tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37392993099596737962024-02-08T07:56:38.098-08:00The Digital BeanWhitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-23648158626406391292011-08-22T14:52:00.000-07:002011-08-22T14:54:20.043-07:00Hello LadiesEzra would like to say hello to you.
<br />
<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y295/Hermione30/311893_10100533541146168_10722176_58132662_6272468_n-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-29605556348566220782011-05-16T12:33:00.000-07:002011-05-16T12:51:20.376-07:00URGENT ANNOUNCEMENTThis is VERY important: I have the cutest nephew in the whole wide world!<br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y295/Hermione30/227905_10100391447188598_10709589_56272341_561849_n-1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y295/Hermione30/226358_10100391447068838_10709589_56272336_2428914_n-1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br />His name is Ezra David Wilson. Isn't he handsome?Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-70118041278316821262011-05-07T14:53:00.000-07:002011-05-07T15:20:13.886-07:00Happy Mother's Day...To four beautiful women in my family! Happy Mother's Day to Grandma Jackie,<br /><br />My lovely mother (who looks like she's 35),<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y295/Hermione30/33906_1398615134027_1491732552_30881231_4348603_n.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><br />My sister Ashley (who is due to have a baby boy in 13 DAYS)...<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y295/Hermione30/222053_10100370346689168_10722176_56167268_7374532_n.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />...And to the newest mother in the family, my sister Rachel! It's too early to know what she's having, but I have a feeling it's a girl.<br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y295/Hermione30/188818_1003088232099_1071637026_7219_498_n.jpg" alt="Photobucket" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />To Grandma and Mom, you've been amazing mothers. You and Dad and Grandpa have taught me everything I know, and I can't possibly adequately express my gratitude for all you've done for me. To Rachel and Ashley, I know that you'll be great moms. Congratulations! I love you all!Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-19961440244506005092011-05-02T21:40:00.000-07:002011-05-02T22:14:33.204-07:00I Can Hear the BellsThat's right, everyone. I've met my soul mate. I was in the shuttle van at the airport, thinking I'd have the ride to myself, when the driver was instructed to wait for someone else. I groaned a little, because I was anxious to get back to my apartment. But then this<i> very attractive</i> guy climbed in next to me. Brown hair, green eyes, tan skin. Helllloooo. <div><br /></div><div>We sat there awkwardly for about ten minutes until I decided to break the ice. </div><div><br /></div><div>"So where did you fly in from?" </div><div><br /></div><div>"I'm from England."</div><div><br /></div><div>*cue jawdrop*</div><div><br /></div><div>Over the course of the ride, we discovered that we have a mutual love of Top Gear, seafood, chocolate, political debate, and musicals. It is like we were meant to be.</div><div><br /></div><div>But alas, no. He's in Utah because he's going to the MTC, and he will be serving his mission in Hungary. And then he's going back to England for university. I will never see him again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ah, well. It makes for a fun story. </div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-32087469073848245342011-03-08T14:53:00.002-08:002011-03-08T15:09:02.169-08:00Can I Just Say...That life is good? No, it's not just good, it's uh-mazing right now. Spring is coming, I can feel it. I got an interview for that job I applied for, and it went very well. She outright told me that she was very impressed with me. The job requires me to help the girl with her occupational therapy goals, which is EXACTLY what I want to do with my career. The experience will look fantastic on a graduate school application. This week, I found out that my former English professor is looking for a TA for the next six weeks, and chances are good that I got that job as well. <div><div><br /></div><div><i>Aaaaaand...</i></div><div><br /></div><div>There's an attractive boy in my physiology class and lab (so I see him five days a week) that I've had my eye on for awhile, and we prefer talking to listening to the lecture. :P Today after class, he said, "Hey, can I get your number?" *mumbles something about a study group* I wanted to be like: </div></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i7.photobucket.com/albums/y295/Hermione30/excited.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>But I kept my cool, and we exchanged our numbers. And then I got home, and did a "FIST PUMP!", Megamind style. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm going to go and play loud music and dance around the apartment now. :D </div><div><br /></div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-54519150626155110022011-02-25T23:52:00.000-08:002011-02-26T00:01:30.460-08:00Lately, I've been working on becoming more confident and assertive, but I haven't had any real results. But in the next few days, I will, one way or the other. I got an email from the psychology department saying that a mom in the area is looking for a trainer and a friend for her special needs daughter. I've been looking for a job, and not only does this seem like a great job for now, but this will prepare me for my (hopeful) future as an occupational therapist. <div><br /></div><div>So what did I do? I wrote an email telling this complete stranger that <i>I </i>am qualified to help her daughter, and to prove it, I attached a resume. Can you believe the moxie on that doll? I told my mom that I'd sleep on it, but I figured that if I waited until morning I'd chicken out. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm feeling slightly sick. Can I juuuust...take that email back, please? You know when they tell you to just "go for it"? Well, I did that alright, but I prefer more immediate results. I don't like this business of waiting. But I REALLY hope I get it! </div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-7530095620432376822010-05-17T18:01:00.000-07:002010-05-17T18:06:53.428-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I know.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I KNOW that "mom is always right". Either it's because she knows you so well, she has eyes in the back of her head, or because she has super awesome psychic powers known as "mother's intuition". Whatever. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Mom, no offense, but did you really HAVE to be right on this one? </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Fine, you win.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-80225038283109775112010-04-28T10:39:00.000-07:002010-05-17T18:05:05.367-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I haven't posted in about 28 days. I'm sorry, I know you were all just sitting on the edge of your computer seats each day as you checked for a new post and then...nothing. I hate to disappoint people. Unfortunately, school kind of took over my life. I HATE it when I have to do more important things. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But I'm back in </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Poulsbo</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> now. I officially began the summer job hunt yesterday. I went to just about every store in the mall, picking up job applications and dropping off my curriculum vitae. I don't have a resume because I've only had one job. </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Sooooo</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">...I have to emphasize my other qualifications. Because I have tons of them. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Anyway, I'm getting off track. I was being shamelessly charming at every clothing store, ice cream shop, Barnes & Noble, and greeting card store that I went into (I say this like there's a ton of each: there's not. The </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Kitsap</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> Mall, for those of you who would understand this, would probably fit neatly into the University Mall in </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Orem</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> three times). But I walked past the Pretzel Time and saw a familiar face looking back at me. I narrowed my eyes right back at him. See, last year I requested a job application at the Pretzel Time and the manager refused to give me one because of my lack of job experience. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Well. I took a cooking class this past year at </span></span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">BYU</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"> and I learned how to make soft pretzels one week. I must say, they were quite delicious. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">So guess what, Pretzel Time manager??? My pretzels are better than yours!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">HAH</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">. </span></span></div>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-66081670422989903502010-04-15T20:20:00.000-07:002010-04-15T20:31:13.211-07:00<span style="font-size:130%;">Dear Bald Man Who was Staring at Me,<br /><br />Please don't leer at girls half your age, it's creepy. Especially when they're on a date. More important, pay attention to your wife, she needs it.<br /><br />Respectfully,<br /><br />Beanie</span>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3739299309959673796.post-20474623475069034952010-04-01T21:42:00.001-07:002010-04-01T21:59:04.930-07:00Dear Readers<span style="font-size:130%;">Hello!<br /><br />If there are any of you, that is. But aren't journal writing and blogging just socially acceptable forms of talking to yourself?<br /><br />I'll start my blog with a funny story. Today, I was on the first floor of the library, which, for those of you who don't know, is in the basement and it's usually pretty deserted. I walked past a group study room, see something odd and stop. I kind of did one of those numbers where you take a few steps back and crane your neck around...but I was too afraid to look. I motioned to my friend to look in the window of the room. Her eyes looked like this,<br /><br />O_O<br /><br />See, there was a couple laying on the table MAKING OUT. You would think, if they wanted to get that hot and heavy, they'd go somewhere that people couldn't just peek in and see. But maybe they were studying anatomy and wanted to apply what they were learning.<br /><br />So my friend pounded on the door and we ran off giggling like school girls. Oh wait, we are.<br /><br />Bear with me, as this blog is a work in progress. I look forward to posting more and having you read about my adventures, haha.<br /><br />--The Bean.</span>Whitneyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09104998843136379699noreply@blogger.com1