<?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-6371822207171971929</id><updated>2011-07-08T17:54:39.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>EMILY</title><subtitle type='html'>Read the incessant ramblings and occasional profound insight of this crazy girl...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>44</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-8092329816223878809</id><published>2011-07-08T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T17:54:39.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 6: Pistachio and Avocado Salad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B95PxfLdT7Y/ThemCJIwuUI/AAAAAAAABYc/uEFA8f6HZvE/s1600/270309_2085557971678_1027005321_2439725_4628905_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B95PxfLdT7Y/ThemCJIwuUI/AAAAAAAABYc/uEFA8f6HZvE/s400/270309_2085557971678_1027005321_2439725_4628905_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627148815165339970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Day 6: June 26, 2011&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Pistachio and Avocado Salad ***&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prepared by me; stand-a-lone lunch&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Recipe created by me and Jon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Approximate Cost: $3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This salad was born from needing to have a salad, and using whatever was in my refrigerator.  It is romaine lettuce, bleu cheese, pistachios, napa cabbage, scallion, avocado, dressed with a store-bought raspberry walnut vinaigrette.  It was tasty- nice and light.  But we decided that it was missing something, perhaps some sliced apples, or some fresh raspberries.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-8092329816223878809?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/8092329816223878809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=8092329816223878809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8092329816223878809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8092329816223878809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-6-pistachio-and-avocado-salad.html' title='Day 6: Pistachio and Avocado Salad'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B95PxfLdT7Y/ThemCJIwuUI/AAAAAAAABYc/uEFA8f6HZvE/s72-c/270309_2085557971678_1027005321_2439725_4628905_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-8278925068067861843</id><published>2011-07-08T17:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T17:50:03.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 5: Balsamic Grilled Chicken Salad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RrlL00gw5qM/ThekxXDZKRI/AAAAAAAABYU/WvsRkzKhM7k/s1600/261687_2084240378739_1027005321_2437550_3332234_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RrlL00gw5qM/ThekxXDZKRI/AAAAAAAABYU/WvsRkzKhM7k/s400/261687_2084240378739_1027005321_2437550_3332234_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627147427331516690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Day 5: June 5, 2011&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Balsamic Grilled Chicken Salad *****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prepared by Sammy's Woodfired Pizza Restaurant; shared with one other to go with dinner&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cost: $9.95 (for this half salad)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Went out to eat again with Jon.  We normally don't eat out this much, but I suppose it was a little rough getting into the swing of things making salads!  We ordered a pizza and a salad to split.  We ordered this salad and LaDou's Barbeque Chicken Pizza.  Believe me, they were both good.  This salad was absolutely delicious, perfectly dressed and perfectly balanced.  Plus again, good company.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Menu describes this salad as: &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;mixed greens, marinated chicken breast, gorgonzola cheese, toasted walnuts, balsamic basil dressing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-8278925068067861843?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/8278925068067861843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=8278925068067861843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8278925068067861843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8278925068067861843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-5-balsamic-grilled-chicken-salad.html' title='Day 5: Balsamic Grilled Chicken Salad'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RrlL00gw5qM/ThekxXDZKRI/AAAAAAAABYU/WvsRkzKhM7k/s72-c/261687_2084240378739_1027005321_2437550_3332234_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-7579292804091117553</id><published>2011-07-08T17:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T17:50:45.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 4: Cobb Salad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J12qUr2_ESM/ThejVjSj5KI/AAAAAAAABYM/J2PrnxEd4l8/s1600/268026_2073485589876_1027005321_2434059_641348_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J12qUr2_ESM/ThejVjSj5KI/AAAAAAAABYM/J2PrnxEd4l8/s400/268026_2073485589876_1027005321_2434059_641348_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627145850068395170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Day 4: June 4, 2011&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Cobb Salad ***&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prepared by me; dinner by itself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Approximate cost for 1: $4&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Recipe created by me; it's a pretty standard kind of salad&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Given that this is one of my favorite all-time salads, I'm not sure what warranted this as only a 3 star rating.  Perhaps I was feeling weary of green salads 4 dinners in a row, but I think most of it was the fact that I used some leftover crispy chicken (from the first day of oriental chicken salad) and that was just weird.  It needs grilled chicken.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The salad has romaine lettuce, roma tomatoes, avocado, fried chicken, bacon and bleu cheese.  It was topped with ranch dressing made from a Hidden Valley Ranch packet.  Sometimes I find that bleu cheese dressing with the actual bleu cheese is a little much for me.  But perhaps the ranch dressing flavor is what threw it off for me as well.  Maybe I should have stuck with the bleu cheese!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-7579292804091117553?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/7579292804091117553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=7579292804091117553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7579292804091117553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7579292804091117553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-4-cobb-salad.html' title='Day 4: Cobb Salad'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J12qUr2_ESM/ThejVjSj5KI/AAAAAAAABYM/J2PrnxEd4l8/s72-c/268026_2073485589876_1027005321_2434059_641348_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-3198071336597328403</id><published>2011-07-08T17:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T17:38:47.927-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 3: Grilled Steak Salad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0YlI4tXQ6Aw/ThegoZ3g4jI/AAAAAAAABX0/laKML9bjE90/s1600/264356_2046586077405_1027005321_2430898_5906328_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0YlI4tXQ6Aw/ThegoZ3g4jI/AAAAAAAABX0/laKML9bjE90/s400/264356_2046586077405_1027005321_2430898_5906328_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627142875421663794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Day 3: June 23, 2011&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Grilled Steak Salad ****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prepared by BJ's restaurant;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;stand-a-lone dinner split with Jon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cost: $12.95&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went to BJ's with Jon.  Good salad, good company - what more can I say?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BJ's menu descripti&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;on: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Grilled, marinated skirt steak, oven roasted potatoes and mixed baby greens, tossed with balsamic vinaigrette and bleu cheese crumbles, then topped with roasted yellow squash, red onion, zucchini, red pepper with tomato and hard boiled egg wedges.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If I was making this salad myself, I would definitely use more bleu cheese, and would likely use more of the side vegetables and a little less of the steak.  Although I love my steak medium rare, like they did it, for a salad, I would probably have the steak more like medium, as well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-3198071336597328403?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/3198071336597328403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=3198071336597328403' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/3198071336597328403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/3198071336597328403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-3-grilled-steak-salad.html' title='Day 3: Grilled Steak Salad'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0YlI4tXQ6Aw/ThegoZ3g4jI/AAAAAAAABX0/laKML9bjE90/s72-c/264356_2046586077405_1027005321_2430898_5906328_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-6748080450518474483</id><published>2011-07-08T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T17:37:37.798-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2: Pear and gorgonzola salad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jQZz45aycWQ/Theh7rW5I4I/AAAAAAAABX8/CNu5ReCxeD0/s1600/268481_2044779272236_1027005321_2428893_1858896_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jQZz45aycWQ/Theh7rW5I4I/AAAAAAAABX8/CNu5ReCxeD0/s400/268481_2044779272236_1027005321_2428893_1858896_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627144306045821826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Day 2: June 22, 2011&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Pear and Gorgonzola Salad *****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prepared by Michelle Isom, to go with dinner (quite a delicious one)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Cost and exact recipe unknown&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Michelle and I decided to have dinner together, and when two people who like to cook and enjoy good food get together, imagination then ensues.  We had cornbread-and-bacon stuffed porkchops, oven-roasted ranch potatoes, and this salad.  Then we had brownies for dessert.   Yum, yum!  After dinner, we watched an episode of Firefly ("Trash" to be specific.  Funny!)  What a wonderful evening!  Michelle is awesomely fun, and although our friendship is budding, I predict an incredible one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The salad contains greens (the salad spring mix you get from the store, I think she said), pears, gorgonzola cheese, chopped pistachios, and a standard olive oil vinaigrette.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-6748080450518474483?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/6748080450518474483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=6748080450518474483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6748080450518474483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6748080450518474483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-2-pear-and-gorgonzola-salad.html' title='Day 2: Pear and gorgonzola salad'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jQZz45aycWQ/Theh7rW5I4I/AAAAAAAABX8/CNu5ReCxeD0/s72-c/268481_2044779272236_1027005321_2428893_1858896_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-1607523668596033735</id><published>2011-07-08T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T17:37:15.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 1: Oriental Chicken Salad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DqqyKtESc9o/TheiaTE7ppI/AAAAAAAABYE/lM4FUbS2byA/s1600/265374_2042417653197_1027005321_2425323_4330431_o.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DqqyKtESc9o/TheiaTE7ppI/AAAAAAAABYE/lM4FUbS2byA/s400/265374_2042417653197_1027005321_2425323_4330431_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627144832103982738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Day 1: June 21, 2011&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:large;"&gt;Oriental Chicken Salad ****&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dinner by itself; prepared by Emily Wiggins&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Approximate cost for 1: $3&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Recipe: http://www.food.com/recipe/applebees-oriental-chicken-salad-19253&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wanted an oriental chicken salad (like at Applebee's).  I initially looked at my Betty Crocker cookbook, only to find it wasn't at all like I wanted.  Thank goodness for google - and for talented cooks out there who can recreate salads from tasting them.  The website above has a recipe for the salad from Applebee's.  I pretty much followed the recipe, although I scaled it down quite a bit, and approximated a lot of my quantities.  I also did not have red cabbage.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The result?  Tastiness. Ah.  It was good.  Hence, the four stars.  And salad-a-day is born - off to a good start.  If every salad is this good, I'll be a happy little girl.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Suggested modifications: although it made a really yummy crispy chicken, it was awfully time consuming and messy.  Just searing your chicken would still be a pretty good salad, as well.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/6371822207171971929-1607523668596033735?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/1607523668596033735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=1607523668596033735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/1607523668596033735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/1607523668596033735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2011/07/day-1-june-21-2011-oriental-chicken.html' title='Day 1: Oriental Chicken Salad'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DqqyKtESc9o/TheiaTE7ppI/AAAAAAAABYE/lM4FUbS2byA/s72-c/265374_2042417653197_1027005321_2425323_4330431_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-6041117749042937750</id><published>2011-07-08T17:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T17:06:55.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salad-A-Day</title><content type='html'>My sister and I began a project in which we wanted to have a different salad each day.  We started on June 21, and the plan is to continue until July 31.  40 days of salads.  I will list each day the salads and their ratings - but only some of them will have descriptions of how to make them - the ones that I made myself.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Welcome to salad-y-goodness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-6041117749042937750?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/6041117749042937750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=6041117749042937750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6041117749042937750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6041117749042937750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2011/07/salad-day.html' title='Salad-A-Day'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-2024813486410094189</id><published>2010-08-02T00:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T00:25:24.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Argh.</title><content type='html'>Have you ever felt like a complete idiot only to have someone verify through their words that you are in fact (at least in this situation), the idiot you feel like?  It's an awful feeling.  I don't know if I'm mad at myself for BEING the idiot, or mad at the person for making me FEEL like the idiot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-2024813486410094189?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/2024813486410094189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=2024813486410094189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/2024813486410094189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/2024813486410094189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2010/08/argh.html' title='Argh.'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-6350795350766921813</id><published>2009-03-16T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T12:51:23.282-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Touch</title><content type='html'>I miss having internet access at home. I tend to do my best writing at night. For some reason, when I'm lying awake in bed (when I'm supposed to be sleeping) that is when thoughts come my way....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I was thinking about touch. There are different kinds of touch: passionate touch, romantic touch, affectionate touch, and just touch. To me, passionate touch should be kept within the bonds of marriage so there is no need to be discussing that here. Romantic touch is surely something I haven't had in a very long time: something between two people with romantic interests. There are certain kinds of touch that you would do in that situation that you wouldn't with just a friend. For example, I probably wouldn't stroke the cheek of a girlfriend. I might hold a girlfriend's hand, but the intent would be different. That would be more affectionate touch. Herein lies hugs, an arm around the shoulder, etc. And then there is just touch. A backrub, wrestling, a touch on the arm to get attention, etc. Sometimes those acts have the intent of affection behind them and they are usually done with people we are affectionate with, but sometimes they do not necessarily have the intent of affection behind them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason I was thinking about it is because I think that as humans we crave touch. We crave all the different kinds of touch, really. I wonder if that is why sexual relations outside marriage has unfortunately become so acceptable, because homophobia keeps us from getting the other kinds of touch that our body really craves. When you consider someone with autism, they often also have sensory integration dysfunction. With these kinds of individuals, they really respond positively to deep pressure. It integrates them. And I wonder if there is something related with all human beings. We might not have a disorder that affects us so deeply, but I wonder if in some way that touch does the same kind of thing for us as it does for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Just a thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-6350795350766921813?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/6350795350766921813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=6350795350766921813' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6350795350766921813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6350795350766921813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-miss-having-internet-access-at-home.html' title='Touch'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-4602681765792568900</id><published>2008-10-05T21:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-05T21:11:20.131-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emily Wiggins, NMT, MT-BC</title><content type='html'>Okay, that's just funny that my last post was about passing my boards.  I didn't get on to blog about this specifically, but thought it would be entertaining.  Attended the NMT (Neurologic Music Therapy) training this weekend in Fort Collins Colorado, which allows me to now use the designation NMT for 3 years.  It was a really excellent training, of which I will probably write about later, but my purpose in getting on to post today was different, so I'll just say that for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-4602681765792568900?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/4602681765792568900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=4602681765792568900' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4602681765792568900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4602681765792568900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/10/emily-wiggins-nmt-mt-bc.html' title='Emily Wiggins, NMT, MT-BC'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-3658025898826350097</id><published>2008-08-23T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T13:30:37.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emily Wiggins, MT-BC</title><content type='html'>On Monday I took my board certification exam for music therapists - and I passed!  Let me tell you, prior to that I wasn't really worried at all.  But the night before I couldn't sleep for the life of me due to anxiety, and I have never been more anxious DURING an exam in my life.  Even at BYU.  And I can say unequivocably that the BYU testing center is the testing center from hell.  Seriously.  Horrible, horrible testing conditions.  Five years of lines just to get into this huge, HUGE hall of hundreds of students taking exams with people constantly coming in and out of the room, and absolute silence except for the shuffling of papers, the scraping of pencils against exams, and hands rubbing sweat off of foreheads with the occasional muffled groan or whimper from a student, or myself.  The room was thick with anxiety, so even if you didn't have anxiety of your own, you could feel the energy of anxiety exuding from the air.  I HATED exams at BYU.  And I've always been completely terrible at multiple choice exams, which most of them were, if you were taking it at the testing center of BYU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sidetracked - but just to demonstrate that Mondays' was a million times worse.  The night before, even though I couldn't sleep, I was at least able to listen to appropriate music that calmed me down so I wasn't bouncing off the walls.  So, I'm sitting there, taking a certification exam for music therapists, knowing full well that I was very, very anxious and knowing full well that music would have helped calm me down, except ironically - not allowed.  Taking a music therapy exam and I couldn't even use music on myself.  Yeesh.  A couple of days prior to the exam, I had taken a practice self-assessment - and had gotten 88% of the questions right; I wasn't worried at all.  However, I kept coming across questions that I could narrow it down to two.  There were very few questions where I was "SURE" and most of them were, well, "I think" or even "I'm pretty sure."  But the more of those I got and the less "SURE" ones I got as time went on, the more nervous I got.  It was all I could do not to tear out my hair.  I could not hold still; I feel sorry for the poor woman in the room taking an exam with me.  I must have just oozed anxiety out of my body and made the room all tense. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it turned out I passed - thank goodness; don't think I could have gone through it again.  And of course, I was really happy (and really, really, really tired).  And I've been exuberant all week long.  And it finally occurred to me, that I wasn't just happy for 'passing an exam' - but this is the culminating thing to all I've been working toward for years.  I FINALLY have a career.  Heehee.  That still sounds silly to me.  I always expected to be an at home mother.  I started my education for the sake of education, not for a career. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, it's totally changed, of course.  I still want to be a mother, but now is apparently not the time.  But I am so very happy with my life right now, with the things that I have accomplished, and to have the opportunity to use music every day and to be a part of so many people's lives.  Awesome.  Can't begin to describe - especially when today I'm feeling rambly and inarticulate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't want to put off any further the announcement that I passed my board exam, so I am now Emily Wiggins, MT-BC (music therapist-board certified). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I finally replaced my frame for my diploma earlier this week and hung it up on Thursday.  Actually, Adam hung it up on Thursday for me, during our party celebrating my passing.  Yay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-3658025898826350097?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/3658025898826350097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=3658025898826350097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/3658025898826350097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/3658025898826350097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/08/emily-wiggins-mt-bc.html' title='Emily Wiggins, MT-BC'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-968663819792717885</id><published>2008-08-11T10:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T10:09:15.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Circles of Logic</title><content type='html'>waking up in the morning&lt;br /&gt;before feeling fully rested&lt;br /&gt;unable to return to soft spaces of slumber&lt;br /&gt;as the brain clicks on&lt;br /&gt;moving forward and backward and forward again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the clock ticks on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pondering life's dichotomies&lt;br /&gt;twisting around in circles of logic&lt;br /&gt;forgetting origins of thought born&lt;br /&gt;misguided attempts to discover answers&lt;br /&gt;to questions no longer defined&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the clock ticks on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thoughts of import float by barely within grasp&lt;br /&gt;escaping the definitive boundary of knowledge&lt;br /&gt;hopes of time standing still&lt;br /&gt;to reach blissful moments of solidity&lt;br /&gt;shattered to pieces as&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the clock ticks on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;circles of logic interrupted by thoughts&lt;br /&gt;stealing moments of everyday activities&lt;br /&gt;endeavors to permeate subconscious efforts to define&lt;br /&gt;elusive comprehension runs farther away&lt;br /&gt;as mind returns to the light of dawn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the clock ticks on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;circles of logic release the mind&lt;br /&gt;with a little sadness and longing&lt;br /&gt;knowing it will return again&lt;br /&gt;reaching a little closer to answers clear&lt;br /&gt;to questions that will be defined&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-968663819792717885?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/968663819792717885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=968663819792717885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/968663819792717885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/968663819792717885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/08/circles-of-logic.html' title='Circles of Logic'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-6389279620156056522</id><published>2008-08-09T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T13:04:31.911-07:00</updated><title type='text'>whoah...</title><content type='html'>I just realized today is August 9.  In 2001 on August 9 I received my mission call to serve in the Maryland, Baltimore mission.  That was &lt;em&gt;seven&lt;/em&gt; years ago!  My gosh.  Crazy.  Time flies.  And I feel a bit old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-6389279620156056522?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/6389279620156056522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=6389279620156056522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6389279620156056522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6389279620156056522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/08/whoah.html' title='whoah...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-6363141360605270695</id><published>2008-08-09T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T13:02:30.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is awesome!</title><content type='html'>Every once in a while in life I get overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude. The last couple of days have been full of those feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I have moments like today when I want to pull my hair out because I just do not know what to do with this client. But that's another subject.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just realizing that my life is really great right now. I mean, I have a good job where I actually make enough money to survive &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; am able to actually buy gifts for my friends and family when I feel like it &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;am able to make a dent into my debt. I have the most awesome career that is completely fulfilling (barring moments like the pull out my hair from today, but really, that is part of the fulfillment is figuring out the puzzles and overcoming barriers of difficulty...). I mean, seriously - my career is awesome. I have sessions when I just get to stinkin' play music with adorably cute kids, what the heck? And I have sessions when I walk away thinking, "That wisdom was in me??? I really helped that guy." It certainly helps your self esteem when your client tells you that you are really great at what you do and he is feeling better each week. And I have sessions where I just think back to all the progress that client has made in the last umpteen sessions and it just amazing to watch them grow. And at the end of the week, although I can just be exhausted from so many sessions, I think about how many different kinds of clients I have, and how different each of my sessions are. And it's awesome to see that shape up into what it is. And..how many other careers allow you to constantly be learning about all different kinds of people and tastes and musical styles. Never thought I'd have a cd of metal music, but hey, when you have clients who like that and listen to nothing but it and you are trying to write a metal song together, you kinda have to know what metal sounds like....And to top it all off, I actually feel like I'm &lt;em&gt;good&lt;/em&gt; at what I do. I admit, I can flat out tell you when I'm completely out of my element. Like the aforementioned client that makes me want to pull my hair out. I can't do it &lt;em&gt;all...&lt;/em&gt;imagine that. Oh...and, lately I feel like the quality of my voice is actually a little better. Weird. Guess singing all the time (and around other good musicians) will do that to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have a bazillion, seriously a bazillion, good, GOOD friends. You know, the first time I had just a really good friend, I thought, man I'm blessed to have such an awesome best friend. And then they just kept coming. Looked back into a journal entry a couple of years ago where I was like, man I'm lucky I have like 4 close, close friends. Now, I'm just...man I can't even count, because my friends are just awesome. I just said "man" uncharacteristically about five times in three sentences, oh joy. But it is true, I have a lot of good friends. You know that point where you move from being "friends" and spending time with someone to a person to a deeper level where you really see the person and feel like they see you, and you can truly tell your friend you love them, and nothing in the world could make you happier than to do whatever it takes to make them happy. I love that point and recently came to that point with a friend of mine, which helps me realize how blessed I am to have that kind of relationship with SO many people.  And now I have that with someone locally.  I've done nothing this week pretty much except work, sleep, and hang out with Serriah.  And I love it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our bishopric of our ward issued a challenge to read the Book of Mormon again in a set amount of time.  We began on Pioneer Day (July 24) and will finish by the next session of General Conference (October 3).  It works out to be about 9 pages a day, approximately 20-30 minutes of reading/studying.  We each received a fresh copy and we are marking it in two colors, red for passages about the Savior and the atonment, and blue for whatever has personal meaning to us in our lives at this time.  Upon completion, we give that copy of the Book of Mormon to someone special to us who does not have one.  I'm very excited about it, although it is a difficult thing to do.  But the reason why I bring it up in the midst of all I am saying is that it also is blessing my life.  As I'm putting forth a little more effort into studying the scriptures, it strengthens me spiritually, and I feel like I have energy even when I am not sleeping much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still single and would really like to know why guys don't go for me, but hey.  Life is just generally pretty darn awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-6363141360605270695?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/6363141360605270695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=6363141360605270695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6363141360605270695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6363141360605270695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/08/life-is-awesome.html' title='Life is awesome!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-7303859672560418317</id><published>2008-07-19T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T10:47:07.274-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bittersweet Celebrations...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Monday, July 14 8:30 A.M.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tyler and Eric and I arrive at Disneyland, having taken the shuttle from our hotel.  All of us are very excited as I haven't been since I was little and Tyler and Eric have never been at all.  We eventually figure out the confusing lines and venture into Disneyland, not exactly sure where we are going to go.  After exploring a little on Main Street, and driving on the Auto-Rama or whatever it was called, we venture our way toward Space Mountain, the only ride we are all sure we want to go on.  On the way, we enter into Innovations, not really having any idea what it was.  It is actually a futuristic museum of sorts, featuring upscale technologies.  Tyler was very interested; Eric was anxious to get on his way.  On the 2nd floor, we all kinda separate on our ways, exploring the different things, as you do in museums.  After about 30 minutes of this, I seek out my brothers.  I find Tyler, not Eric.  After about another 30 minutes of thoroughly exploring the entire Innovations building, we determined that Eric was no longer in the building.  I feel a mixture of irritation that he caused us to lose time looking for him, incredulence that he would be stupid enough to leave us at Disneyland, and worry that something had or would happen.  (To be fair, he was only "stupid enough" to leave because he thought we left him first - but I'm just telling you how I felt!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;2:00 PM&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about four hours of Tyler and I trying to forget it and enjoy ourselves - all the while battling emotions of worry that he was not having fun or that something happened with increasing anger that he hadn't figured out how to freakin' call me on my cell phone and after several trips back and forth to "City Hall" where parents find their "lost children" although Eric didn't technically qualify at age 15...Eric finally calls us, apparently having borrowed some stranger's cell phone.  He never did ask a security guard what to do, who would have directed him to City Hall where he would have found our twenty thousand messages (okay, one) message for him.  When we finally connected with each other, Eric said that he thought we'd left at Innovations (I will never understand his lack of reasoning to LOOK in the rest of the building before making this conclusion), basically decided to just enjoy himself on his own, and announced he'd done everything he had wanted to do and he was done with Disneyland.  Tyler and I just about punched him for this.  Although we had gone on a couple of rides, we'd also spent a lot of time worrying and going back and forth to City Hall and waiting in line to talk to Security.  We'd even gone back to Innovations at one point to make sure that we didn't miss him somewhere and he wasn't still there looking for us.  So I basically told him that he just had to toughen it up, because we were going to stay for some time yet; Tyler wanted to watch the fireworks at 9:30.  Previous to that point, I wasn't sure we were going to stay that long because we had a four hour drive back to Vegas and I had to work the next morning, but I think at that moment I decided to stay for it partly just to spite Eric.  We ended up really having a good time for the duration of the day, although we were all exhausted (and they were quite sunburnt) by the time we finally left.  Space Mountain is by far my favorite ride, although the Indiana Jones ride came a close 2nd - mostly because we ended up in the front row of our car and after a 45 minute wait it seemed all the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tuesday, July 15 2:45 AM&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally pull into my apartment complex after a four hour drive home.  Tyler and Eric had conked out within minutes of leaving our hotel and I do not know how I stayed awake to drive the unfamiliar drive home.  I've never been so reliant on the lines of the road - they were my focal point to keep my eyes open.  That and a Disney CD I listened to and sang along with about 12 times.  We throw all the stuff in the living room and I crash on my bed, trying to ignore the fact that I have to get up in four hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;5:30 PM&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a somewhat long day at work that I struggled to remain alert for, I come home, determined to eat dinner and go to bed early.  I routinely get my mail before walking into my apartment, and discover a cardboard white envelope from Marylhurst University.  I yell in excitement to my sister I am on the phone with that I got my diploma and as I walk toward my apartment, receive congratulations from neighbors who overheard my not so quiet musings of celebration.  By the time I get to my apartment (couple buildings from the mailbox) I'm awake and decide we're going to celebrate.  After a dinner out with my brothers and my friend Serriah, we go to Wal-Mart for the sole purpose of obtaining a frame suitable for my newly acquired Diploma officially signifying the first College Graduate of my family.  :)  Even though it's Wal-Mart and I went there for the low prices, I get the 2nd most expensive document frame because it's cool, and hey, it's my diploma - and it is a frame that has two glass panels that the document floats in between, thereby creating a "matting" of glass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;8:30 PM&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrive home and although I'm just about ready to crash and go to sleep, I decide to frame my diploma first.  I sit on the floor, carefully undo the frame and set aside the first glass panel on the bunched up blanket next to me so that I might put my diploma in the frame.  I get up to get some tape to secure the diploma to the glass, carefully step around the glass to get to my closet, miraculously quickly find my tape in my very messy "junk shelf" and head back to my frame. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CRUNCH. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few seconds of sleepy unawareness of what had just transpired, I look down at my foot which has just effectively turned the one glass panel sitting on the blanket (that just moments before I had remembered to step around) into dozens of pieces, throw my tape across the room and say something to the effect of "What the heck did I do that for?  I'm so stupid!"  My brothers seem frozen in time, looking at me with concern in their stances, although silent as they know not what to say, and remain in that position until I clean up my mess and state simply, "I'm going to bed." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After crying on the phone about what I had just done (I was very tired) to my friend Heather, I return my friend Brian's call and relate the story to him as well.  He appropriately gasped in all the right places and made me feel infinitely better by asking, "Was your diploma under the glass you stepped on??!?"  Suddenly breaking a glass frame did not seem so symbolically stupid as if I had ruined my diploma 3 hours after receiving it, and I feel better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Saturday, July 19 10:30 AM&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it is several days later, and although I have caught up on sleep (although still feeling quite tired this week) and even went to the store yesterday to buy myself a Graduation present (not on purpose, I went to go buy Season 10 of Friends because my brothers have been watching the series and the library is taking too long to get it to me and they leave in a couple of days --- but I ended up buying the whole series because I have been wanting to anyways.  10 minutes later I felt a twinge of regret for spending that money that I don't really have, but appeased my regret by deciding it's my graduation present to myself, although technically I bought myself a graduation present (to see Stomp) when I walked at graduation last year.  Still.  I'm official now.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I still have not bought a replacement frame to frame my diploma.  Wonder if I'm scared to do so.  :)    Of course, I just didn't think about it while I was at Target last night.  Oh well.  I'm an official college graduate in Music Therapy, even if my apartment wall doesn't signify as much yet.  Yay for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-7303859672560418317?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/7303859672560418317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=7303859672560418317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7303859672560418317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7303859672560418317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/07/bittersweet-celebrations.html' title='Bittersweet Celebrations...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-8671094620832389768</id><published>2008-05-11T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T10:41:06.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lord is mindful of me</title><content type='html'>I missed general conference (LDS church) this year because I was at a music therapy conference, so now that the addresses have been printed in the Ensign, I've been reading the talks.  This morning as I was reading, I felt an ever growing feeling that the Lord is mindful of me, and that despite all that I have done or not done over time...He loves me and I can still find what I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm reminded of a talk that was given at my stake's conference a few weeks ago, someone in the stake presidency was talking of the concept of disuse atrophy.  If a child has an eye patch, even for a short period of time, that eye quickly loses its ability to see, and if that eye is not given the opportunity to be used, it will go permanently blind.  So also is our faith.  If we do not use and exercise our faith, we will lose it to disuse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A particular passage in Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin's talk, entitled "Concern for the One" - really stuck out to me in its articulated beauty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Lord did not people the earth with a vibrant orchestra of personalities only to value the piccolos of the world.  Every instrument is precious and adds to the complex beauty of the symphony.  All of Heavenly Father's children are different in some degree, yet each has his own beautiful sound that adds depth and richness to the whole."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-8671094620832389768?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/8671094620832389768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=8671094620832389768' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8671094620832389768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8671094620832389768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/05/lord-is-mindful-of-me.html' title='The Lord is mindful of me'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-4913211349080696784</id><published>2008-05-08T12:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T12:52:37.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>How is it that we so easily fall into simply existing?  Going through life simply going through the motions, and forgetting to maximize things, enjoy things, DO things.  How is it that we can so easily let go of what we KNOW will bring us joy, enjoyment or happiness? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take faith in God, for example.  The thing about faith is that it is hope, belief - without knowledge.  But the important thing about faith is action.  If we believe in something and do not act on those beliefs, then that belief eventually fades.  It happens to everyone - at some point, we will stop acting on beliefs on some level because other things in life distracts us.  The guilt we then feel in not following through with our beliefs either drive us to action - repentance, and beginning to do again what we know we should.  Or we try to erase that guilt by simply changing our beliefs and we delude ourselves into thinking there are other ways to find that kind of peace and happiness.  I've seen it in others - and eventually, they simply stop believing and come to the conclusion that God doesn't exist. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a friend that we have trusted breaks that trust for some reason, we naturally hold back in the future, we protect our interests and do not hold as strong a trust with that friend.  Likewise - God cannot help us feel His spirit if we do not allow ourselves to feel.  Naturally, that spirit is no longer offered to us if we do not accept it.  So when we stop feeling, stop believing in God, it is not because God doesn't exist, but because we denied ourselves the opportunity and the blessings of feeling His existence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It boggles my mind to see those who stop believing in God.  To have watched this process in them and to slowly watch their faith fade.  But it is so easy.  So easy to let go.  How easy it is to have our scriptures on the side of our bed, unread, waiting for another Sunday to be taken to church.  How easy to go to church on Sunday with our minds completely elsewhere.  How easy it is to miss church for other "valuable" reasons.  How easy to rely on ourselves to find happiness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what right do I have to judge those formerly faithful, now agnostic, loved ones for letting go of what is good and true when here I sit...simply existing and going through the motions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is difficult as a music therapist to hold on to the things I know to be true.  Knowing the power that music has, and the peace, happiness and change it can inspire in so many individuals.  And ethically as a therapist, needing to work within other value systems and honor people for who they are, whatever they believe.  I'm finding it difficult to hold onto my own.  To rely on God and to recognize that music, as powerful as it is, is NOT my saving grace.  Life without God is nothing.  It is just existing.  Life with God is progressing and moving forward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually, I do not admit when I'm simply existing.  It happens often, that lovely cycle of pride when we rely on our own arm, fail miserably, and turn back to God to find peace and happiness.  I feel empty, not even feeling the strength of God at church as much, knowing that it is because I've let myself get so far from Him.  I'm saying it aloud to kick myself in the butt, to move myself forward.  To allow God really back in my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Studying music therapy and counseling, it is completely engrained in us that it is not about us - but about our clients.  So where do I go?  What happens to me when I spend at least 1/3 of my waking hours holding the space for others and thinking of ways to help them?  I come home at the end of the day and spend endless hours sucking even more energy out of myself watching endless and pointless television shows and movies, playing games and reading loads upon loads of fiction.  While none of these things in and of themselves are bad at all, the time spent because I have no energy for anything else....just sucks my energy out worse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I must force myself out of this cycle of energy sucking activity and move forward into productivity - being with loved ones, being physically active, being creatively expressive, and above all....being one with God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-4913211349080696784?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/4913211349080696784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=4913211349080696784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4913211349080696784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4913211349080696784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-is-it-that-we-so-easily-fall-into.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-2014962224078146623</id><published>2008-05-04T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T17:37:16.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I do not like them, Sam the Mouse</title><content type='html'>I do not like bugs in my house&lt;br /&gt;I do not like them Sam the mouse&lt;br /&gt;I do not like them on my leg&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter how you beg&lt;br /&gt;I do not like them on my floor&lt;br /&gt;Dead on their back behind my door&lt;br /&gt;I do not like them Sam the mouse&lt;br /&gt;I do not like bugs in my house&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-2014962224078146623?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/2014962224078146623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=2014962224078146623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/2014962224078146623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/2014962224078146623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-do-not-like-them-sam-mouse.html' title='I do not like them, Sam the Mouse'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-1689693968864881718</id><published>2008-05-04T07:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T07:58:00.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ewwwwwwwwww</title><content type='html'>I am so creeped out.  Let me say that again, I am SOOOOOO creeped out!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally went to bed after the bug hallucinating fiasco, and probably put it off a little more than I would have so by the time I actually went to sleep it was out of my head entirely and my dreams were nothing at all to do with the bug. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then this morning I wake up and go to the bathroom, I turn on my light and there, sitting at the door of my bathroom are count them TWO bugs on their backs, apparently dead.  One is a little smaller black looking little desert beetle, and the other is the one I saw last night - don't ask me what it is - it's a brownish oval shape of a beetle (I guess?  I don't know my bugs) - that is about 1 and a half inches.  EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The smaller one is a little smashed looking, like someone stepped on it (ewww, ewww, eww, ewwwwww.....) - wouldn't I have felt that on my barefeet??  EWWWWW, just the thought!  I would have thought with the sizes that they were like, one bug and it was shedding it's bigger skin but they both had little nasty legs sticking up.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I.  Don't.  Like.  Bugs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-1689693968864881718?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/1689693968864881718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=1689693968864881718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/1689693968864881718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/1689693968864881718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/05/ewwwwwwwwww.html' title='Ewwwwwwwwww'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-250743651827720237</id><published>2008-05-03T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-03T22:00:06.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe they should diagnose me with "Hallucinating Bug Disease"</title><content type='html'>Alright, seriously beginning to wonder about myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting there on my living room floor, in the dark, with my laptop on my lap playing a game, and I see out of the corner of my nearly blind left eye this big nasty bug going up my leg, so I shriek, throw my laptop on the ground and get up to turn the light and I'm shouting at the big nasty bug to come back so I can get rid of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so for the next five minutes, okay maybe ten, I am left to wonder if I'm hallucinating, or if a big nasty bug is hiding in my apartment. I turned on every light in the apartment and I sat on top of my couch just looking around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister came to the conclusion that there was someting in my eye like an eyelash or something, and since I was hiking in the desert today and saw a bunch of bugs that my mind automatically went there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The justification doesn't help much - I'm still going to have ugly dreams tonight feeling unsettled.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-250743651827720237?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/250743651827720237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=250743651827720237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/250743651827720237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/250743651827720237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/05/maybe-they-should-diagnose-me-with.html' title='Maybe they should diagnose me with &quot;Hallucinating Bug Disease&quot;'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-7541117754495817106</id><published>2008-05-02T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T09:14:23.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Harmonious Sensations of Innocence</title><content type='html'>For some reason, the other day, I thought of the smell of fresh mown grass and missed that smell from Oregon.  As soon as I thought about that, a cacophony of smells and other senses that I miss about Oregon came to my head...the smell of new rain (although, admittedly - "new" rain doesn't happen often), the sound of the ocean waves with children playing in the background, a field covered with daisies and sitting around making necklaces from them, sitting under the shade of a tree reading a book on a rare hot sunny day, the thrill of looking outside and seeing a blue sky which causes you to automatically want to drop whatever you are doing and enjoy it because who knows how long that will last, the simple sight of a real (non-palm variety) tree, driving down the windy part of Terwilliger road in the fall, crunching dry autumn leaves under your feet (although again, admittedly - "dry" leaves don't exist that often)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are all things I do not get in Las Vegas.  Sure, the sky is blue - but it's ALWAYS blue, so you never get that same thrill of excitement, I sometimes get the feeling of dread of having to endure hot weather in the summer!  In fact, when it looks like it is going to rain here, that is when I get the thrill - because it's something different and out of the norm.  And there is no darn place to just go and sit on grass and read a book in the park - at least anywhere close by that I have found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was sitting at the piano that same night dinking around, and I started messing with this thought into a song that is very much in progress still, and its' title (which is the coolest part of the whole song)  is "Harmonious Sensations of Innocence." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the smell of the fresh mown grass or new rain on the dry cement ground&lt;br /&gt;the taste of the salt in the air or the waves crashing around&lt;br /&gt;the daisies all over the grass little girls making wreaths for the boys in their class with the tetherball foursquare and hopscotch and jumprope and laughter and running and swinging and sand in their toes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that is all I have so far, and then my session with some older adults yesterday we ended up talking about some different sensations from their childhood that they remember - and I thought - how cool - I mean, what beautiful poetry, just the smells and sights and feelings of our childhood.  There were people who talked about coming home to fresh baked cookies every day, the feeling of being chased around by a favorite Palomino, sitting under a tree by an upstate New York stream, and my favorite: the fresh smell of sheets being hung out to dry and the feeling of having those dry sheets for the first time on your bed and how when sheets go through the dryer you don't get that same feeling or smell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kinds of smells and sensations are the children of today remembering?  The video game controls?  The sound of media constantly bombarding our ears? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, another informal session I had yesterday, it was a variety of ages of children, and we're sitting on the grass (fake, mind you) - drumming away, and you could hear the sounds of other children playing basketball, or playing catch with their visiting parents, and lots and lots of running around.  So I guess they are still getting that part, too, most children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm totally going off in different directions now....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah well, it's a blog, I'm allowed to ramble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-7541117754495817106?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/7541117754495817106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=7541117754495817106' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7541117754495817106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7541117754495817106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/05/harmonious-sensations-of-innocence.html' title='Harmonious Sensations of Innocence'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-8229148771023722615</id><published>2008-04-30T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T08:40:14.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blonde Moment</title><content type='html'>Alright, so the other day I got a Hepatitis A vaccine (which hurt like a bugger, by the way).  They do it on your upper left arm, up near the shoulder.  So I have this bandaid on it, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I'm taking a shower and I'm reaching for the shampoo, and suddenly, out of the corner of my nearly blind left eye I see this brown blob thing on my arm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is my first reaction?  I freak out, shriek like a little girl and slap my arm to get the nasty gigantic bug off of my arm.  I've slapped my already sore arm three times before I realize it is my bandaid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, blonde moment.  I laughed so hard when I realized what I had done that I couldn't stand up straight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, might you ask, would I automatically assume there is a gigantic brown blob of a bug on my arm?  Well, let's just say I live in the desert and there are nasty bugs here.  It's starting to get hot and they want shelter, too, and well, I don't live in the nicest apartment on the face of the planet.  Probably pretty easy for them to find their way inside.  Oh joy of joys, aren't I looking forward to the summer?  How ever will I survive?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-8229148771023722615?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/8229148771023722615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=8229148771023722615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8229148771023722615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8229148771023722615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/04/blonde-moment.html' title='Blonde Moment'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-7510405185149619379</id><published>2008-04-25T17:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T18:17:41.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Exhaustions</title><content type='html'>So one of the groups I work with are young children (ages 2-3) with down syndrome.  I have regularly had 2 children there, and every so often a third client who just started.  So here's a picture for you that happened yesterday....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clients A and B, who regularly come, were there as well as client C who has not been there in a few weeks.  Client C was struggling and cried throughout most of the session, and I'm juggling soothing and comforting him while also keeping the other two engaged.  After about 20 minutes I get him calm, and things are okay...for about ten seconds when client A gets up to the other side of the room.  She frequently does this; I am often redirecting her behaviors to get her engaged and focused on what we are doing.  I mean, these are toddlers for goodness sakes.  Anyway, I had not been able to pay as &lt;em&gt;much&lt;/em&gt; attention to her as usual, because of trying to help client C.  I get up to bring client A back to the group, my guitar strap comes undone and my guitar goes crashing to the ground.  (My guitar is okay, thank goodness) but it causes a very large crashing sound which startles client B and he begins screaming.  Because client B is screaming, client C begins crying again, and meanwhile, client A is refusing to listen to me and come back to the group.  So I have client B in my arms screaming, client A glaring daggers at me, and client C crying in his chair, and I somehow get client A in a chair in front of the piano, move the white board so I can get the piano bench over to the piano, sit client B next to me on the bench and client C on my lap, and we are all playing the piano and everyone is calm because oooo, something fun to do.  Of course, there is now drool and snot all over the piano keys from all the screaming and crying now on their hands, but you probably didn't need to know that fact.  Okay, so we're all playing and singing and people get calm.  After a few minutes of this, I determine the energy in the room is appropriate to return to our circle, and so I get up to put client C on his chair.  As my back is turned (oops, what's wrong with me?  Turn my back on 2 year olds??!) putting client C in his chair, client A accidentally smashes client B's fingers into the piano and client B begins screaming again.  Mind you, the whole piano thing came about to calm client B down, so now what?  I tell client A she needs to be careful, because look, you hurt his fingers, and although I was calm and reasonable (I think?  Hard to tell with all the screaming and crying going on.  My brain doesn't work the same with that kind of stimulation!) - she is upset because she did something wrong and didn't mean to, and she kinda shuts down and doesn't really want to listen or participate.  So I'm soothing client B and finally get him interested when I bring the book out (oh, I will forever love Emily Ross for teaching me the value of using books in music therapy with young children) - and we get everyone sitting down to start the book.  Everyone is calm and I talk again to client A and begin improvising a song about when we hurt someone we say I'm sorry, even when we didn't mean to, it was an accident, but when I hurt someone I say I'm sorry, or something to that effect....one of those improvisations that come and fulfill their purpose but you can't remember them five minutes later.  Anyway, client A apologizes to client B, client B has stopped screaming, and client C is happy in his chair and we get to move forward to further music therapy experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But can I just say, phew!!!??!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it...that's my funny and exhausting story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-7510405185149619379?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/7510405185149619379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=7510405185149619379' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7510405185149619379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7510405185149619379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/04/funny-exhaustions.html' title='Funny Exhaustions'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-4741260046071013993</id><published>2008-04-25T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T17:58:24.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emily Wiggins, Music Therapist</title><content type='html'>I completed my internship and am an official employed music therapist at CCTA!! WOOHOO!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those who don't know how the process goes...I now have a couple of straggling classes that I'm finishing up (I know, shame on me), will receive my degree in June, and will then be able to sit for a certification exam to be Emily Wiggins, MT-BC (music therapist-board certified)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-4741260046071013993?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/4741260046071013993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=4741260046071013993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4741260046071013993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4741260046071013993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/04/emily-wiggins-music-therapist.html' title='Emily Wiggins, Music Therapist'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-4400690931554984675</id><published>2008-04-02T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T08:12:40.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oven Mishaps</title><content type='html'>So last night in the middle of the night, I woke up in a sweat.  This isn't entirely unusual, I get hot often, especially when I sleep, and I couldn't get back to sleep.  So I opened the window in my living room and in my bedroom, and was able to get back to sleep.  This morning I go into the kitchen and it's hot!  I couldn't figure out, in my first of the morning grogginess, why it was so warm.  And then I realized the oven was still on from my dinner last night.  Doh.  So my apartment feels like a sauna now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I was on the phone with my mom, and all of a sudden I hear this crash and my mom saying, "Oh my gosh, I'm SOOOOO sorry..." and then to me, very quickly, "Emily, I gotta go!  I exploded a pan!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I'm thinking....what?  She exploded a pan???  And I was dying to call back and learn the particulars of the situation!  But I was glad she specified what the catastrophe was, because instead of being a little, "Um.... what?" like I was...I might have been worrying about what happened to someone - as accidents have seemed to abound in my family as of late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently Eric had baked a cake, and was allowing it to cool on top of the stove.  My mom went to go make dinner on the stove and turned on the wrong burner, and it exploded the glass pan that the cake was in.  Oops.  Poor pan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-4400690931554984675?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/4400690931554984675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=4400690931554984675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4400690931554984675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4400690931554984675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/04/oven-mishaps.html' title='Oven Mishaps'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-9041063407138049274</id><published>2008-03-21T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T21:01:56.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>three times a bridesmaid, or maid of honor, no wait, six, no....never a bride?</title><content type='html'>You know that saying, "Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride"?  Well, it better not be true because I've been in a wedding party six times now - three times as a bridesmaid and three times as a maid of honor.  Which is wonderful, really, I'm very honored that so many value me that closely.  And trust me, I am getting to know real well what I do and do not want at my own wedding when that happens.  I'm not even going to say if...I'm going to say when that wedding happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Diana got married today, to Harry McLean.  So Diana is now Diana McLean, not Stefanita.  And let me tell you - it was difficult for me to get used to the idea that Diana was going to get married, although of course I've been incredibly happy for her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, of all the wedding parties I've been in, this was the first time that the groom had me hold the ring throughout the ceremony and then hand it to the bride when it was time.  And as we were going through the ceremony, especially with what the Bishop was saying, I really came to understand a little of the significance of the tradition.  It wasn't just "holding" the ring as a "job."  The Bishop was talking about marriage and how important it is to give our blessings to the marriage now that it has taken place, regardless of what our feelings were before of the union that was to happen.  He was telling Diana's friends that our relationship with Diana now extends to Harry, and Harry's friends that their relationship with Harry now extends to Diana.  As it was a small wedding and I was the only one able to attend to support Diana, the Bishop actually spoke directly to me when he was speaking of incorporating Harry into my relationship with Diana.  Regardless of how many people could have been there it would have been just as true, but him saying my name I suppose made it sink in a little more for me.  And as I was sitting there, with Harry's wedding ring on my thumb, hearing Harry give a little whoop for joy at him now being a part of my life, I realized how significant it was that I was holding Harry's ring for Diana for her to give to him.  I felt, as I was holding the ring, that I had a little part of Harry with me.  And I was giving my blessing to the union by giving it to her to give to him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For myself, I really needed that transitory object to process the reality of this wedding for me.  Although I've known for a while that they were going to get married - it never really worked in my head until I was able to come this weekend and see them together and to truly be a part of both of their lives.  So now, I can say to Harry and Diana, and to the world, that I support their marriage and will do everything I can to bless the marriage, and support both of them in their endeavors to be with each other for the rest of their lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations Harry and Diana McLean.  I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-9041063407138049274?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/9041063407138049274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=9041063407138049274' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/9041063407138049274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/9041063407138049274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/03/three-times-bridesmaid-or-maid-of-honor.html' title='three times a bridesmaid, or maid of honor, no wait, six, no....never a bride?'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-6533775149954009077</id><published>2008-03-18T07:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T07:27:57.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Morning Surprise</title><content type='html'>You know you are stressed out when you wake up in the morning and for that blissful moment just when you wake up you feel at peace...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and then two seconds later when you realize what day it is and what your life is right now and your body completely tenses up and you groan and whimper and nearly cry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone else want my life right now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-6533775149954009077?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/6533775149954009077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=6533775149954009077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6533775149954009077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6533775149954009077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/03/morning-surprise.html' title='Morning Surprise'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-5786599294697296849</id><published>2008-03-12T07:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T08:09:53.100-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss Jay</title><content type='html'>I cannot describe how much I miss Jay.  I haven't posted in a while, but Jay Reed, a good friend of mine, passed away a few weeks ago.  There are things going on my life right now, feelings that I am having, thoughts that I need to sort out - and he is the one I would go to with something like this.  He is the one who listens to me - truly listens to me until I have said everything I want to say, he doesn't judge me for whatever ill might be in my thoughts.  He allows me to vent, to cry, to completely avoid the subject with biting sarcasm (usually aimed at him, what a trooper), to whatever I need. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he always seemed to be there.  He was a constant in my life.  Weeks could pass without talking, and if I called him or chatted with him on yahoo, I could still just up and vent about whatever was happening.  With some of our friendships, if too long has passed between conversations, than we feel the need to "catch up" to give an overview of what has happened before we go into the here and now - and not so with Jay, he was just there to talk to and he was a completely loyal friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm completely rambling right now and I'm completely aware of that.  I have tried so much to just sit down and try and put my thoughts into coherent sentences and it just is not working. I have tried writing to specific people, and although that has helped in some ways - I still feel like I'm bursting with things that I need, want to say.  Unfortunately - it's Jay that I want to say them to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss him terribly.  I miss the realness of who he was and of our friendship.  I have tried sitting down and writing a song - but the thing about it - our friendship wasn't all beauty and roses, and HE was not all beauty and roses.  There were things about him that bothered me, there were things, obviously, that kept me from marrying him a few years ago - there were things that kept me from starting things up again, even though the thought has certainly crossed my mind over the last couple of years.  And it feels somehow wrong to even say that - when really, how stupid is that?  Sure, he's gone and we're not supposed to "speak ill of the dead" and all that - but he was who he was and I loved who he was; who he really was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I've posted this ramble, it probably will not be the first.  For those that read my blog, yay, hear a ramble.  Otherwise - to quote You've Got Mail: "Good night, dear void."  (although technically, it's the morning and I'm off to work.....)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-5786599294697296849?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/5786599294697296849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=5786599294697296849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/5786599294697296849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/5786599294697296849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-miss-jay.html' title='I miss Jay'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-4785747163166150713</id><published>2008-01-15T11:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T11:30:51.605-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm legal in Nevada now....</title><content type='html'>It has been a while since I've really posted - partly because I didn't really think anyone was reading them, so I felt like I was talking to the void.  I might as well just write in my journal!  But then I was informed that my ever so lovely sister Stephanie was reading them - so Stephanie, even if you are the only one reading these - I LOVE YOU! and I will continue to write nonsensical sagas of ramble.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I had another driving test - and &lt;em&gt;this time&lt;/em&gt; I PASSED!  Yay!  To tell you the truth...I was worried.  I spent the evening before practicing parallel parking, under the tutelage of my co-worker and friend Sharon, so I was feeling okay about that part.  But I was still nervous - and I kept telling myself, goodness sakes, I know how to drive - it's fine.  Sooo....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the DMV often goes, you stand in line for twenty years, even when you have an appointment.  It's like a conspiracy against the public - they have you wait twenty thousand years, just because that's just what happens, so of course you have to wait - so if you even want to deal with it, HAHA suckers, let's make life difficult for you!  So you have to really want to do things to get them done - either that, or you are one of those law abiding citizens out there who do what they are supposed to do (shocking).  And then, if you jump all those hoops to decide that, yes indeed, you want to be able to be driving legally...they make you wait forever and allow your nerves to fester and bubble inside of you, until you cannot possibly be in any positive state when you take the ridiculously strict test.  Oh dear, you hit the curb while going 2 mph while parallel parking because you'd rather not hit the car in front of you; let's lose three points.  Heaven forbid, that you go around the corner just a little too fast for the passenger's anxiety level and what if you were to not see a pedestrian?  What would you do then?  Let's lose four points there.  And gasp, shock, you stopped at an intersection with your nose 1 inch over the crosswalk!  No way!  How could you?  What if the person crossing the crosswalk can't possibly walk around you! I mean, the crosswalk just is not large enough, now is it?  *obnoxious beep* LOSE TWO POINTS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose that if the examiner has to look for such nitpicky things to dock points on, then I really am a decent driver (provided I curb my speeding tendencies - which I &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; done successfully for quite some time now...).  Yay, I have a Nevada driver's license!  And at the same time, whoah...weird, I have a Nevada driver's license!  It's sort of weird to have given up my Oregon License. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know...what makes it all worth it - is that my license picture actually turned well.  How often does that happen? And I mean, it turned out &lt;strong&gt;really&lt;/strong&gt; well...it's probably like the 2nd best picture I've ever had taken of me.  So, yay for pretty pictures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-4785747163166150713?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/4785747163166150713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=4785747163166150713' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4785747163166150713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4785747163166150713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2008/01/im-legal-in-nevada-now.html' title='I&apos;m legal in Nevada now....'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-4275750497286874949</id><published>2007-12-06T18:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T18:07:31.942-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm going home next week!!  *yay*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-4275750497286874949?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/4275750497286874949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=4275750497286874949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4275750497286874949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4275750497286874949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-going-home-next-week-yay.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-1636407152445413299</id><published>2007-11-28T19:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T19:33:37.669-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Talk about a blow to self esteem...</title><content type='html'>If you read my driving saga when I came to Las Vegas  you will know that I have to take a driver's test in Nevada because I have three moving violations in the last five years.  Well, today my appointment finally came.  And I was a little nervous, but I thought, "meh...I know how to drive...." and even if I don't pass, I can retain my Oregon license....right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well,  yes, right.  Good thing too.  Otherwise I'd kinda be out of a license because&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I FAILED!!!  And I mean, I FAILED.  Failed MISERABLY.  It feels kinda great to say that actually...I don't often fail...but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"&gt;I FAILED!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;The very first thing they had me do was parallel park.  Talk about cruel!  I stink at parallel parking.  I'm quite aware that I stink at parallel parking.  I will avoid parallel parking at all costs.  I'm OKAY (now) with parking against a curb - I really didn't even like that for a long time.  I would walk a mile rather than parallel park, seriously.  I had to get a little used to it at my last apartment because there was only one parking space for both my roommate and I so we took turns.  But I knew the curb...and I take my pretty little time and try again a few times and I always CHECK before I get out of the curb and redo it if necessary!  So...of course...I didn't get NEARLY close enough to the curb for the test because I didn't want to run my car into the curb or worse yet knock over one of the barrell things.  And to top it off, I didn't turn on my signal to get into the spot, or turn on my signal to get out of the spot.  Who does that, except downtown? I was in a parking lot - nobody was coming!  Of course I didn't think of it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;Anyway, so that didn't work out too well.  And oh, did I mention I don't even like parking lots?  They make me nervous.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;So then we get out of the DMV parking lot and we're turning right onto Flamingo (fairly busy 6 lane street).  There are two cars in front of me turning right that don't even bother yielding to the pedestrian trying to cross the street, so I was thinking, "yay for me that I yielded to the pedestrian!"  I waited until she crossed sufficiently for me to turn, and then turned.  She wrote in her stupid little notebook (hate that...talk about intimidating...) and proceeded to direct me immediately back into the DMV parking lot.  "Okay, let's go in and talk..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;WHAT?!?!  Okay....um...I hadn't even gotten past my nervous anxiety!  It would have taken me a couple minutes to feel comfortable once we got out of the stupid parking lot!  Did I mention I don't like parking lots!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;So, apparently in Nevada (elsewhere too??) when you yield to a pedestrian, you have to wait until they are halfway across the road before you can turn.  That means that I had to wait for her to cross three lanes of traffic before I could turn into the nearest lane!  What on earth!  That is, I must say, a really stupid law.  What if you are on the strip and there are 65 people crossing the stupid lane, and you don't ever get to turn because by the time the last people get halfway across, the light is red!!  HELLO!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;So because of that being against the law, and I would have gotten a ticket for it - BOOM!  Fail!!!  Fail, fail, fail, fail, fail!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;There you go, little Emily...you are NOT a good enough driver to get a Nevada license!  Oh, my word.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;So I have another test on January 14th.  Talk about a long wait.  I'd hate to be 16 in this state and wanting to get my license to begin with, having to wait 2 months every time between passing...who passes their first time when they are 16?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;Anyway, the point is...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;I FAILED!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-1636407152445413299?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/1636407152445413299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=1636407152445413299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/1636407152445413299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/1636407152445413299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/11/talk-about-blow-to-self-esteem.html' title='Talk about a blow to self esteem...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-5872604520185409201</id><published>2007-11-27T17:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T17:24:03.129-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Longest day ever...</title><content type='html'>Today has officially been the longest day of my internship.  I mean, hours wise it was just a normal 8 hours, but I realllly did not want to be there and so the time dragged on rather slowly.  I've been having trouble sleeping the last few nights and finally last night I slept well...I crashed actually, around midnight and slept like a rock until 7 am when my stupid alarm clock jolted me out of my happy, peaceful sleep...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I've been grumpy!  Usually seeing clients helps me get out of that mood, but all three of my clients today cancelled.  It's so fun getting sessions ready just in time for them not to happen....(please, dear reader, note the sarcasm...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah well, perhaps tonight I'll sleep even better and my alarm clock will not wake me up too early.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-5872604520185409201?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/5872604520185409201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=5872604520185409201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/5872604520185409201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/5872604520185409201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/11/longest-day-ever.html' title='Longest day ever...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-6953426845201908167</id><published>2007-11-15T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T16:44:42.152-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Leftover cookies...</title><content type='html'>I just &lt;em&gt;had&lt;/em&gt; to choose the week of conference to decide to make blondies...two out of four people at our office are at conference.  So...I only got to share cookies with our office manager, Sharon, and she thought they were pretty rich so she only had 1.  That leaves the rest of the 9x13 pan all for me....as good as they are, and as skinny as I am...I still shouldn't eat the whole stinking pan!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-6953426845201908167?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/6953426845201908167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=6953426845201908167' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6953426845201908167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6953426845201908167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/11/leftover-cookies.html' title='Leftover cookies...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-7739083331156755075</id><published>2007-11-12T14:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T14:07:23.552-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Productive Emily....</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was talking with Heather and she mentioned cookies, which made me think, "Hey!  I have chocolate chips...I should make blondies..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I promptly went to the kitchen to begin and discovered that I had no vanilla!!  It had to be a Sunday that I got the craving...there is a CVS pharmacy about a 2 minute walk away, but yeah.  So this morning I got some vanilla and made some.  They are yummy!  No way I'm going to be able to eat an entire batch of blondies on my own, though...guess my co-workers will have to help me.  *grins*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been a long time since I've baked.  I was also very productive this weekend.  Doesn't that just feel great?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-7739083331156755075?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/7739083331156755075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=7739083331156755075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7739083331156755075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7739083331156755075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/11/productive-emily.html' title='Productive Emily....'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-3074524376896520322</id><published>2007-11-10T15:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T15:33:06.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yesterday one of my clients refused to come into the music therapy room, despite many different efforts.  We eventually got him to come in with his parents, and after some more struggling, he finally was engaged with the music.  It was the first time that I had done music therapy in the presence of a clients' parents - and I found myself running through my head in each and every intervention, as well as every transitional thing I said and did - thinking about the purpose and meaning behind everything.  It wasn't a huge portion of my thinking, but sort of a running commentary in the back of my mind.  It is something that we should really always be doing, even without the watchful eyes of someone else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also, despite having someone with about 30 minutes of defiant behavior clearly not wanting to be with me, found myself remaining calm throughout the entire experience and not getting frazzled or taking things personally. I was able to stay emotionally detached in the sense that I didn't take it personally, while still being present and emotionally there for him, wanting the best for him.  I thought this was huge for me!  And it made me really think about nannying Jake, having him be oppositional and at times aggressive with me...remaining calm and emotionally detached (usually), but still loving him and helping him.  So these experiences, because I certainly wasn't able to do that right away with him, helped prepare me for my experiences now and the ones I will have in the future...as everything in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is truly amazing how things fit together, how everything happens for a reason in its own time and place, as well as the people we come in contact with.  We don't always see why in the moment, but in retrospect, we can see different paths converging to create a wonderful and purposeful existence!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-3074524376896520322?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/3074524376896520322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=3074524376896520322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/3074524376896520322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/3074524376896520322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/11/yesterday-one-of-my-clients-refused-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-5782372182418265926</id><published>2007-11-08T17:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T17:10:52.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Can I just say (again) how satisfying it is to be doing music therapy?  To be watching myself grow?  To come home at the end of the day after 4 sessions thinking, "Wow, that was really great...next time we can do this and it will be even better and people can grow..." instead of thinking, "What the heck am I doing?  Why did that happen and what am I going to do next time???" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something I 'learned' for myself (sometimes we have to learn things repeatedly....it's not like I haven't learned this before...) is the importance of having an established relationship with your clients - how much that increases effectiveness of what you are doing.  Today in my groups, I talked with each client a little bit prior to the session beginning (normally something very difficult for me) - but I feel like that made such a difference in their level of engagement with the session.  It also made it so much more natural after the session to discuss how things went with the staff or with the clients' parents....which is again, something difficult for me.  I'll be engaged with the music, no problem, but when it comes to actually talking (to adults...) -- it's not easy for me! But, yay!  Did it today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one thing I really love is spontaneous moments.  Some of the greatest things happened, getting the most engagement and verbal interaction from clients, came out of building on a spontaneous moment from a client.  And we can't do that if we are not feeling comfortable, or if we are not trained in &lt;em&gt;how.&lt;/em&gt;  So...yay, again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only sad thing about today is that I took the wrong lunch container to work...I was going to have leftover spaghetti that I made last night, and instead I ended up with chicken and tater tots....still good...but it wasn't spaghetti!  Love my mom's recipe....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-5782372182418265926?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/5782372182418265926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=5782372182418265926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/5782372182418265926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/5782372182418265926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/11/can-i-just-say-again-how-satisfying-it.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-6151442345891876509</id><published>2007-11-06T17:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T17:23:40.211-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Doot dee doo...</title><content type='html'>Only a music therapist would learn in the same week: Usher, Hannah Montana, and Bad, Bad Leroy Brown...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels pretty darn great to be doing music therapy all the time.  This weekend was the first time I really started "missing" people - and had kinda a meltdown the other day - it was pretty insane - but as a whole; I'm really happy to be here, even though I don't know anyone outside the office yet.  Some really awesome things happen!  Music is just pretty darn awesome.  The other day, someone walked in wanting music therapy services for their child, and they asked me what exactly music therapy can accomplish - and I forgot at first that I didn't have to give the short little blip of an answer that you answer when people are just asking out of "oh, what do you do?" kind of conversations...that this woman &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; cared what music therapy did and wanted to know the details. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just great to be doing what I really want to be doing for a job...it's the first time that my job hasn't been just a means to earn money so that I can afford to go to school to learn what I want to do...although working at the daycare and nannying were at least stepping stones in that learning process...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is - I might feel a little lonely - but I'm happy to be here and love going to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-6151442345891876509?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/6151442345891876509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=6151442345891876509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6151442345891876509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6151442345891876509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/11/doot-dee-doo.html' title='Doot dee doo...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-7560214916326712013</id><published>2007-10-31T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T17:22:51.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I HAVE A BED!!!</title><content type='html'>So I've been sleeping on my couch this whole time, and gosh darn it, it was getting a little annoying.  The other day I was watching some television show and someone got into a warm bed at the end of a hard day's work and I was just thinking, "awwwwww....I want a bed!" as I was laying there on the sofa getting ready to go to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went out shopping and was just looking around to buy just a mattress for the floor...and was feeling very discouraged by the prices!  I had tried thrift stores but those mattresses were just a little too disgusting for me.  I'm accustomed to having hand-me-down beds - I've never had a new bed before - but where you don't know where it came from?  Eugh...which is sort of why I shied away from doing the craigslist thing, too, because...well, it's a bed and this is Las Vegas....who knows...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY, like I said, I was feeling very discouraged by the prices until one store - *sings* dum duh dee dum!! - there was this big closeout sale and I got a pretty darn good bed for a really darn good price.  Wasn't intending on spending that much yesterday, because let's face it, who has money as an intern?  But hey...I've never had a new bed before..it's kinda cool...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it gets delivered tomorrow, so we'll see how cool it really is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, that means that tonight I get to finish unpacking my boxes that I've just had randomly thrown around my bedroom because I wasn't really needing it...WOOHOO!  What a wonderful Halloween activity...cleaning...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you tell that I've just had two Halloween cupcakes?  WHOO!  Sugar high...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-7560214916326712013?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/7560214916326712013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=7560214916326712013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7560214916326712013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7560214916326712013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-have-bed.html' title='I HAVE A BED!!!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-227970158323903970</id><published>2007-10-25T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T17:25:04.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's a first for everything...</title><content type='html'>Today I led my first music therapy sessions with no supervisor in the room.  I had three groups - a total of 22 individuals - all requiring individual documentation.  Oy!  Talk about keeping a lot of information in your head.  I was so pleased, though, that I got through them fairly effectively!  I must say, half of my first group (at an adult day center) wandered off after a few minutes...so they brought me more to fill in the room, and from thereon out my clients stayed.  :)  I am so accustomed to having another therapist to work with that I certainly learned a lot about giving individual attention whilst maintaining attention of the whole group!  I'm looking forward to working more with these clients.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the point is...whoohoo!  I did it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-227970158323903970?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/227970158323903970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=227970158323903970' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/227970158323903970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/227970158323903970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/10/theres-first-for-everything.html' title='There&apos;s a first for everything...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-8692180603221474340</id><published>2007-10-22T18:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T18:36:30.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Power outage in Las Vegas?</title><content type='html'>Saturday evening I was doing a jigsaw puzzle when suddenly my power went out.  It was kinda cool, because the puzzle was glow-in-the-dark.  It only lasted about ten seconds and then it came back on.  A few minutes later, it did it again.  After a while, I was watching tv (&lt;em&gt;trying&lt;/em&gt; to watch Pretty Woman, which was on), and intermittently, the power kept going out - just for a few seconds.  I think it did this about twenty times.  Finally once, (about 15 minutes before the end of the movie, mind you) it decided to stay off, probably for about 45 minutes.  Let me tell you, I was bored out of my mind!  Because guess what?  I have a candle...but no matches or anything...and no flashlight, so I was kinda sitting there in the dark twiddling my thumbs.  I could have gone outside, I suppose, but I was in my pajamas and it's probably not the best idea to just loiter outside in the evening in Las Vegas, particularly when there are no lights around for a while!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know I need a flashlight and matches for my apartment...although now that I think of it, I do have a flashlight in the trunk of my car, so I could have gotten that, I suppose.  Ah well.  It was a fun adventure doing nothing on the couch...except trying to call people - nobody seemed to be available at the time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-8692180603221474340?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/8692180603221474340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=8692180603221474340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8692180603221474340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/8692180603221474340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/10/power-outage-in-las-vegas.html' title='Power outage in Las Vegas?'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-7216064069235990932</id><published>2007-10-20T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T16:11:19.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First week done!</title><content type='html'>I've now officially completed my first week of internship...and I feel really good about it!  There are some things in life you just know are what you are supposed to do, and coming out here was one of them.  This week I've begun to learn &lt;em&gt;why&lt;/em&gt; it was the right thing to come out here.  I'm feeling comfortable in the center and am looking forward to working with the clients here! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random thought...I do not have a bed, and I've been sleeping on my couch, which is comfortable enough...but I've realized that I need a bed not just for comfort but for schedule's sake!  I need to have that separateness of, here I'm in the living room doing things, and now I'm in my bed and ready to go to sleep.  I don't feel like I've actually &lt;em&gt;slept&lt;/em&gt; (although, I'm getting sufficient sleep 'hours' wise) - but just feel like I've been napping every night.  It's starting to get a little wearisome.  I need a bed!  My concern has been financial, of course, and then it occurred to me the other day, that I really need, at least to begin with, is a mattress.  So...that's one thing I need to do very soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...yeah.  I'm here, doing well.  Happy to be here.  Ta-ta!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-7216064069235990932?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/7216064069235990932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=7216064069235990932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7216064069235990932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/7216064069235990932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/10/first-week-done.html' title='First week done!'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-4358178473521261882</id><published>2007-10-17T19:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T19:33:08.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Behind the Scenes of Music Therapy</title><content type='html'>In our studies we learn about theories of music therapy, implementation of music therapy interviews, documentation of sessions, and we get an idea of the bigger picture of therapy.  I'm learning rather quickly (although I vaguely knew it before) that there is a LOT that goes into each session!  Here, with a private practice setting...just the client intake alone requires gadzillions of forms - and there is just so much administrative stuff that goes along with the actual implementation of music therapy!  Part of my internship hours are allocated toward learning administrative duties like this, which I don't know if that is a common practice in internship, but I think it is pretty darn cool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we thought we had a lot of paperwork for practicum seminar....HA!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of what turned me off of the Nordoff-Robbins internship opportunity in New York was the idea that there was only one model of music therapy learned throughout the entire internship period.  Here at CCTA a variety of models are used depending on the client's needs and strengths.  I am thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to observe these this week and am looking forward to gaining that variety as I work these next few months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another random and somewhat related thought is that we bring so much of our personal experiences into the therapeutic setting.  Part of being a therapist is being a person - and the things that we have learned in our relationships and such are really important in establishing an effective therapeutic relationship.  I have met a few clients this week, some of which Judith intends for me to transition to.  One absolutely adores me for some reason, so I'm very excited to be able to use that strength in our work.  Another, though, is exceptionally shy and absolutely did not want me in the same room at all.  Judith doesn't think that she will be able to transition to me.  I understand this principle, and certainly want whatever is best for the client...but I also hope that in the future something can work out.  I was that exceptionally shy girl myself growing up, and those personal insights could potentially really help toward knowing what to do and how to be..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, a lot of disjointed and incomplete thoughts in today's post...but there you go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-4358178473521261882?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/4358178473521261882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=4358178473521261882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4358178473521261882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/4358178473521261882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/10/behind-scenes-of-music-therapy.html' title='Behind the Scenes of Music Therapy'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-866161743684525384</id><published>2007-10-15T14:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T14:39:30.382-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Past Mistakes Come to Bite you in the Butt...</title><content type='html'>Many teenagers experience getting their driver license at age 16 and inevitably, they ignore speed limit laws and speed.  It is just a fact of life...there is some kind of rebellious streak embedded into a teenagers' brainpower that causes them to completely ignore proper driving laws and etiquette during their first couple years of driving. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I never was rebellious about anything as a teenager...so I didn't experience this urge to speed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, okay, so I didn't experience an urge to DRIVE as a teenager since I did not get my license until I was 23.  But that is besides the point...(I really wasn't rebellious as a teenager!  Ask my mom!  Well, once I yelled at my dad, but then about five seconds later sat down on the steps and balled because I felt bad about it...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I DID experience the urge to speed and went through that 'reckless rebellious teenage driving speed' stage when I was 25.  I got three speeding tickets within about a 6 month period...ironically in three different states (Washington, Oregon, and Maryland).  Mostly it was on trips.  At the time of my last speeding ticket in Oregon I told myself to stop speeding and I did.  A month later I received a restriction on my license (ha - after I'd learned my lesson) and suffered those consequences. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, indeedy, they were very annoying consequences at that...for two months I couldn't drive between the hours of 2 and 6 am unless going to and from work.  Gee.  That was tough.  Party animal me could not stay out all hours of the night...(ha)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, since then I have refrained (mostly) from speeding and am a good little driver girl.  Then I come to Nevada to transfer my license...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, guess what?  A tidbit of information for all of you folks out there who may move to Nevada someday...if you have three or more moving violations within the last four years of moving here, you are required to take a written and a driving test in Nevada.  At first, I thought, no big deal...I know how to drive, it should be a cinch to pass.  And then I was informed that I could not schedule a driver test until I had passed the written test, and the wait time around here is about two months, and that I would have to surrender my Oregon driver license at the time of completing my written test and would be given a Nevada driver permit.  Um.  WHAT??!??!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I completely freaked out.  It was rather embarrassing...there I was balling my head off in front of some random (might I add cute) guy because I had no idea what I was going to do.  I kinda, uh, need my car for my internship?  I can't just not have a license for two months.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it turns out that he was wrong, I did not have to surrender my Oregon driver license because I did not get a Nevada driver permit - I just took the written test, and they have it on record and now I need to go take the driver test on November 28.  Whoohoo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, guess what?  I passed the written test.  Surprise, surprise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-866161743684525384?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/866161743684525384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=866161743684525384' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/866161743684525384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/866161743684525384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/10/past-mistakes-come-to-bite-you-in-butt.html' title='Past Mistakes Come to Bite you in the Butt...'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6371822207171971929.post-6934260689503261268</id><published>2007-10-12T15:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T15:30:04.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From the coast to the desert</title><content type='html'>It was a typical autumn week in Portland, Oregon as I prepared to move away to Las Vegas.  I had lived in other places before for school and a mission, and had essentially been 'out of my parents' house' since high school graduation, but this move was different.  No longer was I a student or a missionary.  No longer was I trying to decide what to do with my life.  I had decided - I was going to be a music therapist.  I &lt;em&gt;am&lt;/em&gt; going to be a music therapist, and now I'm heading on my way to do that.  Reflecting on these things as I was doing my last minute packing, saying my last minute goodbyes, and taking care of necessary business to move to a different state, I realized that now I am &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; on my own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day before I left I went boating with Celestuary, Michael Hagmeier's band that I was in since its' conception.  It was raining on and off and it was a bit chilly, but I thoroughly enjoyed it!  I love water, and there I was, floating down the Columbia, feeling the rain on my face and watching all the trees go by...knowing that I was soon to move to the desert and far, far away from any coastal line that I am so accustomed to living near. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the day of the move, my brother and I loaded a 14' U-Haul (didn't quite need one that big...), and attached the auto-transport to tow my car on the long drive to Nevada.  Our plan was to go to Utah for the weekend for the semi-annual conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  Unfortunately...trucks do not drive as quickly as cars do.  And even when the posted speed limit is 75 in parts of Idaho, we were still stuck driving much slower than that.  If we were to drive all the way to Provo where we were staying with my great Aunt, we would have arrived at 3 am.  So we made an unplanned stop in Twin Falls, Idaho and found the cheapest hotel possible to sleep for the night.  As a result we missed Saturday's conference sessions, but it was a good alternative to driving through the night as weary people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due to a mixup with my Stake President in Portland, we only had one ticket to conference for Sunday morning.  I let Benjamin go in the conference center since he had not had the opportunity before as I had.  I watched from the Tabernacle, which worked out nicely as I sat by a television broadcasting with closed captioning, which was next to a television broadcasting an ASL interpreter.  Not that I need an ASL interpreter, but it was still fun to watch and refresh a little on understanding the language.  Ben joined me in the Tabernacle for the Sunday afternoon session to watch the interpreter as he is to go on an ASL mission for the Church in a couple of months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While in Utah, I had the opportunity to visit with some extended family.  My Grandma's sister, Shirley, lives in Provo with her children and grandchildren.  I had lived with Aunt Shirley the first summer I was at BYU, so it was good to see her, although it was weird to not have Uncle Ralph there.  Shirley is about to turn 91, is limited to moving around with a walker, and her memory is going.  It was really weird to have her ask me the same questions over and over - I think I explained about six times that we were passing through on my way to move to Las Vegas.  As Shirley, like her sister Phyllis was, are very intelligent people with normally sharp memories, it was a little unsettling for me.  But it was still good to see her and I'm glad she has a lot of family around to help her and allow her to still live at her home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived in Las Vegas on Monday evening, and managed to get everything inside my apartment before the night was out.  This week Ben stayed with me to help me get settled - which was much appreciated!  Everything but my bedroom is put together, complete with pictures on the wall.  I even painted the bathroom, just because I could.  It is a light blue with a rubber ducky theme.  My bathroom doesn't even have any cupboards (excepting the old-style mirror cupboard above the sink) - it's just the toilet, sink, and shower/tub.  It's very weird.  But...it's &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; apartment!  It is a very cool feeling. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Ben was here he wanted to go see a show so we saw Wayne Brady last night.  That was pretty darn funny!  Other than that and M&amp;amp;M world the day before, we avoided downtown Las Vegas!  It really isn't difficult to stay away from the Las Vegas 'hype' part of town.  I like where I live, it's near the agency, and every store imaginable is nearby. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My internship begins on Monday and I am very excited to start that.  It will be orientation and observation for the first two weeks, which is extremely helpful for my sanity during this transition.  I can't believe I live in the desert and I still have to use a/c during October and that the only trees in existence here are the occasional palm tree...but I am here.  Life is official.  I'm really on my own.  Whee.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6371822207171971929-6934260689503261268?l=ewiggins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/feeds/6934260689503261268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6371822207171971929&amp;postID=6934260689503261268' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6934260689503261268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6371822207171971929/posts/default/6934260689503261268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ewiggins.blogspot.com/2007/10/from-coast-to-desert.html' title='From the coast to the desert'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18138629420654774824</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
