Continuing on my theme of adventure: Round 2. I will be leaving for Asia in early June again. Field work doesn't start until the end of the month so I will be using the time before then to visit all the places in South East Asia that I did not get to last year. Which was basically all of them. Hopefully my husband and I will be able to finish my trip together in Japan for a couple of weeks! It will be the first time he and I have traveled together
So this summer my travel plans will (hopefully) look something like this:
June 11th- fly to Manila. This is the best place to start such an adventure, Manila honestly is one of the greatest cities I have been to. I highly recommend it for travels. Fun fun fun fun fun place.
June 13th- Catch a flight to Bangkok, Thailand. Proceed to enjoy Thailand from June 13th-June 18th (or later. Who knows, I'm thinking that I am just going to go where the wind may take me). Love every minute of it. Drink the drinks, eat the noms, gorge myself on ridiculous amounts of cheap street food, get sick, regret nothing and write about all my adventures.
June 19th- Leave early for Cambodia. Make the trip to Siem Reap. Hopefully I can find some one in my hostel to travel with. Stay in Siem Reap until June 26th. Temple the shit out of myself. Eat Cambodian food. Rent a bike and travel around. Take in the beauty. Love life.
June 26th- Either head back to Bangkok or catch a flight from Siem Reap back to Manila.
June 27th- July 31st- Being a grown up and visiting Ifugao once more. Work my ass off. Dig in the dirt. Miss my 3rd wedding anniversary (going on two consecutive years of missing anniversaries....ooooops). Spend my 25th birthday in the middle of no where drinking dollar-ish beers and complaining about no hot water. Be excited if where we are staying has toilet seats. Walk a mile up hill to get to the field every day. Ask myself what the fuck I am doing constantly. Get a damn nice tan. Love that I am back where I left my heart last summer.
August 1st (or 2nd or 3rd)- Depending on what Hubs decides either A. Fly to Tokyo and see Japan finally. Which is weird because I never thought I would say that. If that doesn't work out then I am going to make a trip to Boracay- which is an island in the Philippines. I will then lay on the beach for 4 or 5 days.
August 13th- come home.
More adventures to come in September or October though ;). Life is about to get crazy.
I have a serious case of wanderlust.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 13, 2014
The Biggest Adventure
Last summer I spent in the Philippines, excavating a place known as Old Kiyyangan Village with some of the brightest and most caring individuals I have ever met. The entire experience was surreal. Literally everything was out of my comfort zone. From arriving into Manila at three in the morning. To my first night in Kiangan, in my mosquito net fort, listening to a billion sounds that horrified me to the depths of my soul. The cockroaches (which are my biggest phobia) were bigger than I could imagine. The bugs. The long and disgusting days in the field. Tapeworms. The rain water showers. The lack of toilet seats. Forgetting what hot water felt like. Missing wine. Missing my family. Having no real connection to the outside world.
Even through all of those trials, I fell in love. I fell in love with everything the Philippines had to offer, down to the biggest and nastiest cockroach. I fell for the people, who accepted me with open and loving arms. The food- even though I haven't been able to look at Tilapia since I came home. All of it. I try to find one negative with spending all that time away in a place I could have never imagined visiting with no luck. Kiangan is, and always will be, my special paradise. My spot.
So, yesterday I work, I made the call. I am going back. I have to go back. Since I stepped foot off that island in July I haven't been the same. My husband has even told me he felt like I left a little part of my heart there. It is no secret by now that I most definitely did.
This summer I will be returning for a month to excavate the Hapao Rice Terrace cluster. Last summer I was blessed to watch a ritual pig sacrifice to question the spirits of the ancestors of our excavation and they happily told us yes. I can't wait to return. I can't wait to smell all the smells and eat salty fish in the morning.... and rice every day for every meal. This time I will definitely be more prepared for the adventure I am about to embark on, for we are staying in an even more rural locale that has almost a mile hike up uneven stairs. Every. Day. Back to subsisting on Sky Flakes and 86 cent rum.
I yearn to be back in the field. To go home dirty and hating myself. To get into bed and fall asleep instantly from exhaustion. To dig up priceless cultural artifact and expand knowledge of such a rural area. For the first time in my life I finally am a piece of something that is far greater than myself.
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| This is only a portion of my beautiful Archaeology family |
Mar 12, 2014
Negative Nancy Learns Love and Selflessness
Some times, but only sometimes, I think people try to hide their nostalgia away. I love my nostalgia. It may be one of the greatest gifts that my family passed on to me. I cherish the great memories I do have, for my childhood was punctuated with many instances of sadness. I am in no way trying to tout that I had a rough childhood, but many things happened that could be deemed traumatizing.
My house and many of my belongings were destroyed by a flood when I was eight or nine. At this point I have tried to remove myself so far from those days in that I actually can not remember my exact age. What I do remember is living at my first grade teacher's house until the flood waters receded and she had wonderful cats. I remember having to share a futon mattress with my little sister. A mattress that rested on top of wooden pallets because our beds had been destroyed and my sister's room was a muddy disaster after the flood.
My best friend's older brother hung himself when I was seven. I can still vividly remember my mom getting the phone call from my friend's mother. Her hands instinctively shot to her mouth and she sat on her bed in silence. Then she hugged me, really tight, for a long time. I was seven. There was absolutely no way I could comprehend what was going on at that moment. Years have passed since then. Michael would've been nearly forty by now I think. I still don't comprehend what happened.
I am sure there are many other things that happened that could be deemed "bad", but saturated with all of those bad there is so much good. My first kiss. Winning Spring Fling Queen when I was in seventh grade. The first time I fell in love. Meeting friends who I would continue to be friends with to this day.
I historically have been a negative Nancy. No problems admitting it and believing that I couldn't accomplish anything. Living through times in my life that I thought would never end with an attitude that just perpetuated the endless pattern. I did this for a long time. Too long actually. I'd spent too much time worrying about what could happen that I wouldn't let things organically occur. I sabotaged myself. And, although kitschy, this did not change until I met my husband. The man who no longer let me perpetuate my negative mind frame, and instead, he pushed me to go. Pushed me to do.
Want to go to South America to finish your degree? Do it.
Want to go to Mexico City just to celebrate a cultural event for four days? Get out of here.
Want to go to the Philippines to follow your dreams and become a (somewhat) field trained Archaeologist? I'll see you when you get back. You make me proud.
I've spent almost 3 years married to a human who has propelled me forward in a giant world of back word. In those three years I have officially been gone for almost 6 months of them. Nearly.
And this summer, I'll be gone for another two of those months. I made the decision to revisit the Philippines and continue working on the ever-expanding South East Asian chronology. I am elated. But this decision made me think. It reminded me of how I married such a wonderful human who has never stopped, nor stood in my way, of my dreams. If anything he has slung-shot me forward.
And every day I thank my lucky stars for bringing him into my life.
My house and many of my belongings were destroyed by a flood when I was eight or nine. At this point I have tried to remove myself so far from those days in that I actually can not remember my exact age. What I do remember is living at my first grade teacher's house until the flood waters receded and she had wonderful cats. I remember having to share a futon mattress with my little sister. A mattress that rested on top of wooden pallets because our beds had been destroyed and my sister's room was a muddy disaster after the flood.
My best friend's older brother hung himself when I was seven. I can still vividly remember my mom getting the phone call from my friend's mother. Her hands instinctively shot to her mouth and she sat on her bed in silence. Then she hugged me, really tight, for a long time. I was seven. There was absolutely no way I could comprehend what was going on at that moment. Years have passed since then. Michael would've been nearly forty by now I think. I still don't comprehend what happened.
I am sure there are many other things that happened that could be deemed "bad", but saturated with all of those bad there is so much good. My first kiss. Winning Spring Fling Queen when I was in seventh grade. The first time I fell in love. Meeting friends who I would continue to be friends with to this day.
I historically have been a negative Nancy. No problems admitting it and believing that I couldn't accomplish anything. Living through times in my life that I thought would never end with an attitude that just perpetuated the endless pattern. I did this for a long time. Too long actually. I'd spent too much time worrying about what could happen that I wouldn't let things organically occur. I sabotaged myself. And, although kitschy, this did not change until I met my husband. The man who no longer let me perpetuate my negative mind frame, and instead, he pushed me to go. Pushed me to do.
Want to go to South America to finish your degree? Do it.
Want to go to Mexico City just to celebrate a cultural event for four days? Get out of here.
Want to go to the Philippines to follow your dreams and become a (somewhat) field trained Archaeologist? I'll see you when you get back. You make me proud.
I've spent almost 3 years married to a human who has propelled me forward in a giant world of back word. In those three years I have officially been gone for almost 6 months of them. Nearly.
And this summer, I'll be gone for another two of those months. I made the decision to revisit the Philippines and continue working on the ever-expanding South East Asian chronology. I am elated. But this decision made me think. It reminded me of how I married such a wonderful human who has never stopped, nor stood in my way, of my dreams. If anything he has slung-shot me forward.
And every day I thank my lucky stars for bringing him into my life.
Mar 6, 2014
I simply can not sleep
Tucker turns 25 in a little less than 36 hours. I've put so much time and effort (and mostly money) into making his birthday the best that it can be, but even then I feel like I don't do enough. It sucks being swamped by big girl shit. It is really difficult to buy something for an individual who is known to buy anything that he wants on a whim. What can I say? At least I married a man who can make up his mind. I am taking him to our haunt on Friday. La Fondue. I wrote about it this summer after I came home because he took me there. So lovely. So romantic.
On to more pressing issues:
For the last few days I have been desperately trying to locate my camera. The one that had the SD card from my trip to the Philippines. I've torn most of my house apart. Moved furniture. Cried. Asked myself what could have happened to it, where I might have hoisted it off to. I am devastated that it has gone missing. In my worst fears, my cats knocked it into our recycling and it is lost forever. I even called the recycling plant and left them a message begging for its return if it had been found in the last few weeks.
In my best dreams, it is just sitting some where waiting for me to hold it and cry and tell it that I'm never going to part from it again. There are so many priceless memories stored on that camera and my heart breaks a little knowing that it has suddenly vanished from my home. I am truly a wreck over it. I keep thinking, "Jess, it's ok. It is only a camera. You have photos on your phone. You have photos from friends. You have priceless memories and an entire journal full of gorgeous letters describing all those beautiful things and people and places. You can get another camera". Not only that, but I keep trying to justify the loss with an oh well, looks like you're going to have to go back to take more pictures and go on more adventures around Southeast Asia this summer. I guess that is an ok coping mechanism, but it still doesn't fill that void. All those beautiful things. The thanksgiving ritual, the Mumbaki, the sacrifice, my first trench evolving. Gone. Just like that, all thanks to my negligence.
So now I pray. I pray to the camera gods that I have never known that by some stroke of beautiful chance that I find my precious and irreplaceable moments.
I guess my husband is right, I take up the pen (or key board in this case) in my saddest moments.
On to more pressing issues:
For the last few days I have been desperately trying to locate my camera. The one that had the SD card from my trip to the Philippines. I've torn most of my house apart. Moved furniture. Cried. Asked myself what could have happened to it, where I might have hoisted it off to. I am devastated that it has gone missing. In my worst fears, my cats knocked it into our recycling and it is lost forever. I even called the recycling plant and left them a message begging for its return if it had been found in the last few weeks.
In my best dreams, it is just sitting some where waiting for me to hold it and cry and tell it that I'm never going to part from it again. There are so many priceless memories stored on that camera and my heart breaks a little knowing that it has suddenly vanished from my home. I am truly a wreck over it. I keep thinking, "Jess, it's ok. It is only a camera. You have photos on your phone. You have photos from friends. You have priceless memories and an entire journal full of gorgeous letters describing all those beautiful things and people and places. You can get another camera". Not only that, but I keep trying to justify the loss with an oh well, looks like you're going to have to go back to take more pictures and go on more adventures around Southeast Asia this summer. I guess that is an ok coping mechanism, but it still doesn't fill that void. All those beautiful things. The thanksgiving ritual, the Mumbaki, the sacrifice, my first trench evolving. Gone. Just like that, all thanks to my negligence.
So now I pray. I pray to the camera gods that I have never known that by some stroke of beautiful chance that I find my precious and irreplaceable moments.
I guess my husband is right, I take up the pen (or key board in this case) in my saddest moments.
Feb 27, 2014
"Wine-d" down weekend.
I love wine.
Too much, actually too much. It started when I was young. My parents, bless their hearts, always gave in to my undying curiosity and would never tell me no when it came to exploring alcohol. The first time I sipped the sweet nectar of the gods I was 13 and it was definitely in January because I had just had quite the escapade (mostly drama to be honest) with my future long-term boyfriend to be. That's another story for another time.
That fateful night my best friend and I stole a bottle from her mom's fridge and chugged it a dilapidated camper behind her house. No fancy college party. No loud music, except for that Eminem song about his daughter on repeat. No sweaty bros bumping their junk on me while I tried to save the sweet liquid from spilling out of a glorious red cup. Nope, my wine hymen was popped in an old camper on a Friday night. I don't even remember if it tasted good. What I do vividly remember is finishing the bottle between two girls in roughly 30 minutes and screaming at my friend that her head was shrinking before my very eyes`. Pandora's box had been opened. Two years later I would be drunk in a hotel in Paris, exclaiming to poor passer-bys on the street that I was a fifteen year old American who loved wine. Particularly French wine because, you know, we were in fucking France. Wine that we sneaked(ish) back into our room. You know, because we were fifteen and we fucking could.
Fast forward another two years and I am black out drunk puking on a friend's bed compliments of Mad Dog. A lesson I believe every college kid should learn. Hell, a rite of passage even. Later in life, which of course means Junior and Senior year of college, I would proclaim that Chuck (Charles Shaw of course) was /undoubtedly my best friend. I attribute many of my papers in college to late night wine parties that ultimately made me feel fancy and creative. I could write up there among the greats of our time. And I was damn good at it. Philosophical too. Had I discovered new chambers of my brain because I had sipped that gorgeous purple liquid straight from the bottle?! Where exactly had these words been coming from?
In reality I was making no sense and most of my papers looked something along the lines of:
FANCY FUCKING TITLE BECAUSE WINE MAKES JESSIE HAS SMART
Schmee schmee schmee schmee, which is characterized by the quotations of said author (Pg I didn't even fucking read the book.). In retrospect, his remarks come off as condenshkdlfsklds sjkldsjklfdsl jfdvcmsdngirsogfnfkd
This continued on until the world limit was met. I'd pat myself on the back and wake up with one hell of a hang over. Then I would proceed to question my life decisions until I could go eat the greasiest and most caloric garbage the cafeteria offered.
Wine and I have had our ups and downs throughout the years. I jokingly tell my parents that I am a connoisseur of wines that are below $10. In fact, I feel fancy if I spend over $13 for a bottle of wine. My big girl pants have just been put on, I say.
Essentially, Wine and Jessie are besties.
Too much, actually too much. It started when I was young. My parents, bless their hearts, always gave in to my undying curiosity and would never tell me no when it came to exploring alcohol. The first time I sipped the sweet nectar of the gods I was 13 and it was definitely in January because I had just had quite the escapade (mostly drama to be honest) with my future long-term boyfriend to be. That's another story for another time.
That fateful night my best friend and I stole a bottle from her mom's fridge and chugged it a dilapidated camper behind her house. No fancy college party. No loud music, except for that Eminem song about his daughter on repeat. No sweaty bros bumping their junk on me while I tried to save the sweet liquid from spilling out of a glorious red cup. Nope, my wine hymen was popped in an old camper on a Friday night. I don't even remember if it tasted good. What I do vividly remember is finishing the bottle between two girls in roughly 30 minutes and screaming at my friend that her head was shrinking before my very eyes`. Pandora's box had been opened. Two years later I would be drunk in a hotel in Paris, exclaiming to poor passer-bys on the street that I was a fifteen year old American who loved wine. Particularly French wine because, you know, we were in fucking France. Wine that we sneaked(ish) back into our room. You know, because we were fifteen and we fucking could.
Fast forward another two years and I am black out drunk puking on a friend's bed compliments of Mad Dog. A lesson I believe every college kid should learn. Hell, a rite of passage even. Later in life, which of course means Junior and Senior year of college, I would proclaim that Chuck (Charles Shaw of course) was /undoubtedly my best friend. I attribute many of my papers in college to late night wine parties that ultimately made me feel fancy and creative. I could write up there among the greats of our time. And I was damn good at it. Philosophical too. Had I discovered new chambers of my brain because I had sipped that gorgeous purple liquid straight from the bottle?! Where exactly had these words been coming from?
In reality I was making no sense and most of my papers looked something along the lines of:
FANCY FUCKING TITLE BECAUSE WINE MAKES JESSIE HAS SMART
Schmee schmee schmee schmee, which is characterized by the quotations of said author (Pg I didn't even fucking read the book.). In retrospect, his remarks come off as condenshkdlfsklds sjkldsjklfdsl jfdvcmsdngirsogfnfkd
This continued on until the world limit was met. I'd pat myself on the back and wake up with one hell of a hang over. Then I would proceed to question my life decisions until I could go eat the greasiest and most caloric garbage the cafeteria offered.
Wine and I have had our ups and downs throughout the years. I jokingly tell my parents that I am a connoisseur of wines that are below $10. In fact, I feel fancy if I spend over $13 for a bottle of wine. My big girl pants have just been put on, I say.
Essentially, Wine and Jessie are besties.
Feb 21, 2014
Because I am such a grown-up
This weekend I hit the proverbial brick wall of grownupness. I don't know how I am supposed to get by this.
My husband I decided to visit Portland for a quick weekend away. And to try and get some ducks in a line regarding our immanent future. Which of course amounted to a lot of talking, seriously of course, and not much doing.
To be honest, I don't know what I am doing next year. I have an ultimate dream to one day work as a Medical Examiner. Yes, I am fascinated with death. This is a direct consequence from spending my summer in the Philippines pulling extremely old things from the earth.
So now,
where do I go?
To be honest, I don't know what I am doing next year. I have an ultimate dream to one day work as a Medical Examiner. Yes, I am fascinated with death. This is a direct consequence from spending my summer in the Philippines pulling extremely old things from the earth.
So now,
where do I go?
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| Tuck, open ya damn eyes. |
Jan 31, 2014
ALL THE FEELS.
(this was originally done last night.)
ARGHHHH
So many feels tonight!!! Something you should know about me: It is incredibly difficult to get me to watch a TV show all the way through. From season 1- whenever, I just get SO INCREDIBLY BORED. This has been an ongoing problem throughout my life. Very rarely do I pick up a show and have to watch it every single episode. It is my weekly vigil to the TV gods.
Well, my life was forever changed in October 2013. I am a ginormous fan of the Horror genre. It is an admitted guilty pleasure of mine. There is just something so exciting about getting the shit scared out of me that has me addicted to horror.
In October 2013 the third season of American Horror Story hit the TV waves. Within five minutes of the first episode I was literally enthralled. Never before had a show sucked me in, made me feel like I was living inside of a different world for that one hour time slot. I was able to escape from reality. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. I didn't know exactly what it was.
I felt intimate with each character. I fucking hated Madison for being a stone-cold selfish pig-bitch. I loved Fiona because, deep down, I truly believed she was Goode. Cordelia felt like a best friend I never had. Queenie taught me how to be strong and overcome adversity. And Madam Delphine La Laurie became one of the greatest villains I have ever lain eyes on.
The entire season I would watch an episode, try to figure myself out, and wonder who would be the next Supreme. This season had so much depth. New Orleans history played a phenomenal part and tied beautifully to a fictional plot (which was probably why I loved it so much- I love history). From day 1 my husband and I would discuss plot lines and our theories. Every Thursday morning on our way to work (we commute an hour each way, blech) we would discuss theories.
From the beginning I always said Cordelia was the Supreme. Something I noticed from the get-go was that Cordelia was literally the only character without blood on her hands. My husband and I could always figure out terrible things each character would do. Fiona- well, it is Fiona. Enough said. Madison murdered Kyle and the almost all of the boys on the party bus after she was raped. Nan forced Luke's mom to drink bleach. Queenie murdered a vagrant. Zoey murdered the only survivor of the bus wreck by sleeping with him during his recovery in the hospital. Misty tried to control Kyle after she helped raise him. The voodoo queen was driven to evil. AH! I JUST LOVE IT SO FREAKING MUCH.
Tonight was the season finale. At the end of last week's episode I started to get teary eyed. All those feels came rushing. I tried to hide it from my husband, but he could tell. I felt guilty for loving a TV show that much. At the beginning of tonight's episode My emotions were, as I can most accurately describe it, and absolute hot fucking mess.
By the end of the episode I was screaming, "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! FUCKING KILL HER. DON'T TRUST HER! YOU FUCKING IDIOT! NO!," while my husband and I tried to shield our faces from the images on the screen because we had no idea what was going to happen next.
And then it was over. I'm not going to lie, I crumbled a little bit. Mainly because I had come to love the story. The ending was handed to me like a wonderfully wrapped present, complete with a bow and limited questions. I was greatly satisfied, but simultaneously very sad. I felt as if I had been dumped by my boyfriend, but with closure. So I thank all the writers and actors for giving me that hour a week to escape.
I loved American Horror Story from the onset. The first season captured me, the second season intrigued me, and the third season enveloped me completely.
ARGHHHH
So many feels tonight!!! Something you should know about me: It is incredibly difficult to get me to watch a TV show all the way through. From season 1- whenever, I just get SO INCREDIBLY BORED. This has been an ongoing problem throughout my life. Very rarely do I pick up a show and have to watch it every single episode. It is my weekly vigil to the TV gods.
Well, my life was forever changed in October 2013. I am a ginormous fan of the Horror genre. It is an admitted guilty pleasure of mine. There is just something so exciting about getting the shit scared out of me that has me addicted to horror.
In October 2013 the third season of American Horror Story hit the TV waves. Within five minutes of the first episode I was literally enthralled. Never before had a show sucked me in, made me feel like I was living inside of a different world for that one hour time slot. I was able to escape from reality. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. I didn't know exactly what it was.
I felt intimate with each character. I fucking hated Madison for being a stone-cold selfish pig-bitch. I loved Fiona because, deep down, I truly believed she was Goode. Cordelia felt like a best friend I never had. Queenie taught me how to be strong and overcome adversity. And Madam Delphine La Laurie became one of the greatest villains I have ever lain eyes on.
The entire season I would watch an episode, try to figure myself out, and wonder who would be the next Supreme. This season had so much depth. New Orleans history played a phenomenal part and tied beautifully to a fictional plot (which was probably why I loved it so much- I love history). From day 1 my husband and I would discuss plot lines and our theories. Every Thursday morning on our way to work (we commute an hour each way, blech) we would discuss theories.
From the beginning I always said Cordelia was the Supreme. Something I noticed from the get-go was that Cordelia was literally the only character without blood on her hands. My husband and I could always figure out terrible things each character would do. Fiona- well, it is Fiona. Enough said. Madison murdered Kyle and the almost all of the boys on the party bus after she was raped. Nan forced Luke's mom to drink bleach. Queenie murdered a vagrant. Zoey murdered the only survivor of the bus wreck by sleeping with him during his recovery in the hospital. Misty tried to control Kyle after she helped raise him. The voodoo queen was driven to evil. AH! I JUST LOVE IT SO FREAKING MUCH.
Tonight was the season finale. At the end of last week's episode I started to get teary eyed. All those feels came rushing. I tried to hide it from my husband, but he could tell. I felt guilty for loving a TV show that much. At the beginning of tonight's episode My emotions were, as I can most accurately describe it, and absolute hot fucking mess.
By the end of the episode I was screaming, "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! FUCKING KILL HER. DON'T TRUST HER! YOU FUCKING IDIOT! NO!," while my husband and I tried to shield our faces from the images on the screen because we had no idea what was going to happen next.
And then it was over. I'm not going to lie, I crumbled a little bit. Mainly because I had come to love the story. The ending was handed to me like a wonderfully wrapped present, complete with a bow and limited questions. I was greatly satisfied, but simultaneously very sad. I felt as if I had been dumped by my boyfriend, but with closure. So I thank all the writers and actors for giving me that hour a week to escape.
I loved American Horror Story from the onset. The first season captured me, the second season intrigued me, and the third season enveloped me completely.
Jan 26, 2014
I don't always drink a bottle of $2 Buck Chuck on my own, but when I do I hate myself the next morning.
I <3 weekends. Who doesn't love weekends? Actually, to be honest, I love Tuesdays the most because they are so damn easy on me. The last couple of days have just been so blissful. I like being happy. Most of all I like feeling like my husband and I are in sync with one another. It's good. :). I drank a bottle of $2 chuck and watched scary movies last night. This is how I know I've officially grown up. I'm excited to sit with my dog, drink cheap wine, and watch bad movies on Netflix. It was actually perfect and I can't wait to do it again.
This morning Tucker and I drove up to San Jose so Tuck could play pick up football with some of his work friends. He even wore his high school football cleats. I forgot how athletic he was (hahah, oops). Even the boys that were smaller than he is were yelling things like, "Boy got moves!" or, my favorite, "YOU ARE DECEPTIVELY ATHLETIC". Something about watching 24-35 year old guys play pick up football is absolutely adorable. And slightly painful, but mostly adorable.
ALSO, on a really happy note, TUCKER BOUGHT ME A POPCORN MAKER. It was like all of my dreams just came true. I've also eaten more popcorn in the last two days than I have in the last two years. Combined. Greatest investment ever.
Here's to starting a new week, with new goals and a big smile on my face.
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| From this summer, but I love this photo any way :) |
Jan 24, 2014
Days When You Know Life is Good.
I don't remember the last time I said this, but today, life was wonderful. Today was one of those days that reminded me why life is so beautiful. I feel more content than have in months. It feels like all the struggles of the last three months has begun to slowly just fade away. I could not be more happy about that.
I thought about my blog today. Seriously, this blog has no general direction. I mainly just follow guidelines I set for myself:
1. Try to blog every day. No matter how big or small.
2. It doesn't matter if it doesn't make sense to everyone else. I mean, I built the damn thing to just write (type) things. Random things. Things that actually pass through my mind like a wondering animal.
3. I don't have a number 3. Mainly the first two sums up how I feel about blogging.
Moving on, to the important stuff. I volunteer for a hospice. When I first signed up for it I didn't know what to expect. Originally I got in to it because I wanted to work with elderly individuals, little did I know that in just a few months my life would be forever changed. Volunteering for the organization that I volunteer for has truly been an honor and blessing in disguise. I don't use the term "blessing" or "blessed" frequently, but I truly believe that doing some of the work I've done has not only been a blessing, but an incredible lesson of life.
There is something so beautiful about hospice care. I can not deny that it is heart wrenching for a number of reasons. The idea of losing some one I potentially will become attached to breaks my heart, but I've learned so much. I've been taught so much in the few months I've been doing volunteer work. I thought about how priceless an hour of my time is in earth. Literally, priceless. It is strange to think that all the hours you've spent are earth are just gone. And you don't know how many more hours you do have left on this earth. Could be 1 hour. Could be a day. Maybe five. You just don't know. Working in hospice has opened my eyes to the beauty in the chaos of end of life care. How special every moment of every day is. It makes me rethink all those moments I wasted. Or moments I spent angry or crying. It makes me realize that those moments were selfish of me, that what I have is a luxury denied to many; I have everything in each breath I take. It makes me realize that I am as mortal as the next human. I am an ever-perishing product in this world of entropy.
It was in this realization that I came to the reality that I don't want to waste another moment of my life.
I thought about my blog today. Seriously, this blog has no general direction. I mainly just follow guidelines I set for myself:
1. Try to blog every day. No matter how big or small.
2. It doesn't matter if it doesn't make sense to everyone else. I mean, I built the damn thing to just write (type) things. Random things. Things that actually pass through my mind like a wondering animal.
3. I don't have a number 3. Mainly the first two sums up how I feel about blogging.
Moving on, to the important stuff. I volunteer for a hospice. When I first signed up for it I didn't know what to expect. Originally I got in to it because I wanted to work with elderly individuals, little did I know that in just a few months my life would be forever changed. Volunteering for the organization that I volunteer for has truly been an honor and blessing in disguise. I don't use the term "blessing" or "blessed" frequently, but I truly believe that doing some of the work I've done has not only been a blessing, but an incredible lesson of life.
There is something so beautiful about hospice care. I can not deny that it is heart wrenching for a number of reasons. The idea of losing some one I potentially will become attached to breaks my heart, but I've learned so much. I've been taught so much in the few months I've been doing volunteer work. I thought about how priceless an hour of my time is in earth. Literally, priceless. It is strange to think that all the hours you've spent are earth are just gone. And you don't know how many more hours you do have left on this earth. Could be 1 hour. Could be a day. Maybe five. You just don't know. Working in hospice has opened my eyes to the beauty in the chaos of end of life care. How special every moment of every day is. It makes me rethink all those moments I wasted. Or moments I spent angry or crying. It makes me realize that those moments were selfish of me, that what I have is a luxury denied to many; I have everything in each breath I take. It makes me realize that I am as mortal as the next human. I am an ever-perishing product in this world of entropy.
It was in this realization that I came to the reality that I don't want to waste another moment of my life.
Jan 23, 2014
The Day I Met Harry Melberg
Harry Melberg, sounds so official right? He is actually the sweet little pooch of the family my husband is a nanny for. Yep, hubs is a manny (Man nanny). This dog is so cute it hurt a little. Long like a Basset Hound, puffy like a tiny terrier, and just adorable.
American Horror Story was on tonight. I am having an especially hard time coming to grips that next week my beloved Coven will finally come to an end. What a chapter to finish in such a well plotted/ well cast television series. This is the first time I have watched an entire series religiously. I've actually had to reschedule things because of that one hour every Wednesday. That one hour when I fall in love with fictional characters and wish I had some witch powers of my own. That one hour when I shut myself out of the real world and pretend, even for the slightest moment, that what I am watching is real.
The characters are so beautifully portrayed and complex. The plot keeps me rapt, with wide eyes and just waiting for the next big plot twist. Or death. I hate getting attached to characters because I know the most I attach myself the harder it will be to finally let go. Occasionally I feel like a lost child at the end of each episode. I go through bizarre stages that go something like this:
Stage 1: WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED THERE?! (this happens most frequently).
Stage 2: I'M NOT 100% SURE WHAT I AM SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ALL THIS NEW INFORMATION.
Stage 3: FUCK! THE EPISODE IS OVER AND I HAVE AN ENTIRE FUCKING WEEK TO PROCESS ALL THIS NEW INFORMATION.
Stage 4 : Ermergerd I have to talk to some other human that graces their eyeballs with this show PRONTO. I need to discuss my theory on who the next Supreme is and then constantly question myself because I keep finding faults in my logic.
Stage 5: Wait very impatiently for the next episode.
Annnnnnnnd that about sums it up. I have no problems admitting that I drank the kool-aid so carefully concocted by Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuck. I drank it and I asked, even begged, for more.
American Horror Story was on tonight. I am having an especially hard time coming to grips that next week my beloved Coven will finally come to an end. What a chapter to finish in such a well plotted/ well cast television series. This is the first time I have watched an entire series religiously. I've actually had to reschedule things because of that one hour every Wednesday. That one hour when I fall in love with fictional characters and wish I had some witch powers of my own. That one hour when I shut myself out of the real world and pretend, even for the slightest moment, that what I am watching is real.
The characters are so beautifully portrayed and complex. The plot keeps me rapt, with wide eyes and just waiting for the next big plot twist. Or death. I hate getting attached to characters because I know the most I attach myself the harder it will be to finally let go. Occasionally I feel like a lost child at the end of each episode. I go through bizarre stages that go something like this:
Stage 1: WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED THERE?! (this happens most frequently).
Stage 2: I'M NOT 100% SURE WHAT I AM SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ALL THIS NEW INFORMATION.
Stage 3: FUCK! THE EPISODE IS OVER AND I HAVE AN ENTIRE FUCKING WEEK TO PROCESS ALL THIS NEW INFORMATION.
Stage 4 : Ermergerd I have to talk to some other human that graces their eyeballs with this show PRONTO. I need to discuss my theory on who the next Supreme is and then constantly question myself because I keep finding faults in my logic.
Stage 5: Wait very impatiently for the next episode.
Annnnnnnnd that about sums it up. I have no problems admitting that I drank the kool-aid so carefully concocted by Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuck. I drank it and I asked, even begged, for more.
Jan 22, 2014
Music To My Ears
At work today our students were watched a documentary that chronicled the civil rights movement. Sure, it sounds like other documentary that chronicles a dark moment in American history, but this documentary was chronicled through the music. I was immediately in love. I am a firm believer that music is the best way to explain something, particularly to younger audiences.
Even better? The student I work with that period asked questions. There is nothing I love more than when a student I work with asks questions to clarify and understand such a complex topic.
Even better? The student I work with that period asked questions. There is nothing I love more than when a student I work with asks questions to clarify and understand such a complex topic.
Jan 20, 2014
Cabin Life
I married into the world's most WONDERFUL family. My in-laws are actually the most beautiful, loving and supportive people I've ever met. This weekend we went to our fam's cabin in Shaver Lake. 
This place is actually like heaven. Delicious junk food for days, sunshine, coffee in the pot 24/7, and a warm fire. I love, love, love, love it here. I never want to leave. 
I'm just so happy :).
Jan 19, 2014
Challenge Day 3+4: Basically just said F**K IT.
Yesterday one of the teachers that I work for brought us chocolate ganache cake, brie (my favorite cheese, and a variety of other delicious goodies.
That is when I had my epiphany "fuck it" moment. And then I ate whatever the fuck I wanted and it was delicious. Screw changing my eating habits. I am a human in 2014. Ima eat what I want, when I want, how I want. I just need to work it off. That seems to have helped me every point up until now, at least. Moderation is key. Always.
Something struck me as really profound yesterday. I work in special education and one of my student's birthday is on Monday of next week. So I swiped the student an extra piece of cake. As I went to give it to the student, they declined. Telling me that they were on a diet. When I inquired as to why a high school aged girl with needs wanted to go on a diet, she put her hands above her head, sucked in her stomach as far as she could and, with a huge grin on her face, told me, "Because I want to look like this."
Albeit, at first I laughed, simply because it was so ridiculous that I couldn't help myself. But after a moment I realized, oh my god...... and it hit me like a wall of bricks. Here is a student, not deemed "typical" by our societal norms, creating an unhealthy and highly unrealistic image of what she thinks her body should look like. What kind of world have we created in which a "non-typical" student questions their body? I was disappointed in our societal norms and I think it was in this moment that I realized I wanted to portray positive body images to her, to myself, and to any other young girls I happen across. It is time to start accepting the beauty and differences in each of our bodies. It is time to spread love instead of shame. It was in this moment that I realized thinking I wouldn't be perfect unless I weighed 125lbs was utter nonsense. It was in this moment that all of those times I withheld from indulgences because I "didn't want to get fat" was ridiculous. It was in this moment that I realized that I need to love my body with all of its quirks: my chewed off nails, my scars from surgery, the chicken pock mark in the middle of my forehead, my 'Kangaroo pouch' and big ass hips, . I just need to love me for me.
Just one of those moments that I have all too frequently when one of my students teaches me instead of me teaching them.
Promoting body image love from here on out!! My goal in 2014!
That is when I had my epiphany "fuck it" moment. And then I ate whatever the fuck I wanted and it was delicious. Screw changing my eating habits. I am a human in 2014. Ima eat what I want, when I want, how I want. I just need to work it off. That seems to have helped me every point up until now, at least. Moderation is key. Always.
Something struck me as really profound yesterday. I work in special education and one of my student's birthday is on Monday of next week. So I swiped the student an extra piece of cake. As I went to give it to the student, they declined. Telling me that they were on a diet. When I inquired as to why a high school aged girl with needs wanted to go on a diet, she put her hands above her head, sucked in her stomach as far as she could and, with a huge grin on her face, told me, "Because I want to look like this."
Albeit, at first I laughed, simply because it was so ridiculous that I couldn't help myself. But after a moment I realized, oh my god...... and it hit me like a wall of bricks. Here is a student, not deemed "typical" by our societal norms, creating an unhealthy and highly unrealistic image of what she thinks her body should look like. What kind of world have we created in which a "non-typical" student questions their body? I was disappointed in our societal norms and I think it was in this moment that I realized I wanted to portray positive body images to her, to myself, and to any other young girls I happen across. It is time to start accepting the beauty and differences in each of our bodies. It is time to spread love instead of shame. It was in this moment that I realized thinking I wouldn't be perfect unless I weighed 125lbs was utter nonsense. It was in this moment that all of those times I withheld from indulgences because I "didn't want to get fat" was ridiculous. It was in this moment that I realized that I need to love my body with all of its quirks: my chewed off nails, my scars from surgery, the chicken pock mark in the middle of my forehead, my 'Kangaroo pouch' and big ass hips, . I just need to love me for me.
Just one of those moments that I have all too frequently when one of my students teaches me instead of me teaching them.
Promoting body image love from here on out!! My goal in 2014!Jan 17, 2014
Challenge Day 2: Jessie is An Epic Failure.
TOOT TOOOOOOT all aboard the epic fail train!
I really suck. Hard core suckage going down. I can't seriously do anything for more than a day.
Here I am, day 2, failing hard. URG.
So it started with me saying no to chocolate truffles (a win, small, but still a win in my book). I get to the main classroom I work in and a coworker brought fresh pastries. FRESH DELICIOUS FRUIT PASTRIES. I obviously can never just give a resounding "NOPE". I love fruit pastries. They have fruit on them.... healthy! Right?!
Moving on, a student I work with is in a Foods class. Simultaneously the most awesome and horrible thing ever. Awesome: free bomb ass food. All. The. Time. Horrible: free bomb ass food All. The. Time. And of course she goes and makes these incredible fresh, flaky, butter, fully of fatty goodness biscuits today. And of course she becomes absolutely elated when she wrenches them from her bag to give me a taste.
Ugh, fail. Serious fail. I was really disappointed with myself, but I am going to pick right back up tomorrow and SERIOUSLY start this whole lifestyle change. I KNOW I can do this. I just need to learn a little self control, which isn't supposed to be easy. I really do want to try this out so starting tomorrow, I tell myself NO.
Other than that, today I went and did some more volunteering. I legally can not give specifics of what I am doing, but today reminded me of why I reached out to to a Hospice facility to become a volunteer. I finally feel totally apart of something far, far bigger than myself.
I really suck. Hard core suckage going down. I can't seriously do anything for more than a day.
Here I am, day 2, failing hard. URG.
So it started with me saying no to chocolate truffles (a win, small, but still a win in my book). I get to the main classroom I work in and a coworker brought fresh pastries. FRESH DELICIOUS FRUIT PASTRIES. I obviously can never just give a resounding "NOPE". I love fruit pastries. They have fruit on them.... healthy! Right?!
Moving on, a student I work with is in a Foods class. Simultaneously the most awesome and horrible thing ever. Awesome: free bomb ass food. All. The. Time. Horrible: free bomb ass food All. The. Time. And of course she goes and makes these incredible fresh, flaky, butter, fully of fatty goodness biscuits today. And of course she becomes absolutely elated when she wrenches them from her bag to give me a taste.
Ugh, fail. Serious fail. I was really disappointed with myself, but I am going to pick right back up tomorrow and SERIOUSLY start this whole lifestyle change. I KNOW I can do this. I just need to learn a little self control, which isn't supposed to be easy. I really do want to try this out so starting tomorrow, I tell myself NO.
Other than that, today I went and did some more volunteering. I legally can not give specifics of what I am doing, but today reminded me of why I reached out to to a Hospice facility to become a volunteer. I finally feel totally apart of something far, far bigger than myself.
Jan 16, 2014
Being a Grown Up
I am still trying to figure out what exactly those words mean. I turn 25 this year. Twenty f*&!ing five. Shit. Didn't see that one coming. Why does it seem like the older we get, the more we realize how fast everything is. Sometimes it feels like I just turned 18 and was starting to spread my wings out in this great big world.....
But then it hits me that I turned 18 almost 7 years ago. I'm going to be a quarter century old. This seems surreal. And the best part??
I still have absolutely no idea where I am going.
Strangely enough, I am feeling pretty O.K. about not knowing. I hit my "what the fuck am I doing with my life" crisis my first year out of college.
But then it hits me that I turned 18 almost 7 years ago. I'm going to be a quarter century old. This seems surreal. And the best part??
I still have absolutely no idea where I am going.
Strangely enough, I am feeling pretty O.K. about not knowing. I hit my "what the fuck am I doing with my life" crisis my first year out of college.
The Challenge: Day 1
I gave up trying to be fancy on this blog a long, long (lonnnnnnng) time ago. If I actually decide to post pictures, just be glad I gave you the opportunity to gaze upon those photos in the first place.
But actually. Deal.
Anyway, yesterday I had an epiphany. Like most of my great epiphanies, I was hanging out in a bubble bath. I wanted to create a personal life style challenge for myself. So I came with a list of different things to try for the next 21 days.
ANDDDDDD HERE THEY ARE:
But actually. Deal.
Anyway, yesterday I had an epiphany. Like most of my great epiphanies, I was hanging out in a bubble bath. I wanted to create a personal life style challenge for myself. So I came with a list of different things to try for the next 21 days.
ANDDDDDD HERE THEY ARE:
- Cut out all Gluten*.
- Cut out all Dairy*.
- Go to the gym/workout every day
- Squat challege!
- Read for AT THE BARE MINIMUM of 30 minutes a day.
- Blog for 21 days straight.
*Special disclaimer for wanting to abstain from Gluten/ Dairy: NO, I AM NOT GOING PALEO. Don't get me started on how annoyed I get with "Paleo". I studied a lot of Prehistory in college. I am still eating beans. Hellsa delicious and happy beans. I regret nothing.
I originally wanted to cut out Gluten and Dairy products to see what kind of effect this would have on my skin. Since I moved to California, my skin has become significantly more irritated. I can not remember the last time I just had nice, normal, healthy skin.
Going to the gym can always be a challenge. This time I am ready to step up and get my booty back in gear!! I am also doing a 30 day squat challenge. So far my legs are dyingggggg.
Now comes for the blogging. I love to write journals. I also want to catalog all of my triumphs and how I am feeling over the next 21 days to see if this is a lifestyle change I would like to further pursue.
Day one proved to be much easier than normal. I did a decent job of really researching food before I put it in to my mouth hole. What sucks the most about making a lifestyle change like this? Money. I can't figure out why it cost me $4 to buy a tiny, tinnnnnnny thing of vegan butter.
like, come on.
ok.... on to day two!!!
Aug 7, 2013
My Beautiful Escape
VACATION OHHHHH YEAHHHHH !!!!!! |
| My favorite way to escape: Coffee, my glasses, and big poofy hair buns. |
I love escaping for a weekend. And this weekend it was the perfect getaway. My husband (who is just the greatest by the way), took me to his family cabin in Fallen Leaf Lake. It is in South Tahoe, but by god it is the most beautiful place! I felt so relaxed and peaceful. I can not emphasize that enough!
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| Gorgeous!!! |
PERFECT RIGHT?! I think I found my new private paradise. His family has a gorgeous cabin and their own private dock right on the lake. As you can see we spent ample amount of time just watching the sunsets, laying around and reading. I read Micro by Michael Crichton and half of The Hangman's Daughter in two days. I would recommend both books. I have such an eclectic taste in novels that I don't know if there is a book I would hate.... personal problem of mine.
I loved the quaint cabin and just spending time alone with Tucker. Even better: he cooked every single day we were there. One night, he made us turkey burgers that were to DIE for. He didn't even follow a recipe. I think I married Chef Boyardee.
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| The best kinds of kisses :) |
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| Gorgeous sunsets with my best friend. |
Jul 30, 2013
Food. My Love Affair With Food.
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| I play with my food constantly. Deal. |
Right now I am obsessed mostly with spicy fennel sausages (no idea where that came from) and kale. I COULD WRITE LOVE SONGS ABOUT KALE!!! Tucker and I make this soup which we attempted to healthify (and succeeded I may add) from Olive Garden. We call it our Kale Sausage soup.... I will put the recipe at the bottom of this post. It is dangerously simple. Only four ingredients and full of flavor!
Back to talking about food: I love to read about it. You can find cook books littering the floor around my bed. They are just so fun to go through and get inspired!! Most of my Pinterest page is dedicated to various foods I cook and I have started to find a lot of enjoyment in stalking various food themed blogs.
I love to shop for food. It is a deadly addiction. Seriously though, I would rather go grocery shopping instead of shoe shopping. It is near blasphemous, but it is vintage Jessie. I try to go in with a grocery list to save money, but I always see something that looks fun to cook and just buy it on spot. Then of course I get home and think, "what the hell am I supposed to do with this?!!" . My newest endeavor was with lamb. I know it is nothing too extreme, but I had never ventured that way before. I ate lamb my last two days in the Philippines and became addicted:
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| My roasted lamb, mashed cauliflower and Worcestershire sauteed mushrooms. FANTABULOUS! |
But, MOST of all, I love to COOK. Oh my god, do I love to cook!!!! After spending a month and a half in the Philippines and NOT being able to cook it was alllllll I wanted to do when I got home. I would day dream about going home and being able to hustle and bustle around my kitchen. I even food planned dinners for the two weeks after I came home.... which I of course neglected to follow.
Cooking is everything to me. It brings people together in a way that other things in life can't. It makes my heart happy to cook a gigantic gorgeous meal and then be praised for all my efforts. For instance: this past Christmas my Gram Grams was ill so I took all the Christmas responsibilities for the family and just went to town on Pinterest!
Why am I talking about food? Because I have decided to document food I make and eat on here. Writing down recipes and sharing them with you. Just another facet of Jessie. And a pretty big one at that.
Like I promised, my current favorite recipe! And souperrrrr simple at that!
Tucker and Jessie's Kale Sausage Soup:
1-2 cups Kale leaves (chopped, Tuck prefers if the steams are removed. I don't care)
3 cups Chicken Broth
3 Red Potatoes
1-2 Spicy Sausages.*
*This totally depends on your preferred level of carnivore. Or whatever kind of sausages you want. Tuck and I just realized the spiciness adds a bit of a zing to the broth!
Step 1: Cut open spicy sausage and remove meat from casing. Put in pan to brown.
Step 2: While sausage is browning: put the rest of ingredients in pot. Bring pot to boil until potatoes are fork tender. Turn heat down. (I usually let it boil for a while. Just my preference.)
Step 3: Combine steps 1 and 2
Step 4: Nom on that tasty business.
Obviously you can tweak this recipe however you see fit. It started as a knock off, but I didn't have any cream one day so we just rolled with the punches and made it anyway!
Another new healthy favorite meal: Poached egg on Arugula. Special thanks to Ms. Cassie Taylor, Ms. Stephanie Morris and my week in China for that little gem.
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| A perfect poach! After three tries.... shhhh! |
La Fondue. More About Wine.
My husband is the greatest. Just absolutely the GREATEST. Last night we did our usual 6 month visit to La Fondue... It's kind of sort of our spot. I just like to get fancy and drink wine. And eat. I really like to eat.
The owner is AMAZING. A great person who really cares about his customers!
Anyways... We had a bottle of Cabernet with dinner. Of course it got drank way too fast so, of course, Jessie bought a bottle of Malbec. I don't know what it is about Fondue, but I have to have Malbec when I have it.
I woke up this morning hating myself.
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| My fabulous date night with my fabbbbbulous mint dress! |
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| Jessie had far too many of these. |
Jul 29, 2013
I suck at blogs.
This is the truth.
In my own defense, the entire time I was in Kiangan there were only two places I could go to use the internet.
Place One: Our usual go to place had the worst internet I could have ever imagined. It was the office for Save The Ifugao Terraces Movement. At first I got annoyed with how awful the connection was, but by the end the place became like an escape from the field and the craziness that was accessioning.
Place Two: MARVIC'S! My favorite little store with the absolute best human beings I have ever met. They had an internet connection and we would guy buy ice cream and just stand in the aisles and talk to our loved ones.
This aside, I did keep a journal while I was in Kiagan. So, in order to post things on here and keep a hard record of it, I am going to write from the journal on to here and add photos/ deeper explanations. I wish I could have blogged at the time, but electronics were not exactly my forte while abroad. I was more concerned about dodging giant bugs and not getting a tape worm. This will all be explained later.
So that is that! Deal! I told you, writing can be hard in foreign countries!! Especially in places like Kiangan.... where life is beautiful and every where you turn there are kids playing, the most beautiful views and the happiest people you will ever meet.
Ok, as for this blog.... It is entitled "Indiana Jessie" and I am taking that to mean all sorts of adventures. My life adventures, my across the world adventures.... my cooking adventures. This life of mine is one big adventure and I fully plan on living it that way.
So far, so good :)
In my own defense, the entire time I was in Kiangan there were only two places I could go to use the internet.
Place One: Our usual go to place had the worst internet I could have ever imagined. It was the office for Save The Ifugao Terraces Movement. At first I got annoyed with how awful the connection was, but by the end the place became like an escape from the field and the craziness that was accessioning.
Place Two: MARVIC'S! My favorite little store with the absolute best human beings I have ever met. They had an internet connection and we would guy buy ice cream and just stand in the aisles and talk to our loved ones.
This aside, I did keep a journal while I was in Kiagan. So, in order to post things on here and keep a hard record of it, I am going to write from the journal on to here and add photos/ deeper explanations. I wish I could have blogged at the time, but electronics were not exactly my forte while abroad. I was more concerned about dodging giant bugs and not getting a tape worm. This will all be explained later.
So that is that! Deal! I told you, writing can be hard in foreign countries!! Especially in places like Kiangan.... where life is beautiful and every where you turn there are kids playing, the most beautiful views and the happiest people you will ever meet.
Ok, as for this blog.... It is entitled "Indiana Jessie" and I am taking that to mean all sorts of adventures. My life adventures, my across the world adventures.... my cooking adventures. This life of mine is one big adventure and I fully plan on living it that way.
So far, so good :)
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