with these issues when you hit the milestone birthday? xoxo</span>

Love Lounge: Did you have a quarter-life crisis?

Did you have a quarter-life crisis, friends? I was reminded of my own little mid-'20s, post-college, what-the-heck-am-I-doing? meltdown...

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Love Lounge: Let's talk high school

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtXm6pkFgE2wnXKzOawaFRNAYixNAAY1GlfV8lzbuJ-gEbSk2LvVDqvktLZDct1tmpC2eY9uE51mJZ1iJ8g9EjRvciP0JVcIr5LYjGAvuiTlhUJeKh3aP0PGFtxxTqjii3HVjqLd-TYU8/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722376916488423378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtXm6pkFgE2wnXKzOawaFRNAYixNAAY1GlfV8lzbuJ-gEbSk2LvVDqvktLZDct1tmpC2eY9uE51mJZ1iJ8g9EjRvciP0JVcIr5LYjGAvuiTlhUJeKh3aP0PGFtxxTqjii3HVjqLd-TYU8/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>The shadow of your high school self stays with you, doesn't it? Awkward first kisses. SAT nightmares. Embarrassingly puffy prom dresses. It’s all there, in the back of our minds, like a hauntingly beautiful oxymoron. We somehow think we’ve moved beyond high school, that we’re adults in this big bad world. Even I thought that, but then I stepped back inside my high school a couple years ago. For the first time since I threw my cap in the air at graduation.<br /><br />High school is the ultimate encapsulated time capsule. We check our adulthood at the front door when we enter those hallowed halls for the first time since graduation. We <span style="font-style:italic;">are</span> that 18-year-old once again, even if we're really 26, 56 or even 86. The smells – the gym, the freshly mopped linoleum floors, the cafeteria. The sights – my old classrooms, my old locker. The sounds – the frenzied hustle of the teenage crowd, the basketballs bouncing in the gym, the whispers of gossip. It all takes you back because whether we like it or not, we were all someone in high school. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtGbhsZ89BlqCiLsKa-M9RsfcBrrMqpFQYzuzquOszocRgpCHj8F3SuhijK74HCSNQHpCRd9TbqL8qeaFEIpLsY1I-jq4VAPpVKL2INqcMVW2AEmCUQqE2p8-cqhYvq7Fc-4HoI11y3w/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722376912522285858" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNtGbhsZ89BlqCiLsKa-M9RsfcBrrMqpFQYzuzquOszocRgpCHj8F3SuhijK74HCSNQHpCRd9TbqL8qeaFEIpLsY1I-jq4VAPpVKL2INqcMVW2AEmCUQqE2p8-cqhYvq7Fc-4HoI11y3w/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" /></a>So who was I? Well, I had to dust off my old yearbooks for inspiration. I wasn’t on Student Council like the popular girls. I wasn’t the introspective poet like the theater dudes and dudettes. And I certainly wasn’t the star athlete like the football quarterback. No, I was the wallflower. The quiet one. That girl daydreaming in the corner, her head and nose always in a book or a pen in her hand. I suppose I hadn't grown into my larger-than-life personality just yet.<br /><br />So when we come back, it’s almost as if we’d never left. I got those same insecurities and fears the second I set foot in my old high school for the first time a few years ago. Apparently, parts of that high-school dreamer were still walking right beside me, and I suppose part of me couldn't deny how much being in that building affected me -- the building where I spent four of my most formative years. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI9MfBV0Z5i6QEQIG-5M_48i3ei_S5nnQDCTD3H66v28JcFipaN31o1ySNcozUV81ZPMv_c3V4g5mneE4rynj003eEHnV4nqkuEmvPSRbmMTLad1G9GCynxKxGt8iYsdY4QPfplZW2r4A/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722376906391177810" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI9MfBV0Z5i6QEQIG-5M_48i3ei_S5nnQDCTD3H66v28JcFipaN31o1ySNcozUV81ZPMv_c3V4g5mneE4rynj003eEHnV4nqkuEmvPSRbmMTLad1G9GCynxKxGt8iYsdY4QPfplZW2r4A/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">Are our adult selves mere outgrowths of our 18-year-old innocence? Are we forever our high-school selves? Or do we mature with age and time? Let's chat, friends! xoxo</span><br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/">We Heart It</a>]

Love Lounge: Let's talk high school

The shadow of your high school self stays with you, doesn't it? Awkward first kisses. SAT nightmares. Embarrassingly puffy prom dresses....

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On flu bugs and spring break

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53a3ggEeli9vvBnkV2pTpeRQzOdCMBw8IF_QQEbJ4Fy4GybyG3QNJpCoDrhTKpRUWvP6Ej6mDndSQIadNUJBSF4E_gS74WDHGTaUCdZEt9K9stejCZuHXmFZHpweItZB5_om37nY17vk/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719041150198563010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53a3ggEeli9vvBnkV2pTpeRQzOdCMBw8IF_QQEbJ4Fy4GybyG3QNJpCoDrhTKpRUWvP6Ej6mDndSQIadNUJBSF4E_gS74WDHGTaUCdZEt9K9stejCZuHXmFZHpweItZB5_om37nY17vk/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" /></a>Well, friends, no sooner did I ring in spring break on Friday afternoon than I began to feel dull ache in the back of my throat. Flashforward to last night, and there was no denying it: I had the flu. The chills, coughing, runny nose kind. So needless to say, I'll be resting and recharging my batteries today, drinking lots of juice and enjoying the wonders of Vick's (<em>isn't that stuff just amazing?</em>). Hope you all have a good day, and I'll see you tomorrow! xoxo<br /><br />[Photo via <a href="http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-cant-wait.html">Le Love</a>]

On flu bugs and spring break

Well, friends, no sooner did I ring in spring break on Friday afternoon than I began to feel dull ache in the back of my throat. Flashforwar...

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Love Lounge: Let's talk Leap Day!

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVDcExKnMQCKhg5wiDqGTawgCfI5rp6LGnHxF-DDS7cDbjJhqaTYPxw6otaJ9TrMEC9Jv1dy9uqd1r-_LTc-W0slAtIIm1FwnyHGrRQOdJqNz6atcg7M-BJLOUMoRNAlwgcZCvXIUCEU/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714655886380895122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVDcExKnMQCKhg5wiDqGTawgCfI5rp6LGnHxF-DDS7cDbjJhqaTYPxw6otaJ9TrMEC9Jv1dy9uqd1r-_LTc-W0slAtIIm1FwnyHGrRQOdJqNz6atcg7M-BJLOUMoRNAlwgcZCvXIUCEU/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a>Leaping lizards. Leaps and bounds. Leaps of faith. Leap frogs. <br /><br />Life offers hurdles and hurdles of leaps. There’s the literal leap you take when you’re 6-years-old and realize jumping into the puddle of mud is fun. There’s the leap you take when you get your first job – you’re not too sure what to expect or if you’re up to the challenge, but you take the leap anyway. There’s the leap you take when you move across the country in search of your dream job, dream love or even your dream house. There’s the leap you take when, on a whim, you tell that guy how you feel, because you know if you don’t do it now, you’ll lose your cool.<br /><br />And then there are leaps that somehow just find themselves in your lap. It isn’t important how it got there. It’s a free gift waiting to be opened by you. People the world over are celebrating an extra day today so special that it only graces us with its presence once every four years.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkXiii6gWurkJ-pHb7WCAgIO6BNTWTGvJiGipmywqXrRFoIDZAp208xinrqKJCtRNyjCyrcC6cEsgH1-M7ZXzI8DRyXWKrP16WMDVZS1YMcH47k7RctIBR5abHcEMNH56L3FynIN_zQg/s1600/02.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714655889299052162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkXiii6gWurkJ-pHb7WCAgIO6BNTWTGvJiGipmywqXrRFoIDZAp208xinrqKJCtRNyjCyrcC6cEsgH1-M7ZXzI8DRyXWKrP16WMDVZS1YMcH47k7RctIBR5abHcEMNH56L3FynIN_zQg/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>I’ve been thinking about leaps a lot lately. When does a leap become a foolish plunge? And can we ever really know the difference between the two, or are we destined to repeat our mistakes over and over until we get it right? Isn’t life really just one giant leap after another? A chance taken. A question asked. A moment lived. A tear shed. A laugh chuckled. A risk, well, risked? <br /><br />It takes a certain type of person to take the plunge. Because let’s face it: Leaping off the edge is a scary proposition. Will there be a safety net down below to catch us? It’d be so easy to back away from the fire down below, but the risk there? You’ll never feel the warm flame. And worse yet, you’ll be forever wondering, “What if?” What if I’d taken the chance and put myself out there? What if I’d actually, shock, lived a little? What will you be doing, friends?<br /><br /><em><strong>**Special Offer: Stephanie of <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/LuxeBoulevard">Luxe Boulevard</a> is offering readers a special 29% off their order in honor of Leap Year! Just enter LEAPYEAR2012 at checkout.**</strong></em><br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/">We Heart It</a>]

Love Lounge: Let's talk Leap Day!

Leaping lizards. Leaps and bounds. Leaps of faith. Leap frogs. Life offers hurdles and hurdles of leaps. There’s the literal leap you take w...

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My 100-Word Love Story: On discovering your own happiness

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7184/6881078927_2e75a03e73.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7184/6881078927_2e75a03e73.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 465px;" /></a>My love story starts with my first school. It was the perfect college -- the best one around. I was ecstatic that they wanted me and they were giving me a huge scholarship. I should have been having the time of my life my freshman year, but I was miserable and scared to admit I had “failed.” Eventually, I realized I have to do what’s right for me to take a chance at being happy. So I left home and started school in the big city! I have fallen in love with my beautiful school. The lesson: Risks can pay off.<br /><br /><strong>--By Hayley from <a href="http://classyinkc.blogspot.com/">Classy In KC</a></strong>

My 100-Word Love Story: On discovering your own happiness

My love story starts with my first school. It was the perfect college -- the best one around. I was ecstatic that they wanted me and they w...

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Question of the Week: Question #13

<em>Well, friends, I came up with this week's question myself after I looked into the mailbag and discovered it was empty! I'd love to hear from you, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol)!</em><br /><br /><strong>Do you remember your dreams?</strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjf1uhAzXRg7GcbSFZSgSqp3xBZW_Af1Pmrjg8YXPE9gTYdhWX-LhBhCGoQSUf5BdnzIJLeEtadgAVMFv0IpBgBf0fXIc1jA4w7DQw2iubevhIqjvOitq_z6wP5egYMoGFUUzRrZS4dA/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706417945083256722" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjf1uhAzXRg7GcbSFZSgSqp3xBZW_Af1Pmrjg8YXPE9gTYdhWX-LhBhCGoQSUf5BdnzIJLeEtadgAVMFv0IpBgBf0fXIc1jA4w7DQw2iubevhIqjvOitq_z6wP5egYMoGFUUzRrZS4dA/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" /></a>Dreams are a funny thing, aren't they? They can seem so real and powerful when we're having them. They can be dreamy and magical and fantastical and whimsical -- almost like a fairytale come to life. And yet, they can also resemble nightmares, full of ghosts and ghouls so scary that you wake up screaming and shaking.<br /><br />I've had both types of dreams. While I don't always remember the specific parts of my dreams, I always know if they're good or bad, usually <em>as</em> I'm dreaming (<em>spooking, huh?</em>). What I find really interesting, though, is how my disability figures into these dreams -- or, well, how it <em>doesn't</em> fit into them. I'm never in a wheelchair in my dreams. Ever. In fact, I don't even notice the absence of my wheelchair. I was just going about my normal life.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPT3Rz7_j1li_9Mm05AmNNkaXHu1JT4Bq8vZ6x3lfuJhiV3fx7KmkjlpAhQ9G6OQHYttohQerqw4BXiMRZt8ntrObbJRrxYmlXyyW31TbnXfj1-1TA-fbs30vSixZWXIVjrgcL6zmcXw/s1600/02.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706417940318433714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPT3Rz7_j1li_9Mm05AmNNkaXHu1JT4Bq8vZ6x3lfuJhiV3fx7KmkjlpAhQ9G6OQHYttohQerqw4BXiMRZt8ntrObbJRrxYmlXyyW31TbnXfj1-1TA-fbs30vSixZWXIVjrgcL6zmcXw/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" /></a>My mom once told me about a dream she had where we were in a giant park. It must have been the summer because we were surrounded by green grass, and it was a beautiful, clear day. In the distance, she saw me running. I was free. Nothing was holding me back. I wasn't disabled. I wasn't in a wheelchair. I was just running and laughing. I could tell the dream was pretty bittersweet for her, which it was for me too, but it sure made me think.<br /><br />I'm still undecided as to whether dreams have psychological meaning. I was only a few classes short of a psychology minor in college, so I like to think I know a bit about the human mind (<em>the sexiest body part, remember...?</em>), and I sometimes wonder if we're not trying to work things out in our dreams. Was my mother trying to come to terms with my disability when she dreamed of me running? <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSO9obZj0VgHBcKZ8WBwzCQO0myy4KZIwn6EP7zpgfkRggvjfVytZOAKOKxHU48uhezh3KWD3ic4WM4SXL305xNc20jDAgBuzYZJ9rOb-IbH_VD9T3tjSW65S-KA7u1U1LgQsrEdfSMs8/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706419372881683986" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSO9obZj0VgHBcKZ8WBwzCQO0myy4KZIwn6EP7zpgfkRggvjfVytZOAKOKxHU48uhezh3KWD3ic4WM4SXL305xNc20jDAgBuzYZJ9rOb-IbH_VD9T3tjSW65S-KA7u1U1LgQsrEdfSMs8/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 293px;" /></a><strong>What about you, friends? Do certain themes tend to repeat themselves in your dreams? Do you think dreams have deeper meaning? Or do we just read too much into them? What was your last dream? Was it scary? Let's chat! xoxo</strong><br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://weheartit.com/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&query=dreams">We Heart It</a>]

Question of the Week: Question #13

Well, friends, I came up with this week's question myself after I looked into the mailbag and discovered it was empty! I'd love to h...

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Question of the Week: Question #12

<span style="font-style:italic;">Have a question? I'd love to hear it, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol), friends! Today's question comes to us from <a href="http://dancingbranflakes.blogspot.com/">Tiffany</a>, who asks...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Where do you see yourself in 20 years?</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34BWbCiMtl6HwQO-02cbg8pHQXPjQV7gRCMF_qmXAvktFaLgqGRNnIEk_P_BvnbkAkZH2HySqKYXQepNXgSV0YHfGyclp8PouYntgfwzxtoEzIIGJKAVVbRZlxLCpmaee8ybMb8krDqM/s1600/01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703855010907676498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34BWbCiMtl6HwQO-02cbg8pHQXPjQV7gRCMF_qmXAvktFaLgqGRNnIEk_P_BvnbkAkZH2HySqKYXQepNXgSV0YHfGyclp8PouYntgfwzxtoEzIIGJKAVVbRZlxLCpmaee8ybMb8krDqM/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>I've always loved the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0088763/">Back To The Future</a>. It got me thinking about both the past and the future. And then after thinking about <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2012/01/letters-to-my-future-husband-letter-149.html">how far I've come</a> yesterday, this is the perfect time to think about the future, isn't it? Truthfully, I've always been a bit scared of the future. You all know by now that change and I aren't exactly the best of friends. Honestly, I sort of fear change, probably because I only think of it in terms of bad change. I've been so conditioned to brace myself for all the bad things that change will eventually bring that I've all but closed myself off to the possibility of good change. So it's been a struggle sometimes to see the silver lining in change, to see that good things -- even wonderful things -- can come from change. It's crazy to think that in 20 years, I'll be 50; maybe that will be the new 30? It will be the year 2032, which just sounds completely crazy to me. I see myself still writing, of course. I'd love to live in the Big Apple, maybe writing for a magazine (<span style="font-style:italic;">will magazines still exist?</span>) or working on a book. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-akx3R0nTvmPZE6pm3aPRz-0KieCvWl-NPoIil88BuOtO6cxqqZlAgz1_yv9tZOGw4ioFcASizNcpQ1OwS35nx7BKilbrbqi-rtRlgjTynRh5LsFnW2wbxJL_oaZ96hvq8gRx-qrWOk/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703855840115398946" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-akx3R0nTvmPZE6pm3aPRz-0KieCvWl-NPoIil88BuOtO6cxqqZlAgz1_yv9tZOGw4ioFcASizNcpQ1OwS35nx7BKilbrbqi-rtRlgjTynRh5LsFnW2wbxJL_oaZ96hvq8gRx-qrWOk/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>That's the practical side of me. The impractical dreamer in me? She wants to have her own talk show. How fun would that be? I can see myself musing about anything and everything!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">What about you, friends? Where do you see yourself in 2032? Have you even thought about it? Do you worry about the future? Do you look forward to it? xoxo</span><br /><br />P.S. Here are <a href="http://whatculture.com/film/52-reasons-why-back-to-the-future-might-just-be-the-greatest-film-of-all-time.php">52 reasons why Back To The Future rocks</a>!<br /><br />[Bottom photo via <a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/22183177">We Heart It</a>]

Question of the Week: Question #12

Have a question? I'd love to hear it, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol), friends! Today's question comes to us from Tif...

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Would you rather: Live in the bustling city or in the quiet country?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimjE53GuXyRyvibW-Y5Q7tt6qquv9y373x-s601bdLvOpFVTy6yKxcq_t7qxxEjiovm30d1_-WJlcd1Sp4gHGD4UQFCyHzYfpmrNNv1gpscDdZmV_pG3J3pwrzHp7xMj2ZawgqEuGRcCk/s1600/03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702012863721528962" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimjE53GuXyRyvibW-Y5Q7tt6qquv9y373x-s601bdLvOpFVTy6yKxcq_t7qxxEjiovm30d1_-WJlcd1Sp4gHGD4UQFCyHzYfpmrNNv1gpscDdZmV_pG3J3pwrzHp7xMj2ZawgqEuGRcCk/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" /></a>Confession: Growing up, I had the best of both world. All my surgeries and hospital stays turned me into the utmost, uber-chic city gal. My senses took it all in. The tall buildings that stretched across the horizon. The classic Chicago smell – a mixture of pollution and whiffs of nearby Lake Michigan. The sound of a car honk in the distance or the music of a street performer. And the hoards of people rushing -- always rushing -- to their jobs, iPhones firmly in hand. I loved the hustle and bustle the big, expansive city had to offer.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38Clr91lgaAP2QsHjNZmeHQJWbnSIQGovl-WsF6ss4CZC_9rkC9gP1h8zJj6PcQBX-QWZ2sirlpJEGujJavJe7ME7JV6EjanbECJXqqfg1st9yWaKYaNYMjtix5A8uIb8_tTTFM7EreQ/s1600/02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702012862157929026" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38Clr91lgaAP2QsHjNZmeHQJWbnSIQGovl-WsF6ss4CZC_9rkC9gP1h8zJj6PcQBX-QWZ2sirlpJEGujJavJe7ME7JV6EjanbECJXqqfg1st9yWaKYaNYMjtix5A8uIb8_tTTFM7EreQ/s400/02.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 394px;" /></a>But I also loved the calming quiet retreat awaiting me at home -- in a small town amidst the cornfields and far removed from the city. Summer picnics. A rocking chair on the front porch. A glass of tall lemonade perched on the wooden table. The sounds of the country and the ears of corn blowing in the wind sweeping over the field. Seeing for miles in the distance. <br /><div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7003/6766777271_1f0e947574_o.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7003/6766777271_1f0e947574_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 408px;" /></a><span style="font-weight:bold;">What about you, friends? Are you a city mouse or a country mouse? What do you like about the city? The country? Do you think it's possible for someone to be both? xoxo</span><br /><br />[First two photos by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tiavir/page1/">Virginia Gálvez</a>, bottom graphic via <a href="http://www.thecolor.com/Category/Coloring/Aesops%20Fables.aspx">The Color</a>]

Would you rather: Live in the bustling city or in the quiet country?

Confession: Growing up, I had the best of both world. All my surgeries and hospital stays turned me into the utmost, uber-chic city gal. My ...

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Are you a workaholic?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprnV17TC5xiVkU8s0yXoC-5zm8zvGuUA7X1EIGvYZrgQm4_b8SfILK_EaOcsY3LH_ll1mM4iJbQ5n3CPQJlZU7fJ2mZERjkfUngP_cvQMPW77FJAqlQNyV-fq2_wccKQKM5m1O4ZMlHQ/s1600/aa.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698972899121409698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprnV17TC5xiVkU8s0yXoC-5zm8zvGuUA7X1EIGvYZrgQm4_b8SfILK_EaOcsY3LH_ll1mM4iJbQ5n3CPQJlZU7fJ2mZERjkfUngP_cvQMPW77FJAqlQNyV-fq2_wccKQKM5m1O4ZMlHQ/s400/aa.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfJ6qHDh7rrP1vKe9lZOqf55V2ev1spI9ZWFZluLixdowt0pHeUxEPxSvhV9eWEQaRZq0esZ-g58bMdZ9Y0Sso1WvmldVERqyIBtAGpjR0JGgk_HVNujpa-h44ehyrUyDsVQO8Hz26A4/s1600/aa2.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698972901156001426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijfJ6qHDh7rrP1vKe9lZOqf55V2ev1spI9ZWFZluLixdowt0pHeUxEPxSvhV9eWEQaRZq0esZ-g58bMdZ9Y0Sso1WvmldVERqyIBtAGpjR0JGgk_HVNujpa-h44ehyrUyDsVQO8Hz26A4/s400/aa2.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 211px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMV8K8xW36zZ1ycmRRWtsS-ewGMd5EWMfdZ3BQfIbYiNpD3u8lhfJI-VYWM1gqOsYIa1bbJ5ob8QBjX_9yXxnEEk8zOOYNCtfXeT3qwtG_U5qpt9npMUwcnhhfEoOBQ9RR73Bkrzj6K0/s1600/aa3.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698972896850928866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMV8K8xW36zZ1ycmRRWtsS-ewGMd5EWMfdZ3BQfIbYiNpD3u8lhfJI-VYWM1gqOsYIa1bbJ5ob8QBjX_9yXxnEEk8zOOYNCtfXeT3qwtG_U5qpt9npMUwcnhhfEoOBQ9RR73Bkrzj6K0/s400/aa3.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 119px;" /></a>Today is my first day back at work (<em>hello, syllabus, hand-outs and new students!</em>), so how fitting that I should come across this chart that breaks down the average work hours for men and women around the globe. Are you a workaholic, friends? What do you do? What's your favorite job you've ever had? <br /><br />[<a href="http://blog.tribehr.com/bid/90228/HR-Environmental-Scan-Work-hours-around-the-world-infographic">HR Environmental Scan</a>, via <a href="http://flavorwire.com/206450/awesome-infographic-who-works-the-most-around-the-world">Flavorpill</a>; click on the link to see the full chart]

Are you a workaholic?

Today is my first day back at work ( hello, syllabus, hand-outs and new students! ), so how fitting that I should come across this chart tha...

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Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #146.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApEnllz68wmzcTcolvUgxC-teVod_n2f56owwM5TB_TH4tqUpl0Mn8lImJblUYhyphenhyphenoy6D4e4C3GJwyGurjBTAkEGpXTkYD_IMZLHjwlfNeDvyYnkY1os_RNX445YJt1HwH26DGVhgDbfQ/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693090391494709042" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApEnllz68wmzcTcolvUgxC-teVod_n2f56owwM5TB_TH4tqUpl0Mn8lImJblUYhyphenhyphenoy6D4e4C3GJwyGurjBTAkEGpXTkYD_IMZLHjwlfNeDvyYnkY1os_RNX445YJt1HwH26DGVhgDbfQ/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" /></a>Well, here we are, Sweetpea...the second day of 2012. I suppose I should say here <em>I</em> am, considering I have zero idea who you are or where you are as I write this. But nonetheless, it is a new year. A time to make a new start. A time to make a change. A time to turn over a new leaf. Have we talked a lot about how we feel about the dawning of a new year? Some people are so nonchalant about it, and I've always wanted to be one of those people. To them, the new year is just another page turned on the calendar. It doesn't mean much, and it's certainly not a time to make resolutions -- the kind of resolutions that come with their own set of specific and precise instructions on how said resolutions will be accomplished over the next 12 months. Instead, they just go about their normal daily routine, sometimes not even pausing to think of all that has happened over the past year. <br /><br />There's something to be said for their strategy. For one, it takes a whole heap of pressure off. I've always tried to avoid that pressure by focusing on the positives that lie ahead instead of constantly looking behind my shoulder into the past. I'm so excited to continue molding future <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/08/man-candy-monday_22.html">Bob Woodward</a> this year -- can you believe <em>none</em> of them have ever seen All The President's Men? That's one of my absolute favorite movies, but more on that later. I'm also looking forward to blogging over the next 12 months. Do you read my blog, Sweetpea? I still sometimes wonder if you read it, and I still can't wrap my head around the idea that you could be reading all about me while I know virtually nothing about you. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1it6zCnm_NwR_zvv4igKK0mqldqsGhFIFV9dLZxByjEQI7b8oYw2QWEjEaozXLhvQilI1gV-GXPK8J7Z6fFesCLd4XlJma-0ZIdfSu1Z2vZlqI7dUVIwEoOjdpxVH7qZks2bWGjysVRI/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693090391210886338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1it6zCnm_NwR_zvv4igKK0mqldqsGhFIFV9dLZxByjEQI7b8oYw2QWEjEaozXLhvQilI1gV-GXPK8J7Z6fFesCLd4XlJma-0ZIdfSu1Z2vZlqI7dUVIwEoOjdpxVH7qZks2bWGjysVRI/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a>And who knows...this could be the year we meet. That's even sort of wild for me to think about. I could meet you in the aisle at the grocery store. I could meet you at the bookstore. The fact that there are so many possibilities is sort of what makes it even more exciting, you know? It's almost as if the anticipation of meeting this year would be just as thrilling as if we actually did meet. <br /><br />But new beginnings can be incredibly daunting, can't they? Are you ready for said beginning? Is it even the sort of beginning that you want or need? Can you ever go back if you realize you've made a mistake? And sometimes, once you get that new beginning you always thought you wanted, it doesn't quite measure up to what you thought it would be.<br /><br />I can hear the wind howling outside my windows as I write this. It's the sort of fierce, gusty and cold January wind that whips against your cheeks, leaving little red patches in its wake. And it just occurred to me: Like a glass filled only halfway with water, I suppose there are two ways to look at the wind. On the one hand, you could see the wind as a detrimental foe that's holding you back. Or, you could see it as a wild force that's propelling you ever forward. I'm going to let the wind push me forward this year, Sweetpea, into a year of new adventures. Until we meet... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com">Le Love</a>]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #146.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake: Well, here we are, Sweetpea...the second day of 2012. I suppose I should say here I am, considering I have zero ide...

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Do you make New Year's resolutions?

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7017/6601561401_2e4d004b69_o.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7017/6601561401_2e4d004b69_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 561px;" /></a>Confession: I've always had a love-hate relationship with New Year's resolutions. When I was younger, it seemed so easy to come up with those grand plans that I was going to accomplish over the next 12 months. Tell <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Crush%20Boy">Crush Boy</a> (<em>finally!</em>) how I felt, for example. And most years, when December 31 rolled around and I realized that I'd forgotten what my resolution even was in the first place, I resigned myself to the fact that resolutions and I just weren't friends. <br /><br /><a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2009/12/whats-your-new-years-resolution.html">Two years</a> ago, I wrote of just wanting to be happy. And honestly, this sounds like a refreshingly perfect way to approach the coming year, doesn't it?<br /><br /><strong>So, friends, do you make New Year's resolutions? Are they usually the same every year? What is your resolution this year? What will you miss most about 2011? What are you excited about in 2012? xoxo</strong><br /><br />P.S. The <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/12/28/travelocity-lists-their-t_n_1174991.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000003">top 10 cities</a> for ringing in the New Year!<br /><br />[Photo via <a href="http://witanddelight.tumblr.com/post/13748074013/melsanie-its-like-that-time-i-went-as-a-disco">wit + delight</a>]

Do you make New Year's resolutions?

Confession: I've always had a love-hate relationship with New Year's resolutions. When I was younger, it seemed so easy to come up ...

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Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #143.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGxorTOoyb1QL7iWWGcBlS5J5dWy5sLOME4R8KgJmKdNYGVmfk_c4KhKyXjrNynEZfKYegi_TYWzVyvvL3h2uA7Zqe-6e2CQhVyydR5GZ-1bPuxRfwxRknOIsg4l63Bx7HiCT4IZht3b4u/s1600/04.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680887244083177282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGxorTOoyb1QL7iWWGcBlS5J5dWy5sLOME4R8KgJmKdNYGVmfk_c4KhKyXjrNynEZfKYegi_TYWzVyvvL3h2uA7Zqe-6e2CQhVyydR5GZ-1bPuxRfwxRknOIsg4l63Bx7HiCT4IZht3b4u/s400/04.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 334px;" /></a>Letting go. Letting go. Letting go. It's been something that has been slowly creeping into my head. What started as a teeny tiny thought has grown, well, a bit bigger. And apparently, it wants my attention because it doesn't seem to be going away any time soon. I suppose I should take that as a sign, right? I suppose I should face it, right, Sweetpea? <br /><br />So what is this big, bad monster that has my knees shaking? An anniversary. It was right around this time last year that I and everything in my world was sidelined by <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2010/12/letters-to-my-future-husband-letter-120.html">major</a> <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Tuesday%20Update">depression</a>. It's weird, but even now, it feels like it was just yesterday. And as hard as it is to remember virtually anything from this time, I don't think I'll ever be able to forget how it all left me feeling. Fearful. Confused. Overwhelmed. Confused. Anxious. Perplexed. Confused. So many emotions were flying around me (<em>it seemed like every emotion except happiness</em>), emotions that felt so foreign to me like Californians trying to enjoy a frigid winter in Minnesota.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijn_NszprOSn9sBdUaCCuvdgLD7VCjL9_Whhn1M5Posa-l6d2_ZvnZ4y8UCAERRy9R5V0NLV3hG4P7QX0zc1GsV3k1elhp3VdeZXF1HACN3heT1Hstdndra6iGVMCZ-CDdOpmDzI5BHKV/s1600/01.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680887254374021394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijn_NszprOSn9sBdUaCCuvdgLD7VCjL9_Whhn1M5Posa-l6d2_ZvnZ4y8UCAERRy9R5V0NLV3hG4P7QX0zc1GsV3k1elhp3VdeZXF1HACN3heT1Hstdndra6iGVMCZ-CDdOpmDzI5BHKV/s400/01.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" /></a>So I worry at night sometimes. I worry I'll go back to that place someday. I worry that the evil depression will slither its way back into my life somehow.<br /><br />The fact is, I'm scared to face it. This whole anniversary thing. I'm honestly scared to look it square in the eyes, face it down and try to convince it that it has no power over me when both of us know very well that it could probably reduce me to a blubbering cream puff if it wanted to. Because in reality, that's exactly what it's trying to do. It's goal is to keep me afraid, to keep me running far, far away. If I don't think about it, maybe the anniversary will just pass and float off into oblivion. But then on quiet night, like last night, for example, when it was so quiet in my house that I could hear the sound of a pin drop, I know deep down that I have to at least acknowledge it in some way. If nothing else than to make some sort of peace with it. Because only then will I be able to move forward, you know, Sweetpea? <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVg2tzbLt5F_M7-gzLsf48wtSxhmbnD0kjSU80Ia8UphLVtSjlh9PRqaFv2VfcFQZtO-JIHqBrRnd23XPUoKYqVsR7uiwobjdi-1hkbPgccf2QdYbc75js2MeURG40GaparnK7KiA9PL1u/s1600/03.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680887249634439698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVg2tzbLt5F_M7-gzLsf48wtSxhmbnD0kjSU80Ia8UphLVtSjlh9PRqaFv2VfcFQZtO-JIHqBrRnd23XPUoKYqVsR7uiwobjdi-1hkbPgccf2QdYbc75js2MeURG40GaparnK7KiA9PL1u/s400/03.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>So here I am, Depression (<em>yes, depression with a capital "D"</em>), letting you know that I've gone an entire year without you in my life, and I've realized something pretty amazing: <strong>I don't need you</strong>. Nope. Not one single bit. You've never helped me, you're never going to be able to help me and my life is so much better without you. What do you think, Sweetpea? Do I feel the same about depression wherever we are? Until we meet... xoxo<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.pennyweightonline.com/blog/2011/10/26/let-go.html">Pennyweight</a> and <a href="http://www.leloveimage.blogspot.com">Le Love</a>]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #143.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake: Letting go. Letting go. Letting go. It's been something that has been slowly creeping into my head. What started...

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Question of the Week: Question #3

<em>Good morning! Have a question? I'd love to hear them, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol), friends! Today's question comes to us from April. She asks...</em><br /><br /><strong>If you weren't a writer, what other career would you chose?</strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3lleUA4-cCmI3XOkDpJE5-t82Kw_OJInBgHMxkPsujthhMKUolcBshbuqlJ7-aaiZPVxfy-UsHaENt6LtIrzVWKm06skelKOhv0ylqnamV5433O5s0uT6AsVkzqdVAb8KiZuWLrTiulD/s1600/n30806214_35249329_5472.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680180385937148482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3lleUA4-cCmI3XOkDpJE5-t82Kw_OJInBgHMxkPsujthhMKUolcBshbuqlJ7-aaiZPVxfy-UsHaENt6LtIrzVWKm06skelKOhv0ylqnamV5433O5s0uT6AsVkzqdVAb8KiZuWLrTiulD/s400/n30806214_35249329_5472.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>Ahhh, I can't be a writer? That would be sort of like cutting off my oxygen supply -- or my root beer supply. But, if I had to choose another career, I've always thought a field in medicine would suit me well. Growing up surrounded by doctors and hospitals, I went to an unofficial form of medical school. I could definitely see myself working with other families and helping them just like doctors and other medical staff helped my family. <br /><br />Now, this second career dream may seem a bit odd, but it's always been a fantasy of mine: A secretary. A few years ago, I did some temp work at the local university, and <em>loooved</em> it. Organizing. Sorting. Answering phones. Responding to emails. I rocked it all. The photo above? Yup, that's me rocking my days of being a star secretary! :)<br /><br /><strong>What about you, friends? Do you ever dream of a different career? Why did you choose the career you're in now? I'd love to hear! xoxo</strong><br /><br />P.S. The INPINK giveaway has been extended for one more week! Don't forget to enter if you haven't. Click <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/11/inpink-gift-certificate-giveaway.html">here</a> to enter!<br /><br />P.P.S. Part #2 of the <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Holiday%20gift%20guide%202011">Holiday Gift Guide</a> and a <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/search/label/Memo%20To%20Men">MEMO TO MEN</a> is coming your way! :)

Question of the Week: Question #3

Good morning! Have a question? I'd love to hear them, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol), friends! Today's question come...

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Do nothing for two minutes

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltN4uE_AeOmm5dS0nJklnpjnM01kKv89oK1AYy089bmC36SvSGXEIvi2VUJPlCwBu6z2qDJDv2RHwZvfL8wG1MUEAEJbwkF2ExwEZK1Yj4e-2ciwX-AjqWIMepO4JkXpLNs2lF-J82-Cy/s1600/aa.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667958986721820002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhltN4uE_AeOmm5dS0nJklnpjnM01kKv89oK1AYy089bmC36SvSGXEIvi2VUJPlCwBu6z2qDJDv2RHwZvfL8wG1MUEAEJbwkF2ExwEZK1Yj4e-2ciwX-AjqWIMepO4JkXpLNs2lF-J82-Cy/s400/aa.png" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 347px;" /></a>Let's all try a challenge this morning: Can you <a href="http://www.donothingfor2minutes.com/">do nothing for two minutes</a>? It's harder than it looks. Post your victory in the comments, friends! Happy relaxing! xoxo

Do nothing for two minutes

Let's all try a challenge this morning: Can you do nothing for two minutes ? It's harder than it looks. Post your victory in the com...

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How I Feel (In 5 Photos) Wednesday.

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiMyqN91oyxshxnZx7XVih4pku0BzSi30_ygInmG4EDvdTPL1PGf_G75GETiK8Vl9xRwudIMaegpb6LiVducjhj48nCOj2r9Xd0dQEEpuLQz1_rcffEANLtHwaohTsgYT_Ck0CpCnCgHx/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667591854702185922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQiMyqN91oyxshxnZx7XVih4pku0BzSi30_ygInmG4EDvdTPL1PGf_G75GETiK8Vl9xRwudIMaegpb6LiVducjhj48nCOj2r9Xd0dQEEpuLQz1_rcffEANLtHwaohTsgYT_Ck0CpCnCgHx/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLY0L2u2MBRXzhKiTUXZU01f9i3gdyMhPLR8EuOnkgSCZcFlBCvo9HeITmAUZiVl_eYYm-UFHsGBCGrLv2wDKjqGaxjnq1s0PwfwA5GPn-p2nYUPX6q_1lj0f73G8ZPUq0kXB_n3L2O4nk/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667591856143547250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLY0L2u2MBRXzhKiTUXZU01f9i3gdyMhPLR8EuOnkgSCZcFlBCvo9HeITmAUZiVl_eYYm-UFHsGBCGrLv2wDKjqGaxjnq1s0PwfwA5GPn-p2nYUPX6q_1lj0f73G8ZPUq0kXB_n3L2O4nk/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAB8wh9L8_xwF5rtF8LDRQ_Mg60XuQXSRTMoUIcal4Kv_zOT_1vR59ly95JkKNa2T9zHtiCuVZGJ7UYOTY_wiRcLevoHLRm-b-WsdRz3HVF2bGlya6_e7yjvB7tH-V0MxJZCbQBsZ5fAYE/s1600/aa3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667591848712950162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAB8wh9L8_xwF5rtF8LDRQ_Mg60XuQXSRTMoUIcal4Kv_zOT_1vR59ly95JkKNa2T9zHtiCuVZGJ7UYOTY_wiRcLevoHLRm-b-WsdRz3HVF2bGlya6_e7yjvB7tH-V0MxJZCbQBsZ5fAYE/s400/aa3.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUxt5rRnHdFAT_LC3kjBQkhM4QkbZoYC2e3v8L_UkHJoO0jM3KCTc38sNIwR0S5Ln8yjD1-VjKqJhhKVgOdGb6rfZEdN2UAlG7ibHNGtZ6f_9yauc1Y9tDDq9ZOGxelZcbt5YOVlUx9oN/s1600/aa4.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667591846304105922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxUxt5rRnHdFAT_LC3kjBQkhM4QkbZoYC2e3v8L_UkHJoO0jM3KCTc38sNIwR0S5Ln8yjD1-VjKqJhhKVgOdGb6rfZEdN2UAlG7ibHNGtZ6f_9yauc1Y9tDDq9ZOGxelZcbt5YOVlUx9oN/s400/aa4.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwXX5hH9De9Jwp_fkdSFKFyKc0Fkp7XqcCP5xexyXhTicnSaIs7u86A0PZwam91GDXFaQRuP8vWbUPND-GrYVDh1Ecd5oSXT2_ih9Ggeg1XxFY6fs9M6sIwB0U0n0uoUuA-57oLrPuEDC/s1600/aa5.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667591843996653394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwXX5hH9De9Jwp_fkdSFKFyKc0Fkp7XqcCP5xexyXhTicnSaIs7u86A0PZwam91GDXFaQRuP8vWbUPND-GrYVDh1Ecd5oSXT2_ih9Ggeg1XxFY6fs9M6sIwB0U0n0uoUuA-57oLrPuEDC/s400/aa5.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" /></a><em>"It's time to be a big girl now...and big girls don't cry."</em> --Fergie<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.mysummertwist.tumblr.com">My Summer Twist</a>]

How I Feel (In 5 Photos) Wednesday.

"It's time to be a big girl now...and big girls don't cry." --Fergie [Photos via My Summer Twist ]

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An Open Letter To Myself.

Dear Melissa:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVH4As04hiHtUo9tWy8ZxZeR-7MbvVNKUyNPyZ-3cYa7gtdLSxusKUJiI_ocEstnaryutcfHkQayMMDmDOHqTUrex6tP3ld41aFTTK3mN7BWFdFnQfpeKp9BFPXCaa_iGhyONIQGO_kS4k/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667056085193966098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVH4As04hiHtUo9tWy8ZxZeR-7MbvVNKUyNPyZ-3cYa7gtdLSxusKUJiI_ocEstnaryutcfHkQayMMDmDOHqTUrex6tP3ld41aFTTK3mN7BWFdFnQfpeKp9BFPXCaa_iGhyONIQGO_kS4k/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" /></a>Oh, Melissa, you're a good girl, remember? You're the sort of girl a guy's parents would love and welcome into the family with open arms. You're the sort of girl who is at once too innocent to even realize she's innocent. You do what's right. All the time.<br /><br />But at night, when you're lying in bed and drifting off to sleep, I know that you sometimes find yourself dreaming about Sandy, Olivia Newton-John's character in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0077631/">Grease</a>. By the end of the film, she went from being a straight-laced, Little Miss Perfect to a leather-clad, puffy-haired, wild-child-in-training with spunk the size of that loud hair. You've always had a secret yearning to be her. You marvel at how someone could be so comfortable with going from the seemingly good girl to the bad girl. And then, the inevitable question comes up: <strong><em>When will it be your time to rebel</em></strong>?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-t1iUsJ5AFIKBcbVlwgTN7kwbSlRCr7F9SudHvdeH2gAZjEQzNJM03uVVaz29YYMBi6DPyO0xHMCDIqpMyDJYrFK0hy34alBKRCrC2P_63aZ-faXTs6SazzSQ-KhWbMlTSuY3Tvlgltd/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667056080653424418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-t1iUsJ5AFIKBcbVlwgTN7kwbSlRCr7F9SudHvdeH2gAZjEQzNJM03uVVaz29YYMBi6DPyO0xHMCDIqpMyDJYrFK0hy34alBKRCrC2P_63aZ-faXTs6SazzSQ-KhWbMlTSuY3Tvlgltd/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a>The truth is, I know that you wish you could be impulsive sometimes. Not the sort of fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, always-throwing-caution-to-the-wind impulsive girl. But maybe just doing something because <em>not</em> doing it would leave you with more regret, because you got so caught up in the moment that you just let your heart take over, because for the first time in your life, you just let go.<br /><br />Do you ever get tired of all the thinking, analyzing, calculating, constantly worrying about the fall-out, the consequences. Don't you sometimes just want to say, "Who cares"?<br /><br />Remember that one time when you found yourself folding laundry, something that is decisively good-two-shoes-y? What song should show up on SIRIUS? The '90's classic by Wilson-Phillips. <br /><br /><em>I don't wanna think about it<br />Don't wanna think clear<br />Don't analyze<br />What I'm doing here<br />Wanna be impulsive<br />Reckless<br />And lose myself in your kiss<br /><br />You're giving me a feeling<br />It's a sudden rush<br />Acting on the moment<br />Spontaneous, woh<br />Ooh this is not like me<br />To follow my heart so easily</em><br /><br />I know, I know; it's a little slice of '90s cheese, but you can't deny that these are some very wise women. For some reason, that song always struck a chord with you as a child. Were there actually people in the world like that? It all just seemed like a foreign, scary land - someplace your straight-laced, buttoned-up self would never, ever enter. Nope. No way. You must never enter. After all, it's a slippery slope. One day you're harmlessly living it up rebel-style by drinking regular instead of diet Barq's and the next, you find yourself standing in front of an Elvis impersonator/minister in Las Vegas pledging your undying love to someone you met at the casino lunch buffet.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN99JxiYvdNsCPQR6WPW7jyYYKDZ5XRlEk0vMSaFqGFzgt6g0hhFDl1oDI7zWGrd5KMue1G5dLTdNjkCfccNWFqdesORkNZcjrXjanPK0bPVyBpscFg-SiICuvp1Ywtd9HPAy5Hcr8AAyk/s1600/aa3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667056412888409314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN99JxiYvdNsCPQR6WPW7jyYYKDZ5XRlEk0vMSaFqGFzgt6g0hhFDl1oDI7zWGrd5KMue1G5dLTdNjkCfccNWFqdesORkNZcjrXjanPK0bPVyBpscFg-SiICuvp1Ywtd9HPAy5Hcr8AAyk/s400/aa3.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" /></a>There's a fine line between experiencing life and being stupid. I know you're smart enough to know the difference. And maybe all these wanting-to-be-impulsive fantasies are overrated, anyway. After all, I'm sure that kind of lifestyle gets old after awhile. But in the meantime, who says you <em>have</em> to fold your laundry...? :)<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.weheartit.com">We Heart It</a>]

An Open Letter To Myself.

Dear Melissa: Oh, Melissa, you're a good girl, remember? You're the sort of girl a guy's parents would love and welcome into the...

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What are your favorite words?

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6060/6263702298_d77a0023a4_o.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6060/6263702298_d77a0023a4_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 656px;" /></a>Speaking of <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/10/embroidered-memory-game.html">language</a>: Do you have a favorite word? Or how about a word that you find yourself saying a lot? Being a words girl, I couldn't help but laugh when I came across this <a href="http://flavorwire.com/215859/like-totally-a-brief-history-of-like-in-pop-culture">history</a> of the <em>like</em> phenomenon in pop culture. The word made its first appearance in this context in a cartoon in The New Yorker in 1928<br /><br /><strong>So, like, tell me, friends: What words do you love? Are you a words person? Not so much? Are there any words you absolutely hate? I'd LOVE to hear... xoxo</strong><br /><br />P.S. Check the comments for my picks! :)

What are your favorite words?

Speaking of language : Do you have a favorite word? Or how about a word that you find yourself saying a lot? Being a words girl, I couldn...

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How I Feel (In 5 Photos) Wednesday.

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJNGU5BSSd2BOZPVlpt9AVdsfS0e2bCKvd7mYavbNxP5R7rVweBfirdTBzLgkKlAtrEZ8uQ3YAriAeEf9zIKgBdY6gnP5OlIDespNE6o0uuS2c-IUEuDE-p7qaaML1rf5tV4m8jcNV-Na/s1600/aa.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665170437261660162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMJNGU5BSSd2BOZPVlpt9AVdsfS0e2bCKvd7mYavbNxP5R7rVweBfirdTBzLgkKlAtrEZ8uQ3YAriAeEf9zIKgBdY6gnP5OlIDespNE6o0uuS2c-IUEuDE-p7qaaML1rf5tV4m8jcNV-Na/s400/aa.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhSxQXIIm1DXyQjsEAJ_TYP7YtlqTDDQMIdcw9GKruPUf2VKw0ough51uIrOtYbossrTf_mGktAg_fbBHFhOFPn0WfFsQQotdXcIgMKfLmSI7aD144HNjoQq5wVulRNLbM_6iYjc2bLK3/s1600/aa2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665170433233086578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhSxQXIIm1DXyQjsEAJ_TYP7YtlqTDDQMIdcw9GKruPUf2VKw0ough51uIrOtYbossrTf_mGktAg_fbBHFhOFPn0WfFsQQotdXcIgMKfLmSI7aD144HNjoQq5wVulRNLbM_6iYjc2bLK3/s400/aa2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 289px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhlUN8gJuGJNncgsV88pDudnYohfBsxf1FIzSx_KrpmI18fF6T5a6rIQRdhokRrb290h1klnsEb6Iw3X8NhjAcijGBmlMEVzXJIeGYxxIlqoPUO4Nt_tAbhl1VTWcHj4arqWLLnGj-J61/s1600/aa3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665170428212252258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhlUN8gJuGJNncgsV88pDudnYohfBsxf1FIzSx_KrpmI18fF6T5a6rIQRdhokRrb290h1klnsEb6Iw3X8NhjAcijGBmlMEVzXJIeGYxxIlqoPUO4Nt_tAbhl1VTWcHj4arqWLLnGj-J61/s400/aa3.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQzq4dCsN2lQWI5anKJhXJaGIQ1zFD0DU7jl0qOxUxNPHow-iVdDi6-HVNZUzeMyqUe0pm16oy8BoXzE7XvnvD44WoqR30jkP6uzzk4S9oNlgwoMf44fXdQVekZuYkY1JueKOrvtLSSHn/s1600/aa4.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665170427119702354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQzq4dCsN2lQWI5anKJhXJaGIQ1zFD0DU7jl0qOxUxNPHow-iVdDi6-HVNZUzeMyqUe0pm16oy8BoXzE7XvnvD44WoqR30jkP6uzzk4S9oNlgwoMf44fXdQVekZuYkY1JueKOrvtLSSHn/s400/aa4.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 282px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxuraTOUrSptWsd6jlUImPXMl11eWdvAzGS0sqC2ellAkF0X6fOTWoEChyD0RfUPkOeX61g6XOkq0OoXQgl_48hK6k-QzA8FKO1lhjMTXC6qbWCg-ZzHmAYUFGehsjIzmxeOP01rLUEpC/s1600/aa5.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665170418752586210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxuraTOUrSptWsd6jlUImPXMl11eWdvAzGS0sqC2ellAkF0X6fOTWoEChyD0RfUPkOeX61g6XOkq0OoXQgl_48hK6k-QzA8FKO1lhjMTXC6qbWCg-ZzHmAYUFGehsjIzmxeOP01rLUEpC/s400/aa5.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a><em>"If only I had the guts to feel this way..."</em> --Hanson<br /><br />[Photos via <a href="http://www.mysummertwist.tumblr.com">My Summer Twist</a>]

How I Feel (In 5 Photos) Wednesday.

"If only I had the guts to feel this way..." --Hanson [Photos via My Summer Twist ]

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Have an exciting weekend

<div align="center"> </div><a href="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6157/6244404646_bd36ca5b36_o.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6157/6244404646_bd36ca5b36_o.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 0px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 503px;" /></a>My lovely friends, what are your plans for the weekend? It's officially feeling like fall -- lots of wind and grey skies -- and I'm trying to talk my sister into seeing the <a href="http://www.footloosemovie.com/en_us/?gclid=CN3FmMPf6KsCFUMUKgodmBMBHw">Footloose</a> remake. Anyone want to see it with me? Have fun weekend, and here are my favorite finds from the wonderful Web...<br /><br />Did you ever have a fashion <a href="http://longuette.blogspot.com/2011/10/fashion-faux-pas.html">faux pas</a>?<br /><br />Beautiful <a href="http://artistwifemom.blogspot.com/2011/10/love-letters-and-our-ninth-anniversary.html">love letters</a>.<br /><br />What a <a href="http://studiomeez.bigcartel.com/">cute shop</a>.<br /><br />Awesome <a href="http://blogs.babble.com/the-new-home-ec/2011/10/04/built-by-kids/">forts</a> for kids.<br /><br />Genius: <a href="http://howtobearedhead.com/">How To Be A Redhead</a>.<br /><br />Aren't <a href="http://www.littlethingsandcuriosities.com/2011/10/because-she-writes-like-no-one-else.html">these flowers</a> beautiful?<br /><br />An honest piece about <a href="http://aurajoon.blogspot.com/2011/09/jump-ship.html">life in the blogosphere</a>.<br /><br />I love these <a href="http://www.thelifeofawife.com/2011/10/diy-doily-crafts.html">creative</a> doilies!<br /><br />Have you tried this <a href="http://www.mealdujour.com/2011/10/roasted-tomato-soup.html">roasted tomato soup</a>?<br /><br />How to wear a <a href="http://coffeelightandsweet.blogspot.com/2011/10/simple-and-pretty-ways-to-wear-scarf.html">scarf</a>. And more <a href="http://melissabxoxo.blogspot.com/2011/09/fall-favorite-4-cozy-sweaters.html">perfect scarves</a> for fall...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.unstitchedblog.com/2011/10/inspiration-files-an-old-chemistry-set/">Chemistry</a> made fun...<br /><br />Who wants to split this huge <a href="http://jwpeony.blogspot.com/2011/10/giant-doughnut-not-urban-legend.html">donut</a>?<br /><br />Yikes! <a href="http://www.refinery29.com/the-spookiest-haunted-houses-in-nyc">Spooky haunted houses</a>!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/artist-recreates-his-own-version-of-history">History</a>, with a twist.<br /><br />An amazing <a href="http://www.mymodernmet.com/profiles/blogs/lying-on-a-giant-bubble">giant bubble</a> installation.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/10/13/design-sponge-bookshelves-book_n_1006057.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000003">Amazing ideas</a> for bookshelves.<br /><br />Genius: <a href="http://simplysimpleang.blogspot.com/2011/10/bite-size-lovin.html">Cake pops</a>!<br /><br /><a href="http://bethwankenobi.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-love-autumn.html">Autumn love</a>.<br /><br />Do you have<a href="http://laurenmortonfarmer.blogspot.com/2011/10/did-great-pumpkin-throw-up-in-here.html"> Halloween fever</a> yet?<br /><br />Congrats on the <a href="http://brightboldbeautiful.blogspot.com/2011/10/champagne-toast.html">ebook</a>, Laura!<br /><br />[Photo via <a href="http://bippityboppityboo.tumblr.com/post/10827279919">Bippity Boppity Boo</a>]

Have an exciting weekend

My lovely friends, what are your plans for the weekend? It's officially feeling like fall -- lots of wind and grey skies -- and I'm...

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