tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25848185090697835452024-03-05T03:10:57.675-07:00haylie suzanne<small>everything you need to know</small>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-4678274889116629442012-11-15T21:22:00.002-07:002012-11-15T21:28:20.714-07:00old soul.<div style="text-align: left;">
i have not a spontaneous bone in my body.</div>
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I like to stay home and finish homework on weekends. </div>
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it shocks my friends when i say yes to going out. </div>
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i love a good candle.</div>
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i told my mom that all i wanted from the grocery store is carpet freshener. </div>
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and that i can't think of anything i want for christmas cause i have most everything </div>
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(WHO THE HELL SAYS THAT?)</div>
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i go on dates with my parents..without a date of my own. </div>
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i fall asleep with derek every night over skype. </div>
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we also use skype to do everything normal couples do in real life-<br />
movie nights, in-home spa dates, cook dinner 'together', read-a-thons.</div>
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I can't stop playing Hay Day on my phone. </div>
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i got excited about a pair of winter boots.</div>
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i nanny too many hours a week because parents think i'm a miracle worker with children</div>
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- really i just bribe them with every possible thing needed for survival. </div>
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my teachers and i email back and forth constantly on a chummy basis.<br />
the last purchase i made was a 2013 planner that i've shown off to anyone who'll listen.</div>
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i save all my money. i take long naps. sweats are my favorite. </div>
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and if you can't tell, all this means i'm in a quarter-life crisis.</div>
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help</div>
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h</div>
Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-75464723511527597202012-11-10T23:04:00.000-07:002012-11-11T11:57:06.303-07:00i blogged.<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>somewhere in between realizing i'm not as funny as was formerly thought or having all of 5 hours to myself in a week, i have abandoned this little love of a blog. but i think i'm back for good.</b></div>
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<b>so here is my life in a nutshell</b></div>
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1. yes. i am back with that kid who i incessantly talk about in some way or another. and just because i am the open book that i am, i'll tell you the why of it all: he was moving to North Dakota so we did the whole 'break up but not really' thing. he stayed a week in provo before the move, where he became too close of friends with a girl for my liking. then, because i am jealous and maybe a little crazy, i decided he wasn't worth my time, we fought, i ignored him for a week, posted dramatic tweets, blah blah blah. obviously, something was not right in his head to think there is something better out there than me. but in retrospect, i couldn't be more grateful that he got a chance to date another girl. because now he's back to being obsessed with me and all is right in the world. and mostly, he has cute dimples that i can't say no to.</div>
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2. he changed his life around a whole hell of a lot. so much so, that after 5 years of dating, he's working with his bishop to go on an LDS mission. its seriously crazy, i gave up on that dream like 3 years ago. its funny to think that as of 4 months ago we were planning a wedding for fall of 2013, i think its safe to say that date may be postponed.</div>
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3. i changed my life around too. i'll be honest- i started down a dreary path and my life was heading nowhere fast. but i am getting back to a prettier, sunnier path. With that, i plan on taking my family scholarship to BYU to finish school sometime next year. no amount of changing will make me like that idea, but free school is free school. especially when you pay for it all by yourself, with no financial aide -_-</div>
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4. i dream about zombies almost every night. they're my favorite, most dreaded dreams. i can't tell you why i'm so infatuated, but i hope that's not how the world will end.</div>
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5. speaking of that, i think the world will end in my lifetime. in fact, i'm quite positive of it. though my whole family just thinks i'm a crazy pessimist. </div>
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6. dark burgundy lipstick is the only color i've ever loved on myself. and i'm a firm believer that no matter who you are, you can pull it off. cause its even darker and more purple than oxblood AKA ITS LIKE MAGIC.</div>
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6. all 3 nieces of mine are the cutest damn things i've ever laid eyes on. </div>
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7. and lastly, i still live with the rents. and no amount of persuasion could get me to move out.</div>
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if you read this, i love you</div>
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h</div>
Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-37106408731953786682012-06-08T19:18:00.001-06:002012-06-08T19:18:36.271-06:00look who's back. back again.<div style="text-align: center;">
can i start off by saying that i can now really sympathize with the elderly due to this new blogger layout? i'm dying. don't even know what's going on. </div>
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second off. HI. hi, its me haylie and i promise i won't abandon ship for a whole 2 months ever again.</div>
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3rd. what better way to start off a new blog post than a good ole myspace survey??!</div>
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<b>1. something you're known for: </b>being little but even more obnoxious.<br />
<b>2. a bad habit: </b>i argue..and i refuse to be wrong.<br />
<b>3. something that always cheers you up: <a href="http://www.whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/">www.whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com</a></b> i seriously pour over this when i'm mad or sad. its like an innocent form of ecstasy.<br />
<b>4. song that never fails to make you happy: </b>Cinema- Benni Benassi ft. Gary Go. i listen to it before i go out on weekends cause then i feel all confident and cool and maybe even a little sexy..not sorry.<br />
<b>5. an insecurity: </b>physically, i could find a diff one on any given day. but im a cocky little shit otherwise.<br />
<b>6. something you believe in lately: </b>love, growth, hope. not to get all zen on you..but like really.<br />
<b>7. a trait you find most admirable: </b>true<b> </b>forgiveness. i think it's the most rare trait to find.<br />
<b>8. greatest fear: </b>i still stand by my fear of divorce and sharks. but also ghosts. (mentally, i'm 4)<br />
<b>9. favorite kind of surprise: </b>when people surprise you by being so good. i love those tricksters with the rough exteriors.<br />
<b>10. best thing about yourself: </b>find a parent and see if they don't like me. its impossible. im a charmer.<br />
<b>11. epiphany as of late: </b>i am such a simple person. not stylish, not fancy, not crazy. just haylie.<br />
<b>12. an ambition: </b>law school. cannot even wait.<br />
<b>13. favorite word: </b>punk, poppy, and damn.<br />
<b>14. best possession: </b>my<b> </b>baby blanket. and some cute kid's heart.<br />
<b>15. your life in 6 words: </b>wild. simple. sporadic. comical. happy. full.<br />
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missed y'all.</div>
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h</div>
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</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-4440651269936482812012-04-06T21:38:00.000-06:002012-04-06T21:38:43.731-06:00chirp.<div style="text-align: center;">oh this little blog, how i've missed it.</div><div style="text-align: center;">upon getting an iphone, i haven't even looked at my laptop in 3 weeks. </div><div style="text-align: center;">poor neglected mackie.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">though i have MUCH to catch up on, that will all have to wait.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">as for now, i've done the unthinkable.</div><div style="text-align: center;">i joined twitter. dammit. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">so i'm not looking like the loser i really actually am,</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://twitter.com/#!/hayliesuzanne">FOLLOW ME</a> :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">@hayliesuzanne</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">little h.</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-68254972539379240192012-03-18T16:26:00.000-06:002012-03-18T16:26:37.016-06:00pay off<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">this is not your average sunday.</div><div style="text-align: center;">i watch 4 children for 9 hours.</div><div style="text-align: center;">all of them with a bad case of the terrible twos. </div><div style="text-align: center;">and an emphasis on sharing issues and shrill screams.</div><div style="text-align: center;">waking up at 7, not enough time for even a speck of makeup,</div><div style="text-align: center;">wearing battered sweats from high school, </div><div style="text-align: center;">and a lack of appetite for the past week,</div><div style="text-align: center;">today is just not my day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpw3i-rXcQ26r7bQso5qIEKW2wR9DXEQkp9LEP0kcjj0KVihAlNKaoX9VbHVxrvKGbs9vefdw4k2UGzmVwY0vwvS7nj3Y4ciWJrX6IciYJk0XjYb9OuKbnzR_hHOV5c3HhJg9ewU7Q70/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-353800613.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpw3i-rXcQ26r7bQso5qIEKW2wR9DXEQkp9LEP0kcjj0KVihAlNKaoX9VbHVxrvKGbs9vefdw4k2UGzmVwY0vwvS7nj3Y4ciWJrX6IciYJk0XjYb9OuKbnzR_hHOV5c3HhJg9ewU7Q70/s400/flare-iphoto-export-353800613.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">but when this little bug wakes up calling 'hayyyyaaa'</div><div style="text-align: center;">even though she can now say haylie properly,</div><div style="text-align: center;">insisting on taking her nap with me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">i just can't resist. </div><div style="text-align: center;">somehow, it all pays off.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">not to mention our conversations:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"brady, you can't unzip my jacket."</div><div style="text-align: center;">"awe you wea-wing an unda-sut (undershirt)?"</div><div style="text-align: center;">"nope. that's why you gotta stop."</div><div style="text-align: center;">"oh. wew.. i dess i don't wanna see yo pivate pots den."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">hahaha </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">h</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-43511095810675438322012-03-14T20:27:00.000-06:002012-03-14T20:27:10.426-06:00anger issues.<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">parents having guests over. hiding in room. this is the root cause for this post.</div><div style="text-align: center;">going to my favorite restaurant. it's closed.</div><div style="text-align: center;">having a bad dream. hating all members of that dream in the morning.</div><div style="text-align: center;">waking up. the last 20 years i still scowl for the first 30 mins of my day</div><div style="text-align: center;">being hungry. need i say more?</div><div style="text-align: center;">work. again, goes without saying.</div><div style="text-align: center;">thinking about money..that i don't have.</div><div style="text-align: center;">not being texted back. i'm so sure. you look at your phone every 2.3 seconds.</div><div style="text-align: center;">waiting. for friends, food, anything. </div><div style="text-align: center;">when my usually cute dog jumps on my head in the morning. kill her.</div><div style="text-align: center;">when my outfit makes me look fat...ter</div><div style="text-align: center;">stupid music on pandy.</div><div style="text-align: center;">a broken phone. </div><div style="text-align: center;">being told to clean your room or you can't go out. guys, i'm 20. so sad.</div><div style="text-align: center;">working full time/ being at home during everyone's spring break.</div><div style="text-align: center;">being judged that i don't brush my hair. </div><div style="text-align: center;">hearing your song while the boy you like is so far away.</div><div style="text-align: center;">people who bail.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">i'm such a pleasant person.</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-50585458612728535922012-02-29T21:59:00.003-07:002012-03-06T13:15:16.409-07:00long hair, don't care<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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in the last few years, girls have been taken over by 'long lock lust' as i like to call it.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">actually i've never called it that. but that's neither here nor there.</span><br />
anywho. just about everyone these days wants long, luscious hair.<br />
yet no one thinks of the downsides. </div><div style="text-align: center;">so, as a long (not so luscious) hair veteran, i thought i'd do y'all a favor and fill you in.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">every time you go to the restroom, you have to put your hair up. it becomes a paranoia. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">you'll never realize how annoying it gets to have the small of your back persistently tickled by your own hair. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">do you know why buns are so popular lately? because long hair is a pain in the ass. why do you think i've resorted to the sambun (samurai bun) for the past 10 years?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">when you roll over at night, your hair gets pulled so often, your southern half will hate your northern half. also known as a civil war. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">brushing your hair daily? puhhleease. forget about it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">expect nothing less than dreads every morning that you wake up.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">compliments. everyone loves them. but how do you answer to "omgeee, your hair is sooo lonnggg!!" </div><div style="text-align: center;">thanks? maybe they were merely stating a fact. i know? sounds almost conceited.</div><div style="text-align: center;">there's just no winning. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">people will be guaranteed to ask you the <b>number one</b> most annoying question in the world.</div><div style="text-align: center;">"are those extensions?"nooope. but thanks for passing off years of patience for something that takes a fraction of the time. 'cept extensions cost money. so i guess it's a semi fair trade.<br />
years to grow it = money spent on it.<br />
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just get used to your hair getting caught under the armpits of the ones you hug. gross. and painful.<br />
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you'll grow a strong neck holding all that weight up there.<br />
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in the summer, your head may or may not be 20℉ hotter than the rest of your bod.<br />
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you very easily could start hating toddlers with their grabby little hands and tight little grips.<br />
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i've never dyed my hair, so i'm not positive, but i'm pretty sure coloring long hair would cost you a pretty penny.<br />
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automatic mood change when it gets caught in zippers.<br />
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your loved ones might not like you when you whip them in the face 59 times a day with it.<br />
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prepare yourself to buy shampoo and conditioner at costco. you'll need the bulk packaging.<br />
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ask me how many times you'll sit on your hair in a day.<br />
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static? get used to it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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then why do i have it, you ask?<br />
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simple.<br />
i'd be hideous without it.<br />
that's why.<br />
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</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-598504308068293602012-02-24T23:13:00.001-07:002012-02-24T23:15:28.320-07:00little things.<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">you know how i love those little things in life. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">- </span>liiiike when you are trying on a skirt, but need 2 sizes smaller than what you initially grabbed. euphoric. that's how that feels.</div><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">-</span>or when you call <i>and callll</i> the boyf to meet you for lunch, but his phone is dead and doesn't get your (many) messages and texts. but as leaving the parking garage, you see him. he had randomly decided to come see you during work. perfect time. perfect place. you call it coincidence? we call it fate. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">-</span>and when the girl at sephora says you have perfect lips. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">-</span>when youre obsessed with a song that brings back your 'young, wild and free' weekends -as in last weekend- and the many more to come, like this one: </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Wa5B22KAkEk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">('cept i don't do drugs and stuff. even though this song entices me entirely)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">-</span>and when all you want to do is eat subway and read magazines. and then your cutest bf calls and first thing he asks is "subway and mags?" cause then you're speechless. he <i>must</i> be the one.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">- </span>and when you give all your dollar bills away to homeless people. cause that's just nice. even though i'm just as broke as they are.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">-</span>seeing the progression of pictures of ollie. i can't stop laughing. bless her heart for permitting such things.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">-</span> or when you get a $40 gift certificate to Ichiban (my one and only sushi stop) at work for doing something you forgot even doing in the first place.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">- orrr getting my first scentsy. waiiit, am i 5 years late? yuhh. but there just isn't a better smell than 'linger'.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">- and finally, sharing the same favorite snack as your dog. raw almonds. we just sit together and chomp all day. besties. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">happiest of happy weekends, my friends</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">♦</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-42902100649938319092012-02-16T15:57:00.003-07:002012-02-16T18:03:21.438-07:00mine. unlike the majority of population, i find valentines day to be something special.<br />
i find it adorable that derek likes to point out the cuteness of couples in love.<br />
because i like cute couples too.<br />
i like when he gives me daffodils instead of roses or gerber daisies or tulips.<br />
because the others are rather cliche, if you ask me.<br />
i think its presh when he just smiles at me when i'm wearing crazy clothes.<br />
cause then he kisses the tip of my nose.<br />
i get happy when he's the valentine that keeps on giving.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> because he visits me at work with the prettiest flower on february the 15th.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">i like the fact that we have a trillion and two songs for each other.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> because the more the merrier, right?<br />
i adore my parents. dad especially.<br />
because he got all crafty and made me a valentine card to go along with my present.<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">and guess what? i don't even care that y'all probably want to gag after reading this.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">and also, even though i try to keep 'our' songs more private, this one is just too cute not to share. we are obsessed. we listen to it lots cause it just fits so well. every little part ♥</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQDgGb9YkZJrMVXSVQ9MXhEVH_nTFaqR1h5iQeQQ0dBK8G5D-w49CwPcVmGo7AzqdlxDYUbc84_pro7Zh9SO2XM98pzBlrHImal887GspzKQQcy6sxOoqvLHPf6vBLNRUzgbJNzeAMEvE/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-351050322.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQDgGb9YkZJrMVXSVQ9MXhEVH_nTFaqR1h5iQeQQ0dBK8G5D-w49CwPcVmGo7AzqdlxDYUbc84_pro7Zh9SO2XM98pzBlrHImal887GspzKQQcy6sxOoqvLHPf6vBLNRUzgbJNzeAMEvE/s320/flare-iphoto-export-351050322.png" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">he looks past my love for all things leopard. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0xYe4dPM6ZgihPfVg_wNJlnVPyoTMylWcu1CwS61Mujqg3_0McD9rrG70joInt0hNZqSB5ntKBRspD2rDnw_yyHauV-Y8lGME0g5PZXrhccPsGe_ltMb-NVEpFViqkkPiufKGZLw__T0/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-351050415.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0xYe4dPM6ZgihPfVg_wNJlnVPyoTMylWcu1CwS61Mujqg3_0McD9rrG70joInt0hNZqSB5ntKBRspD2rDnw_yyHauV-Y8lGME0g5PZXrhccPsGe_ltMb-NVEpFViqkkPiufKGZLw__T0/s320/flare-iphoto-export-351050415.png" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the teacup flower</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVITUThhF4nsEKgtG_l6oSzvD0bgkUSzv2_uLVgOA4Y_llojue6zqz0gdjgvetlCcel602ZdjPRw3-VlKiRQZpsOMhlmt8JGvzuoCeTZtW-HDTCd7qwQjcG8jHfwQ-aZvHLRWtLGE0Z7Q/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-351050352.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVITUThhF4nsEKgtG_l6oSzvD0bgkUSzv2_uLVgOA4Y_llojue6zqz0gdjgvetlCcel602ZdjPRw3-VlKiRQZpsOMhlmt8JGvzuoCeTZtW-HDTCd7qwQjcG8jHfwQ-aZvHLRWtLGE0Z7Q/s400/flare-iphoto-export-351050352.png" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">his hands DROWN mine.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">h</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-49785785979890033932012-02-05T21:09:00.000-07:002012-02-05T21:09:17.552-07:00un dia feliztoday is a happy day.<br />
yes, it included a 7 hour work day.<br />
but i have such a sense of fulfillment lately.<br />
i think it's cause im just a beb and i really have so much ahead of me.<br />
that is really such an exhilarating thought.<br />
i just adore my parents, this isn't news. we're great friends.<br />
i love my girls. spending more time with them lately has made me a happier girl.<br />
and as always, i quite enjoy my cute and quiet little d. well, big d.<br />
but i believe having these 3 worlds collide so seamlessly is what makes me feel so settled.<br />
double dates with the parents, the friends waiting for their turn to talk to der when he calls, meeting and loving my friends' boys, and hearing the parents and friends banter all bring my world full circle.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSeqj_let2oMgcCch6gAnbDFxZYMPZkvqXgWB36XRiERP3uiQ7NE_m2LcDwRdofHxxQEabJPRwvjy0AJDZfmCfl9Ck-8_RwnmIZ4h4J64HjGQENO_0nV0MKdkIr35qiEdLWA8tEzIRnU/s1600/418962_10150638014705135_512435134_10753632_1359092109_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSeqj_let2oMgcCch6gAnbDFxZYMPZkvqXgWB36XRiERP3uiQ7NE_m2LcDwRdofHxxQEabJPRwvjy0AJDZfmCfl9Ck-8_RwnmIZ4h4J64HjGQENO_0nV0MKdkIr35qiEdLWA8tEzIRnU/s400/418962_10150638014705135_512435134_10753632_1359092109_n.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">who knew the end of the world could be so fun?</span><br />
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</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">little</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-26737335073469435012012-01-17T21:21:00.000-07:002012-01-17T21:21:45.632-07:00bob and suz: the modern day noah and alliel<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ast night, i was home alone. i woke up early, ran all my errands, did all my chores, even watched a movie. hours passed and i had been playing phone tag with my pops. my voicemails were building up ( my message machine tells people to pleeease not leave me one cause i hate them and never check them) so i just kept trying to call him back. at 8 o'clock, while i was planning my trip to mexico, he finally answered. his opening line was 'don't freak out, hay, but.." and then i freaked out. my dad doesn't exaggerate anything. in fact, he does the opposite. he makes everything seem as dull as possible, especially in emergencies. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">he told me that my mom and him had been driving home from grocery shopping when an enormous, lifted truck just veered into their lane causing a head on collision at 40 mph. My dad passed out and my mom was wedged in between the seat and the dashboard, both of their heads had been bashed on the windshield leaving terrible marks. At the time my dad was telling me this, my mom was in the ER and he had no idea how she was. He had told everyone he was fine, but after my mom overruled him (no surprise there) they found out he had bleeding in his brain that would inevitably result in seizures, strokes and or brain damage.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">all of a sudden, i was 5 years old again. on the night my brother was babysitting us and my parents took too long on their date. we sat at the window, matt and i crying, waiting for them to return. in my mind, they had been in a car crash and were hurt somewhere all alone. except that turned out to be a silly fear, for they were parked in our driveway eating ice cream and talking the whole time. this time, it was real.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">my parents are rocks. they don't fear pain, they are the hardest workers, and they never give up. my mom once fell off a galloping horse and popped out of the meadow, grinning ear to ear, with a "that was fun!" They are so concerned with other people that they don't have the time nor the effort to think of themselves. So upon hearing such news, i was scared. more than that, i was hysterical. shaking with fear and concern. because you think your parents are superheroes. they can't die, i mean, yes. one day, in the far far future, they will quietly pass in their sleep, but never before. and never in a automobile accident. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">when i got to the ER, the nurse pointed to a cute little man with wispy hair and a hospital gown on and asked "that guy look familiar?" but he didn't. he wasn't the strong, solid father i knew. when i went up to him, i couldn't give him the proper hug i wanted to. he was too tangled with IVs and weak with shock. Though he had successfully saved his Ute hat and sweatshirt that lay neatly by his side after causing 4 nurses and a doctor assist him in taking it off in order to resist them cutting it off, as they had done to my mom's clothing. He turned bashful when i patted his head and attempted to smooth his hair, then returning his Ute cap to its rightful spot. a picture of vulnerability, but with a streak of independence. no one could touch his favorite hat. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">in the next room, my mom, on the other hand, had a pile of her favorite clothes cut perfectly in half laying beside her bed. she was writhing in pain as they tried to put her cast on. Her ear had dried blood all over it and her arms and legs were swollen with bruises and cuts. She took one look at me and knew i'd had a rough night, as mothers always know, and hugged me. as if i was the one who needed consoling. and still, after all the trauma, was able to laugh and say "well, i can't say this was as fun as my horse fall!" </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">my brother and i stayed up with them til 4 in the morning, making them eat and take their pills, helping my mom in and out of her wheelchair and listening to them tell us the same things over and over again- which really only caused us to worry about how bad they really hit their heads. we were doing exactly what they had done for us for the last 20 and 24 years of our lives. knowing that by only a miracle from our Heavenly Father, had they somehow survived.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">i learned a lot yesterday. i learned to never EVER take something as precious as life for granted. i learned that i couldn't do it without my parents. that moment when i feared for their lives, i couldn't imagine moving forward. I learned that i am so lucky. for so many different things, but mostly, lucky that the fear of death was never knocking at my door, that my parents had given me such a padded and sheltered lifestyle.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>and finally, the reason for the title of this post:</b> i know all of you can recall any and all details of the notebook. well the part at the end where allie asks noah if their love could create a miracle and he says "our love can do whatever we want it to" is what popped into my mind tonight. After the accident, my mom looked over to see a completely unconscious bob. With the blow to his head and the brain bleeding, he could have been out for hours, if not more. But the only thing he recalls hearing was my moms soft, strained voice repeating "bobby, bobby, wake up". And he did just that. as discombobulated as he was, he turned to my mom, saw she was hurt and trapped and push his way through the completely smashed door to get to her side. after it was all said and done, my mom overheard the police talking to one another. "how did the driver get out of his seat?" "he pushed his way out of the drivers side" "impossible. it was completely wedged shut, there is no way anyone could have managed that" </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but he did. after being completely unconscious. to save my mom. </span><br />
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</span>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-39061129696864625522012-01-08T23:28:00.000-07:002012-01-08T23:28:19.886-07:00RULE: you have to listen to the song as you read<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">have you ever heard a song and instantly it takes you to a moment. not one in the past, not nostalgic feelings, but something you <i>want </i>to do or imagine doing to that song? i hope that's not weird. because i place a feeling to every song i listen to. it's not just mere entertainment for me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">well the song below does that for me. two different things pop up. and it's kinda funny cause they are quite opposite:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>1.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"> i imagine a freaking great make out sesh, like one that would be in a movie and would deserve this as the background music. even though the term 'background music' is just offensive to such a song.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> but not just that: in an old motel, on the outskirts of a small town, where you will fall in love all over and over again. - i promise this didn't seem as dirty in my head. but who are we kidding. it's me we're talking about. i can't help it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>2.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"> the alternative to that would be a breakup song, either angry or sad really. but more the fighting/crying/getting over the bastard kind, in my mind. hahah. i'm such a terrible soul at times. but yes. a subtly empowering song.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">you want to know the benefit of a song that can carry two polar emotions like this one?</div><div style="text-align: center;"> every time you listen it will fit to how you're feeling. not that i want to be blasphemous, but it's like when you re-read your patriarchal blessing again. and i truly mean that with the most respect and high regard as is possible in a post where i've already sworn multiple times. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>the runners-up for why i'm so deeply possessed by this song are:</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"> - the title of this album is "only good bands have animal names" clever little guys they are.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> - while dealing with bad reception on our skype sesh last night while we were showing each other our new songs, i had to act out 'tiger waves' to derek. so i rawred like a tiger, then made my arms do a wave. i'm still funny. nothing's changed. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> - they say "i know this is not your cup of tea" you see, cup of tea is one of my more favored old-person sayings.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">h</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>ps.</b> could it be a bad reflection on myself and my relationship that this song brings out the two most common forms of communication between derek and i?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>pps.</b> you know that motel/outskirts/making out/fall in love idea? well. that's actually something i've been daydreaming about before this song graced my eardrums. which, to me, is really just fate telling me i NEED to follow this ludicrous idea of mine.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">goodnight, y'all</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><b><i>♥</i></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-6001016477575684732012-01-05T23:15:00.002-07:002012-01-05T23:20:41.163-07:00can i just say?<div style="text-align: center;">sometimes i want to blog, but i have nothing to say of any worth or depth. these are the times where i just start writing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> oh wait. 99% of my blog? yes. i'm sorry.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">gum. the other day, i hadn't spent money in a really long time and needed to buy something and fast. so i bought 4 packs of fruity gum. i usually hate fruity gum. (my first kiss ruined me) but i did. and now i eat it a lot. and i've found that it's the best for so many things. first off, the element of entertainment. ill be at the gym and hating the fact that i'm running. but then i'm like "whoa. this tastes good in my mouth. it's like i'm having a jamba. i love eating. it always means i'm having fun. i guess that means i'm having fun. maybe running isn't so bad. wait. i can blow bubbles. yep. running isn't so bad." and then i'm like fine to run for 20 minutes straight. its the darndest thing. and that also allows me to eat it instead of other things, not to get all anorexic. but it its a diet savvy idea.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">zumba. speaking of gym, i went to zumba today. first of all. what the hell. how do men and older women catch on faster than i do? seriously. what the hell. second, i've been an avid gym goer lately ( don't worry, it's not a new years resolution. they have a bad track record. so to cease that trend, i started 6 days before. BAM. beat that logic. ) anyway, avid gym goer. k so i have gone every day lately, therefore i consider myself conditioned. but zumba thinks otherwise. kicked my ass. like i'm really sore right now. i feel like i need a walker with tennis balls on the bottom. why do they do that? if the oldies can't scoot efficiently without them, couldn't the manufacturers upgrade it? poor old people. they always get the bad end of the stick.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">skin. i miss saint george. for 239573 reasons. but today another one came to mind. my skin was so pretty down there. nice and fresh and clear and moist. i looked int he mirror today and was not pleased. my skin is all tight from washing it too much or winter or something gay like that. and so when i smile, it looks like wrinkles. EFFING WRINKLES. not okay at all. i want you back, stg.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">boyfriend. he comes home finallyyyyy after his long ass trip to see his family in california. like yeah, cool, you got to be with family for the holidays.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> but we both know that utah is better, because i live in utah, and i am the best, so yeah. easy math. come back.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">oh also. my dad got released as stake pres so i can swear publicly all the hell i want now, dammit! ha. just kidding. i swore anyway. </div><div style="text-align: center;">sometimes my parents hate me. i somewhat understand. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">was this too much reading? my b. i feel better though. here's a song. </div><div style="text-align: center;">you'll like it. except for the name maybe. rather crude, even for my little sailor's mouth. </div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">hayliesuzanne</span></div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-60519305349475051922012-01-02T18:51:00.000-07:002012-01-02T18:51:51.753-07:00'leven look back.<div style="text-align: center;">You know what? this was one of my hardest years to date, i think. </div><div style="text-align: center;">many things really shook me up. but between the hardships, there were so many blessings that i feel ungrateful even talking about trials. </div><div style="text-align: center;">A lot of the shit that happened was sort of karma, i suppose. </div><div style="text-align: center;">well, of course it was karma. i've been a damn fool the past few years. </div><div style="text-align: center;">but i'm being ambiguous and that's really annoying. </div><div style="text-align: center;">let's do a 'leven look back, shall we?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">I left saint george,</div><div style="text-align: center;"> and with it, went a part of my heart.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">Where I made friends that i intend keeping all the way to heaven.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>I became an aunt.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">the obnoxious kind that talks about it every second and shows countless pictures.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">but you already know that.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">derek and i struggled. more than we ever have. But like my mom said today, we've "been through everything and back already. [we] can handle more that most couples". seri, i take pride in the fact that we haven't had it easy. It makes it all the better to know we have each other.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> He's def my bef :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAVQSggJbDTLsc7FrmAp9gA1CAhdlGOiBq72E3Bd0rkzPNxdVcE7KtH14ar2IrLbU-s-xDu6gVrGe7Y2Xg7BA1FEPH8oJ0yQQucud_l9zrT9YVVKagy4oCvlh9IzMeDt7Vbsl7Z-5tmQ/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-337758497.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtAVQSggJbDTLsc7FrmAp9gA1CAhdlGOiBq72E3Bd0rkzPNxdVcE7KtH14ar2IrLbU-s-xDu6gVrGe7Y2Xg7BA1FEPH8oJ0yQQucud_l9zrT9YVVKagy4oCvlh9IzMeDt7Vbsl7Z-5tmQ/s400/flare-iphoto-export-337758497.png" width="260" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i got my first real job. even though i still feel like a dressed up child most of the time. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">My best friend since first grade received her mission call. i start to tear up every time i think about it. She's been in my life longer than any friend. and i'm so proud of her. of anyone, i know she deserves it. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Watch out, non-mormons of Portugal. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">madi is soon on her way.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">i <i>think</i> i chose my future career finally. Thanks to all the prodding of derek, who told me if there was one thing i was good at, it was arguing, so i might as well get paid for it. LAW SCHOOL HERE I COME!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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I've become crafty. serious change. i'm the most uncreative person i know. and though they may be small, like spray painting baskets to become trinket holders or making simple holiday gifts, i'm about as proud as it gets.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNreDY5C4E6no10FEZ99B3tXg_7bJfN7ZfcF0mQ4WgJNTdinhQvqnNgVPMndXaP_ISqNyuEy61S3DG7Nd00QLeH0X2NhIPvSoVSW2Yj8HYqWg0-hNbegWkFLaqaGPbcPrh57zerCeOO0/s1600/IMG_0496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZNreDY5C4E6no10FEZ99B3tXg_7bJfN7ZfcF0mQ4WgJNTdinhQvqnNgVPMndXaP_ISqNyuEy61S3DG7Nd00QLeH0X2NhIPvSoVSW2Yj8HYqWg0-hNbegWkFLaqaGPbcPrh57zerCeOO0/s320/IMG_0496.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRK2_KJ3_hT_vVq6gzyVwhxhDusGiQwW2tXXRvTZlDfWNhU9sQ63KxuXKaJGoiV5HhoXyoGKM_93zjJpXP8Cv_UJTV7ywY6GeIv6NuSKF7BDhvv8umDPj6YRa-Z3rUB-RpKiTrLbNJZE/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-347245207.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRK2_KJ3_hT_vVq6gzyVwhxhDusGiQwW2tXXRvTZlDfWNhU9sQ63KxuXKaJGoiV5HhoXyoGKM_93zjJpXP8Cv_UJTV7ywY6GeIv6NuSKF7BDhvv8umDPj6YRa-Z3rUB-RpKiTrLbNJZE/s320/flare-iphoto-export-347245207.png" width="320" /></a>i cannot tell you how many times derek and i have hung out with my parents on weekend nights the past few months. we go out, we stay in, we talk, we watch movies. we're each other's double daters now. i'm not ashamed. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">with that precious smile, how could i be?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">and mostly, i've changed. </div><div style="text-align: center;">remember the LITERAL wild child i used to be? well she's settled down. </div><div style="text-align: center;">i don't know if that is temporary or permanent, some things should probably stick around longer. </div><div style="text-align: center;">like the fact that i used to live off of attention. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> i AM ashamed of that. really quite pathetic. </div><div style="text-align: center;">now, sweats and no makeup hardly faze me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">2012. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">the best is yet to come.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">h</span></div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-76758050446785334042011-12-29T21:42:00.000-07:002011-12-29T21:42:47.149-07:00i heart jeffrey.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">it was just a jeffrey campbell kind of christmas. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">h</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-48868146293498679972011-12-18T13:05:00.002-07:002011-12-18T13:07:29.702-07:00music to my ears<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/lLS_4PBKB-g/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lLS_4PBKB-g&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lLS_4PBKB-g&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">it's like a mix between Lights, Anni B Sweet and some Passion Pit. </div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i love alex w.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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best of the best. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">little</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-70910299041750818392011-12-14T19:11:00.001-07:002011-12-15T20:02:48.978-07:00early christmas presents<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i had a splendid surprise last night when i got 100% on my final.</div><div style="text-align: center;">then to add to that, i got a call from the boy who had an interview while i was at school.</div><div style="text-align: center;">in that short period of an hour, he had the first, then second interview, and was then told he was hired.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">so, being the perfect girlfriend that i so obviously am, i made him (but, also me) a celebratory dinner. </div><div style="text-align: center;">lemon garlic pasta with sauteed mushrooms and shrimp. </div><div style="text-align: center;">you can be impressed, cause i sure am.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6WdDgAFBWPIFVy70d2-AkAa4vBKrFL6rhyphenhyphenq583W_YYpcLwe4Y0RTvyugSMCLJCgcudWBRtKBBEWW8W9yxi4__AeE1skNcvZW7MEWG1ce_tH-bZUcl8HQ83ixxEc4-JWlEKUdmi9bovU/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-345605134.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6WdDgAFBWPIFVy70d2-AkAa4vBKrFL6rhyphenhyphenq583W_YYpcLwe4Y0RTvyugSMCLJCgcudWBRtKBBEWW8W9yxi4__AeE1skNcvZW7MEWG1ce_tH-bZUcl8HQ83ixxEc4-JWlEKUdmi9bovU/s320/flare-iphoto-export-345605134.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and even though he will now be making almost <b>double</b> what i make, </div><div style="text-align: center;">and i'm actually really bitter about that, i am so proud of him :) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and he ain't bad on the eyes either.</div><div style="text-align: center;">even in his 'holiday card' pose.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">but even more so while cuddling with the punk.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">i like him.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> i like him a whole lot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">h</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-10677408341919633042011-12-10T20:29:00.000-07:002011-12-10T20:29:30.625-07:00greetings from the 3 coolest kids in town.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">haylie. anne brady. henry</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6IxpDwpk3bAlLQcAvOfT0bIo5lNdH9dJP08ulKlh1ia8Hj8T5ulzSQZ0Sj_9gtZXOSj5zptgxVHI8DiNWvJjOk_v_6T3dDcfdphc_vn2a7Ncd88Nnx9KfyKAfb6rbS_EfNhvsdi2uns/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-345266457.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6IxpDwpk3bAlLQcAvOfT0bIo5lNdH9dJP08ulKlh1ia8Hj8T5ulzSQZ0Sj_9gtZXOSj5zptgxVHI8DiNWvJjOk_v_6T3dDcfdphc_vn2a7Ncd88Nnx9KfyKAfb6rbS_EfNhvsdi2uns/s400/flare-iphoto-export-345266457.png" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"haya, you shouldn't have any toys cause you are supposed to be a grown up... </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">but i know you're really just a kid"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">h</span></div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-84205582422877512842011-12-05T21:08:00.000-07:002011-12-05T21:08:32.101-07:00sometimes i get grinchy, but usually i'm nice.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">angry elf:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i hate colored lights. especially ones with purple and blue. purple and blue aren't christmas colors. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i loathe the abbreve 'X-mas'. so much.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i think christmas light nets thrown over bushes are terrible. TERRIBLE.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">SANTA! i know him:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i really like homely christmas trees. they melt my heart and all of a sudden their homeliness takes on some sort of personification and i want to be friends. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">identical nieces in holiday apparel; don't even get me started. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i think fireplaces are divine.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">its cute seeing little cars hauling big trees on top.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">steamers are the yummiest.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">my favorite is hearing christmas songs by the best bands. (see below)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i like being as pale as a goose and not minding. for once in my life. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and finally, wearing the puffiest northface i can find, ensemble sweats, a scarf wrapped up to my nose and hideous old boots from high school. looking <i>that </i>good and going in public. i don't even care.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/KCzIw4W7fdQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">this song makes me the happiest.</span></div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-69357319698171301222011-11-24T11:31:00.000-07:002011-11-24T11:31:14.181-07:00milo boy.<div style="text-align: center;">Once upon a brisk morning, there lie a small girl in her giant bed.</div><div style="text-align: center;">as she heard someone walking up the stairs to her room, she was instantly peeved.</div><div style="text-align: center;">for this girl liked sleep just about as much as a bear. possibly more. </div><div style="text-align: center;">she scowled and raised her eyes over the blanket to see who the intruder was.</div><div style="text-align: center;">eh, it was just her best friend. he could jump in the covers for all she cared,</div><div style="text-align: center;">for she was going to sleep more, regardless of what he did.</div><div style="text-align: center;">but the sleepy haze wore off as she noticed that balled up blanket in his arms move.</div><div style="text-align: center;">the fact that he had a balled up blanket in the first place hadn't really dawned on her as odd yet.</div><div style="text-align: center;">but the moving part awakened the most obnoxious and obvious personality flaw of hers called curiosity.</div><div style="text-align: center;">for there are only a small number of items that are bundled in blankets and wiggle around.</div><div style="text-align: center;">just then, the light blue eyes of a sleepy puppy peeped out and made a precious yawn. </div><div style="text-align: center;">which meant that at the crack of 11, she was fully awake. a real weekend rarity. </div><div style="text-align: center;">and guess what? she wasn't even that mad.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">this is milo.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> i named him.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> mostly because i thought ollie and milo sounded cute together.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> derek tried to name his own dog.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> cool names like olympus, apollo, cronus and even his last name, killough, but spelled kilo.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> cause everyone mispronounces his last name.</div><div style="text-align: center;">here's a hint: (key-low)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSsmFvIKnI-A7QKDjk4yVWboHUPftbdXYWOsF8AhDSVTt6lSoko1V8Vo8weWFXZR2e5tg-KNSvcj5nD63cpz1c5hmagMmTSzAo_PHUcB5T6k1R62ceKTK0Vh1ktES6QappFXfKLQcCI8/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-343850211.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSsmFvIKnI-A7QKDjk4yVWboHUPftbdXYWOsF8AhDSVTt6lSoko1V8Vo8weWFXZR2e5tg-KNSvcj5nD63cpz1c5hmagMmTSzAo_PHUcB5T6k1R62ceKTK0Vh1ktES6QappFXfKLQcCI8/s320/flare-iphoto-export-343850211.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqo7Kzuaqayeld_GzqBsDawTjvbRJYmWz17BgAtyoInvepYv9CXkkggVE_mEMyqq8seA_V1aKci5thVt0-nUBegi5auYgaokdEx-5hMAorDacDXttmIgfGXIPiiYcnmwGELN1g2ZQPX4k/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-343850579.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqo7Kzuaqayeld_GzqBsDawTjvbRJYmWz17BgAtyoInvepYv9CXkkggVE_mEMyqq8seA_V1aKci5thVt0-nUBegi5auYgaokdEx-5hMAorDacDXttmIgfGXIPiiYcnmwGELN1g2ZQPX4k/s200/flare-iphoto-export-343850579.png" width="200" /></a></div><br />
but somehow (not really, we all know why) the name milo persevered.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5Dg7PvSKHj9dSPLOzAWMovlskUmkxCERgwKyoR9Nhd8JeyJMXVVfqV3xXQn8zvcigvPSXEKFWU9UPl7oZAArYPmQkz4grCw2NAYnsGueXemgpdLXxkRm5R-9Nm6xgU078iGUftzjU7o/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-343850381.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5Dg7PvSKHj9dSPLOzAWMovlskUmkxCERgwKyoR9Nhd8JeyJMXVVfqV3xXQn8zvcigvPSXEKFWU9UPl7oZAArYPmQkz4grCw2NAYnsGueXemgpdLXxkRm5R-9Nm6xgU078iGUftzjU7o/s320/flare-iphoto-export-343850381.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLz21drLkmq0Fr5gAaUrgTkiB1DNF8_sbZSZpP1bp-l9oOfWw6ZnwMXR178psyQfa2zKK6Z_PyqpWqmN4BGCHsBw_34m2eTlQUrxD7P6evs9IS5MtkAUnekbKRDu951ly3SLFYX1jGjTc/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-343850417.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLz21drLkmq0Fr5gAaUrgTkiB1DNF8_sbZSZpP1bp-l9oOfWw6ZnwMXR178psyQfa2zKK6Z_PyqpWqmN4BGCHsBw_34m2eTlQUrxD7P6evs9IS5MtkAUnekbKRDu951ly3SLFYX1jGjTc/s320/flare-iphoto-export-343850417.png" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">and guess what <a href="http://erinnelizabethmiller.blogspot.com/2011/11/kisses.html">erinn</a>? i even let him lick my face. with his pungent little puppy breath. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">:)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimb8V0hSWrOT1WsIURx-uKwCCb3D5Zk3tcLSpkWr2ZEqlc1epwTRA-Z_Sbt-gA-OxU9dzmc3QSOHmySbD-g5gpyj-HZ_ey-SNEDkpm_5OU6QQSeM5hWIOu_FgQpoLvUts5EdYlRGJ4D5g/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-343850625.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimb8V0hSWrOT1WsIURx-uKwCCb3D5Zk3tcLSpkWr2ZEqlc1epwTRA-Z_Sbt-gA-OxU9dzmc3QSOHmySbD-g5gpyj-HZ_ey-SNEDkpm_5OU6QQSeM5hWIOu_FgQpoLvUts5EdYlRGJ4D5g/s400/flare-iphoto-export-343850625.png" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeE2XTML9kkayxzxe3-8Rtp1IRQ5fpQqcLCUeuNR7IQhPttCojNXoUHqcNablcCCUpIUz6sSxpxMCV4jRFGrNqKYa0rWskMtjbw8CVfdxxKmDMfAF_7wt0rnn5CNsF_UXa55qsh-W7X8g/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-343849531.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeE2XTML9kkayxzxe3-8Rtp1IRQ5fpQqcLCUeuNR7IQhPttCojNXoUHqcNablcCCUpIUz6sSxpxMCV4jRFGrNqKYa0rWskMtjbw8CVfdxxKmDMfAF_7wt0rnn5CNsF_UXa55qsh-W7X8g/s320/flare-iphoto-export-343849531.png" width="240" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6b9a99-9utreHU03p7bi4VjcXm8BfxHcJpKeIX9VCK7Y0HzjcZHCcNkjq6jDUipWX1uypaCIOIZ9Cqlj0s3mIfcw01q9W30neEBJjxi3ZQdp1v3xRhEM7AX8KtCj6dr9excOaCwmLBI/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-343849359.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6b9a99-9utreHU03p7bi4VjcXm8BfxHcJpKeIX9VCK7Y0HzjcZHCcNkjq6jDUipWX1uypaCIOIZ9Cqlj0s3mIfcw01q9W30neEBJjxi3ZQdp1v3xRhEM7AX8KtCj6dr9excOaCwmLBI/s320/flare-iphoto-export-343849359.png" width="259" /></a><br />
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and while we're on the subject of pooches. ollie got in trouble last week (she kept eating my socks) so i put her in timeout. she took it really seriously. stayed there for 10 minutes. sneaking some peeks every once in a while.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-little</span></div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-59831656360116608922011-11-12T02:37:00.004-07:002011-11-12T02:42:31.777-07:00shade parade.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BteXbY44a7U&feature=pyv&ad=%7BCHANELShadeParade%7D&kw=%7BCHANEL%7D?WT.srch=1">click here for the cutest thing you've ever seen.</a></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">as if i need another reason to buy more nail polish.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">h</span></div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-52152092857735168182011-11-07T16:31:00.001-07:002011-11-07T16:31:39.458-07:00new blog on the block.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">y'all, i am so happy to present to you what will become your new favorite blog to stalk</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://best-of-everything.blogspot.com/">kylie michelle harrison</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">FACT:</div><div style="text-align: center;">this girl is crafty as hell.</div><div style="text-align: center;">she can bake anything.</div><div style="text-align: center;">she makes her own clothes.</div><div style="text-align: center;">she has this thing called style that i have yet to learn.</div><div style="text-align: center;">she is gorgeous.</div><div style="text-align: center;">she cleans like a good mother. </div><div style="text-align: center;">she designs things. </div><div style="text-align: center;">pinterest was made for her, or she for it.</div><div style="text-align: center;">i've been begging her to start a blog for dayyyys.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">and so this is a special day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ38NYpQtmKFgOFjPXy7Y9lYw9ULIBL8MO64Ac7r3HiUKHzw-e3Ynf1VrYpgflXH9TeqlpeGMpI1QDoNKAPQmD4_0TogC-W77oDluxBrMgvA0s-sZoqk3eZnfe1ZC_5jsd4hFyF0bKmsQ/s1600/DSCN4976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ38NYpQtmKFgOFjPXy7Y9lYw9ULIBL8MO64Ac7r3HiUKHzw-e3Ynf1VrYpgflXH9TeqlpeGMpI1QDoNKAPQmD4_0TogC-W77oDluxBrMgvA0s-sZoqk3eZnfe1ZC_5jsd4hFyF0bKmsQ/s400/DSCN4976.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">those are my girls.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">kylie being the very right.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and her dress? MADE IT.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so check it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">you'll learn how to do all sorts of things.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and be entertained simultaneously.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">h</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-85219127218779138552011-11-06T23:09:00.000-07:002011-11-06T23:09:01.127-07:00wild thing.<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">it's no surprise, i enjoy the word 'wild'. </div><div style="text-align: center;">since the beginning, when my mother referred to me as her wild child.</div><div style="text-align: center;">then i got a bracelet to reinforce it.</div><div style="text-align: center;">it helps that Where the Wild Things Are was derek's favorite childhood book/memory.</div><div style="text-align: center;">cause then i read it with new eyes. and loved it too.</div><div style="text-align: center;">and to add to all this, after my girl Kyle introduced me to darling little misty miller, </div><div style="text-align: center;">i found the song wild thing. </div><div style="text-align: center;">perf.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">all in all, i do consider myself a wild child.</div><div style="text-align: center;">but i don't consider that a derogatory term.</div><div style="text-align: center;">because it means i like adventure.</div><div style="text-align: center;">that i don't conform easily.</div><div style="text-align: center;">that i think swearing is funny, dammit.</div><div style="text-align: center;">that i don't take myself too seriously.</div><div style="text-align: center;">that i'd rather have fun.</div><div style="text-align: center;">that i'm just a little wild.</div><div style="text-align: center;">NOT:</div><div style="text-align: center;">that i get drunk on the weekends.</div><div style="text-align: center;">that i seek attention and approval of boys.</div><div style="text-align: center;">that i'm a bitchy girl. </div><div style="text-align: center;">that i would do anything to fit in.</div><div style="text-align: center;">or any other things that are often wrongly correlated.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">i can't really explain the depth of this word, cause it probably seems silly to most.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">but to me, it means being true. being happy with me.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">and mostly, not losing the simple happiness of childhood.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/rgAfXEdU-hk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"inside each of us there is a hidden child, you just have to learn to be wild"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">truth.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-91334033968118133752011-11-05T22:01:00.000-06:002011-11-05T22:01:24.119-06:00we're the ones everyone hates.<div style="text-align: center;">4 inches of snow outside my window this morning,</div><div style="text-align: center;">but i didn't even hate it. </div><div style="text-align: center;">cause let's be honest.</div><div style="text-align: center;">had you been driving home with us from our double date last night, </div><div style="text-align: center;">you would have heard us listening to 106.5</div><div style="text-align: center;">..or in other words. the christmas station.</div><div style="text-align: center;">we're <i>those </i>people.</div><div style="text-align: center;">judge us. whatev.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">if snow means reading by the fire, listening to nat king cole and </div><div style="text-align: center;">cuddling with our little punk, then i'm A-okay with that.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">happy november </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoXr-kZnuG-jjysvxHJRTPo46z2QlBlrK31-6sMtV9mjsgZpKLAglybqCeiONSDsmmyRrphML5fHmr3a21fVDx4LIxVfSCKujMcMIjgJ0_A-iRwVmkuGHZb_Vk_LkAhapAjC-pqq2fGAk/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-342241783.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoXr-kZnuG-jjysvxHJRTPo46z2QlBlrK31-6sMtV9mjsgZpKLAglybqCeiONSDsmmyRrphML5fHmr3a21fVDx4LIxVfSCKujMcMIjgJ0_A-iRwVmkuGHZb_Vk_LkAhapAjC-pqq2fGAk/s320/flare-iphoto-export-342241783.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinjaEyTifl0BDTe2aUQ742ZZZrltE3HMXqSmKUR8hJsRzCk46wLKE9pyHjmOxiUJmQwtC-OBAcsL9jYYKEd-N_ztvG-nNwwRJDHwU3qZwvDiy7-inqqmnGB1r1N6eB9X-TvcnqzacCGQA/s1600/flare-iphoto-export-342242383.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinjaEyTifl0BDTe2aUQ742ZZZrltE3HMXqSmKUR8hJsRzCk46wLKE9pyHjmOxiUJmQwtC-OBAcsL9jYYKEd-N_ztvG-nNwwRJDHwU3qZwvDiy7-inqqmnGB1r1N6eB9X-TvcnqzacCGQA/s400/flare-iphoto-export-342242383.png" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">aren't they presh?</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2584818509069783545.post-1663427991043172732011-11-03T21:56:00.000-06:002011-11-03T21:56:17.578-06:00today... <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">my cramps are making me want to punch everyone in the face.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and hate them after.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Haylie Henneferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06390411135793247592noreply@blogger.com0