Tag Archives: friends

Yo Friday, you were good to me.

5:40 am knock on the door, my alarm had been quacking off for about 10 minutes (yes, I wake up to a pre-programmed mallard duck calling), time to head to Capitol Hill and take Jessie’s Barre3 class.

Greatest way to wake up ever, listening to this song while holding positions my body didn’t think possible. Props to Jessie for this irresistibly good song.

(and for the record Jessie, I was damn sore the next day)

It was then off to Skillet up on Capitol Hill where servers wearing their yes, server uniform of yes, flannel, brought coffee and the kind of breakfast sandwich that closed up a few arteries on the way down. And after all of this excitement pre 9:00 am, I decided to make a real morning out of it and run round Green Lake. Pandora of choice: Prince. First song that piped in, this:

Plans were made to watch Ryan Gosling do his thing on the big screen but alas Jessie and I ended up enjoying the muggy night weather with beers on the Six Arms patio. Our server boldly called me a cigarette Nazi (I simply asked if the clam chowder came with cigarette butts as he was on a smoke break conveniently conversation distance from the table), and he literally (Aaaaaaanneee Perkins!) did a running man-thumbs up dance while trying to convince us to take any shot ending in bomb, we discussed favorite Seinfeld episodes, and I made a reference to Jersey Shore completely out of context- the reference itself was idiotic let alone trying to validate what I was even talking about.


A few filtered photos from the Duck fun

During and post duck game. We asked a guy to take a photo of us near the Red Door in Fremont..clearly failed.

Jessie, clearly you’re swacking my lazy lid, get outtaaa heeyaa

Accidental hipster photo, OOPS

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It’s not you…it’s me?

Ah yes, the “Best Friend Break Up,” even Urban Dictionary couldn’t create a witty way to put it. But we’ve all been there, and may agree, this can be harder than ending it with the actual boyfriend/girlfriend. The last friend break up I had was in sixth grade, I was in line to play handball when some chick named Monique pushed me *playfully* which in turned caused me to flail superman style into one of my “best friends” who was also the Queen B of the recess.

The silence that followed this little slap on the cheek was a sound unheard of at recess, which by the way Erin, was a total accident…but if I could go back again I think I’d do it a second time. But alas, from there on out, I could not play tether-ball if she was playing, I could not participate in truth or dare in the back corner. Even though I was that kid to accept the worm eating dare. And so life went on as miserable as it could get for a sixth grader. I wasn’t some squirmy 80lb kid for long with no one to play with, I had my little clicks of girls who we would pass notes to, doodled with hearts and folded in odd ways to create a “lock” on the note. And found a friend who has been my best bud for a solid 11 years. (this does not give her justice, future post to come on this woman)

I have recently had to perform another break up with a best friend. No name naming. But it’s tricky, you don’t have friend break ups because of a silly slap while in line unless you’re on Jersey Shore, or are still playing handball at 24, which in that case, call me. Things become difficult, there’s blame, sadness, and an emptiness that when you’re in your twenties can be filled with more friends, work, bars, races, but you still want to share these things with that person, because he thinks you’re funny.

I hate ending on a woe is me note, but I need to be at work in 30 minutes and I’m only one coffee deep. Until next time!

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The (Baby) Crib

A month overdue, here is the temporary spot. It’s a good size, sandwiched between downtown and Capitol Hill, what more could a girl ask for? Most of these photos were taken from my phone, so they aren’t the best quality, but you’ll get it.

Came back from the frigid weather in Minnesota to this view from my window

…And maybe I haven’t left college quite yet? Had a mason jar of vino while unpacking

The living room.family room.bedroom, its bright by 7am. Good moooorning Seaaattle

So, since I don’t have internet at my place, I often trek up to Capitol Hill for some Wifi. This lovely lady has been my best friend since middle school and is currently playing water polo in Italy. It was maybe an hour after I had cut my bangs, and we were doing our usual catch up sesh via Skype. Her face froze like this for a few minutes mid story

My two other closest friends out to brunch as Rosebud. Twelve bucks each for a decent meal, mimosa, and coffee. The odds of the champagne being cooks? High, but who cares

And last but not least, the adorable little one ass kitchen

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My Lovely Fried Turkey Family

A few photos from the 2010 Baumgartner & Purinton Thanksgiving…

One of two turkeys we fried up in our backyard for the feast for 18 family and friends.

All in all, this year’s Thanksgiving was pleasant, with plenty of food, wine, friends, family, and card games all around. One story I wanted to share before diving into these photos was a comment my Grandma made while making a pit stop at the Kid’s Table. My grandma is one of the hardest working women I know, and will swear when appropriate, but can sometimes be oblivious, as grandmothers might be, to the things that she says. So, we are all sitting there, a turkey glaze in our eyes playing the penis game (you start saying penis and each time saying ‘PENIS’ louder than the next, a pointless game that I shouldn’t play as a twenty-two year old, but whatever) My grandma pops a squat next to me and says, “Oh boy guys, I am back on the turkey.” We all turn to her, “what do you mean grandma?” My sister asks giggling. “Honey, I am having seconds of turkey, I just can’t get enough of it!” We all laugh along, my grandma yawns, and goes beyond loving turkey, “girls, I gotta tell you, I just love dark meat.” Okay, it’s so inappropriate to find this humorous, but I couldn’t stop laughing, as my grandmother was still oblivious to her unintentional sexual reference. “That dark meet, I’ll tell ya,” she continues, “once you have some of that, the white meat just doesn’t compare.” (Insert tears I am laughing so hard.) She is still out of the loop but sits there, sighs a bit longer, strokes the table a few times and leaves to retire to the bedroom with this comment, “I just love this soft wood.” Will somebody PLEASE tell me what she might have been on aside the meat train?!

Dad raising Ye Olde Turkey.

SPOTTED: The Gang waits for the turkey.


Proving that I was an idiot and ran outside barefoot to take pictures of the raising of the turkey!

This just about sums up the brother – sister bond.

My dad and my sister’s boyfriend, Sam, showed some forced but adorable love.

My Grandma and my sister posing for a photo while baking rolls and pies.

Sally, Sam, and Jacob, kickin’ it at the Kid’s table.

Sally and Sam! Both got sick of my camera, deal with it.

Influenced by their crazy aunt, my mother, my Uncle John got whip-creamed post dinner.

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13.1 Miles Complete

Photo Cred: Rachel Bellamy

*Actual RACE PHOTOS to come!!

The past couple of years, half marathons have been events I sign up for months and months in advance, giving me time to train and prepare for the long haul. The Bellingham Bay Half Marathon couldn’t have been on a better day. It was a typical Northwest gloomy morning, the kind of morning you curl up in that old favorite sweatshirt, make a pot of coffee, and read a good book- or wake up and go for a (hellish long) run. Jessie and I met up near our old High Street house and marched down to the Bagelry for coffee and some good ol’ carbo-load, we watched as people in their trendy spandex and runners walked towards the starting line just a block away. “Uh-uh”, Jessie shook her head and rolled her eyes at me. “Never, ever wear your race shirt on race day, it’s like wearing your concert t shirt at a concert.” Three people ahead of us in line, and there she was: a woman sporting her freshly purchased shirt- yikes. Mental note everyone, wear an old marathon t shirt/half marathon- you look like a pro this way, even if it did cost you two bucks at Value Village.

So, the first 8 miles we were cookin’, hoping cones, singing songs aloud and passing people left and right. Mile 9- we passed the finish line on our way to complete the last 4 miles. The last 2 mile stretch was something I was not prepared for, it was mentally exhausting, my knees were about to cave, and I was seeing spots. But alas, the finish line came into sight and it was just about the most rewarding feeling to stop moving my feet and to see all of my lovely friends standing in the rain to cheer me on. It’s a harsh reality, when you find yourself using any free time you have to sleep or eat a meal. Working so much can be exhausting, but now I just have to kick myself in gear and quit hitting the snooze button. I can handle getting up an hour early and going for a jog, I just have to pull myself out of my down comforter coma and suck it up.

Mustaches were purchased, and margaritas were sipped on in celebration. Looking forward to the next half.

Thank you Jessie, Peter, Schu, Amy, Jamie, and Rachel!

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