More Duffluff Adventures!

To all my darling blog followers that I haven't talked to in the last week: my study abroad plan for the summer is coming to fruition!

For sure I'll be going to...drum roll please...

CAMBODIA!

Woop woop! And a friend of mine that I met on my trip to Morocco, Elizabeth, will be going with me. We're both quite fond of traveling so we plan on doing our own thing around Southeast Asia after our month in Cambodia studying travel writing.

Hopefully I'll be able to update soon about the exact plans.

**We'll be in Siem Reap for the month of May and hopefully we can travel up through Vietnam, across Laos and down through Thailand to Bangkok before heading back home.**

**Elizabeth and I in Morocco, more specifically the few days that we rode camels through the Sahara.**

**Elizabeth and I in Paris...hopefully many more countries to come!**

He lives! He lives!

Becks is superhuman. Or superfish, I guess.

Remember that time he attempted suicide last summer? (I'm still holding on to the story that he sacrificed himself for a yet unknown greater cause.)

Well, on this 24th of February, I once again thought he had left us.

I recently upgraded Becks's tank to a much bigger one and put a

big fish rock thing in there to keep him company.

I just got back from a study group and couldn't find him. Where does a fish go? He wasn't swimming around. He wasn't on the floor. He was UNDER HIS ROCK!

There was a pocket between his rock formation and his pebbles and he was STUCK!

Being the loving mother that I am, I quickly lifted the rock and beautiful Becks swam to the top.

Now this event alone doesn't prove much. But paired with his 2.5 year lifespan (so far) and his already failed suicide attempt, I'm convinced Becks is immortal.

Most likely the second coming of Christ.

Sac-religious? Maybe. But I have confidence in the divine powers of my favorite aquatic creature.

Here is my interpretation of Becks when he is discovered and returned to his natural state:

Man, he looks good.

PS- Does that make me like the fish version of the Virgin Mary?

For the Kids

Saturday 10am-Sunday 10am was Dance Marathon 2010.

I am just now blogging about it because I can just now form full sentences after a 36 hours period of being exhausted.

If you're unfamiliar with Dance Marathon, it's a 24 hour event where we celebrate all the fundraising efforts held to raise money for the Children's Miracle Network, more specifically to Georgia, Children's Healthcare of Atlanta.

The Entertainment committee put together a ton of stuff to keep us occupied. Included in that was a band, dance groups, a cappella groups, a hypnotist, 26 stories of families with miracle children, dance parties, catered meals, inflatable slides/obstacle courses, and so much more.

This year I was on the Morale committee. Our job is to keep everyone excited and energized for the full 24 hours. We also make up a 10 minute dance and teach everyone else how to do it throughout the marathon. Keep up the "morale" you might say.

We're split up into different color groups and have to rep them as well as we can. Which, to me, sounds like a darn good excuse to wear the most ridiculous things I can find. Per usual.

**Our Morale leaders- he promised Morale if we raised enough money that he'd shave his head at the end of the marathon. We raised over $25,000 as a committee!**

**At about 5 in the morning we have "Club DM" which is basically a rave to get us all moving again and energized for the next 5 hours"

**USA hour**

**80's aerobics hour- ready for the rave.**

**I look for any excuse to break out this little baby."

**Found this gem in our social closet.**

**Got this one at Goodwill. I was going for the mechanic look.**

**One of my first outfits. I was called Sarah Palin, a flight attendant, a principal and a band director.**

At the end of the marathon, our total was announced and we raised over $250,000 for CMN. It was totally worth staying up all night.

Bare Naked Lady Bears

So here's the thing.

I'm taking a journalism class called "Editing and Design" this semester and on the first day of class my teacher said that anyone who tries to change anything for the better is an editor. And I agreed.

Today I posted a Facebook status (a quote from my Hebrew Bible professor) that read, "Being Jewish, it's my cross to bear." And then I proceeded to freak out.

Why? Because I have no idea if it's his cross to BEAR or BARE. I changed it three times. I googled it and spent way too much time trying to figure it out but it was bothering me and I NEEDED to know. Right then.

So among my travels through cyber world I came upon my answer. It is actually his cross to bear (victory, self!).

But where I found the answer was in another person's blog and he was not very kind to us people who don't know everything. APPARENTLY it's quite stupid to even consider that it might have been his cross to bare. In that case, the cross would have had to have lots of clothes on and you would have had to have some reason to remove them...hence, making the cross nakey. Or...bare.

But being so mean about it was quite unnecessary. In this case, this "editor" was not making things around him better. He was simply making me feel dumb. Not cool.

So to all you readers who have ever asked yourself the question..."bare or bear?" I am going to kindly show you the light so you don't have to be offended by other bloggers that will put you down:

Bare= to undress, reveal, expose. You bare your soul. You get bare naked. You bare your soul WHILE you're bare naked. You get it.

Bear= to support, carry a load, hold up. You bear a cross. You bear a child. You bear a child WHILE you're bare naked.

An even easier way to remember:

Grin and bear it= good

Grin and bare it= sexual assault

PS- I hope you all got the religion joke in there. Jewish...cross to bear...GET IT?!

When a man loves a woman...

I've mentioned many a time that I'm borderline obsessed with one of my religion professors, Wanda Wilcox. In honor of Valentine's Day and the accumulation of a new favorite quote of mine, I decided to share what she described love as the other day:

"Being in love is being late to work."

She meant, of course, the lose-your-mind, forget-the-world, whimsical feeling of just being head over heels for someone. And I thought it was a perfect description. Suddenly, nothing else matters.

So happy Valentine's Day, friends. I hope you're late to work.

Abstinence Only

Hopefully you all can read this flow chart. My awesome LGBT spirituality teacher shared this with us in class the other day. It's a flow chart of when you can or cannot have sex according to medieval expectations. In case it isn't big enough, you're lead to the box reading "STOP! SIN!" is you're pregnant, unmarried, married for less than three days, or if it's Lent, Easter, Sunday, Wednesday, Friday or Saturday. Etc, etc...