<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232</id><updated>2011-07-29T03:49:44.089-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Every encounter happens only once</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-1398338571896708094</id><published>2009-07-21T18:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T18:59:12.779-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandma Aamodt</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SmZHvLXIaaI/AAAAAAAAAQw/pIeb2MGc-es/s1600-h/C001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SmZHvLXIaaI/AAAAAAAAAQw/pIeb2MGc-es/s320/C001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361051282260388258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;3 October 1919 - 10 July 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Utah farm girl gone NYC career woman then DC housewife.&lt;br /&gt;Sassiness, strength, and always plenty of giggles.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-1398338571896708094?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/1398338571896708094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=1398338571896708094' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1398338571896708094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1398338571896708094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2009/07/grandma-aamodt.html' title='Grandma Aamodt'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SmZHvLXIaaI/AAAAAAAAAQw/pIeb2MGc-es/s72-c/C001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-183956894265011680</id><published>2009-04-10T00:59:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T01:14:12.318-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandpa Aamodt</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/Sd7Snw484jI/AAAAAAAAAQo/PsGih9Tk5WQ/s1600-h/L032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/Sd7Snw484jI/AAAAAAAAAQo/PsGih9Tk5WQ/s320/L032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322923390179009074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;19 July 1922 - 7 April 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for reaching so high to make your dreams come true.&lt;br /&gt;They made all of mine possible.&lt;br /&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-183956894265011680?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/183956894265011680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=183956894265011680' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/183956894265011680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/183956894265011680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2009/04/grandpa-aamodt.html' title='Grandpa Aamodt'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/Sd7Snw484jI/AAAAAAAAAQo/PsGih9Tk5WQ/s72-c/L032.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-7874526052060852887</id><published>2009-01-01T13:12:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T13:35:28.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I give them a hard time but...</title><content type='html'>Despite their gaping lack of human or even animal geneticists, the exclusively plant-oriented genetics program at BYU really does make significant contributions toward solving world-wide agricultural problems.  Instead of immediately deleting my copy of alumni news I actually opened it and saw &lt;a href="http://byunews.byu.edu/archive08-Dec-saltwater.aspx"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; article.  I know that in addition to working on growing these plants in salty conditions, they have also been making significant progress toward isolating the salt-tolerant gene (which codes for an intermembrane protein that essentially "pumps" salt out of the cells) in hopes of being able to incorperate it into the genome of some of the cereal grains to allow their growth in salty environments as well.  Cool huh?  Even I think that's exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, way to go all you professors who I loved but just couldn't bring myself to do research with.  Plants aren't for me, but thanks for being so excited about them (and believe me, all of them are absolutely CRAZY about their plants). Thanks for continuing to make these kinds of contributions which significantly affect global health and nutrition.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-7874526052060852887?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/7874526052060852887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=7874526052060852887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7874526052060852887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7874526052060852887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-give-them-hard-time-but.html' title='I give them a hard time but...'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8342606603490491662</id><published>2008-12-29T17:58:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T13:27:10.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Phoenix Rising</title><content type='html'>While reading the book &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Phoenix Rising&lt;/span&gt; in middle school I became intrigued by the symbolism of the mythical phoenix.  This type of fascination happened a lot during my elementary and middle school years with anything from the phoenix, to the Pony Express, the founding of the thirteen colonies, origami, and the list continues.  I would become obsessed, reading everything I could, spending hours in the library searching for and studying primary and secondary sources.  The summer of my thirteen colonies obsession I even went so far as to write a paper...during my summer vacation...of my own volition.  My mom thought I was crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After having thrown my little ignorant self so passionately into searching for information on my latest academic obsession I always felt a sort of ownership of the subject, even after moving on to something new.  So, even though years had passed, when the phoenix gained notoriety from its presence in the wildly-popular Harry Potter books I felt a little pang, as if my secret, meaningful symbol was somehow diminished by being in the public eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since reading those books though I really haven't given the phoenix much thought at all. But recently as I've pondered everything that has happened over the past few months, weeks, and days, the symbol of my childhood obsession has come powerfully, and I think, appropriately back into my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SVpnx1sM_1I/AAAAAAAAAPI/SN3P21j4nig/s1600-h/phoenix.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 288px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SVpnx1sM_1I/AAAAAAAAAPI/SN3P21j4nig/s320/phoenix.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285651218596429650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This fall was entirely consumed by my application process, which nearly destroyed me.  I'm really not kidding.  Working full time and trying to complete over 80 essay questions was much more difficult than I thought it would be, and as a result I ended up having to settle for less than perfect quality several times just to get the applications out of my hands.  To be fair though, while the process was painful, it was also enlightening, and allowed me to clarify my intentions, goals and desires to myself as well as to prospective programs.  But, by the time I had turned in the last one I had written over fifty-five single-spaced pages of essays and was completely burned out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week after I finished I began the next stage of the game: interviews (which I discovered are MUCH more fun than applications).  I also indulged myself by reading six books that first week, and a steady helping since then.  I then jumped on a plane to travel home for my little sister's wedding to her childhood friend.  Then helped my mom throw a whirlwind Christmas.  Then traveled to Tennessee where my sister's in-laws (who happen to be really good family friends) were throwing an open house.  Then drove back to Virginia to get the newlyweds packed up and settled in their house before my sister's new husband is deployed to Iraq next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, despite all of the marvelous family time I still feel as though I haven't quite recouped from all the craziness that has been my life recently.  Today is my birthday, and in addition to being close to the celebration of Christ's birth, and the new year, it's also a day when I remember my grandpa, who I used to share a birthday celebration with and who was the model of the kind of human being and scientist I want to be. So naturally, I've been reflecting on where my life is heading, how my choices are affecting that heading, and what I need to do differently to make sure I stay on course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I get discouraged by how often it seems like I need to reevaluate my priorities, and essentially straighten myself out. But I'm beginning to realize this self-renewal is not such a bad thing.  Enter the phoenix.  As the beautiful bird nears the end of its life it builds a nest which it then ignites.  The nest and bird are burned until only ashes remain.  A new phoenix then rises from the ashes of its old self and begins life anew.  In some versions, the new bird even gathers  and encases the ashes of its old life in an egg, which it brings to the heavens as an offering to the gods before returning to earth.  So, instead of limping along trying to pick up pieces of my life, I think I need to make the choice to start afresh, wipe my slate clean, and like a phoenix rising from the ashes, offer those parts of me that I've burned to the heavens and begin again, a new creature.  I am grateful that the gift of the atonement, which we celebrate this season, provides me with the opportunities for renewal that I've needed and will continue to need throughout my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8342606603490491662?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8342606603490491662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8342606603490491662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8342606603490491662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8342606603490491662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/12/phoenix-rising.html' title='Phoenix Rising'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SVpnx1sM_1I/AAAAAAAAAPI/SN3P21j4nig/s72-c/phoenix.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-1433332004393253927</id><published>2008-12-25T00:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T00:27:31.008-05:00</updated><title type='text'>in case you were wondering.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.isitchristmas.com/"&gt;www.isitchristmas.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-1433332004393253927?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/1433332004393253927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=1433332004393253927' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1433332004393253927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1433332004393253927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/12/in-case-you-were-wondering.html' title='in case you were wondering.'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-3679233774917421363</id><published>2008-10-18T00:01:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T01:15:06.108-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Autumnal Musings</title><content type='html'>So, it's usually around this time of year that my thoughts turn home-ward.  This is the time when I not only make sure I'm all caught up on the local Virginia politics (which is always really hilarious to me...can I just say, I absolutely LOVE small-town Virginia) but I get really homesick for the foliage in the Valley.  Don't get me wrong, I am relishing in the gorgeous Boston fall.  In the morning on my way to work I bike down one of the most beautiful roads in the city and it has been completely lovely enjoying the sunlight shining through the collage of colored leaves every day.  I honestly can't image a better way to begin my days.  But...it still isn't the Shenandoah Valley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just going to live vicariously for a moment through other people's photos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SPlrw9nnSwI/AAAAAAAAAOo/WCxNrJtHmfo/s1600-h/69747353.inL5jEn8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SPlrw9nnSwI/AAAAAAAAAOo/WCxNrJtHmfo/s320/69747353.inL5jEn8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258352528850373378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SPlrxEn8KeI/AAAAAAAAAO4/kC2lO1QnKg4/s1600-h/141122-shenandoah_fall-b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SPlrxEn8KeI/AAAAAAAAAO4/kC2lO1QnKg4/s320/141122-shenandoah_fall-b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258352530730789346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SPlrxCS8r8I/AAAAAAAAAOw/FrgdXAye1x4/s1600-h/WN0P4827_5_6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SPlrxCS8r8I/AAAAAAAAAOw/FrgdXAye1x4/s320/WN0P4827_5_6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258352530105872322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SPlrxUJ3JdI/AAAAAAAAAPA/JmjXQnrrZAM/s1600-h/7158069.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SPlrxUJ3JdI/AAAAAAAAAPA/JmjXQnrrZAM/s320/7158069.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258352534899598802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously, I'm living in New England, so really you shouldn't feel sorry for me cause I have nothing to complain about.  I mean, some people spend autumn in the desert where there are NO trees.  Feel sorry for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back to the politics.  As frustrated as I've been over the presidential election, it feels really good to be confident in my decisions about my senate, house, and local elections.  Knowing that I'll be able to use my vote to change things for good, if not in the nation, at least in my home state and community is quite comforting.  What I've come to realize about the presidential election is that no choice is perfect and I can't change that reality.  However, I can be confident that I've done my best to weigh the options and now it's time to make a choice.  And that's that.  Oh yeah, my ballot came in the mail today which is why I'm doing my final analysis/obsessing about elections.  Considering that VA is technically a swing state in the presidential election, I feel extra important.  Well, that's about all I have to say at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just make sure to vote...and enjoy the fall, cause it's fleeting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-3679233774917421363?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/3679233774917421363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=3679233774917421363' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3679233774917421363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3679233774917421363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/10/autumnal-musings.html' title='Autumnal Musings'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SPlrw9nnSwI/AAAAAAAAAOo/WCxNrJtHmfo/s72-c/69747353.inL5jEn8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8896477484661830841</id><published>2008-10-04T00:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T01:13:54.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tidbits from the mind of an exhaustified Kristie</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have become my own worst nightmare!!!!  Although I think that I secretly still hold on to the belief that I am better than most pre-meds, I'm pretty sure that I have become an annoying, neurotic, nitpicking, crazy person.  I am now one of &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;them&lt;/span&gt;!!!  Egads!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why hasn't the CVS on the corner opened up the other part of their building yet?  It has been over a year now.  Is it still "coming soon"?  Plus I'm really curious to know how the empty part I see in the window actually connects to the rest of the store.  It confuses me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm pretty sure I'm going to withdraw my application from Northwestern because some of their application procedures are downright ridiculous.  I'm waiting to hear back from them still, but I'm definitely warming to the idea of saving myself $85 by not turning in their secondary.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This whole getting accepted thing is totally random and I'm pretty sure that I have finally entirely, undeniably, completely realized that I have no control over where I am going to get into school.  I mean, I'll do my best on interviews and everything, but I'm pretty sure that the outcome of this insane process will be a nonsensical surprise.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love the smell of cinnamon and spices in the fall.  I'm smelling it now because I just spent way more money than I should have on yummy candles but it's totally worth it because it's therapeutic for me and I need therapeutic right now.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I may have a black thumb of death when it comes to plants.  This fact breaks my heart into a million tiny pieces but I'm afraid it's true.  I've been in denial for a really long time because I love green things and wish I could keep them alive.  Maybe I need to take a class or something and put more effort into self-improvement before completely giving up and going plastic.  The fact that I'm admitting there's a problem is a big step forward though.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My living room is orange.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I got so excited/relieved at work today because I found out that Invitrogen is going to save me months of tedious work isolating RNA, making cDNA, and cloning it because they sell ready-made vectors for each of the proteins I need DNA for!  Seriously, this is the best news I've gotten/discovered in a really long time.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;yum...cinnamon&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8896477484661830841?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8896477484661830841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8896477484661830841' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8896477484661830841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8896477484661830841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/10/tidbits-from-mind-of-exhaustified.html' title='Tidbits from the mind of an exhaustified Kristie'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8334000465602029155</id><published>2008-09-21T16:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T16:47:41.391-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It has begun!!!</title><content type='html'>Today after coming home from a campout I went to this weekend I checked my email, and right there in my inbox was my first secondary application!!!  Due to extreme craziness in my life over the past few weeks including temporarily living as a homeless person (Dan, you have officially received at least 1000 points in heaven for sheltering the homeless) and then moving into an absolute pig sty once the crazy lady and her cats finally moved out and starting a new job on top of all of it all...I just barely turned in my primary application Friday morning.  (It was going to be in Thursday night, but I was so tired that I fell asleep face-down on my computer while doing the final edits on my last essay).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I wasn't expecting to hear from schools until mid-week at the earliest, but to my surprise they have already started rolling in, and I'm hoping they'll keep coming, then be followed by interview offers, then (cross my fingers) acceptance letters.  I've been so tied up and worried about everything that it is kind of exciting to be at this point now, and to really be doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I'm going to be perfectly honest, I think one reason why I initially delayed turning my application in was because it finally hit me around the middle of the summer the full extent of what I was committing to.  Other than making a huge time commitment for the actual schooling, getting this degree means committing myself to a lifestyle that is difficult and time-consuming with the potential to be completely heart-breaking at times and exhilerating at others.  And that commitment is incredibly scary, no matter how certain I am that this is something I'm supposed to do with my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what's even scarier is that I've realized that it is entirely my choice, and I'm the one who is going to be living with the consequences of that choice, good or bad.  I could choose a life and career that is much easier, much more lucritive, and much more relaxing, but I would miss out on the opportunites that lie ahead of me to succor those in need of succor, and find answers for those whose lives are in my hands.  Needless to say, these and other similar thoughts have given me cause to pause this summer and really think about what it means for me to do this, and what I want for my life, and most importantly, what Heavenly Father wants for me.  As I'm pretty sure I've mentioned multiple times before, I don't know how everything is going to work out, and having faith can be really frightning, but I'm trying my hardest to walk toward this decision with faith that the Lord knows what He's doing with my life much better than I do.  So, we'll see what the coming months bring, but regardless of what may happen I just hope I have enough courage to keep Him at the helm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8334000465602029155?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8334000465602029155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8334000465602029155' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8334000465602029155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8334000465602029155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/09/it-has-begun.html' title='It has begun!!!'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-5552788294479327523</id><published>2008-09-02T00:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T00:12:01.095-04:00</updated><title type='text'>squatters and other headaches</title><content type='html'>So I signed a lease to move into a new apartment today, but one of the former tenants refused to move out.  Story to follow in a few days...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I'm starting work tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one piece of happy news amidst the nightmare that was today: my new roommates are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;incredible&lt;/span&gt; and we are going to have SO much fun this year...once we can actually move into our apartment.&lt;a id="publishButton" class="cssButton" href="javascript:void(0)" onclick="if (this.className.indexOf(&amp;quot;ubtn-disabled&amp;quot;) == -1) {var e = document['stuffform'].publish;(e.length) ? e[0].click() : e.click(); if (window.event) window.event.cancelBubble = true; return false;}"&gt;&lt;div class="cssButtonOuter"&gt;&lt;div class="cssButtonMiddle"&gt;&lt;div class="cssButtonInner"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-5552788294479327523?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/5552788294479327523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=5552788294479327523' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/5552788294479327523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/5552788294479327523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/09/squatters-and-other-headaches.html' title='squatters and other headaches'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-7183729733701632756</id><published>2008-09-01T00:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T00:17:55.534-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Personal Fact #1</title><content type='html'>I squeeze from the middle...but sometimes from the end...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I don't think I know what kind of tube squeezer I am.  (Isn't that something you're supposed to know about yourself?  Oops.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly though, does it really matter where on the toothpaste tube the squeezing action happens?  I'm pretty sure it has never occurred to me before tonight to even pay attention to my tube squeezing habits.  Hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do prefer the toilet paper to be dispensed with the loose end over the top though.  I even sometimes change the direction of rolls that have it coming from the bottom.  So see.  I can be mildly obsessive about some things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-7183729733701632756?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/7183729733701632756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=7183729733701632756' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7183729733701632756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7183729733701632756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/09/random-personal-fact-1.html' title='Random Personal Fact #1'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-3449768639533918958</id><published>2008-08-29T01:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T03:10:17.450-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Politically Frustrated</title><content type='html'>I am all sorts of jumbled up inside, and it's late so I'm probably not going to be able to clearly articulate all of the reasons for my jumbledness, but I have to let out some of my frustration in whatever way I can or else I might explode.  And, at the moment this blog is my outlet...so here we go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I have spend hours and hours (seriously, A LOT of time) studying all of the issues at stake in this election, and most importantly I have carefully studied both Obama and McCain's plans for actually implementing the changes that need to take place (and really, they both do acknowledge exactly the same problems, although they may diagnose and prescribe change differently).  In addition to studying pretty much everything that has been officially published by each campaign, the candidates' speeches, voting records, etc.  I have also talked to several people who I feel are much more informed than me and deal with the problems our country faces in more real ways than I do (soldiers, doctors, other healthcare workers, immigrants, etc). Their thoughts and feelings about the issues, candidates, and proposed solutions have been extremely enlightening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd hoped that after spending all of this time asking questions and studying out the issues that my answer about who to vote for would be crystal clear, but alas...I'm still totally conflicted.  I have filled pages (a lot of them) with the concerns I have with each candidate and their proposed policies, and still feel like I am no closer to resolving the issues and weighing the pros and cons than I was when I started.  I think one of the things that makes it so difficult for me is that you never really know which of the promised policies are going to be implemented, and if they are implemented, what compromises will have had to be made in order to carry them all the way through from being "just talk" to actuality?  Also, what if you elect a candidate and everything that you liked about his or her platform never amounts to anything and everything you hated actually does?  EEK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, is it just their platform that matters since that is the actual substance of their candidacy?  Or does it matter that they talk pretty and look pretty too?  I definitely know that it is quite embarrassing to have such an inarticulate president, so that makes it seem like it should count for something.   Okay, I wanted to keep this totally theoretical and not get into the specific candidates, but it's hard to avoid.  I confess, I love Obama's speeches.  It's hard not to.  They are inspiring, beautiful, and full of ice cream and rainbows.  However, when I juxtapose his idealistic rhetoric about America and Americans with his actual proposed policy changes, they don't always match up.  So pretty much always I find myself agreeing with his words, but at the same time seriously doubting that the reality of the solutions he is proposing will actually create that ideal America he speaks of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, like I said I didn't mean to actually go into the specific candidates because now I feel like I have to say something about my misgivings about McCain, but even the thought of attempting that exhausts me, so it will have to wait for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, my list of pros, cons, and concerns grows.  I hope that the debates will help clear some of them up, but honestly, I don't know how much of this campaign jargon I can believe.  I think what scares me the most about this election (and I'm pretty sure it isn't new to this specific one, but I just must be more aware of it than I have been in the past) is that I feel like voters are not informing themselves enough independently from what the candidates are saying.  Maybe I just have major trust issues, and maybe you'll think I'm a pessimist, but it seems like we often forget that these people are catering to the ignorant masses and at least to some extent will say anything to be elected.  Remember, the whole President of the United States thing is a pretty envied job.  Are we actually studying out the issues?  Why do the problems we face really exist? (At election time candidates seem to simply blame each other, or someone or something else, which both candidates, true to form, seem to be doing.)  What has been attempted in the past to solve these problems?  What has worked?  What hasn't?  What do those who actually deal with them on a daily basis think? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I quote this way too often, but as Elder Maxwell says, "it's so easy to be indignant without being intelligent."  Candidates work to make us indignant.  It's what gets them elected.  But it's our job to be intelligent.  Let's not be ignorant and let's be aware of who is feeding us the information and ideas we are clinging to at this critical decision-making time.  I love the quote engraved on the Boston Public Library: "The commonwealth requires the education of the people as the safeguard of order and liberty."  I truly believe that the choice we make as citizens to be intelligent and educated &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;before&lt;/span&gt; becoming indignant and acting out of that indignation is just as critical now as it was in revolutionary times to safeguard those very ideals candidates are throwing around left and right.  In deciding how to exercise my right to vote it is up to me to become fully educated and know exactly where I stand so I can weight the candidates based on what is truly important to me and not simply on what they are telling me should be important.  That's what I'm trying my hardest to do, and what I hope I'll be able to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thus endeth this absurdly lengthy, and disturbingly inarticulate rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gracious!  I can't believe how late/early it got!  Yikes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-3449768639533918958?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/3449768639533918958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=3449768639533918958' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3449768639533918958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3449768639533918958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/08/politically-frustrated.html' title='Politically Frustrated'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-4056172560601784668</id><published>2008-08-19T11:21:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T11:37:41.115-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hitting and Being Hit</title><content type='html'>So today one of my worst fears as a biker in Boston was realized.  I was pulling up to a stop light and all of a sudden the front door of a van pops open right in front of me, slamming full-force into my right arm.  I suppose I should be grateful because it could have been a lot worse.  I was slowing down for the light anyway, and wasn't entirely knocked off my bike, but regardless it still hurt really, REALLY badly.  Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And sorry, but I'm going to continue my whine fest because to top it all off, I had to get my blood drawn today too.  And of course my injured arm is the only one with veins near the surface.  Despite that though, it still took two people digging around in my arm with needles for about five minutes before they could even hit one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring on the bruises!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This must just be payback for me running into that pedestrian a few months ago (don't worry, I was on my bike, and in my defense, she stepped out right in front of me without looking to see if anyone was coming).  Congratulations universe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-4056172560601784668?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/4056172560601784668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=4056172560601784668' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/4056172560601784668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/4056172560601784668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/08/hitting-and-being-hit.html' title='Hitting and Being Hit'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8277919744680727053</id><published>2008-08-13T18:27:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T18:37:32.142-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you think it's too late?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Really, &lt;a href="http://www.nbcolympics.com/video/share.html?videoid=0811_SD_EQB_HL_L1611"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; is what I wanted to be when I grew up.  What happened?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SKNiC4WM5oI/AAAAAAAAALQ/W7XCPy0X7mA/s1600-h/jumping+horse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SKNiC4WM5oI/AAAAAAAAALQ/W7XCPy0X7mA/s320/jumping+horse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234134993559414402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Honestly, nothing in the world is as exhilarating as going top speed on an incredible animal on a  cross-country course....man...I've gotta get back on a horse.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8277919744680727053?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8277919744680727053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8277919744680727053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8277919744680727053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8277919744680727053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/08/do-you-think-its-too-late.html' title='Do you think it&apos;s too late?'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SKNiC4WM5oI/AAAAAAAAALQ/W7XCPy0X7mA/s72-c/jumping+horse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-6715105179574442900</id><published>2008-08-08T18:45:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T21:56:29.545-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I never want to be a....when I grow up</title><content type='html'>Alright, so I have spent the past few days going mildly insane trying to find a place to live next year.  I have never in my life dealt with more sleazy real estate agents, seen more vomit-inducing apartments, been so incredibly indecisive, entirely lost my appetite for days at a time (well, except when I was studying for the MCAT), made so many "I need you to help me calm down" emergency phone calls to my mom, worried so much about whether something would be acceptable to the other people involved and other such things that are both causes and symptoms of temporary insanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I finally made a decision and even though I'm not going to be saving as much money as I hoped (I shake my fist at you Brookline parking regulations) I think it will be a great place to live, and I really have no clue why I was so worried.  Actually, that's not true, I do know why I was so worried:  I'm a pretty flexible, easy-going person and am pretty adaptable to whatever situation I find myself in, but this decision wasn't just for me, it was also for three other people and if they aren't happy with my decision it is all my fault, and the thought of making my future roommates unhappy apparently stresses me out.  So basically I realized that I probably worry too much about things I really can't control.  Wow, just writing about it is making me anxious again, so I'd better stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This experience has been quite illuminating in other ways too.  Now, in addition to knowing that I never want to be a garbage collector, mathematician, pre-school teacher, exterminator, saleswoman, or one of those phone computer technician people I now know that I never want a job remotely related to real estate.  And believe it or not, this is progress.  I had a really hard time deciding what I wanted to be when I grow up, and I'm still convinced that I would have been very happy as a flautist, environmentalist, professional equestrian, tap dancer, drug abuse counselor, veterinarian or any of the other&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; professions I have considered and at some point or another pursued.  (Of course this doesn't include all of the others I have thought would be fun and still might be fun....who knows!...and now you know why it took me so long to finish school).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So, my question is what did you used to (or still do) want to be when you grow up?  Or if you're like me and go about it the opposite way, what do you never want to be when you grow up?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-6715105179574442900?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/6715105179574442900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=6715105179574442900' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/6715105179574442900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/6715105179574442900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-never-want-to-be-awhen-i-grow-up.html' title='I never want to be a....when I grow up'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-2689115279529975250</id><published>2008-08-05T23:11:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T23:14:30.298-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I told her I just wanted a trim...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SJkW80wut4I/AAAAAAAAALA/bDvIdvHuwHk/s1600-h/my+haircut.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SJkW80wut4I/AAAAAAAAALA/bDvIdvHuwHk/s200/my+haircut.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231237676378535810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This is my best "oh well" look...and wow!...I always forget how big my nose is!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-2689115279529975250?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/2689115279529975250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=2689115279529975250' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2689115279529975250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2689115279529975250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-told-her-i-just-wanted-trim_05.html' title='I told her I just wanted a trim...'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SJkW80wut4I/AAAAAAAAALA/bDvIdvHuwHk/s72-c/my+haircut.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-3357387673653129130</id><published>2008-07-26T00:53:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T03:43:47.009-04:00</updated><title type='text'>golden, beachy sunsets and other magical moments</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I feel a little bit guilty about how lovely my life is.  It seems to me as though I have spent way more perfect days than any sensible person can wish for in an entire lifetime.  Or do you think that maybe we all deserve to have as many perfect days as possible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish there were some way for me to allow everyone to experience the perfectness of these past few days and all the perfect days and moments I've had lately because there’s no way I can adequately share them.  Pictures and words just aren't enough no matter how hard I wish they were, and how often I attempt to make them so.  For instance…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I love the ocean at all times of day, my favorite time to be by the water is just before the sun sets.  With my chair facing the rolling waves the sun warms my back and just when it's getting ready to creep behind the dunes it casts it's farewell light on the sand and water turning everything golden.  The golden light gently slips away and the waves turn from gold to soft pink then to dusky lavender while the ocean itself transforms from it's crystal blues and gentle greens to royal purple then deep navy.  During this magical time the dolphin pod makes its daily trek up the coast, their fins peeking above water just beyond the breaking waves...and if you sit really still, you notice crabs beginning to scuttle nervously out of their holes in the sand.  Flocks of pelicans and other sea birds swoop down regularly looking for fish in the shallow waters of low tide.  Usually by this time most people have abandoned the shore, sun-scorched from the long day, so I typically have my little piece of beach all to myself and my thoughts.  Thoughts which are full of reflections on the past, and new hopes, dreams, and resolutions for the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh!...the other day was somewhat drizzly, but I decided to head back to the beach to savor this goldeny time of day despite the rain and was ever so glad I did!  Just as the sun rays burst over the dunes, the clouds dissipated and a full rainbow appeared.  As if on cue, the dolphins showed up, closer to shore than I’ve ever seen them.  Sigh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, sorry for my poor attempt at describing these moments o’ delightful perfection.  I’ll stop now.  Thinking about it though, I guess the reason why my description pales in comparison to the real experience (other than my lack of literary and poetic genius of course) is that nothing can replace the feeling of contentment that comes to me at these moments.  Utter and complete contentment that isn’t tainted by ignorance or self-deception.  I am perfectly aware of the fact that I’m not who I eventually want to be physically, spiritually, academically, emotionally, and socially…and yet I know that I’m exactly where I need to be right now on my journey to those delightful eventualities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the best part about feeling like this is that I can simultaneously be inspired by hopes and dreams for the future and filled with a sense of satisfaction with the present.  Even though I want so desperately to be my future self, I’m okay with the fact that I have a journey ahead because I know it will keep being filled with more perfect moments and days.  And thinking about it more...I’m pretty sure we're allowed to have as much perfectness in our days as we allow ourselves to have.  And that’s all for now because I need to rush off to sleep so I can catch the sunrise in the morning when I will say goodbye to my little spot o' beach for another year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-3357387673653129130?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/3357387673653129130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=3357387673653129130' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3357387673653129130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3357387673653129130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/07/golden-beachy-sunsets-and-other-magical.html' title='golden, beachy sunsets and other magical moments'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8128666731659928782</id><published>2008-07-26T00:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T03:35:09.131-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the memories</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I did this on some of my friends' blogs and so now feel obligated to post this on mine (I have no idea why I feel obligated, I just do).  However, I detest anything remotely like chain letters (i.e., anything that requires that you do something and then "pass-it-on" to said number of people).  Just to clarify though, I don't even remotely detest &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;people&lt;/span&gt; who send stuff like that to me, I just detest the actual things.  Yet despite all of that here I am posting this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to share memories of me, I think it would probably be kind of amusing but please just ignore #2 unless you really want to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty funny to see the responses. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I really don't promise to do that stuff in #2, even though I might.  I just don't want to commit to anything that serious or make assumptions like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow...this post kind of has negative undertones.  Sorry.  I promise I'm not feeling negative at all right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8128666731659928782?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8128666731659928782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8128666731659928782' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8128666731659928782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8128666731659928782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/07/oh-memories.html' title='Oh the memories'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-216547142118510988</id><published>2008-07-10T01:04:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T09:16:30.916-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You're gonna have to pursue me</title><content type='html'>So usually I kind of judge my friends as quite ridiculous and on a lower plane than me whenever they suggest that I read the newest "relationship" book out there.  They all just seem to have conflicting advice, none of which ever seems useful at all, and most of which I find sexist and degrading.  However, recently I caved and read an excerpt (don't worry, it was a very short excerpt) from the book &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He's Just Not That Into You&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine my surprise when I found that, at least this excerpt, instead of being degrading, was actually quite empowering.  And on top of that, the author comes to a conclusion that is very similar to the one I came to a while back after struggling with feeling entirely powerless to change the fact that my love life has always been and continues to be utterly and completely nonexistent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that the whole premise of this book is to wake females up to the fact that if a guy is interested, he will take the initiative.  Thank goodness that someone finally just said it!  I get so sick of girls spending hours asking me to analyze every little thing this guy or that guy said or didn't say, or did or didn't do.  Heavens people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also get sick of people trying to explain away my shameful lack of a dating life by telling me that several guys must have been interested in me in the past, or are currently interested, but are just too intimidated by me (innocent, insecure, flabby, little me) to show their interest by asking me to dinner or some other socially acceptable form of expressing a desire to get to know a person better.  Honestly folks?  I'm not even stupid enough to believe that.  Good thing that this book busts open &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; ridiculous myth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I do understand that it can be frustrating, especially as a goal-setting, ambitious, used-to-working-for-what-she-gets kind of girl to not really be able to tangibly work toward improving a lack-of-love life.  However, this is the conclusion from the book that I tend to agree with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"If the men are asking you out, if the men have to get your attention, then you, in fact, are the one in control. There's no scheming and plotting. And there is something great about knowing that my only job is to be as happy as I can be about my life, and feel as good as I can about myself, and to lead as full and eventful a life as I can, so that it doesn't ever feel like I'm just waiting around for some guy to ask me out. And most importantly, it's good for us all to remember that we don't need to scheme and plot and beg to get someone to ask us out. We're fantastic."&lt;/blockquote&gt;I think there is all too much scheming and plotting that goes on (the worst of which guys are completely clueless about) and it drives me absolutely batty and is quite sickening.  I'll just leave it at that because I am in danger of going off on a tangent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More importantly though is realizing that as women, we &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are &lt;/span&gt;worth being pursued (even if, like in my case, no one ever decides to pursue us).  Yeah, I might not have the best skin out there (currently there is a family of zits that have decided to permanently camp out on my right cheek), I may be somewhat of a procrastinator, I may need to lose 30 pounds or so, and I may have unnatural cravings for pickles at times (like right now), but that doesn't mean that I'm not worth pursuing.  I have a lot going for me in fact.  And I would honestly prefer to be single for the rest of my "full and eventful" life than to feel like I need to focus on desperately finding a man that will settle for me.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not willing to settle for someone who feels like they need to settle for me.  I'm better than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now maybe you think that the premise of this book is entirely ridiculous, and that my conclusions about it are completely false, and if so, please do share.  By no means do I pretend to have all the answers (or even most of them for that matter).  However, this is the philosophy that I'm currently living by (and have actually been going by for a while now, it's just good to hear it from another source).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to all of the men out there, if you're interested you're gonna have to let me know.  And though it may be sad, at this point I am so unused to anyone showing interest that I'm pretty sure I'm beyond the point where subtlety is going to work.  (Sometimes I actually worry about  this.  I think it must just be from learned behavior that I automatically go into friend mode with every guy I meet because those are the only relationships I am used to having with males, hmm...I wonder which is the cause and which is the effect...food for thought).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, so I'm rambling now and not making any sense and I'm actually quite ashamed that I just wrote a whole post on a relationship book.  Sorry.  I hope you don't think worse of me for doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;p.s. Please, no pity-party comments.  I despise them and that was not the point of this post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-216547142118510988?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/216547142118510988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=216547142118510988' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/216547142118510988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/216547142118510988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/07/youre-gonna-have-to-pursue-me.html' title='You&apos;re gonna have to pursue me'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8977424831727921490</id><published>2008-07-09T22:02:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:14.231-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer in Boston</title><content type='html'>Um...so, I really have been up to a whole lotta fun that doesn't in any way, shape, or form involve mouse prostates.  And I have wanted to blog about oh-so-many things but just haven't had time, so this is just a little smattering of the splendid summer I've been spending here in Beantown (and beyond).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh!  But before all that, I have an official announcement to make (drumroll....):  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am staying in Boston this next year!&lt;/span&gt;  (**shouts of unrestrained excitement**)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got an amazing offer to work in the Cardiac Surgery Department at Children's Hospital on a project involving tissue engineering.  Specifically, I will be working on engineering heart valves to use in patients with congenital heart defects (among other things).  How cool is that!?!  Plus, the job involves a pay raise, benefits, and not having to move three times in three years. (All things which the NIH offers severely lacked).  I will be working with a researcher who I already know and have collaborated with in the past, and so I'm pretty sure it will be another amazing year in the work force before jumping full-force into school again.  Yipee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the smattering of splendid reasons why I am super excited to be spending more time here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Summer Solstice on the Vineyard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there ever was the perfect way to spend a day, I'm pretty sure I did it here.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWKfIlhR9I/AAAAAAAAAIY/uMBY2WyzOGQ/s1600-h/IMG_3836.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWKfIlhR9I/AAAAAAAAAIY/uMBY2WyzOGQ/s200/IMG_3836.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221231610491389906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My friends Rachel and Dan, and I woke up at the crack o' dawn to drive down to the ferry which took us to Martha's Vineyard where we spent all day biking from charming town, to charming town, to amazing beach, to incredible coastline and back again.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWKfU0yb_I/AAAAAAAAAIg/LbIUi1V3dOs/s1600-h/IMG_3796_2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWKfU0yb_I/AAAAAAAAAIg/LbIUi1V3dOs/s200/IMG_3796_2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221231613776654322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I think overall we went a little over 30 miles, which was tiring but totally worth it!  On the ferry back to the mainland we watched the sunset on the water.  Talk about Carpe Diem!  I know I have been overusing the phrase lately, but man, we really harvested the day to its fullest!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then These Crazy People Came to Visit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWPQxLQ16I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/0zvKCXR5u_I/s1600-h/IMG_5091.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWPQxLQ16I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/0zvKCXR5u_I/s200/IMG_5091.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221236861247215522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was super excited when my darling sister Heather and her hubby Andy came to visit me.  They are the first of my family that has come up and even though I walked the freedom trail for the umpteenth time, and even though Andy had to work for several of the days, Heather and I kept busy having loads of fun (and he joined in when he could :-) ).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWQATHx8vI/AAAAAAAAAKY/mBch98zPYXc/s1600-h/IMG_5133.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWQATHx8vI/AAAAAAAAAKY/mBch98zPYXc/s200/IMG_5133.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221237677813265138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It was mostly just nice having sister talks into the wee hours of the night.  Growing up we shared a room for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;many&lt;/span&gt; years and would stay up late talking and playing games (just as a side-note, playing "I Spy" in the dark tends to lead to controversy).  Even when she got her own room I would sneak upstairs late at night and we would just talk and talk.  Anyway, it was just good to get to talk like that again with my big sister.  I was sad when they had to leave.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;But...Then Even More Visitors Came&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My old roommate Staci (who, just to let you know was my first Boston visitor back in October) and some other friends from my old ward back in P-town flew in the day after H&amp;amp;A left, and they spent a week and a half taking Karl on outings throughout New England.  Even though I had to work I got to join them for some of the fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went whale watching&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWKfnl3_6I/AAAAAAAAAIo/65lcqVX7MfU/s1600-h/DSC01213.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWKfnl3_6I/AAAAAAAAAIo/65lcqVX7MfU/s200/DSC01213.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221231618814377890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;and took a day trip to Ogunquit, Maine.  (This is our "model" pose).  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWOJIfopLI/AAAAAAAAAJk/fsbiaBl6So4/s1600-h/DSC_5768.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWOJIfopLI/AAAAAAAAAJk/fsbiaBl6So4/s200/DSC_5768.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221235630556095666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Honestly though, this is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, and one of the coolest beaches ever.  Dan and I have already decided that we need to go back with swimsuits and inner tubes because right at this spot a river runs into the ocean and so you can ride the current of the river right into the waves...so much fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Independence Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWM-15k9SI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/_gmVavfcD-A/s1600-h/DSC_5495.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWM-15k9SI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/_gmVavfcD-A/s200/DSC_5495.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221234354254312738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Can you imagine a better place to be for the 4th of July than Boston? We had a huge group of people who all met up and we got the greatest spot right in the middle of the river (well, in the middle of a bridge that crosses the river).  After listening to the Boston Pops concert and watching the sunset over the Charles River, &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWKgNGiG6I/AAAAAAAAAIw/KXhSPNuh8nQ/s1600-h/DSC_5503.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWKgNGiG6I/AAAAAAAAAIw/KXhSPNuh8nQ/s200/DSC_5503.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221231628883467170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;we got to watch the fireworks display, which is set to music and is incredible.  I can honestly say that it was quite an emotional experience watching the fireworks explode over the river that early patriots rowed across to warn their fellows of the British advance, the river that scared families in Boston gazed across as Charlestown burned during the battle of Bunker Hill where their husbands, fathers, and brothers were fighting to the death.  Then, of course, my mind went to those men and women who are fighting overseas right now out of loyalty to the nation that those early Bostonians and other early Americans fought for so dearly.  Whew!  Pretty intense stuff!  All in all, it was an irreplaceable experience.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWNp2roNyI/AAAAAAAAAJc/3b9LovCcrGU/s1600-h/DSC_5545.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWNp2roNyI/AAAAAAAAAJc/3b9LovCcrGU/s200/DSC_5545.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221235093198616354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Go Sox!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No summer can truly be complete without a home game at Fenway.  Just yesterday I went with my friends to see the Sox play.  It was their final Boston hurrah since they had to leave this morning.  And oh man!  It was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt; game!  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWS6J0nIEI/AAAAAAAAAKs/e2ZDZWLZvkw/s1600-h/IMG_3962.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWS6J0nIEI/AAAAAAAAAKs/e2ZDZWLZvkw/s200/IMG_3962.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221240870772613186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We were dragging behind almost from the get-go, but then the eighth inning came and we completely rocked it!   We were trailing by 3 going into the inning, but a couple of good base hits, and a homer by Manny caught us right up then Youkillis helped us pull ahead.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWS4tvBTpI/AAAAAAAAAKk/HuDJG_lhyqY/s1600-h/IMG_4026.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWS4tvBTpI/AAAAAAAAAKk/HuDJG_lhyqY/s200/IMG_4026.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221240846053101202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Papelbon pitched the ninth and despite some scares and a broken bat, kept the Twins from scoring.  Wow!  What great times!  (Oh, and by the way...how weird is it that I am a total baseball fan now?  Strange.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most exciting part is that my summer has barely begun.  Just seven more days of work then I am beach bound!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8977424831727921490?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8977424831727921490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8977424831727921490' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8977424831727921490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8977424831727921490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/07/summer-in-boston.html' title='Summer in Boston'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SHWKfIlhR9I/AAAAAAAAAIY/uMBY2WyzOGQ/s72-c/IMG_3836.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-5539980898166622987</id><published>2008-07-02T22:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T00:14:54.791-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Gargantuan Oozing Prostates</title><content type='html'>Yeah, let your imagination run wild and it still won't remotely approach how disgusting these are.  And, I had to spend my whole day with them...and their smell.  Bleh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The group of mice that I sacrificed today had golf-ball sized prostate tumors, and yes, I do realize that I was the one who gave them cancer, but typically the mice get really sick when the tumors get to only a fraction of the size these were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully as we figure out why this happened we will come across a major discovery, which would make me very happy.  But as for now...I have no appetite, mostly because the smell of prostate tumor ooze is still in my nose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Just be grateful I didn't post the pictures.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-5539980898166622987?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/5539980898166622987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=5539980898166622987' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/5539980898166622987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/5539980898166622987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/07/gargantuan-oozing-prostates.html' title='Gargantuan Oozing Prostates'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8724105949603615942</id><published>2008-07-01T00:51:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T01:13:44.362-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Miracles Happen!</title><content type='html'>After a frantic two-week cram session, a major freak-out moment in the bathroom of the testing center during the break after I ran out of time on the physical sciences section and had to click random answers for the last 15ish questions, and a month of having my stomach in knots and neurotically checking the website even when I knew scores weren't posted yet...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's official!  MCAT scores are finally in, and despite Kaplan's oh-so-ardent assertion to the contrary, it really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; possible to successfully cram for the MCAT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I don't deserve my score by any possible stretch of the imagination (I attribute it all to divine intervention...seriously, there is no other logical explanation), I am super happy/relieved to know that my application was not permanently damaged by my irresponsible study methods and that now the chances that I will actually get into medical school and get to become a doctor have gone from "probably" to "most-likely."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew!  What a HUGE relief!  Now I'm just trying to finalize my application and figure out what schools to apply to.  So if you have any opinions, I'm open to suggestions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8724105949603615942?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8724105949603615942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8724105949603615942' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8724105949603615942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8724105949603615942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/07/miracles-happen.html' title='Miracles Happen!'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-3674735542751203887</id><published>2008-06-18T18:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:14.592-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I get some air please?</title><content type='html'>For the past three weeks I've noticed that Stella's tires are not as full as they should be.  Now usually I'm lazy and just ride on them even if they are a bit flat.  The only problem with doing this is that as bike tires become flat, it becomes increasingly more difficult to ride the bike (especially up hills).  So, this week I decided I should fill them up (mostly because I was having to gear down so low to get up the hill to my house that I was embarrassed for myself).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFl57tRtKgI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/p8KfIFiQD7g/s1600-h/flat+tire"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFl57tRtKgI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/p8KfIFiQD7g/s200/flat+tire" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213332110331161090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                            &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(an example of a flat tire like mine)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;On Monday after work I biked on over to my favorite local gas station (the only one that I'm aware of in the area with a free air pump).  But alas!  They had their pump disconnected because they are repairing the car wash.  (I honestly don't understand why the air pump has anything to do with the car wash, but I've learned not to mess with Bostonian logic).  So, I decided to bike a little bit further down the road to the next gas station (mind you, I was now biking directly away from my house).  When I got there a nice man who was filling up his car tires let me use the last little bit of his time on the air pump, which is fortunate because I realized after arriving that I didn't have 75 cents in quarters for the machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason though, the air pump would only fill my tires to 30 psi.  (Now, just to give you an idea of how flat my tires were...when they are full they are supposed to be at 60 psi, I was riding around with them at 20 psi, and then the silly pump would only fill them to 30 psi).  Needless to say I was quite frustrated.  So my solution?  Just bike home and deal with it later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today after work I decided that I would give it another try because I was pretty sure that I was back down to 20 psi again.  Sadly, as I pedaled past the "free-air-but-not-anymore-because-of-the-broken-car-wash station" I noticed that they still didn't have the hose connected to their air pump so I continued on to the other station, pulled up to the pump, reached into my bag to retrieve the 75 cents I was sure I had put in there, and I couldn't find it!  So, yet again I left the station air-less and decided that I was just fated to ride on flat tires so just biked home defeated.  Maybe I'll try again tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-3674735542751203887?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/3674735542751203887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=3674735542751203887' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3674735542751203887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3674735542751203887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/06/can-i-get-some-air-please.html' title='Can I get some air please?'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFl57tRtKgI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/p8KfIFiQD7g/s72-c/flat+tire' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8388896431896284500</id><published>2008-06-17T23:02:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:15.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How it actually went down</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I know that graduation was a while ago, but recently a few people have reminded me that I  still haven't given them the final version of my speech.  Considering that there are quite a few rather horrendous versions out there (including on this blog), I thought I would set the record straight by posting the final version of my speech.  And as a bonus I've included some pictures too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is me giving the speech.  I know it's not the greatest picture, but I promise it's the best one I have (my mom had to zoom in quite a bit).  The dean guy (or whoever he is) behind me looks really excited about what I'm saying!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFh-XtFfUJI/AAAAAAAAAH4/dy6MzGvxqQQ/s1600-h/20080425_0900.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFh-XtFfUJI/AAAAAAAAAH4/dy6MzGvxqQQ/s200/20080425_0900.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213055514386059410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funniest part of the whole thing is that I (the giant that I am) spoke right before this crazy midget.  I honestly thought that the podium was gonna break as it rushed from the lowest possible setting to the highest (it made an awful straining noise).  Kev and I had a good laugh over it though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFh-zt4w9lI/AAAAAAAAAIA/5S_W3HeNVNs/s1600-h/me+and+Kev.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFh-zt4w9lI/AAAAAAAAAIA/5S_W3HeNVNs/s200/me+and+Kev.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213055995637462610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay! I'm graduated!  (Actually I think I was making a "Y" here for mom...I can't remember...but I was really happy regardless).&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFiAijzRSxI/AAAAAAAAAII/xvcPnk7S4R8/s1600-h/20080425_0993.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFiAijzRSxI/AAAAAAAAAII/xvcPnk7S4R8/s200/20080425_0993.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213057899895540498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, enough of this picture craziness. Here's the speech.  I wish I had a really cool title for it, but I don't:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good morning everyone!  So the other day I was thumbing through a Calvin and Hobbes book and came across a comic in which Calvin makes the following observation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Know what’s weird? Day by day nothing seems to change, but pretty soon, everything is different…You just go about your business and one day you realize you’re not the same person you used to be.” (It’s a Magical World: A Calvin and Hobbes Collection by Bill Watterson p. 132)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I had one of those moments of realization—other than still being a nerd, I’m really not the same person who came here to BYU as a shy, naïve, awkward, nerdy freshman who thought she had her life all planned and figured out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what exactly caused my gradual but drastic transformation over my years at BYU?  Was it the opportunities I had to study abroad? To participate in mentored research? To go on internships?  Was it the classes I took? The things I learned? The places I went? The service I did? The jobs I had? …the list goes on and on…(I was here for a really long time).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I thought about it more though, I realized that in a way it was all of those things.  But more than the actual experiences or circumstances, it was the people I encountered along the way who helped shape me into who I am today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C.S. Lewis’ observation explains perfectly why the people in my life have had such a profound affect on me.  He said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations—these are mortal…but it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit” (The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses [1980], 19).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we can safely add that…assignments, exams, grades, deadlines, jobs, money…these are mortal.  And even though these “mortal” things are necessary, it is so critical to remember that the people who surround us every day of our lives—from the janitor we share an elevator ride with, to the friends we see every day, to the professor who inspires us during a lecture—are all immortal souls who each have unique experiences, perspectives, and insights that we can benefit from…if we choose to overcome our own prejudices, fears, and insecurities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since “there are no ordinary people,” it follows that there are no ordinary moments in life…or at least there never has to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Elder Maxwell said, “We must look carefully…not only at life’s large defining moments but also at the seemingly small moments. Even small acts and brief conversations count, if only incrementally, in the constant shaping of souls.”  He continues by asking, “What will we bring to all of those moments small and large? Will we do what we can to make our presence count as a needed constant in such fleeting moments, even in micro ways?” (The Pathway of Discipleship, Ensign Sept 1998, 7)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never regret those moments when I decided to choose immortal encounters over pressing mortal demands.  When I chose to spend all night talking with my roommates about precious gospel principles instead of studying for the big test I had the next day.  When I chose to spend Saturday throwing a barbeque with the girl I visit taught who was having a difficult time feeling like she fit in instead of working on a project that was due on Monday.  When I chose to extend my office hours to help a student struggling with the material in the class as well as personal issues instead of finishing the assignment that was due in my next class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those, among many others, are the encounters that have shaped my soul over these past few years.  And those pressing mortal demands? The test, the project, the assignment?  I honestly don’t even remember what happened with them, because in the grand scheme of things they didn’t even matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will also be forever grateful for those who took time to help me learn and grow despite their own mortal demands.  The professor who, even though he was overwhelmed by more important matters took the time to go over a paper line-by-line to help one frustrated underclassman understand how to improve her writing skills. My friend who would always drag me out of the lab at lunchtime to make sure I got something to eat despite my protests that the Wilkinson center was just too far away from the Widstoe Building to make it worth it.  The famous scientist-physician who interrupted his conversation with James Watson (of Watson and Crick) to talk with and later offer a position to an intimidated undergraduate from BYU who wanted to work in his lab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These people are just a few out of hundreds who have made their presence count in my life in small and large ways whether they were aware of it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is my advice?  That memorable bit that I hope you’ll actually take away from all of this?  For that I’ll turn to Horace’s famous directive “carpe diem.”  Though it’s usually translated as “seize the day” I prefer the alternate translation “pluck the day” or my favorite, “harvest the day.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So go out and harvest today because it’s a good, good day!  But please don’t forget to harvest tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after.  Whether you are going from here straight into a high-powered, high-paying job, graduate school, medical school, or to flip burgers at McDonalds, remember that those circumstances are merely mortal…but what you do with the immortal encounters in life on a moment to moment basis will shape your soul and the souls of those around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These soul-shaping opportunities are there if we will only pluck them!  It is so easy to get discouraged by the fruits that haven’t yet blossomed in our lives, but if we’re constantly waiting by the tree that hasn’t born fruit yet we’ll miss out on all of the moments and encounters that the Lord has provided for us today to help us become who we need to be to harvest the fruits of tomorrow.  And hopefully in that distant tomorrow we’ll be able to look back on today and realize that we aren’t the same people who walked across this stage, but we are better, stronger, smarter, more fearless, more compassionate, more humble, more loving, more Christ-like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8388896431896284500?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8388896431896284500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8388896431896284500' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8388896431896284500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8388896431896284500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/06/how-it-actually-went-down.html' title='How it actually went down'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFh-XtFfUJI/AAAAAAAAAH4/dy6MzGvxqQQ/s72-c/20080425_0900.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8159359734588994818</id><published>2008-06-12T00:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:15.701-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Eulogy to an Unnamed Fishy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFCxjEMv9SI/AAAAAAAAAHw/nMteVHculx8/s1600-h/unnamed+fishy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFCxjEMv9SI/AAAAAAAAAHw/nMteVHculx8/s200/unnamed+fishy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210859984848418082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You made me so happy that day when Heather and I first met you in the Petsmart.  I was really excited to get a new fishy because it was something I had been saving until after I had passed through that trial by fire otherwise known as “the MCAT.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way you gleefully wiggled around the tank made us smile, which is why we chose you even though Heather really liked the black fish with the googly eyes (but they kinda give me the creeps which is why I said "no" to Heather and chose you instead).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent the whole ride home trying to think of a good name for you, and I almost got into an accident because even though it was raining I kept looking at you trying to figure out what to call you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we brought you to the apartment you seemed to like the new big tank.  You were shy at first though, and you used to hide under the rock or behind the plants in the corner.  But after a few days you came out more and seemed to have fun swimming around with Shubu and Eddy.  The three of you always made me smile when I came home from work and would see you riding the current from the filter or letting the bubbles carry you to the surface over and over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week I was already sad about having to kill so many of my poor tumor-ridden mice, then tonight when I came into the living room and found your tiny dead body stuck to the filter my heart broke even more.  You seemed so healthy and happy just this morning as I was calling you by several different names during feeding time to see if any would stick.  Sadly, you weren’t around long enough for me to know which one you liked.  (Just for the record Danni, I never called him Willy).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we'll never know why you died.  I don’t know whether to blame it on sickness (which I really hope it isn’t or else Shubu and Eddy might get sick too) or the awful heat wave (even though I’m pretty sure that the water temperature didn’t change that much…you know water, with it’s high specific heat and all…).   Maybe it was just your time to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we do know is that you’re in a better place now, probably with Cleo and that fish that Heather threw in the dumpster that one time because she thought it was the spawn of Satan and then tried to cover up her crime and then worried that the fish was so evil that it would just keep growing in the dumpster until one day when she was bringing out the trash it would be big enough to eat her alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So little unnamed-yet-known-by-many-names fishy just know that even though you were only on earth for a short while, you were loved.  And even though I didn’t cry when I found you like I did when Cleo died (don’t worry Anne, it definitely wasn’t a repeat of that experience) I was really, really sad and I’m going to miss you.  RIP.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8159359734588994818?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8159359734588994818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8159359734588994818' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8159359734588994818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8159359734588994818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/06/eulogy-to-unnamed-fishy.html' title='Eulogy to an Unnamed Fishy'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SFCxjEMv9SI/AAAAAAAAAHw/nMteVHculx8/s72-c/unnamed+fishy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-7082485802218341914</id><published>2008-06-05T16:46:00.014-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:16.723-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Freedom is...</title><content type='html'>Not having to spend every waking hour on your computer analyzing data, writing your thesis, or studying for the MCAT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As much as I love my new little mac I have been more than happy to abandon it these past few weeks and have been enjoying my new-found freedom.  It has been so nice to be able to do the things I want to do with absolutely no time constraints.  I had honestly forgotten what a beautiful thing it is to be able to spend all day reading in the park, meeting a friend for a long conversation over brunch, or just being able to walk around the city discovering new haunts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, the incredible thing is that I have been so productive!  I really think that I have been able to effectively channel my study energy into getting all of the things done that I have had to put off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the fun things I've been up to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right after the MCAT Sun took me out to Chipotle where I downed a child-sized burrito (seriously folks...these things are massive).  I hadn't really been able to eat for about a week and a half before then, so the burrito provided needed sustenance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEhsZb3srWI/AAAAAAAAAHE/b33AzZHpq64/s1600-h/chipotle_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEhsZb3srWI/AAAAAAAAAHE/b33AzZHpq64/s320/chipotle_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208532153287880034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day I washed about a month's worth of laundry, cleaned out my closet (the Salvation Army was very happy), went shopping, and then got to chillax with HB who came to visit me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Among the many other super-fun things we did, we had a lovely picnic in Mt. Auburn Cemetery...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEh04VHvxGI/AAAAAAAAAHM/M9_QxF8H_-k/s1600-h/me+and+HB.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEh04VHvxGI/AAAAAAAAAHM/M9_QxF8H_-k/s320/me+and+HB.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208541480145110114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and freedom-trailed it...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEhsYhi1rVI/AAAAAAAAAGs/_IXnC8k7zGs/s1600-h/granary.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEhsYhi1rVI/AAAAAAAAAGs/_IXnC8k7zGs/s320/granary.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208532137631133010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Honestly, I love visiting the Constitution.  It is one of my favorite things to do in Boston.  I don't know why, I just do...maybe I was a sailor in my former life.  I was probably in charge of firing this cannon.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEhsYUcv7vI/AAAAAAAAAGk/HFSgUp8qD4k/s1600-h/constitution.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEhsYUcv7vI/AAAAAAAAAGk/HFSgUp8qD4k/s320/constitution.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208532134115929842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally changed my license plate.  (I'm officially no longer handicapped!)&lt;br /&gt;OH!  I also got another little boy!  Isn't he cute!  (He still doesn't have a name though...I'm open to suggestions.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEhsZLCLStI/AAAAAAAAAG8/1RbuwLjLCyI/s1600-h/new+fishie.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEhsZLCLStI/AAAAAAAAAG8/1RbuwLjLCyI/s320/new+fishie.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208532148768426706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are my other adorable little fishies just in case you haven't seen them.  This is Shubu...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEh8oMYCRtI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Tmox08T0-dQ/s1600-h/shubu.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEh8oMYCRtI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Tmox08T0-dQ/s320/shubu.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208549999012628178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and this is Eddy (he is named after the Black Prince, Prince Edward, who was a big military man because he has black-tipped fins and when I first got him his entire fin was ripped--probably in battle--but it has since healed and he has a nice scar now).&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEh8nLZzjnI/AAAAAAAAAHU/h5cIxgToWA0/s1600-h/eddy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEh8nLZzjnI/AAAAAAAAAHU/h5cIxgToWA0/s320/eddy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208549981571747442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also been busy voraciously reading, slowly making my way through paperwork that has piled up, deciding what schools to apply to, working on fun projects, and trying to decide what lab I want to work in next year.  Overall life has been good and just keeps getting better!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-7082485802218341914?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/7082485802218341914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=7082485802218341914' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7082485802218341914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7082485802218341914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/06/freedom-is.html' title='Freedom is...'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SEhsZb3srWI/AAAAAAAAAHE/b33AzZHpq64/s72-c/chipotle_2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8394299173279713967</id><published>2008-05-23T15:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:16.922-05:00</updated><title type='text'>How do I feel?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SDcfKmKt7eI/AAAAAAAAAFc/GDFyBHNGaH0/s1600-h/jumping.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SDcfKmKt7eI/AAAAAAAAAFc/GDFyBHNGaH0/s320/jumping.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203662161354550754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8394299173279713967?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8394299173279713967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8394299173279713967' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8394299173279713967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8394299173279713967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-do-i-feel.html' title='How do I feel?'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SDcfKmKt7eI/AAAAAAAAAFc/GDFyBHNGaH0/s72-c/jumping.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8677877896391321687</id><published>2008-05-20T11:28:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:17.088-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sigh...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SDLvKn-dlzI/AAAAAAAAAFU/cBL3GkVLZds/s1600-h/pink+dogwood.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SDLvKn-dlzI/AAAAAAAAAFU/cBL3GkVLZds/s320/pink+dogwood.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202483485375043378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I just really don't think I'll ever get tired of them.  This is the one I bike past every day on my way to and from work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Countdown: 68hrs 22min&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8677877896391321687?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8677877896391321687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8677877896391321687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8677877896391321687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8677877896391321687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/05/sigh.html' title='sigh...'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SDLvKn-dlzI/AAAAAAAAAFU/cBL3GkVLZds/s72-c/pink+dogwood.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8955293812538569169</id><published>2008-05-18T14:49:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T17:56:19.119-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shattered hopes and dreams</title><content type='html'>I am now on my final few days of this crazy MCAT journey, and can I just say (although you may think I'm crazy)...studying is really like an extreme sport for me.  Especially when I'm in cramming mode like I am now it is not only an intense mental activity but it is spiritual, emotional, and physical as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I woke up and immediately started in.  About 14 hours later I realized I was still going, hadn't eaten all day, and yet was still completely stimulated (there are just so many more exciting things to learn/review).  I am actually really looking forward to taking the test on Friday and I'm pretty sure it's going to be the most fun I've ever had taking a standardized test, because it's almost entirely content based!  It has been so rewarding studying and taking practice tests because most of the stuff I already know!  And it's really comforting to realize that in all my many years of learning and teaching quite a bit has actually stuck with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, none of this is what I really wanted to post about today.  As I mentioned before, this studying process has not only been mentally enlightening, but it has led to some deep contemplation about extremely emotional and spiritual aspects of my life (I guess it just goes to show that a stimulated mind is capable of balancing all sorts of things!).  Specifically I've been thinking a lot about all of the hopes and dreams I've had throughout my life, and in particular throughout my time in Boston, and how most of them, inevitably, have been shattered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know that sounds completely depressing and sad, and believe me it has been!  Nothing can adequately describe the intense, crushing feelings of confusion, loneliness, despair, etc...(insert whatever other depressing emotions you want) that come when your vision of where your life should be or should be going is ripped away from you.  Those moments happen, but it's important for me to remember that they are just that...moments, and usually they are fleeting.  Thankfully I have a loving Heavenly Father who reminds me as I turn to Him that those shattered dreams are just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; dreams.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;His&lt;/span&gt; dreams for me are far more grand and encompassing than I can imagine.  I have always loved this parable about how God works in our lives:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of-throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. (C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity)&lt;/blockquote&gt;Even though it hurts, sometimes abominably, the shattering of my dreams simply makes way for new ones...better ones.  I have begun to realize how important it is for me personally to distinguish between knowing what God wants for me and knowing what He wants for me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now&lt;/span&gt;.  In the eventualities of time and eternity I know that He wants me to have all of my righteous desires for education, career, family, and ultimately exaltation fulfilled.  However, I find that it is damaging to me when I artificially impose a time-table on Him for when all of those things are going to happen, because it is actually His timing that allows me to realize &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all&lt;/span&gt; of those dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately we live in a world that demands immediate gratification.  If we need to know something or buy something we can know it or buy it immediately.  We also live with the reality of a church culture whose emphasis on marriage and family makes us feel as though we are abnormal if we don't have those things &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now&lt;/span&gt;.  When I struggle with a weakness or work on a long-term goal of mine it is easy to get frustrated with myself when the results aren't immediate or when I find myself falling back into old comfort zones.  So I guess my question is, how do we find peace and happiness in our immediate yet imperfect circumstances while still focusing on the eternal, yet currently unfulfilled goals/desires?  Is some degree of unhappiness or dissatisfaction necessary for us to keep striving toward achieving our righteous goals?  What about those things we don't really have control over, like marriage and family? How can we find a happy equilibrium?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think for me, turning to the Lord and asking Him for knowledge about His plan for my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now&lt;/span&gt; is helpful.  When I came to Boston I had a very clear plan:  I was going to be here for a year while finishing my thesis, graduating, and applying for graduate school, then I was going to go to graduate school.  I felt as though a mix of divinely-guided circumstances led me here and I was ready to carry out my plan.  Life was great.  Almost immediately after moving though, my glorious plan was shattered by some serious, life-shaking revelation (details omitted).  And now, I am all of a sudden finding myself studying for the MCAT and applying to medical school, which is something that was so far from my plans it is still weird for me to think about it.  But, this is what He wants for me now, and He doesn't just want me to do it, but He wants me to be passionate about it and stretch myself to new limits of both temporal and spiritual understanding.  How could I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; get excited about that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sadly enough, no matter how wonderful my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now&lt;/span&gt; is I still find myself worrying about all the things I'm still not, the things I don't have, and how on earth a career as a physician-scientist is going to fit in to the grand plan for my life.   Sorry, but an MD/PhD program is a long commitment, even if you know it's what you want and love.  In a recent blessing I received though (man, I'm sharing a lot personal stuff today) my anxieties were addressed by the following counsel:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;The Lord understands that at certain times you need to compartmentalize and focus on one aspect of your life.  Don’t feel guilty if you have to put certain things on hold in order to focus on your career for the moment.  The Lord understands.  As you read the scriptures and pray every day the Lord will guide you in your life and help you not just make future plans for years, or months, or weeks in advance, but He will help you make wise decisions about how to use your time on a daily and even hourly basis. &lt;/blockquote&gt;Pretty good stuff huh?  I can't tell you how comforting it is for me to know that for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now &lt;/span&gt;this is what the Lord wants for me.  When I look into the future, my path is still pretty murky but as I daily, and even hourly work on fulfilling the things He wants for me now I have no doubt that the path I am walking will eventually, in time or eternity, lead to the realization of all of my righteous desires.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How grateful I am for a loving Heavenly Father who has all things before Him and knows what He is making me into.  If sometimes that construction process hurts, good!  I'm glad because I know that it's leading me closer to Him.  I have never regretted replacing those shattered dreams of mine with His and as I continue to do so I marvel at how His timing and His plan for me allows all of those dreams to be fulfilled.  He truly came and is still there so that I "might have life, and that [I] might have it more abundantly" (John 10:10) for which I am and will forever be grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh man, this is going to be an exciting abundant summer of reading, pondering, and random philosophizing, cause I have so many more questions and thoughts!  So get ready all ye few (two?) who actually read my blog...you're in for some lengthy, most likely nonsensical, but hopefully somewhat interesting mental meanderings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8955293812538569169?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8955293812538569169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8955293812538569169' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8955293812538569169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8955293812538569169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/05/shattered-hopes-and-dreams.html' title='Shattered hopes and dreams'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-2888235314601744313</id><published>2008-05-14T19:37:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:17.779-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Boston "Last"</title><content type='html'>Sad day!  These past two weeks at work we have been injecting 80 mice as part of two separate studies, which are going to be my last mouse studies here at Children's Hospital.  Today was officially my last surgery day in our mouse room, and it kind of made me sad because I realized that I am now venturing into that time right before you leave a place when you start having a lot of "lasts."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the nostalgia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCt6nn-dlvI/AAAAAAAAAE0/wtYNrWofZ-0/s1600-h/mouse+room+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCt6nn-dlvI/AAAAAAAAAE0/wtYNrWofZ-0/s320/mouse+room+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200385015893825266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Aren't we cute in our super-flattering marshmallow outfits? (As Sun always says..."you know it's love if the person still thinks you're attractive in the mouse room.")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCt6n3-dlwI/AAAAAAAAAE8/k14KX2HQbTg/s1600-h/mouse+room+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCt6n3-dlwI/AAAAAAAAAE8/k14KX2HQbTg/s320/mouse+room+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200385020188792578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Wow! I'm such an amazing surgeon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCt903-dlyI/AAAAAAAAAFM/FwnQsz8F_oM/s1600-h/mouse+room+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCt903-dlyI/AAAAAAAAAFM/FwnQsz8F_oM/s320/mouse+room+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200388542061975330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;He even survived! (Yes...people &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; now refer to me as "the mouse whisperer.")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok...enough reminiscing about all the great times I had injecting mouse prostates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully I still have a whole lotta summer ahead of me and I plan on making it full of incredible "firsts" as well as "lasts" (possibly things that are even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;better&lt;/span&gt; than mouse surgery, although the mind reels at the thought that there could be something better out there).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So get ready Boston!  That's all I have to say...get ready!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-2888235314601744313?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/2888235314601744313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=2888235314601744313' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2888235314601744313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2888235314601744313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-first-boston-last.html' title='My First Boston &quot;Last&quot;'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCt6nn-dlvI/AAAAAAAAAE0/wtYNrWofZ-0/s72-c/mouse+room+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8989619129917718584</id><published>2008-05-11T20:19:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:19.932-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lilac Sunday</title><content type='html'>Ahhh...what a lovely day for a picnic amongst the lilacs.  Once a year the arboretum opens up their lawns to picnic-ers and...oh boy...it was gorgeous!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeObH-dlhI/AAAAAAAAADE/8U-mbzI1FEM/s1600-h/IMG_3408.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeObH-dlhI/AAAAAAAAADE/8U-mbzI1FEM/s320/IMG_3408.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199280891471173138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We ate a yummy picnic meal and then went walking to take pictures/sniff at the lilacs...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRbH-dlnI/AAAAAAAAAD0/35Lf5ilJy_c/s1600-h/IMG_3415.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRbH-dlnI/AAAAAAAAAD0/35Lf5ilJy_c/s320/IMG_3415.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199284190006056562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCePvH-dljI/AAAAAAAAADU/xCgGJ3FF9mA/s1600-h/IMG_3420.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCePvH-dljI/AAAAAAAAADU/xCgGJ3FF9mA/s320/IMG_3420.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199282334580184626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCePvn-dlkI/AAAAAAAAADc/7DzGGwXaS2E/s1600-h/IMG_3434.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCePvn-dlkI/AAAAAAAAADc/7DzGGwXaS2E/s320/IMG_3434.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199282343170119234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;and look at the pretty redbud trees...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRbn-dlpI/AAAAAAAAAEE/Ituj9jgE8UU/s1600-h/IMG_3426.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRbn-dlpI/AAAAAAAAAEE/Ituj9jgE8UU/s320/IMG_3426.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199284198595991186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRbX-dloI/AAAAAAAAAD8/i_TwB6WatJY/s1600-h/IMG_3430.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRbX-dloI/AAAAAAAAAD8/i_TwB6WatJY/s320/IMG_3430.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199284194301023874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;and dogwood trees (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sigh&lt;/span&gt;)...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCePwn-dlmI/AAAAAAAAADs/FsSLb7sJkow/s1600-h/IMG_3445.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCePwn-dlmI/AAAAAAAAADs/FsSLb7sJkow/s320/IMG_3445.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199282360349988450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then we went back, collected our stuff and took a walk through the rest of the arboretum...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRb3-dlqI/AAAAAAAAAEM/VfdrBsw3iJQ/s1600-h/IMG_3449.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRb3-dlqI/AAAAAAAAAEM/VfdrBsw3iJQ/s320/IMG_3449.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199284202890958498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;and found the most beautiful place on earth.  Probably even prettier than the fabled &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;White Way of Delight &lt;/span&gt;(seriously...the pictures don't even do it justice).  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeTx3-dluI/AAAAAAAAAEs/2ef3kATvI50/s1600-h/IMG_3461.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeTx3-dluI/AAAAAAAAAEs/2ef3kATvI50/s320/IMG_3461.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199286779871336162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When you climb the tree...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRcX-dlrI/AAAAAAAAAEU/o-34U8xt--k/s1600-h/IMG_3466.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeRcX-dlrI/AAAAAAAAAEU/o-34U8xt--k/s320/IMG_3466.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199284211480893106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;all you see is blossoms around and above you...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeR1n-dltI/AAAAAAAAAEk/v51381X7DHE/s1600-h/IMG_3471.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeR1n-dltI/AAAAAAAAAEk/v51381X7DHE/s320/IMG_3471.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199284645272590034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;oh, and Heidi and Cousin Dave posing.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeR1H-dlsI/AAAAAAAAAEc/0NNsIb1VqW8/s1600-h/IMG_3467.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeR1H-dlsI/AAAAAAAAAEc/0NNsIb1VqW8/s320/IMG_3467.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199284636682655426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What a glorious day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;p.s. Mom you're the best!  I love your guts forever!&lt;br /&gt;p.p.s. HB I hope you will read my blog now that I have pictures posted :-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8989619129917718584?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8989619129917718584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8989619129917718584' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8989619129917718584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8989619129917718584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/05/lilac-sunday.html' title='Lilac Sunday'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/SCeObH-dlhI/AAAAAAAAADE/8U-mbzI1FEM/s72-c/IMG_3408.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-2581597526607040384</id><published>2008-05-10T16:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T16:31:40.741-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not as stupid as I thought I was</title><content type='html'>It's true! I'm really not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I was getting really depressed about how little time I have left (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;less&lt;/span&gt; than two weeks now) and how much more stuff I still have to review.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Seriously though, I was on the verge of tears...it was pretty ridiculous).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was venting these woes of mine to my oh-so-wise sister who advised me to just take a practice test (one of the ones from the people who actually make the MCAT) to give myself an idea of where I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today that's just what I did.  And really, I was completely shocked at how well I did!  (Don't worry I'm not gonna tell you my exact score, because it wasn't nearly as good as I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want&lt;/span&gt; to do).  Anyway...it's kinda comforting to know that I'm not as much of a dunce as I have been feeling lately.  Phew!  Now I guess I need to dive right back into the books.  Chao!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-2581597526607040384?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/2581597526607040384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=2581597526607040384' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2581597526607040384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2581597526607040384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/05/im-not-as-stupid-as-i-thought-i-was.html' title='I&apos;m not as stupid as I thought I was'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-2609109607269169844</id><published>2008-05-09T18:14:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T19:34:20.531-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Accident!</title><content type='html'>The craziest thing happened on my way home from work today.  I decided to walk home because it was raining and I love rain in the springtime.  (Poor Stella has to spend the weekend at Longwood).  So as I was walking along enjoying the lovely flowers and blossoming trees (especially the pink dogwoods...they're my favorite!), thinking how beautiful Brookline is, and how F=-kx in simple harmonic motion...all of a sudden a truck comes speeding down the road, barrels into a little car, and then swerves onto the sidewalk flattening the road sign right in front of me.  BAH!  Good thing I had slowed down to look at an especially lovely tree or else I'm pretty sure I would be dead right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully no one was hurt, but the poor girl in the car was pretty shaken up (about how much I would have been in her situation I think) and her phone was dead so at least I could help by letting her use my phone to call her family and a tow truck in the midst of all the craziness of  the sirens and firefighters prying her hood open.  Whew!  Crazy day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: -moz-zoom-in; width: 262px; height: 175px;" alt="http://www.forestwander.com/images/pinkdogwood1.JPG" src="http://www.forestwander.com/images/pinkdogwood1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;pretty huh? they remind me of good ol' Virginia...aww&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-2609109607269169844?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/2609109607269169844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=2609109607269169844' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2609109607269169844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2609109607269169844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/05/accident.html' title='Accident!'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-2018514560682446734</id><published>2008-05-06T18:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T18:29:17.404-04:00</updated><title type='text'>17 More Study Days</title><content type='html'>I broke down and actually looked at a calendar today...BAH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-2018514560682446734?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/2018514560682446734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=2018514560682446734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2018514560682446734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/2018514560682446734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/05/17-more-study-days.html' title='17 More Study Days'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-3579274114885106527</id><published>2008-05-02T23:11:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T23:23:37.752-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Study Break</title><content type='html'>Drowning my I-had-a-bad-end-of-the-week sorrows in expired yogurt, comfy p-jammy pants, and blog-stalking between MCAT practice tests....gotta dive back into one now, so chao!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                     &lt;img style="width: 92px; height: 134px;" alt="http://www.foodmall.org/images/yoplait-yogurt_7.jpg" src="http://www.foodmall.org/images/yoplait-yogurt_7.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I really should stop hyphenating everything...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-3579274114885106527?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/3579274114885106527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=3579274114885106527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3579274114885106527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3579274114885106527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/05/study-break.html' title='Study Break'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-3300361155723317177</id><published>2008-04-30T22:42:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T22:50:19.236-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks for the Laugh</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.isitchristmas.com"&gt;www.isitchristmas.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah...this pretty much cracked me up (thanks HB).  Of course...it was right after taking a horrendously difficult verbal reasoning test....so....yeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-3300361155723317177?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/3300361155723317177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=3300361155723317177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3300361155723317177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3300361155723317177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/04/thanks-for-laugh.html' title='Thanks for the Laugh'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8121457852263669851</id><published>2008-04-29T17:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T23:06:24.577-04:00</updated><title type='text'>miscellanies</title><content type='html'>* Umbrellas are kind of amazing.  I don't mean the concept of them or anything...I mean the super-foldy, mess-of-metal complicated umbrellas.  I think that whoever came up with them was a genius and I'm glad that they did.  (By the way my umbrella has a lifetime guarantee.  Pretty amazing huh?  I just found it wrapped around one of the wires today.  So...as long as I don't lose the umbrella, I'm set for life!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* My bangs are at that really frustrating stage right now where they are almost long enough to actually stay off to the side but not quite and I'm feeling pressure to make a decision.  Should I cut them so that they are out of my way again even though they sometimes look really funny and I can't pin them back as easily? Or should I just push through and let them grow to be longer so they will stay behind my ear?...such a hard choice...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I kind of miss the ipod adds on the train.  While I was gone they replaced them with NesQuik adds, which are kind of ugly.  It really did shock me when the train pulled up to take me to work and there, pasted on the side was a different picture.  Weird how you get used to things being a certain way...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I am glad that I usually culture my monolayer cells in plates instead of flasks.  It saves SO much time! (and supplies, cause you don't go through as many pipets when you use plates).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Procrastinating washing my laundry makes me more creative because I have to put together clothes that are from the deepest, rarely-worn, probably-have-been-considered-for-the-Goodwill-pile-at-some-point, part of my closet.  So, if in these next few days I seem to be wearing unflattering or just downright ugly clothes, you now know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Ummm...so I'm pretty sure I need to learn how to hold my tongue.  Lots of times I tend to share thoughts and opinions as I'm still forming them and I don't think that is usually a good thing.  I should probably work on that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8121457852263669851?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8121457852263669851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8121457852263669851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8121457852263669851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8121457852263669851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/04/miscellanies.html' title='miscellanies'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-7443531548136404080</id><published>2008-04-27T22:07:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T00:03:42.746-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why is my life so great?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So...today on the plane I was readin' my scrips and I love how they just know what to say every time!  With the ever-present MCAT looming (among other things) it was just great to be reminded that...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"A portion of [His] Spirit dwelleth in me, which giveth me knowledge, and also power according to my faith and desires which are in God." (Alma 18:35)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It is good to remember who the Source of all knowledge is, and that He is willing to share it with me if my desires are in line with His.  Awesome huh!  And the best part is...I know my desire to do well on this test so that I can go where I am supposed to go to medical school so that I can become the kind of doctor He wants me to be so that I can alleviate some of the pain and suffering of His children IS a righteous desire "which [is] in God."  And I know it is what He wants me to do...and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; is am amazing feeling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So watch out MCAT...I'm ready...(or at least I will be by May 23rd!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;p.s. I graduated!...(pictures and details to follow after the MCAT...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;p.p.s. Heidi I don't want you to move yet!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-7443531548136404080?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/7443531548136404080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=7443531548136404080' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7443531548136404080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7443531548136404080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/04/why-is-my-life-so-great.html' title='Why is my life so great?'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-439884542295463006</id><published>2008-04-22T03:58:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T01:27:50.678-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Help!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Alright folks...I really need your help.  Over the past few weeks, and especially over the past few days my brain has slowly been turning into a completely garbled pile of mush as I've tried to write my graduation talk.  This has honestly been SO incredibly difficult for me for some reason.  Then yesterday I had to go and read the following quote from Elder Maxwell:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"The patient person assumes that what others have to say is worth listening to.  A patient person is not so chronically eager to put forth his or her own opinions."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Of course I took it out of context and went from not being able to choose what to say in my speech to feeling like I don't have anything worth saying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yeah...pretty much my brain is completely discombobulated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So, if any of you have any time at all to look over what I have and give me suggestions I would be ever so grateful because at this point I have written so many different versions that I can't tell what is worthwhile and what is garbage and I feel like I have no ability at all to articulate what I am trying to say.  I also really need to cut about 30 more seconds out so if you have any ideas about that I would appreciate it too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Fresh eyes and fresh minds are sorely needed!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Please tear it to shreds.  Let me know if my logic is flawed, my wording is ridiculous and inappropriate, my ideas are fuzzy, my transitions are weak, etc...etc...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Thanks!  (Oh, and by the way if you are planning on attending graduation please don't read it yet...I don't want people being scared away from attending the ceremony on account of a terrible draft of my speech).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;HERE IT IS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Over these past few weeks I have come to realize that speaking at graduation is a pretty daunting task.  A graduation speaker is supposed to be simultaneously inspiring, entertaining, memorable, and most importantly…brief (because we all know what still has to come after the talks).  So as I was worrying about what I should say and how I should say it I turned to my friends for advice.  Their responses to my request just made me laugh.  Instead of actually giving helpful suggestions, nearly every single one of them got really excited and told me that I should somehow figure out how to mention them (several even offered me a money as incentive).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;While it may not be a financially wise decision, I have decided to forgo reading off a list of my friends’ names, although ironically they are (in a way) who and what I want to talk about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Recently as I was preparing a semester-by-semester summary of my “undergraduate experience” at BYU to include in my honors portfolio it really hit me how blessed I was to be able to take advantage of so many incredible opportunities throughout my time as a student here.  These experiences put me in a wide variety of new, sometimes scary, but always exciting circumstances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;This exercise also reminded me what a completely different person I am now from when I started.  That somewhat awkward, shy, naïve, (but excited!) nerd of a freshman who thought she had her life all planned and figured out is completely gone (well, maybe except for the nerd part).  As I’ve tried to figure out exactly what caused this gradual but drastic transformation I realized that while all of the opportunities I had were amazing, it wasn’t the circumstances I was in that gave me the strength to change, but instead it was the interactions I had with the people I met along the way that have slowly shaped me into who I am now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;C.S. Lewis illustrated this concept perfectly when he asserted:&lt;br /&gt;“There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations—these are mortal…but it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit” (The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses [1980], 19).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I think we can safely add…assignments, exams, deadlines, grades, jobs, money…these are mortal.  And even though these “mortal” things are necessary, it is so critical to remember that the people who surround us every day of our lives from the janitor we share an elevator ride with to our closest friends to a famous scientist we may meet in passing are all immortal souls who each have unique experiences, perspectives, and insights that we can benefit from if we choose to overcome our own prejudices, fears, and insecurities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Just as “there are no ordinary people” there are no ordinary moments in life, or at least there never has to be.&lt;br /&gt;As Elder Maxwell said, “We must look carefully…not only at life’s large defining moments but also at the seemingly small moments. Even small acts and brief conversations count, if only incrementally, in the constant shaping of souls.”  He continues by asking, “What will we bring to all of those moments small and large? Will we do what we can to make our presence count as a needed constant in such fleeting moments, even in micro ways?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I will never regret those moments when I decided to choose immortal encounters over pressing mortal demands.  When I chose to spend all night talking with my roommates about precious gospel principles despite the big test I had the next day.  When I chose to spend Saturday throwing a barbeque with the girl I visit taught who was having a difficult time feeling like she fit in instead of working on a project that was due on Monday.  When I chose to extend my office hours to help a student struggling with the material in the class as well as personal issues instead of finishing the assignment that was due in my next class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Those, among many others, are the encounters that have shaped my soul over these past few years.  And those pressing mortal demands? The test, the project, the assignment?  I honestly don’t even remember what happened with them, because in the grand scheme of things they didn’t even matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I am also grateful for others who chose the immortal over mortal where I was concerned.  The professor who, despite being overwhelmed by more important matters took the time to go over a paper line-by-line to help one frustrated underclassman understand how to improve her writing skills. My friend who would always drag me out of the lab at lunchtime to get something to eat despite my protests that the Wilkinson center was just too far away from the Widstoe Building to make it worth it.  The famous scientist-physician who interrupted his conversation with James Watson (of Watson and Crick) to talk with and later offer a position to an intimidated undergraduate from BYU who wanted to work in his lab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;These people are just a few out of hundreds who have made their presence count in my life in small and large ways whether they were aware of it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So what is my advice?  That memorable bit that I hope you’ll actually take away from all of this?  For that I’ll turn to Horace’s famous directive “carpe diem.”  Though usually translated as “seize the day” I prefer the alternate translation “pluck the day” or my favorite, “harvest the day.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So go out and harvest today because it is a good day!  But please don’t forget to harvest tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after.  Whether you are going from here straight into a high-powered, high-paying job, graduate school, medical school, or to flip burgers at McDonalds, remember that those circumstances are merely mortal…but what you do with the immortal encounters in life on a moment to moment basis will shape your soul and the souls of those around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;These soul-shaping opportunities are there if we will only pluck them!  It is so easy to get discouraged by the fruits that haven’t yet blossomed in our lives (especially if we find ourselves working at McDonalds), but if we are constantly waiting by the tree that hasn’t yet born fruit we will miss out on all of the opportunities, moments, and encounters that the Lord has provided for us today to help us become who we need to be to harvest the fruits of tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Thanks guys...you're the best!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-439884542295463006?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/439884542295463006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=439884542295463006' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/439884542295463006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/439884542295463006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/04/help.html' title='Help!'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-7560214075966719639</id><published>2008-04-09T21:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T21:51:18.225-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Need for Light</title><content type='html'>So I had to stay at the lab really late today and was debating whether to ride Stella home or not.  Usually it wouldn't even be an issue because Stella and I are quite the stellar team (except this morning she decided to de-gear her chain and I barely averted disaster...we'll have to work on that one).  The only reason I hesitated was because it was quite dark outside and I haven't made time to put the silly little light-mounting thinga-ma-jig onto Stella's handlebars so that I can use my bike light.  Oh, and the fact that I was wearing super-dark burglaresque clothing didn't help the whole cars-will-probably-have-a-hard-time-seeing-you thing.  But, despite the lack-of-light I decided to go for it, because it was so nice outside and I didn't want to waste the opportunity to have a star-studded ride through the streets o' Brookline with my pal Stella.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, despite the nice weather I discovered that light really is a good thing, and not just to help cars see me.  You see...it really is safer to navigate the rather complicated topography of the streets if you can see them.  I came uncomfortably close to being swallowed by several potholes, and nearly flew over the handlebars a few times when accidently running into manhole covers.  (I really don't understand how they can make them poke up so unnaturally out of the road like that.  It is quite unbelievable).  All I have to say is thank goodness for my crazy bike-riding skills!  Otherwise I may not have made it home and would probably have ended up back at the hospital where I started.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Moral of the story: I should probably move "giving Stella a headlight" from my "Things to do after the MCAT" to my "Things to do before the MCAT" list.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-7560214075966719639?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/7560214075966719639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=7560214075966719639' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7560214075966719639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/7560214075966719639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/04/need-for-light.html' title='The Need for Light'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8284939473364746307</id><published>2008-04-03T11:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T11:48:08.809-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Brittle Nails and...Tuna Fish?</title><content type='html'>Lately I have been somewhat frustrated by the state of my fingernails. Now, while I don’t obsess about my nails like some girls do, I prefer them to be strong enough not to break or chip at the slightest provocation. So, the other day as I was waiting for my timer to go off (my life in the lab is run completely on timers because I am always waiting for something to be done spinning, incubating, etc…) I was staring at my brittle fingernails wishing they were not so brittle. Wondering what I could do about my woeful nail situation I began thinking… The traditional remedy for brittle nails is simply painting them with various sorts of strengthening polishes. Sadly, I can’t wear fingernail polish because all the chemicals I work with in the lab strip it off within minutes. So, I was left wondering what deficiencies in my diet were preventing me from enjoying the benefits of healthy nails. Thankfully, I was able to ask the all-knowing Internet and found out that while brittle nails can be caused by many dietary deficiencies, some of the most important nutrients for healthy nails are provided by tuna fish (B vitamins and essential fatty acids among other things). This fact made me very happy because I am a big tuna fan. But, I did realize that I hadn’t eaten tuna for quite a while. So I promptly went home and made a tuna fish sandwich for dinner that night. Ever since I have been making sure to get a healthy dose of tuna and I think it’s paying off! I’ve gotta go now because its time for lunch and I’ve got a yummy tuna sandwich waiting just for me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8284939473364746307?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8284939473364746307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8284939473364746307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8284939473364746307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8284939473364746307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/04/brittle-nails-and-tuna-fish.html' title='Brittle Nails and...Tuna Fish?'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-5605270513409982886</id><published>2008-04-02T20:32:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:21.587-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stella is Back!!!</title><content type='html'>Stella is officially done hibernating! After the longest winter &lt;em&gt;ever &lt;/em&gt;she and I have been reunited and had a lovely ride ’round the neighborhood this afternoon. (By the way for those of you who don’t know Stella, she is my trusty steed, otherwise known as my bicycle. Oh…and I love her).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After removing her from the bike cage where she has been wintering I dusted her off, filled up her tires, and away we went…two old friends together again. It was a lovely (though rather windy) day and we went out exploring several of the cute old neighborhoods in Brookline Village. The houses were lovely, the sunshine was lovely, and overall the ride was lovely (although biking up the hill to my house into the wind almost kicked my trash). Wow…I’m saying lovely a lot. But it was!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I don’t have enough time to write a complete history of our relationship, just know that it all began one chilly Florida February when I, as a new missionary, first laid eyes on what would become my traveling companion for these many years. We have seen it all together and it has &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R_QmThCLEDI/AAAAAAAAAB4/p44ltg3_IWI/s1600-h/scan0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184811187737137202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R_QmThCLEDI/AAAAAAAAAB4/p44ltg3_IWI/s200/scan0001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;been a fun ride! Stella…here’s to you and all that you have done and continue to do for me...I love you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. I am really excited to bike around Boston again. If possible, it is even more of an adventure than driving!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Me and Stella chillin' in Florida &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Notice &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;sexy knee-highs showing...I was such a dork!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-5605270513409982886?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/5605270513409982886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=5605270513409982886' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/5605270513409982886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/5605270513409982886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/04/stella-is-back.html' title='Stella is Back!!!'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R_QmThCLEDI/AAAAAAAAAB4/p44ltg3_IWI/s72-c/scan0001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-3534942765420468145</id><published>2008-03-30T21:19:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T22:55:28.126-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a confession to make...</title><content type='html'>I am a blog stalker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me please explain the reasons why though, and maybe you can understand this weird new addiction of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am new to the world of blogging, and I don’t know if any of you seasoned bloggers remember what it was like to be green like I am, but it is really exciting! There is a whole world out there that I was only vaguely aware of before…and all of a sudden I am a part of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in an attempt to actively participate in this fun new world I tend to check my friends' blogs way too often. I know that there are no updates, but I just have to check. It doesn’t make sense, and I know it is entirely impulsive, but I just have to do it. I think it all started when I was visiting my friends’ blogs in order to get formatting ideas for my own, but it has become far more than an innocent pastime now…it is an addiction. My only problem is that I only know a handful of my friends’ blogs and so I check them far oftener (great word huh) than can be healthy. If you would like to be blog stalked by me please just give me your blog address and I would be happy to add you to my stalking list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I was informed by a wise friend today that you can actually outsource your blog stalking to Google Reader which will notify you if there are any updates on the blogs you ask them to stalk for you. (Amazing…Google sees a need and invariably they fill it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As of now though, I still find blog stalking way too much fun and prefer to do it myself. It is kind of like when you first learn to drive and you think every errand is super exciting no matter how routine and boring it really is just because you are behind the wheel. Like driving I imagine that manual blog stalking could get old. I hope it doesn’t, but it is a possibility. If it happens I will be grateful to turn my blog stalking over to the professionals at Google Reader. But until then…just know…I’m watching you…I mean your blog…in a totally non-creepy way (I think).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-3534942765420468145?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/3534942765420468145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=3534942765420468145' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3534942765420468145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/3534942765420468145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-have-confession-to-make.html' title='I have a confession to make...'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-6587229586314322970</id><published>2008-03-29T19:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T19:21:17.973-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My car has a fan club</title><content type='html'>And its me!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to get gas today, which is something I always dread because it costs money.  Lately (as I’m sure most of you have noticed) it has been costing a lot of money.  Despite this fact, my gage was creeping a little too close to empty for comfort (especially considering tomorrow is Sunday).  So, I bit the bullet and pulled into a gas station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always prepare myself for the pain by looking to see how much the previous person paid, and let me tell you…it was painful for them (unless they were really rich and didn’t care).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so as I was filling up I kept watching the numbers creep up and then, when I thought it was only about halfway full the handle popped!  I thought it was a mistake so I pushed it again, and it popped again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My car is the best!  I always forget what great gas mileage it gets because I don’t drive that often and really don’t fill up that often.  All I have to say is that I am the president of its fan club, and I will try extra hard to come up with a good name for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m surprised I haven’t named it yet…I don’t even really know what gender it is…weird.  I need to give it a little bit more of my attention because he/she definitely deserves it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-6587229586314322970?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/6587229586314322970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=6587229586314322970' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/6587229586314322970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/6587229586314322970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-car-has-fan-club.html' title='My car has a fan club'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-1912251341596160376</id><published>2008-03-25T16:47:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:21.716-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mice</title><content type='html'>My heart broke a bit this week because I had to sacrifice my cute little mice. Their tumors were getting too big so it was time, but I realized that I had gotten somewhat attached to the little g&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-llohCLD8I/AAAAAAAAAA0/VN-0Gwg8PVg/s1600-h/nude+mouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;uys. When we first started the study I thought that nude mice were the ugliest things I had ever seen. After spending time with them though (I had to image their tumors twice a week for the past six weeks) they began to grow on me. They remind me of cute,&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-llfxCLD7I/AAAAAAAAAAs/WH-xT4MiPWg/s1600-h/nude+mouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; wrinkly old men. My favorite one even had a few white whiskers growing on his adorable little naked fa&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ll2RCLD9I/AAAAAAAAAA8/OobYJUHPMbo/s1600-h/nude+mouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181784829226323922" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ll2RCLD9I/AAAAAAAAAA8/OobYJUHPMbo/s200/nude+mouse.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ce. I won’t go into graphic detail, but it is rather unpleasant the way we have to kill the guys (just to clarify, it is not unpleasant at all for them, just for us).  It is definitely my least favorite thing I have to do in the lab. I suppose that is a good thing though because I don't want it to ever become easy to take a life, however small it may be. Thankfully, the lives of my mice have served their purpose. Our study seems to be successful (further analysis will confirm) and will hopefully help to save many lives (both human and mice) in the future.  But, I have officially decided this week as a result of my experiences to make a goal that throughout my career as a scientist I will never waste a life, no matter how small.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-1912251341596160376?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/1912251341596160376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=1912251341596160376' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1912251341596160376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1912251341596160376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-mice.html' title='My Mice'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ll2RCLD9I/AAAAAAAAAA8/OobYJUHPMbo/s72-c/nude+mouse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-6615211679201065647</id><published>2008-03-23T23:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T01:21:04.551-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrating Holy Week</title><content type='html'>Probably more than any other year I really have felt focused on the significance of the events that transpired during the most holy week in the history of mankind.  Most likely it is because I have had absolutely no trappings of a worldly Easter (no bunnies, baskets, candy, etc…) which has really allowed me to concentrate more on why this time of year is so important.  Each day this week I have taken the time to be aware of the chronology of the events that occurred.  This awareness has led me to a greater appreciation of how incredible it is that so much could have happened in such a short period of time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of my life (other than when I was at BYU) I have been around people who celebrate Lent, Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter, and while I know that as an LDS Church we don’t have special services on these days, I think we need to be careful not to overlook the significance of the events that transpired during the final week of the Savior’s mortal life.  Really, the salvation of all of Heavenly Father’s children hinged on the events of this pivotal week which were the culminating events of Christ’s premortal and mortal life and mission.  I know that without His atonement and resurrection my life would be pointless.  I would have no hope of ever being able to progress beyond my sins and weaknesses, no hope of being with my family members again who I have lost, and no hope of returning to live with Heavenly Father. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully though, while we don’t have special services to celebrate and remember the events of holy week, what I have come to realize is that we actually do celebrate this special week throughout the year but maybe just aren’t as aware of it as we should be.  Instead of fasting during Lent we have the opportunity every month to draw nearer to God by fasting which provides us with the strength to overcome the temptations of the devil as Christ did in the wilderness.  As we serve and love each other on a daily basis we are remembering His washing of the disciples’ feet at the Last Supper.  When we partake of the sacrament each week we are remembering that first sacrament and the atoning sacrifice and resurrection that followed which made the whole Plan of Salvation possible.  So really, for me this week has been a reminder of the origin and significance of those things I do on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis to remember Him and I am grateful for those constant reminders of His holy and sacred sacrifice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-6615211679201065647?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/6615211679201065647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=6615211679201065647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/6615211679201065647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/6615211679201065647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/03/celebrating-holy-week.html' title='Celebrating Holy Week'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-6780653037894660039</id><published>2008-03-22T22:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T02:37:21.868-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day with the Kennedys</title><content type='html'>In an attempt to take full advantage of the fact that I live in Boston I have been going on some super fun historical outings with my friends. Today we went to the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum. It is in a beautiful location on the water just south of Boston and it was quite an experience to be immersed in the life of the Kennedys for the day. In addition to learning a lot mor&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-cPPxCLD5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/obL7YK0tDWs/s1600-h/IMG_2948.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181126659847950226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-cPPxCLD5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/obL7YK0tDWs/s200/IMG_2948.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;e about their lives and accomplishments we had the opportunity to watch several excerpts from speeches by both JFK and Bobby which were inspiring and thought-provoking. Since I don’t have time now to address the many streams of thought that I am still mulling over as a result of listening to some of their rhetoric, I just want to focus on a problem I face in dealing with people like the Kennedys. How can people who were so inspiring and influential lead dirty secret lives like they did? Can there be a disconnect between who they were and the wonderful things they accomplished? And if it is somehow possible to mentally separate the smuttiness of certain aspects of their lives from the positive changes they made in the world, should we? I guess what bothers me the most is that in their speeches they talk about morality, values, family, and yet their actions didn’t live up to their own words. In my opinion, if someone doesn’t practice or even strive to practice the principles they preach it devalues the message, even if that message is good and true. Now, in the case of the Kennedys, many of their messages still had a profound effect on the people of the world because for the most part the causes they championed were honorable, but I just feel like their lives somehow tainted the goodness of those actions. Two thoughts before I conclude. First of all, this concept that public figures often have ulterior motives makes me nervous in an election year where provocative rhetoric and emotional messages are being tossed around. I feel as though it is too easy to get carried away by words without actually investigating underlying issues and unspoken opinions. As Elder Maxwell says it is “so easy to be indignant without being intelligent” (Patience, 1979). I am trying to be self-aware enough to know when I am being manipulated by politicians to become indignant without actually being informed. So, instead of just talking inanely about issues I don’t really know enough about, I am resolved to become more informed so that I can make up my own mind instead of spouting off borrowed opinions from newscasters, co-workers, friends, or other people who sound like they know what they are talking about. Second, it is such a comfort to know that when it comes to the leadership in the Church I never have to struggle with not being sure I can trust the message because of the messenger. In fact, it is often the other way around: the exemplary lives of the messengers serve to only strengthen the messages they share. And I am really grateful for that fact.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-6780653037894660039?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/6780653037894660039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=6780653037894660039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/6780653037894660039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/6780653037894660039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/03/day-with-kennedys.html' title='A Day with the Kennedys'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-cPPxCLD5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/obL7YK0tDWs/s72-c/IMG_2948.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-8032299458147799492</id><published>2008-03-17T00:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T21:59:14.091-04:00</updated><title type='text'>People</title><content type='html'>Events of this week have reconfirmed to me that people in general really are nice.  Most everyone is willing to help you out, say something kind, or at least smile when you need it—and each of those nice things really do make a difference (especially when you are miserable on the inside).  Every once in a while all of us can get a bit crabby or unpleasant to be around, but deep down I really think everyone is nice.  Now, I know that there are people out there that may seem like they are unpleasant all of the time, but I’ve found that if you pay close attention, these people show little sparks of niceness too (and they probably wish that they knew how to be nice all the time).  Being the recipient of so much niceness this week has made me more aware of how important it is for me to be nice to everyone, cause you never know who really needs it.  So, thanks all you people out there who have been, and continue to be so nice to me.  I appreciate it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-8032299458147799492?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/8032299458147799492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=8032299458147799492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8032299458147799492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/8032299458147799492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/03/people.html' title='People'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-1396310428014383075</id><published>2008-03-12T21:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T18:40:58.616-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Being Sick</title><content type='html'>I have been sick for the last two days.  All I have is a feverish cold, which is really not a big deal.  So, I just tried to shrug it off this morning and left for work optimistically ready to get a lot accomplished today.  As I was walking to the lab though, I started hacking up a lung and feeling very dizzy.  By the time I got to work I really was not feeling well (almost to the point of tearing up a little…I know…its ridiculous).  Thanks to my wonderful co-workers I was able to leave early and I have spent the rest of the day being a lazy bum resting at home and surfing the internet even though I have so much to do.  My question is…actually I can’t remember what I was thinking when I started writing this…sorry…I’ll blame it on being sick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-1396310428014383075?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/1396310428014383075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=1396310428014383075' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1396310428014383075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1396310428014383075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/03/being-sick.html' title='Being Sick'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3057394136315119232.post-1845681086688950712</id><published>2008-03-11T22:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T19:05:59.518-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dark Room</title><content type='html'>So today I spent some time in the dark room in our lab. I often go in there to develop my protein blots. It’s a fairly small room and usually I have it all to myself. However, if there does happen to be someone else in there, like there was today, it can be kind of awkward standing in the dark waiting for your film to be exposed if you don’t really know the person who is standing next to you doing exactly the same thing….waiting. The awkward silence is periodically broken by requests to turn on the lights quickly, or to open the door, making the encounter all the more uncomfortable. After experiencing this twice today I realized how ridiculous it is. Why shouldn’t I use the opportunity to get to know some other people in my department? It is actually kind of sad that I allow my suppressed shyness to come out at certain moments like this. (I was actually quite shy in high school and even into my first year or so of college.) I think I’m a pretty outgoing person now, but moments like this make me realize that I still need to work on focusing on other people instead of myself. By allowing the moment to be awkward I missed a possible opportunity to make someone have a better day, or at least avoid an unpleasant few minutes in the dark room. I’ll have to do better next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3057394136315119232-1845681086688950712?l=kristieaamodt.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/feeds/1845681086688950712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3057394136315119232&amp;postID=1845681086688950712' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1845681086688950712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3057394136315119232/posts/default/1845681086688950712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kristieaamodt.blogspot.com/2008/03/dark-room.html' title='The Dark Room'/><author><name>kia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02389109078176506712</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_ujlGpQR_Ceo/R-ne3RCLD_I/AAAAAAAAABI/rPnjXcdNmoA/S220/blog+pic.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
