tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75631771623900612232024-03-13T00:59:20.522-04:00Hello Miss ChelseaMiss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.comBlogger850125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-78209712078368727072019-08-07T15:08:00.002-04:002019-08-07T15:08:40.154-04:00I'm still around!If you've noticed I went missing from the parts, fear not! I can be found over at <a href="http://www.chelseawithacarryon.com/">www.chelseawithacarryon.com</a> - won't you come join the fun!?Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-6400374843124030292017-12-15T11:18:00.001-05:002017-12-15T11:18:07.609-05:00on domesticationOne of my favorite things about cohabitation has been cooking.<div>
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Is that weird? I think maybe that's one of those faux pas things I'm not actually supposed to admit to. Everyone complains about having to cook dinner, right? Sorry all, maybe I am the freak of nature, I actually look forward to it.</div>
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Back when I lived alone I'd try out a recipe here and there, but mostly I made small simple meals that didn't include leftovers because, well, because I hated leftovers. It also wasn't very fun to spend an hour in the kitchen crafting some satiable bounty that only your dog and your instagram followers got to revel in the beauty of. </div>
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I cook dinner for us 3 to 4 evenings a week most weeks, and have a growing repertoire of favorites. </div>
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If you're ready for a real shocker, get this... I've even started using a crockpot.</div>
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Yep, you heard right, the self-proclaimed anti-crocker has converted. I'm still pretty selective, it's usually for pulled pork or any type of shredded meat dishes but hey it's a start right? </div>
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Sigh, so this is 30. Domestication. Blogging about how I use a crock pot.</div>
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My how things have changed</div>
Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-21507401567380962652017-09-08T14:02:00.000-04:002017-09-08T14:02:16.198-04:00Northern Africa on the horizonA week from today we'll be wrapping up our projects at work, setting our Out of Offices and scrambling to start on that last minute packing.<br />
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Then Saturday it's wheels up for Morocco. (Well, technically it's wheels up for Barcelona but those few days we are spending amongst the land of Catalonia isn't the highlight of this trip for me haha!)<br />
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Aside from the insane level of excitement I have to finally visit Morocco, this trip also holds another special place in my heart. This trip will mark my 6th continent, and the last big adventure before turning 30.<br />
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Judging by every photo I've seen of the country, I'm likely to either A) fall so in love I never want to return or B) buy SO MUCH STUFF in the souks I'm going to have to find a shipping container to send it all back stateside. <br />
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If anyone has any tips/must-see's/must-do's send them my way... I'm all ears! We will be spending about 2.5 days in Barcelona total, and a week in MoroccoMiss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-38658071833158678402017-08-28T10:42:00.001-04:002017-08-28T10:42:58.751-04:00Well, it's been over a year now of living together and we haven't killed each other so, quite frankly, that's worth a blog post... no?<br />
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Actually (wait for it, most cliche blogger line coming right up) I miss this place. I think writing was always therapeutic for me. That and it helped me not forget every single thing.<br />
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Or maybe I'm just waxing nostalgic as that infamous 30th birthday starts to sneak closer. Have I even accomplished enough in life to be given the 3-decade-trophy? I mean, if I didn't blog it, it probably didn't even happen - right?!<br />
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Anyways, I may pop around these parts a little more often nowadays. Not only do we live on the most fascinating street in Indianapolis, I've also hopped a few other continents, learned how to actually put away laundry, perfected a few signature dishes and other noteworthy things worth sharing. (Although, I cannot for the life of me find the coding to remove these chevrons from my blog background so if anyone can accomplish that feat throw me a line)<br />
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Until next time, adios amigos!Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-53054245425033123782016-08-02T13:16:00.002-04:002016-08-02T13:20:48.335-04:00On living with a boy.I bought my house shortly after turning 23. I lived alone for 5 and a half glorious years, which by the way, I recommend every girl does in her life.<br />
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Sure I had sleepovers, I had friends stay, I even had post-hospital stints where I stayed back at my parents for a few weeks. But all in all, for five sweet years, those two thousand square feet were my own.<br />
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I painted the walls wild colors. I bought a teal couch. I hung giant photos of palm trees, of me posing with koalas, of my friends and I laughing hysterically.<br />
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I broke shit. I fixed shit I broke. I you-tubed a lot, and consulted the google diary of home ownership more than an average person probably ever would (perks of owning a 1930s home, I guess.) And when I couldn't fix the shit I broke, I cried for a bit. Then I called my dad and he came and fixed it for me.<br />
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You don't really grasp the kind of freedom that comes with living alone until it's gone.<br />
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Gone are the days when I meticulously arranged my Tupperware, or I ran around with my pants around my ankles because the toilet paper needed refilled, or I stood on chairs to get the perfect angle of my homemade pizza for Instagram. Do you KNOW how weird it is for someone to walk in on you standing with the fridge wide open eating straight Parmesan cheese in your underwear on a Saturday morning?<br />
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On Memorial Day weekend, we said goodbye to Tate's bachelor pad in the heart of Indianapolis and moved him out to the suburbs. Being the type to always have something to look forward to, we (of course) fell in love with a house (also downtown) that same week, and if I remember correctly, had our offer accepted the day we were loading his eight--hundred pound dresser onto the trailer to go to the storage unit.<br />
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All of this to say that living with a boy is strange, strange territory. I'd like to think we're navigating it OK together. We've learned that I'm always right when it comes to taking the trash out, how to put away dishes, properly doing laundry, and so on and so forth. And I guess I've learned how to let him veg out watching four hours straight on the history of Irish Castles.<br />
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It is nice to have someone else to share doggy duties with, and my bed is a lot cozier now that I have a full-time snuggle buddy. I've enjoyed cooking for two, versus leaving myself with a mountain of leftovers. We've depleted my wine stock tenfold, and having the longest-running game of Rummy in history. We've managed to divvy out the chores pretty easily, and he makes me put away my clothes. Which I guess is a good thing, considering my closet hasn't 'thrown up' all over the bedroom floor in nearly 3 months now.<br />
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It still feels like this weird purgatory of having a boy living in MY space though. It's all MY furniture, my art, my routines and plans, my name on all the bills. And I can tell he feels like an extended visitor at times.<br />
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I think we're both in the same boat eagerly anticipating closing day (this Friday - eek!) on the new home. A fresh start for us to build a 'together' home.<br />
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Who knows, I may even let him have a say in how we organize the Tupperware in the new place?<br />
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<br />Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-46317176014872315152016-07-01T10:38:00.003-04:002016-07-01T10:38:20.962-04:00SOS.I'm over here getting all panicky.<br />
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The builders told me the other day that the house is slated to be finished Friday. FRIDAY.<br />
That's TODAY.<br />
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Suddenly the plan of 'waiting to put my house on the market until ours is finished' just sashayed up and biatch slapped me across the face. I woke up, after Lord knows what kind of dreams, in an absolute panic, POSITIVE that my house will never sell. That this was the worst idea ever. That we have a million things we should do to it before even listing it. That we missed the 'prime selling months' of Spring and early Summer. That it will sit on the market for months and months<br />
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Help.<br /><br />SOS.<br />
<br />Drowning in anxiety over here.<br />
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<i>Power of positivity, eh folks? </i><br />
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<br />Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-60771332426009398642016-06-29T09:30:00.000-04:002016-07-03T19:46:04.728-04:00Woodgrain tiles and industrial lights, be still my heart<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="color: #cccccc;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Note: While opinions are my own, this is a sponsored post,
and may contain affiliate links)</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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The thing about buying a “fixer upper” that someone else is
doing the fixing on… you’ve got to put a lot of trust into that fella.</div>
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Both Tate & I agreed, that since we were fans of the
builders other homes in the area, we wouldn’t become those overbearing,
nit-picky buyers who insist on choosing every single door know, window frame,
and hardware accent. <o:p></o:p></div>
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That’s not to say a girl can’t dream though! Through this
whole house-hunting process I’ve come to learn that, kitchens aside, one of the
biggest ‘surprises’ always ends up being the <a href="https://www.plumbtile.com/plumbing-tile/Cat_Bath.html">bathrooms</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Especially in flipped homes, they can range from traditional
(think: penny tiles, porcelain claw foot tubs, etc) to super modern (floating
vanities, bright chrome accessories, stark white finishes). <o:p></o:p></div>
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My tastes always fall within the traditional, boho styles. Tate's more of a modern, simplistic kind of guy. I won't indulge you on how many tiffs stemmed from a potential home's bathroom these past few months! I've spent a lot of time perusing the internet for mixes of our styles, and was pleasantly surprised when I came across all the great products offered by the online company, <a href="https://www.plumbtile.com/">PlumbTile</a></div>
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I'm anxiously awaiting finding out what our new bathrooms will look like... in the mean time, join me for a little day-dream'y walk down what I'd love to see when they hand us the keys...</div>
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1) I absolutely adore this new style of <a href="https://www.plumbtile.com/plumbing-tile-product/PO-P19102241.html">wood-look tiles</a> that are popping up. As a self-proclaimed "tile-hater" these have definitely changed my mind on the topic... </div>
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2) A <a href="https://www.plumbtile.com/plumbing-tile-product/DU-04386000.html">sink</a> that holds true to the antique style of the house, such as this one. Not to mention classic <a href="https://www.plumbtile.com/plumbing-tile/Sigma.html">hardware</a> to go with it!)</div>
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3) Minimalist accessories, such as this <a href="https://www.plumbtile.com/plumbing-tile-product/A-A7040.html">towel ring</a></div>
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4) A simple <a href="https://www.plumbtile.com/plumbing-tile-product/DU-0084900000.html">mirror</a>, in an unexpected shape.</div>
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5) An <a href="https://www.plumbtile.com/plumbing-tile-product/HVL-6820.html">industrial style light</a> to add some edge to the space</div>
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6) A teak bathmat, for a little bit of nature.</div>
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I'd add some bright colored rugs and towels, a bold paint color on the walls, and a few plants to really complete the space. </div>
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What about your dream bath? What do you want to wake up to every morning?</div>
Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-8999130166883036012016-06-20T16:00:00.001-04:002016-06-20T16:03:47.827-04:00On stalking, or networking.Well, we did it. We bought a house. Just when all of my friends and family had taken to tuning me out for complaining, justonemoretime, about the insane housing market here in Indy, we stumbled upon one.<br />
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Stumbled probably isn't the right term. Stalked my way into one is probably more in line.<br />
You all shouldn't have expected anything less than that from me though, let's be real.<br />
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Oh, and I should also mention the term "house" is being thrown around haphazardly here, as the lovely plot we promised a chunk of change for was actually minimally resembling a home when we agreed to it.<br />
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Exhibit A:<br />
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In complete truthfulness, those photos were actually a week after the papers were signed. There was even less progress, and even more mess when we fell in love with her.<br />
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Let me hit the rewind button first...<br />
To that fateful date night in late February where the topic got brought up, and the 'why the hell not' got thrown around....<br />
That first condo that had 4 offers the day after we went and saw it...<br />
That house well fell in love with in early March, that was sold the night before we submitted our offer....<br />
That next house we fell in love with in late March that was a slap in the face (<a href="http://hellomisschelsea.blogspot.com/2016/03/on-lemon-pound-cakes-or-house-hunting.html">as explained here</a>)...<br />
Those 482 other houses we saw....<br />
The condo we fell in love with that had 8 offers the first day...<br />
That time I wanted to say forget it, and live in my house in the suburbs for forever because I was over the whole rat race and couldn't help but assume OBVIOUSLY we weren't meant to live downtown for a reason.<br />
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Then I woke up, left my pity party, and did what any other girl would do. Started tracking down the builders who were flipping houses in the areas we liked.<br />
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And once I found one with a history of houses we both loved, I may have employed Facebook Messenger to do a little woo'ing and sniffing around to see what their upcoming projects were.<br />
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The houses they were doing were massive, and we weren't planning on producing enough offspring to fill 4 bedrooms anytime soon, so I waited, and touched base, and waited, and probably touched base a few too many times.<br />
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Then one fateful Tuesday morning, as Memorial Day weekend was crawling towards us, I heard that delightful ping on my Facebook (because who doesn't keep all social media avenues open whilst working... I thought that was the whole point of 2 monitors to begin with?)<br />
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An update on their two gargantuan houses... and then... scrolling... scrolling... what is this? A new project they were about to begin... in the same neighborhood as the first house we loved... 3 bedrooms... 2.5 bathrooms... the hearts in my eyes mimicked that overused iPhone emoji like never before.<br />
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<i>Maybe I was jumping the gun a bit, but when you house-hunt in this market, any glimmer of hope gets you giddy.</i><br />
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Less than a week later, we had walked through the house twice, had a million conversations with the builder, had some life chats over Moscow Mules, and signed the papers making the house ours.<br />
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Contingent, of course, on the fact that it... well, gets finished. And finished well.<br />
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Tate thinks there are still too many things that could go wrong, and worries about it on the regular.<br />
Me on the other hand, I pop by the job site every few days, chat it up with the latino workers, take a million photos of the "process" and email incessantly with the builder about what they're up to each day.<br />
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Regardless of my right-brained'ness and Tater's left-brained'ness... I think it's safe to say we're both elated to see our fixer-upper!<br />
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<br />Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-75737515219374746072016-03-31T13:27:00.002-04:002016-03-31T13:28:31.681-04:00On lemon pound cakes. Or house-hunting. Or being bitter. Imagine walking into Starbucks, FINALLY, after you have been fighting a day-long sweet tooth, stood patiently in line, walked up to the counter only to be told that the person in front of you bought the last Iced Lemon Pound Cake they had.<br />
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Yes, I am equating this house-hunting process to Starbucks pastries. And no, I see no issues with that. <br />
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Then imagine you tuck in your pouty lip, and go find another Starbucks, and you see that lucious, zesty Iced Lemon Pound Cake just flirting with you from the case. She's a beaut. And you order it, and your giddy and your mouth is watering, and the barista tells you that she's going to cost you roughly 4x what she's worth. And you try to reassure them that all other Starbuck's only sell them for a fraction of the cost, but the barista isn't budging.<br />
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And you untuck your pouty lip, and hand the most perfect little pound cake back, and walk out the door.<br />
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And every other Starbucks sucks. And every other pound cake has sucked since then. And you are about to become paleo just so you can't even EAT a pound cake even if you found one.<br />
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I'm not bitter or anything. I'm totally cool with house-hunting. I don't take it personally, or get upset, or fall in love with any of the houses. Me? No. Nooo.<br />
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We're back to square one. For the third time. Blah blah blah, don't try feeding me the 'we'll stumble upon the most perfect one when we least expect it' line, my level of patience is on par with that of a toddler.<br />
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Also, I've really been craving a lemon pound cake.Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-47546020588532551202016-03-10T18:56:00.001-05:002016-03-10T18:56:55.260-05:00A house, and a home.Have you ever realized how much more personal a home is versus a house? You 'house hunt', but it becomes your 'home sweet home'. How is it that some freestanding structure becomes such a part of who we are as a person?<br />
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It's one of the oddest things, to tell someone you're contemplating selling your house. It's as if you're telling someone you're considering voluntarily becoming a paraplegic. There is so much shock and confusion.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I love my home more than anything. I absolutely adore these four walls, the stair cases, the backyard, the little white fence. I love the paint colors I chose, the paint colors I painted over, the floors I stained, the things I furnished it will, the plants I planted. This house was my own. I hunted and hunted and fell in love and <a href="http://hellomisschelsea.blogspot.com/2010/11/2-weeks-til-c-day.html">signed the papers five and a half years ago</a>.<br />
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But to me, she's still just four walls. She made up the grounds for a lot of great memories, but she isn't the memories themselves. Everything filling this foundation are just additives to my life, they aren't my life itself.<br />
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Maybe it's because I am voluntarily selling my house. Maybe that is why it's so foreign.<br />
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All of this babbling is the long way of saying that Tate & I have started house-hunting. Yea, gasp, big step. It started as a hair-brained idea, as we were chatting longingly about exposed brick walls over a couple Moscow mules during one of our regular date nights. Our list of wishes and wants gracefully unfolded into a few peeks at local listings, a pre approval letter, and a call to our realtor.<br />
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I had forgotten how much I loved the house-hunting process. Stepping through front door after front door, never knowing what quirks you will find. Every house tells such a story itself, but it also provides such blank page and I can't help but start to fill those pages in my head with how our life together would unfold in each room.<br />
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Some have been total bunks from the get go, and some have sparked our interest. We already had our first minor heartbreak when we learned that a dream-inducing condo FULL of exposed-brick had received 3 offers just days after we looked at it.<br />
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All of this means that eventually it will be time to put my home on the market, to make that jump, and become an official downtown Indianapolis urbanite instead of just a suburban pretending to be hip. It's exciting, and also slightly terrifying. But mostly, it just feels right. <br />
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Here's to hoping this transition from home to house to home is everything we could have hoped for!<br />
<br />Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-51664281778887172532016-03-04T10:18:00.001-05:002016-03-04T10:18:00.979-05:003.4.16Recoccuring FOMO brings me back here often.<br />
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To this very page. This page, that you can't see, because if you're reading this it means I've actually hit the Publish button... this page is the draft page. At this exact moment there are 83 posts sitting unpublished in my draft page.<br />
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Fear of Missing Out. Which is weird. Because blogging is just rehashing your own life, so what am I fearing - missing moments of my own life?<br />
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But it's the truth. Because right now, I struggle to remember little moments I never wanted to forget. Moments from when I was in Ireland, or when I was receiving 'no more cancer!" results from my niece's doctor, or the moments when I first started letting myself fall in love again.<br />
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Those are the stories I miss sharing. Those are the stories I miss re-reading in two, four, seven years. Do yourself a favor though, don't go back to those 2009 posts. They're REAL awkward. I'd like to think at some point I developed a voice, and this place was halfway fun. Those first posts were anything but.<br />
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So, as with all things in life lately, I've decided it's time to put an effort to put my heart back into everything I once loved. Because why would I waste my life doing anything I wasn't absolutely crazy about?!<br />
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<br />Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-979232542329712522015-11-10T09:56:00.005-05:002015-11-10T14:53:31.426-05:0048 hours in ManhattanWe stepped off the plane at 8:30 Friday night, and stepped right back onto the plane at 8:40 Sunday night.<br />
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48 hours in New York rivaled <a href="http://hellomisschelsea.blogspot.com/2013/08/fifty-hours-of-vegas.html">50 hours in Vegas</a>. Regardless of the fact the flight was half as long, the city was equally as exhausting.<br />
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I guess I should back up and explain that this great big, exhilarating, New York weekend was my birthday gift. Yea. You heard that right.<i> Because I'm not spoiled or anything.</i><br />
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A few weeks earlier that sneaky fella of mine sent me an airline confirmation.<br />
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Having never been to the BIG CITY (yea yea - insert gasp here, I am used to it) I had no clue what to expect. Of course, everyone passed along their long lists of Must See's and Must Eat's and Must Drink's and Must Avoids, but we pretty much decided to go into it with an open agenda.<br />
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The taxi ride from LaGuardia to the <a href="http://www.wnewyorktimessquare.com/%E2%80%8E">W Hotel</a> may have been the most tortuous ride of my life. Tate decided to book our hotel in Times Square so we were in a central location to everything... which was fantastic, but also terrible, because Times Square is... well terrible, as I quickly learned. The concept of traffic flow (both by foot and automobile) seems lost on everyone there.<br />
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As soon as we got checked into our room on the 36th floor, we were back out the revolving door, in search of food. Thus began our first leisurely stroll (and by leisurely I mean, block after block after block), where we stumbled upon a little Argentinian place in Chelsea (how fitting). By the time we walked in the door, I was less than pleasant, and an eleven on the hangry scale. They immediately brought me my wine and a basket of bread and all was right in the world again.<br />
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<a href="http://portenorestaurant.com/">Porteno</a> did not disappoint, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who asks. But then again, they brought us complimentary wine after our meal too so I may be biased.<br />
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Can I pause for a second and ask if there is an over-abundance of Irish in New York, or if every other bar genre just threw in the towel and added a 'Mc' in front of their name and Guinness to their tap line?<br />
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After a few drinks at one of the local Mc'watering Holes, we decided we better call it a night, and trekked back to the hotel. Saturday took us to the 9/11 Memorial, and museum (a sombering experience, but I somehow managed NOT to cry, so there's a miracle),<br />
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When we left the museum we made a pact not to spend the rest of the day dipping into depression, and proceeded to wander around the city and saw EVERY OTHER THING THERE IS TO SEE IN NEW YORK CITY. No really. I think at the end of the day we had logged like 20 some miles. Thank god, for once in my life, I heeded advice and wore practical(ish) shoes.<br />
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And then I did what any sane female would do. Dawned 4" heels for a Broadway show that night. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, no? That's what I kept telling myself as we climbed the stairs to our balcony level seats. <i>(We saw <a href="http://www.broadway.com/shows/american-paris">An American in Paris</a> )</i><br />
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Guess where we went after the show -- yep, another Irish pub. Shocking, huh? I told Tate we had to get drunk and find trashy New York pizza joint for a night cap (hey, you're only young once) so we did just that. Lucky for us, the one I picked had a cocaine dealer out front, so we had prime entertainment for the 14 minutes it took us to scarf down the most delicious thin crust pizza and a few bottles of water.<br />
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Sunday morning it poured, which was perfect because we wanted to do nothing but sleep. We finally managed to get up and showered shortly before checking out of the hotel at noon. Leaving our bags behind we headed back to Chelsea for brunch (<a href="http://www.tipsyparson.com/">Tipsy Parson</a> -- GO! So good), wandered the High Line, hit up Chelsea Market, then were off to Central Park and the last leg of our whirlwind see-it-all-do-it-all Manhattan madness.<br />
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As late afternoon rolled around and we hopped into the taxi to head back to LGA, I closed my eyes and sank into the seat. I had achy legs, and a happy heart. It's not that I haven't traveled to a hundred cities, it was moreso who I was travelling with.<br />
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New York City wasn't what I expected it to be. I anticipated huge, bustling, high action... it was big, and it was busy... but it wasn't unmanageable. I anticipated overwhelming, but we conquered it easily. Guess that just proves you never know til you try<br />
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<i>Interested in where else I've traveled? Check out my <b><a href="http://hellomisschelsea.blogspot.com/2014/07/wander.html">wander</a></b> page to find out more!</i></div>
Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-58143497753590786652015-09-30T15:18:00.005-04:002015-09-30T15:32:48.775-04:00Oh hey. Again. I think the only reason I'm back here is because I stumbled upon this girls blog, where she was telling stories about the ridiculous adventure that is known as "getting to Little Corn Island" (I know, I am bringing up Nicaragua again. Ugh, say it with me: Ugh.) And I was all "I REMEMBER THAT!" and then got disappointed that, while I remember it in my head, I never shared all those hilarious stories.<br />
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Or any story after that.<br />
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Or any of the not-so-hilarious stories, maybe the more serious stories, like the ones about when you date really poopy guys for most of your life, and then you are trying to learn how to date a not-so-poopy one and constantly teeter on the line of being psycho complements of your past? (I think us crazy chicks should at least get a nod, for being well aware of when we are toe'ing the line of crazy).<br />
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Maybe we won't dive right into those stories. It's been kind of nice not having the whole internet whispering that I'm crazy for the past 8 months.<br />
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On the flip side, I just ordered a windbreaker for part of my Halloween costume. It's going to be another great year of festivities. Can't wait to share.<br />
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Oh, and I've got a few more trips on the horizon. Like New York (for the FIRSTTIMEFFINALLY)... and oh Fiji... and London... and Paris...<br />
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Welcome back, buckle up and return your tray tables to the upright position... this is gonna be fun kiddosMiss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-71810095500476909372015-08-24T13:39:00.001-04:002015-08-24T13:40:11.387-04:00Oh hey.I actually wasn't kidnapped returning from <a href="http://hellomisschelsea.blogspot.com/2015/02/nextweeknicaragua.html">Nicaragua</a> 6 months ago<i> (side note: was that really only six months?!)</i><br />
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I just... you know.... got busy with life, stumbled upon a semi-decent dude, took a few trips with him... haven't found out he's married or has kids yet, so I'm content with letting him stick around.<br />
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Went on one hell of a trip to Ireland with a couple of my closest girlfriends. (Getting home really was the equivalent of hell.)<br />
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All in all, not much else is new. Done a few minor projects on the ol casa. Celebrated the 7th year anniversary of working at the house of booze. Still continue to keep the mutt alive, despite killing every house plant I've adopted in the same time frame.<br />
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Liv's scans continue to come back clear. I don't know what sort of timeline cancer has where it just decides to give up and stop trying to come back, but I'm definitely ready for that.<br />
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It's weird to think I used to write here daily. That I had friends come stay with me that I met through here, that I have a best friend who I started talking to thanks to blogging. I kind of miss it, I won't lie. Maybe I'll start popping in telling a story here and there a little more often.<br />
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I know you're all dying to know what exactly I've been up to. Snapchat is such a cliffhanger.<br />
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Blogging's making a comeback, you know? Facebook said so.Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-21200764340852959832015-02-13T13:37:00.003-05:002015-02-13T13:59:01.886-05:00#NextWeekNicaragua<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><i>Nicaragua fell into my lap.</i></b><br />
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I caught wind of great airfare, convinced a buddy of mine to join, threw our airfare onto my credit card, got my PTO approved, and went about my Friday at the office.<br />
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Over the weekend I decided on a few cities to visit, and the following Thursday morning we were wheels up to Managua.<br />
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Instances like this remind me how INSANELY lucky I am to live this life, and be able to up and leave the way that I did. I remember being in Belize and talking to a handful of backpackers who had been making their way up the coast, and every one of them raved about Nica. I couldn't wait to go find out for myself...<br />
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<br />Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-56870418205523784562015-01-02T14:33:00.001-05:002015-01-02T14:35:19.384-05:0001.02You know what's fun... waking up New Year's Day with the flu.<br />
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And no, I don't mean the whiskey flu. I wish it would have been that. I would have felt a hell of a lot better today, then. Instead I'm still battling a 99somethin fever, a headache best equatable to an over-inflated balloon pending pop'age, and a quarantine sign on my office at work!<br />
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At least it waited to strike until after all the NYE festivities. I can't be TOO disappointed, I did have a blast ringing in 2015 with some of my most favorite people!<br />
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To continue on my quest of never having to step foot in a bar on New Year's Eve, we hit up a friends house (apartment?) party, decked to the 9s in our sparkles and smiles. It's hard to be too bummer about being sick when I've only got a few more hours in the office before the weekend hits!<br />
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I hope this year brings everyone the happiest of happy days, 365 of them!<br />
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<br />Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-16394018089822858472014-11-01T14:03:00.000-04:002015-03-18T14:21:24.021-04:00San Pedro: The #OMGBelize Adventures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'll let you in on a little secret. Occasionally, blog posts need to percolate on a blogger's mind for a month or two (or more) before they actually get written. <i>You just can't rush these things...</i><br />
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In all actuality, I have a really hard time talking about Belize. Thankfully, I think the grin and the twinkle in my eye that appears at the first sound of the country speaks for itself. Something about it just spoke to me. That country was my <b>jam</b>, my love language.<br />
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Here at the tail end of another Indiana winter, writing about warm, sunny, happy Central America sounds like the perfect plan for my day though.<br />
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San Pedro actually consisted of WAY more than just <a href="http://hellomisschelsea.blogspot.com/2014/10/shark-ray-alley-omgbelize-adventures.html">jumping into the ocean to kick it with an abundance sharks</a> and rays and turtles. For instance, I met a soul mate.<br />
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Granted, while I appreciate his proper use of "you're"... the fact that he took the time to put ALL of this into my phone as we sat around the hostel pool one night was a bit aggressive. The fact he was barely 22 was also a bit much for me. Sorry for never calling, <b>Buzz</b>. Sorry for avoiding eye contact that night at the chicken drop, too. <br />
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Ha. Chicken drop. The highlight of every Thursday in San Pedro is cheering for a chicken to take a poop. I'm confident atleast 80% of the inhabitants on the island were huddled around that stretch of beach that night.<br />
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What is it, you ask? You purchase numbers and hope like hell that piece of poultry takes a dookie on your number. You win a pretty decent chunk of change if that happens. Of course you also have to clean up the mess, first. Sadly (thankfully?) none of us ever got that opportunity.<br />
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Naturally, right in the middle of the festivities, the power on the entire island goes out.<br />
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That's not an exaggeration. The. Entire. Island. Apparently the blackout stretched up into Mexico too.<br />
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So hey... foreign country, no cell service, no power anywhere... we do what any sane person would do, blind-eyed our way to the town square to get street meat. Thank the heavens for whoever invented food carts and generators!<br />
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Jenn had headed back to the states the day after our Shark Ray Alley experience, so us three musketeers had upgraded out of hostel life for the first time since stepping foot in Belize, and shelled over the cash for a hotel on the beach. Conch Shell Inn. She was a hot pink beaut, and when we blindly stumbled back to her that night in the dark we found the fellas at the dive shop on the dock having a hell of a good time, so we graced them with our presence for a while. Somewhere between the chicken drop and 9am the next morning the power had returned, and we were able to bask in air-conditioned bliss for the first time in a while.<br />
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It's weird being somewhere so laid back. I am not lying when I tell you there isn't much to do. But there isn't much to do in the BEST way possible. You can leisurely walk down the beach to grab coffee, and sit there chatting for hours. Or belly up to your favorite bar to drink Lighthouse and play Three's all night, every night. Of course, when you do that, you become the bartenders best friend. And if you're real lucky, you may even learn your bartender stars in a local island soap opera, and then you REALLY get to give him a hard time! (Be careful though, as we came to find out sometimes other patrons get so annoyed by you hogging the bartender's attention that they write about you in their TripAdvisor reviews)<br />
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The entire San Pedro adventure really hit it's pinnacle the morning we rented a golf cart. Being our last full day on the island, we realized we had yet to go to the much talked about Palapa Bar. Since it's on the northside of the island you have a few options - a long ass bike ride, or a shorter long-ass golf cart ride.<br />
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We took the cart around the island for a little exploring before venturing out to Palapa. I'll never complain about the potholes on Indiana roads after navigating those dirt paths. The bar was a blast, drinks were delicious, we made friends with some other patrons and wasted away our afternoon soaking up an equal mixture of rum and sunshine.<br />
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The problem came when we realized the day had faded into night and we had good 30 min drive ahead of us with no streets lights (hell there weren't even streets). We gracefully exited the bar where I turn the key and quickly learn our golf cart had no functioning headlights. <a href="http://www.bitofwhit.com/">Whit</a> swooped in and saved the day as she grabbed our iPhones and flipped the flashlights on, proudly holding them out over the windshield. Linds is on the back is yelling at us to go faster as she's getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, we're all bouncing around because the "road" isn't really true to it's name, and I'm just trying to figure out which of the double palm trees I'm seeing is the actual one, and which is the tree that vodka invented.<br />
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We made it out alive, barely (Linds lost a shoe), and happened upon someone from the golf cart rental who had heard (damn gossipy island folks) about three girls running rampant sans headlights, so they promptly traded us for a new golf cart, and we made our way a few blocks further for heaps of chicken wings and very large glasses of water.<br />
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As we returned our 6 hour golf cart rental that we kept for an additional 18 hours I realized this is another one of those times you just thank God you are on the most laid back island ever, and they really didn't even seem to mind. Slurping up one last iced coffee and heading to the tiny airstrip I was the saddest little puppy. <i>I was far from ready for our time in the BZE Islands to come to an end.</i>Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-34396922682418873612014-10-21T11:45:00.001-04:002015-01-15T11:20:47.236-05:00Shark Ray Alley: The #OMGBelize Adventures<i>It's all fun and games until a local on a nearby boat throws a ton of chum right next to you and you find yourself smack dab in the middle of a legit sharknado.</i><br />
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Technically I think it'd be a cyclone, aren't those the ones IN the water? A sharkclone. Or a jackclone really, since it was 50% jacks, in addition to the sharks, plus a few sting rays. A rayjacksharkclone. And that's my final answer.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(In retrospect, looking at that sharks eyes makes me second guess everything they said about this being totally safe)</td></tr>
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<b>Rewind. </b>Way back when we first booked our flights, Whit started a <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/cheeriosandbeer/belize2014/">Pinterest board</a> for all of us to throw trip ideas into. That's when I stumbled upon Shark Ray Alley and it immediately became a MUST on my list.<br />
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<i><b>Chelsea's MUST list: </b></i></div>
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<i>Swim with sharks. </i></div>
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<i>The end.</i></div>
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I don't believe in <a href="http://hellomisschelsea.blogspot.com/search/label/if%20i%20had%20a%20bucket%20list">bucket lists</a>, but if I did that would have been on it. None of the other girls were quite as keen on the idea of willing hopping into the open ocean with Jaws, but my power of persuasion is truly immeasurable.<br />
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Not long after leaving Caye Caulker, our water taxi docked on Ambergris and we made our way to our hostel. I brought up swimming with sting rays approximately 32 times during the trek, and swimming with sharks approximately 45. Give or take a few.<br />
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There's actually a very high chance everyone else just agreed in sheer hope of shutting me up.<br />
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Either way, on a sunny Tuesday morning the four of us set out on a boat to become live bait. Whit was the complete opposite of excited. Meanwhile, I rivaled a kid headed to Disneyland.<br />
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It was a pretty short ride out to the reef, and the water was so clear you knew EXACTLY what you were about to get into!<br />
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Throwing on our flippers and masks, it didn't take long before all 4 of us were overboard. We saw countless rays, jacks, sharks, clown fish, parrot fish, red fish, blue fish, one fish, two fish. Oh and an eel. Who wasn't too enthusiastic about seeing us, and made that very clear (chalk that up as another near death experience)<br />
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I befriended this dude, who let me swim next to him for quite a while. I was sure we would end up in Sydney, but it was actually only about 20 feet from where I found him and then he got tired of our Asian peace signs and paparazzi ways.<br />
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It was so wild being in the middle of the open ocean swimming amongst these beauts. Call me crazy, but they are just so graceful gliding through the water. Although I'm a little nervous that next time I'm in the water and spot a fin sticking out I may be a little TOO eager to approach the fella.<br />
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The morning flew by, and the camera roll filled up. As we headed back to shore, I think we were all in agreement that it was definitely worth every penny we spent!<br />
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Belize is home to the second largest reef in the world... I wont lie, it's kind of fantastic having the bragging rights that I've <a href="http://hellomisschelsea.blogspot.com/2013/12/c-and-j-down-under-cairns.html">snorkeled the two biggest reefs on the planet</a>!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Things to note:</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>-All underwater photos were taken with my good ol iPhone 5s, in a LifeProof case. Expensive, but worth every penny.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span>
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">-We went with Greg from <a href="http://www.ecologicdivers.com/">Ecologic Divers</a>, and I cannot speak highly enough of them! They were amazing, and definitely went above and beyond.</span></i>Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-58929971606289921062014-10-14T09:21:00.001-04:002014-10-14T10:59:11.657-04:00Caye Caulker: The #OMGBelize AdventuresI'm not saying you shouldn't plan ANYTHING on your next trip... buuuut... ok, I am saying you should probably not plan out your next trip. Not to a T atleast. Wing it.<br />
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<i>Do it, you'll like it.</i><br />
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We showed up at the Belize International Airport with nothing but a couple tickets on the puddle jumper to the islands, and a guaranteed place to sleep at night.<br />
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And guess what? Not only were we NOT BORED. We stumbled upon a whole lot of awesome that we probably wouldn't have stumbled upon had we showed up with a detailed itinerary of ToDo's.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Side note: even if the guy working at the counter for your tiny island airline says go to the bar and drink until its time to leave on your flight, don't go to the bar and drink until it's time to leave. Because then they'll tell you you missed your flight and you'll have to wait another hour for the next one, and you'll probably be grumpy.)</span></i><br />
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We touched down to a drizzly Caye Caulker airstrip roughly nine and a half minutes after taking off from Belize City, and immediately started laughing.<br />
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What had we just gotten ourselves into?<br />
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That cheery fella was the entire operations of the "airport", and that building back there... yea that was the airport. He insisted on taking our luggage on that cart the 30 yards back and having us pick it up under the porch And when we asked for a taxi since it was raining, a jolly ol barefoot chap pulled up on a 6-seater golf cart and scooped us up and dropped us right in front of our new home for the next few days.<br />
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The benefit of staying in a hostel is that you make roughly 32 new friends within like 20 minutes of arriving... couple that with the benefit of staying on the worlds tiniest (<span style="font-size: x-small;">may be a slight exaggeration</span>) island is that you actually know every bartender, shopkeeper, chef and dog* within a day.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Never in my life have I seen so many stray dogs in one area. Let alone stray dogs that are the nicest, most laid back, chillest dogs ever.</span></i><br />
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So, let's summarize shall we? Caye Caulker: Tiny.. full of pooches, backpackers and expats. Oh, and Go Slow. The islands motto, it's posted up EVERYWHERE in case you forget. (Supposedly it's for the golf carts... I personally think it's a reminder to just sit back and chill the eff out. Who knows)<br />
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And me?<br />
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<b>I fell in love.</b> The island didn't even have streets. You walked everywhere. Barefoot if you were really embracing it. You got the best meals sitting in lawn chairs on the sand. Afternoons were spent laying in a hammock at your hostel or on a dock at the far end of the island with 50 other people.<br />
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I had carry out Chinese food, while laying out, and drinking rum punch. <i>How could you NOT fall in love?!</i><br />
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Our favorite hangout became the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/belizesportsbar">sports bar</a>, owned by an expat from Pittsburgh, and the sweetest pooch Sir Finnegan. I wish I could count how many beers we had sitting in those old wood chairs. What started as a table of 4 gals quickly grew with every visit. We acquired accomplices from New York to California to England to South Africa and everywhere in between.<br />
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The island was so, so quiet being slow season. And BOY do they take slow season seriously... our last morning in Caulker we tried 3 different breakfast spots, to find all of them had closed down for the month until business picked back up. Have no fear, we made our own fun... if that wasn't already evident. Ooh the shenanigans that begin with a bottle of local cheap rum and a can of Arizona Kiwi-Strawberry...<br />
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After spending three nights at <a href="http://www.yumashousebelize.com/index2.php?v=v1#/home/">Yuma's House</a> (safe to say it was definitely one of my favorite hostels I've stayed in) we headed to the water taxi dock Monday afternoon, and I was pretty pouty about leaving our little island behind. After being reminded we still had a weeks worth of Belize left ahead of us though, so let's be honest... I turned the frown upside down. <br />
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<i><b>Ambergris Caye, here we come!</b></i><br />
<i><br /></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Other babblings:</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">We flew <a href="http://www.tropicair.com/">TropicAir</a> from BZE to Caye Caulker, and used the <a href="http://www.cayecaulkerwatertaxi.com/">Caye Caulker water taxi</a>. Great service from both! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Some favorite eats: <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g291963-d1942969-Reviews-Paradiso_Cafe-Caye_Caulker_Belize_Cayes.html">Paradiso</a>, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g291963-d1405312-Reviews-Happy_Lobster_Restaurant_and_Bar-Caye_Caulker_Belize_Cayes.html">Happy Lobster</a>, <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g291963-d2428911-Reviews-Bambooze-Caye_Caulker_Belize_Cayes.html">Bambooze</a> and the little Chinese food joint across from Frans</span>Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-28684355488290840352014-10-08T10:23:00.001-04:002014-10-08T11:00:18.139-04:00And then there was #OMGBelizeI guess I should have been more nervous about the fact that I <a href="http://hellomisschelsea.blogspot.com/2012/11/so-youve-never-met-her-in-person.html" target="_blank">had only spent a cumulative 18 hours total with one girl</a> I was traveling with, not to mention I had never even met other gal.<br />
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Even as I was nearly sprinting through the Atlanta airport after a slightly late flight into the great Peach state, trying to get to the international terminal to meet them, the only thing that was on my mind was if I had actually thrown in enough swimsuits or was 3 was going to be disappointingly too few.<br />
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<i>Does that mean I've hit that level of weirdness that traveling to Central America with two strangers doesnt even phase me? #bloggerprobs</i><br />
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Maybe I should back up and explain how this entire trip even came about. Sometime in the middle of the summer, I stumbled upon a ridiculously cheap roundtrip flight to Belize from Atlanta. After half-jokingly sending the link to <a href="http://www.bitofwhit.com/" target="_blank">Whit</a>, she replied "let's book it". Mind you, I send her random flights at least once a day and usually she just tells me to get back to work. Naturally, my reply was SERIOUSLY? and we both decided 'why the hell not'.<br />
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She got a hold of her sister, as they had been tossing around the idea of a fall trip, and I tried to wake up Jenn in Vegas, as we had been throwing around the idea of Thailand in 2014. After a little convincing, we had 4 airline tickets purchased and a slight smirk on our faces. About 4 hours later, prices went up about $400. Yahtzee.<br />
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The next few days were filled with a lot of "Holy shit what did we just book?" and "Where is Belize anyways?" Those quickly evolved into "Oh my god we're going to Belize!", a countdown was started, and the token #OMGBelize phrase was born.<br />
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Funny how quickly those hundred or so days had flown by. Once settled into row 13, Whit & I looked at each other and just giggled... 'watch out Belize, here we come!'<br />
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<i>Little did we know the adventures we were about to stumble upon.</i>Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-68053013194200603792014-10-06T10:38:00.001-04:002014-10-06T10:41:24.274-04:00BZE > IND<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Another set of passport stamps. A fresh batch of scuffs and scars on the suitcase. A whole new series of stories to laugh about. Another country checked off the list. Another sleepy Monday morning spent readjusting.Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-56555781700163277822014-09-17T10:02:00.000-04:002014-09-17T10:02:04.737-04:00Labor'ing in Punta CanaIt's only taken just shy of a decade, but I'm finally savvy to the fact that if I travel during a major US holiday I get a freebie vacation day.<br />
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It was a double whammy that my mom's birthday falls on the eve of Labor Day, so it didn't take much more convincing than a simple text that said "you don't REALLY want to spend your birthday stateside, do you?!"<br />
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A few days later we decided on the <a href="http://www.nowresorts.com/larimar" target="_blank">Now Larimar</a> in Punta Cana. I'm a big fan of the Dominican Republic. I always tell everyone, Australia aside, Punta Cana has some of the most gorgeous beaches I have ever seen.<br />
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Per my usual routine, I religiously scoured TripAdvisor before booking the resort. Much to my surprise the negative comments were few and far between, which actually made me slightly hesitant. No resort can be THAT good, can it?!<br />
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The verdict? It can.<br />
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After a slightly rough 5am flight (it seemed like a good idea at the time of booking) out of Indy we were wheels down on the island by noon. Truth be told, we did a whole lot of NOTHING the entire time, and it was amazing.<br />
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Laying by the pool, enjoying the beach, reading books, soaking up the sunshine, people watching, eating copious amounts of delicious food and indulging on all the fruity libations... it was pure bliss.<br />
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Being able to escape reality for any amount of time is always fantastic, being able to escape it and have some girly bonding time with your mama is even better!<br />
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And even though I'm a loyal Riu Resorts gal, I was pleasantly surprised by Now and would definitely go back!<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(No affiliation with any resorts listed, not a sponsored post, just my honest opinion.)</span></i><br />
Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-54976388350849829262014-09-09T11:18:00.003-04:002014-09-09T11:18:52.862-04:00Tuesday ramblingsI read 'Gone Girl' while I was at the beach last week. Maybe I missed something, because my desire to rave about it like everyone else has is FAR from there.<br />
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I literally finished the last page, sat my iPad down and replied "That was the DUMBEST book I have read in a long time." Which was truly how I felt, a 'long time' measuring the amount of time between that day and the day I finished 'Girls in White Dresses'. Perhaps that's why I rarely read the quote unquote popular books. They just aren't my thing....<br />
<br />Although 'Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me' was a pretty good one, I will hand that one to you, popular society.<br />
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Up to this point in the post I've wondered if I'm correctly using book titles, or if you're even supposed to add ' to them. Unfortunately for you and the rest of the internet I don't care enough to actually go Google it though.<br />
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The world is weird right now. I think that was my original point of this post. America is slowly losing it's fascination with dumping water on their heads, planes are being shot out of the sky, Ebola is running rampant, China's building islands and terrorists are cutting off heads. Meanwhile I'm just sitting here making pretty pictures of liquor, trying to figure out if my blouse would have looked better with white jeans <i>(despite the fact it's after Labor Day. I believe in a good winter white. Err, autumn white?) </i><br />
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Which genuinely makes me sound like an egotistical, self-centered asshole. Maybe I am. It's not that I'm not concerned with the destruction of the world around me<i> (dramatic, much?)</i> It's just that it's overwhelming so I'll just sit here and pick at the lint on my black pants and pop Junior Mints into my mouth.<br />
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And count down the days until Belize. <i>(sixteen, if you were curious) </i>Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-40838297409496444192014-08-27T09:21:00.000-04:002014-08-27T09:25:45.433-04:00Oh hey.I'm somewhat of a unicorn around these parts nowadays. And by that I mean the obvious... rarely ever seen. During the peak of my blogging I was a lowly intern here at the house of booze. It's amazing how much more free time you have when your only tasks are data input and filing.<br />
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Just kidding, I did my fair share of designing back then too... but the workload was easier, especially compared to now and running the department.<br />
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I'm gearing up for the trifecta of travel, as I've affectionately deemed it. I've been afforded a few opportunities I couldn't pass up, which will lead me to three Caribbean countries in the next three months. My beach baby self is GLEAMING at the very thought of it right now.<br />
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If you count being in Jamaica in July then you could actually call 2014 the quadfecta of island hopping but quadfecta isn't a real word, and it sounds a bit too much like a jungle-contracted disease, so we'll pass on that.<br />
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The point of this post is lost on me now, except maybe to just fill the void that was left when I forgot I possessed the ability to type full sentences on a computer that aren't the likes of <i>"$4 Shots of Jäger every Friday!"</i><br />
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Mission accomplished. <br />
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Oh, and I am being taken on a date tonight. Just throwing that out there.Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563177162390061223.post-50294675299151856032014-08-20T10:15:00.001-04:002014-08-20T10:20:47.431-04:00When the ice melts. I hate writing about current events. It's just like begging to stir up a shitstorm. I deleted this post twice before actually publishing it. But after scoffing at this all week, I felt a need to truly voice my side of it.<br />
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My beef with this ice bucket challenge?<br />
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<b>What sort of society do we live in that we have to dare our friends to dump icy, cold water on themselves to get them to care about a cause? </b><br />
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<i>Is that really what we've become?</i><br />
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Believe me, the marketing/grass roots/word of mouth aspect of all of this is awe-inspiring from an advertising/PR point of view. I could sing the praises of whoever started all of this (despite mixed reviews of how it actually originated) I have never once bashed the organization or the fact that they are receiving donations. It's awesome that they have witnessed such a boost in awareness.<br />
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What I'm disappointed in is that so many people are only doing it because its "cool". Do you know what isn't nearly as buzzworthy? Sitting at a nursing home for a few hours keeping the residents company. Taking time out of your holiday season to go slop turkey and noodles on a Styrofoam plate for the line of homeless folks standing before you. Throwing your spare change in the red bucket at Christmas. Do you know what makes you feel just as good inside?<br />
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My beef isn't with the cause, it's with the motive of the participants. Do you, as a human, as an American, really need guaranteed pats on the back to do good onto others? That mindset is disgusting, you guys.<br />
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I have always made a point to donate my time or money to a handful of selected charities every year. Guess what? No one in particular asked me to, and no one sings my praise when I do. I could be lead astray, but I am fairly certain that doesn't decrease the value in what I do. I do it because I feel personally vetted to the individual causes. In one way or another, I have been drawn to each of the respective organizations, and I want to pledge to them. Not because someone dares me to.<br />
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I hope that by dumping ice water on your head you do truly realize the meaning behind it, and you do truly want to help cure this disease. I hope that this opens the eyes of many to what a little fun and a little donation of time can lead to. I hope that ALS research advances leaps and bounds by this, but I also hope that people use it as a jumping point to find other things they are passionate about, and find ways to help.<br />
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If you pledged anything this year, ice or not. I thank you. Thanks for putting good juju into the world. We need more of that. I genuinely hope that we aren't approaching a time where they only way you can get someone to care about a cause is to turn it into a media circus.Miss Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13019483918988496228noreply@blogger.com6