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Chris and Spice Jones at The Blue Marlin on Anna Maria Island

Fresh seafood, Bluegrass and msweetie all within 100′ of the Gulf’s warm waves make it impossible for me to keep my blogging promises while on the road. Chris and I at The Blue Marlin on Anna Maria Island.

It’s been a whole month since I’ve posted and even I’m telling myself “great job on the resolutions, Spice, way to not knock 2012 out of the park.” Then again, I’m refusing to give myself too much grief. Even though I have nothing tangible to show for the past 6 weeks I have been crazy busy problem solving for the masses (i.e. our social calendar), getting the new condo in Atlanta sorted out, kicking off the 2012 Wedding Planning season, festival going, producing a cancelled shoot (veins in my neck are still pulsing), brunching with my mother’s fabulous friends, going to a Florida wedding for one of Chris’ buddies, vacationing for our 6th Anniversary, beating the neglected yard back into submission to reestablish the garden, keeping my volunteer commitments even though I wanted to blow them off, and basically doing my best to become a much better person then I was when I last blogged…I know, hard to believe it’s even possible. Any-hoo, if memory serves me correctly, this year’s blogging resolutions lasted about three weeks longer then last year’s so technically, even if I were to stop now, the pro-procrastinator in me can reason that I have, in fact, achieved my goal of being a more dedicated blogger in 2012.

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Today in Boulder…

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When in Atlanta I keep tabs on Boulder through the Daily Camera. I know, I know, but I figure its facts are close enough when it comes to the “issues” of The Bubble.

You can imagine the disappointment of opening up this morning’s edition of journalistic gold and realizing I’m away during one of my favorite Boulder traditions, Spring Bear Management. The bears come down from the mountains to break hibernation and enjoy the first fruits of Spring (read, raid garbage cans, pillage bird feeders, break into houses and rip the hinges off of refrigerators while the family is locked in the bathroom) and the Boulder City Open Spaces Rangers do their best to devise plans that will not only condition the bears from their favorite activities but that will also appease the environmentalist who just want to let the bears do their thing, cause after all, “WE are the guests in THEIR home”.

Any who, as I watch the management schemes unfold I’m always reminded of Wiley Coyote’s sketches for trapping Road Runner and can’t resist the chuckle. Some of them get pretty elaborate. Do the Bear traps ever work? Well, it’s hard to say. The success rate for conditioning the “worst offenders” (those bears who continue to come back again and agian) hangs just above nill but in Boulder, success is measured in how WE feel so I’m guessing (by the graceful fall of a 800 lb bear onto a 10″ gymnastic mat designed to catch a 98 lb girl) that this attempt was very successful!

Enjoy the ride to Crested Butte, Mr. Bear! I’ll be looking forward to seeing you and your appetite again next Spring!

Spice Jones

Vegetarian Blues…

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I’ve been a vegetarian for over 20 years. I wish I could offer some magnanimous reason for not eating meat but I’m afraid it boils down to being so grossed out by the raw chicken I worked with during my 2 year stint at Bolton Dining Hall (UGA) that I haven’t been able to eat anything processed in a packing plant ever since.

I was a Student Manager for the dinner shift and one of my many roles was to check-in the 20,000+ chicken breasts that arrived each week. About 3 chickens into the first shipment I made the decision to stop eating food that had been touched by human hands…the chicken wasn’t the problem, it was all the filth and human grim that came with the birds. Of course the cleanliness of the dorm kitchen kaboshed that plan so I switched my conviction to include fried foods that were too hot to be touched and things I had washed with bleach in the laundry room sink. I dropped 10 pounds in my first two weeks of school.

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Easter Saturday Traditions

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Mom has all the holiday photos from when we were little so I'm afraid I can't offer any proof that we really did wear white gloves with Easter tights. But I think this photo fits the story well. I'm sure you can imagine the craziness on Easter Eve with all these little girls. Missie is in the shorts, Fawn is in the blue jumper, Spring is in the stripes, Taffy is in red and I'm in mom's arms... because I'm the favorite.

As I was putting on my yard clothes to go outside and mow the lawn (for Easter mind you) I caught myself having the same conversation in my head that we use to have with our parents every Easter Saturday.

Us – “Why do we have to do the yard??? It’s our holiday too, ya know! We aren’t supposed to work!”

Mom or Dad (or both) – “Because the yard has to look nice for Easter.”

Us – “Buuut!!!”

Them – “Go!!”

Us – “It’s not fair!!!  GAW!!!”

Them – “How ’bout we don’t celebrate Easter this year?”

Us -(silence)

This got me thinking about the entire day and all the little things we would do to prepare for Easter Sunday.  Basically, Easter Saturday went a little something like this:

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