A Fond Farewell

Dear friends/family/blogstalkers:

This all started with one very funny story shared at a dinner table with some dear friends. I'll never forget that night. I am always pleased when a story gets such a reaction, but I was also pretty embarrassed. It was a delicious combination. Rare. Maybe that's what made it so delicious...

At that time, I was looking for a creative writing outlet and I thought this, Taco Tuesday Confessions, would be the perfect venue. And in many ways it has been. However, as the months have gone by and I have grown and changed, my need for public blogging has waxed and waned. I had originally started this blog to entertain. I like to entertain. I like to tell stories. I like to craft and build and suspend until just the perfect moment. I also like to write introspective pieces, insights I can share with those around me. However, I have found recently this venue has become a little too unwieldy for me to handle anymore. I miss the dinner table conversations, the close-knit friends who hear the deepest and darkest, the coming home with great pieces of news, the one-on-one time in the dark sharing secrets and hopes and dreams with those I love most. Most of all, I miss my family.

I know, it seems strange that this blog would make me miss my family. But I write them less; I call them less, mostly because I figure they are reading my blog. Some of them are. Some are not. And frankly, I shouldn't rely on this. I should call. Often. Oftener than I do, anyway.

So it is with some sadness that I bid the public blogging world farewell, at least as it concerns Taco Tuesday Confessions. I have enjoyed laughing with you all ... virtually and in person. I look forward to building stronger face-to-face bonds of friendship.

Thank you to everyone who has given words of encouragement over the last year and few months. I have grown up a lot through this experience, not only through crafting things to write to you all, but in the conversations I've had outside of this blog. I'm hopeful those conversations will continue and increase.

Peace out my friends.

With much love,
Your indiscriminate confessor no more,
Julie (a.k.a Cookie Monster - that remains unchanged)

p.s. I'll leave the blog public for another week or so, just so the word gets out. After that it will be private until I can find the time to get the significant postings off for posterity's sake. :)

A mish-mash of things

I've had a lot of random thoughts/encounters today:

* I am really sore today. I mean, like limping around the office sore. I can't remember the last time I was this sore. I remember I often felt this way in high school, as I would gingerly lower myself into my seat in 1st period English. Usually it was the result of a killer track workout or some ridiculous lunge-athon. I did not do a killer track workout yesterday, but I did do a lot of lunges. I used to relish this feeling. Today I'm rueing my stupidity. My, what 10 years will do to one's sense of adventure.

* I think I'm chickening out on the haircut. I feel like I shouldn't whack it until I'm 100% sure. My appointment is in 3 hours and I'm still not sure. AND, today my hair actually cooperated and I felt sort of pretty for like 30 minutes until I realized when I got to the metro that I had forgotten my wallet, keys, phone, EVERYTHING, and had to walk back home, knock until someone opened the door, run upstairs to my blasted hot room on the third floor, run back down, RE-walk to the metro, and then get on a train with hundreds of tourists (who can't use their day passes until after 9:30) because, guess what, it was after 9:30. My hair did not look so cute after that ordeal. And I was late to work. Really late.

* Emily started sending me quotes from The Importance of Being Earnest this morning. I started looking for some of my own and then got so engrossed that in between phone calls and other tasks I read the entire play. It is just so funny. It stands in my memory as the first play that I actually sat down and read and understood and enjoyed. I've been revisiting several pieces of literature the last couple of months in preparation for my test next week. It's been interesting to see how I've changed as a reader and as a person over the years. And how I haven't.

* On the subject of books, today I finished a book I've picked up at least once before and put down because I just couldn't get into it. However, the other day I needed a break and plucked it out of my drawer o' books at work. I haven't been able to put it down. It's a C.S. Lewis book that no one seems to talk about (Till We Have Faces). Either that or I just haven't been listening. Some quotes from it that I found particularly moving:

"Of the things that followed I cannot at all say whether they were what men call real of what men call dream. And for all I can tell, the only difference is that what many see we call a real thing, and what only one sees we call a dream. But things that many see may have no taste or moment in them at all, and things that are shown only to one may be spears and water-spouts of truth from the very depth of truth."

"When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"

As the years go by and I continue to read and search and grow, my understanding of the value of literature increases. I read 293 pages, felt confused about how this didn't feel anything like C.S. Lewis, wondered how this horribly tragic tale would resolve, and then I got to the wham of the book. I don't know that it would have had the same impact in any other form, at any other time. For me, anyway.

* My boss today asked me if I thought all this rain meant the end of the world. I laughed but turns out he was only joking a little bit. He had recently watched this special on the Mayan calendar and how it ended the world at December 2012 and that the pictures on the calendar suggested the end of the world would come by flooding. He got a little spooked. I assured him that the world would not end by flooding. I also told him I didn't think this rain was out of the ordinary for this area. Coming from a place where it rains maybe 10 times a year, out here it's just another day of what feels like nonstop rain. (p.s. The streets were on last night: 18th and Hayes!)

* I have had the craziest dreams this week. I have started emailing them to my roommates in the mornings. Yesterday one of them called my dreams "creative." I'd never thought of it that way, but maybe I should take the records of my dream and make at least a short story out of them. Honestly, I wake up and think, "there is no way I could make that up."

A little taste of one:
Jeff Harps and Matt Knight had put together a video of Leanna with some footage and dubbed-in dialogue. What was the video of? Leanna driving around a hovercraft with machine guns over Duck Beach. She was gunning down people on the beach (there was a lot of chaos on the ground perhaps related to Leanna's offensive, perhaps not). She turned to all of us as we watched it and said, "no one else sees this until I address this with them." She then tried to explain that it wasn't what it seemed, that she was merely gathering food for her baby penguins...not her pet baby penguins, but her actual baby penguins...

I think my room is too hot.

To My Dad

There are lots of things that come to mind when I think about my dad. I think about how funny he is and how people, if they don't take the time to talk to him one on one, often don't see that side of him.

I think about how he's a different person when he gets away from the city. When he's in Nevada/Southern Utah he takes on a boyishness that I love to see.

I remember the family home evenings we would have, and how he and Mom insisted on having them every Monday night, no matter where we were. I loved that he would dress up with us and tease mom and all of us kids.

And we would tease him (this was taken after we'd accosted him outside the new bathroom...)

Some of my greatest outdoor memories of my dad involve the hatchet.

He really could make a perfect bonfire that would smolder into perfect s'mores coals.

Hahaha. More FHE pictures. This was from "hat night". We were just getting ready to play "the basketball game" (I have no idea what it's really called).

Evidence that Dad can fall asleep anywhere, anytime.

A trait he passed on to most of his children

Just another crazy night in the Bradshaw home.

I love how my parents never hid their affection for one another in front of us kids.

We have this amazing backyard with delicious fruits and vegetables, due in large part to Dad's research and execution of proper pruning and nutrition of plants.

We were just getting ready to go apple picking in the backhoe (Dad's idea - shocker).

This time last year, when Dad was diagnosed with cancer, I made a spur-of-the-moment trip home. It was one of the best decisions I made last year.

I love this picture of my parents. It says so much with just one image.

I love that Dad loves to laugh. I love it when he gets laughing so hard sometimes he cries and that it often happens during family prayer. He's usually the one who has to leave the circle to wash his face before we can continue in reverence. Usually it was something fairly innocuous to set him off; but his mind gets going on a tangent and he can't stop laughing.

I love that he loves to be surprised and delighted by unexpected things

I love that Dad loves to play a good practical joke.

I love telling Dad stories that involve my feistiness. His reactions are always perfect.

I love that he's a good listener and will talk for as long as you need to talk.

I love that he has spent so much time becoming who he is and gaining so much experience which he then shares freely.

I love that he wanted to have a big family.

I love that he wants to see his kids succeed and does all he can to that end, even when it means letting us tough it out alone.

I love Dad.

Happy Birthday, Dad! (I miss you...)

Hair Talk

I'm thinking of going back to this haircut:

Any strong opinions one way or the other?

Tiffany's and BBQ Sauce

I've been having this really funny conversation with my roommate today regarding adult jewelry.

Those who know me well or who spend a bit of time with me know that I can be a bit of a clutz. I am constantly cutting myself, spilling things (an entire glass of water on the counter this morning), tripping, losing my balance (last time a guy kissed me on the front porch I lost my balance in my heels [sigh]), or experiencing other epic failures (spilling almost an entire container of BBQ sauce from Chick Fil A in my crotch on the way down to Duck Beach last weekend...yes, you can all laugh heartily now).

When I confessed this morning that there is this ring from Tiffany's that I've wanted ever since I was in college, I quickly followed it up with the disclaimer that I would never buy it. [Tiffany's won't let me copy the picture, so here's the link: http://www.tiffany.com/Shopping/Item.aspx?fromGrid=1&sku=GRP00107&mcat=148204&cid=287466&search_params=s+5-p+17-c+287466-r+101323338-x+-n+6-ri+-ni+0-t+ ] I don't know why I've wanted it, but I just have. I saw it on a friend of mine probably 7 years ago and have thought about it ever since. I told my roommate today that I could not justify spending $200 on a ring for myself for several reasons, the most important one being I would mostly likely lose it. I just would. It would go down the sink or in the toilet or down a vent. Like BBQ sauce to the crotch, I would lose this ring. But I still kind of want it. Strange, since I don't usually want jewelry of any kind.

So, out with it friends. Most impractical want. You know you've checked out the Tiffany's website. Spill.

To All Aspiring Gentlemen:

Read this. The whole thing. You'll thank me for it. Chances are, if we're friends, you already do (or have been taught to do) most of these things...though a little brush-up never hurt anyone.

(p.s. Many of these rules apply to women as well, so have a good read, everyone!)

Some of these are positively heartwarming. I love discovering new blog treasures.

To My Great-Uncle Wilford

This morning I got up with the sun and went for a run/walk.  I went to the beach for the weekend (sort of against my better judgment) and felt some sadness this morning that I had removed myself from all of the wonderful memorials this city has to offer on such an important weekend.  I felt a great desire to go to the WWII memorial to lay a flower at the base of the Utah pillar in honor of my great-uncle Wilford, but instead I made do with a walk in solitude.

Uncle Wilford was only 19 when he fought in the Battle of the Bulge in WWII.  He was my maternal grandmother's brother.  She didn't talk about him a lot, but when she did it was always with love and a little bit of sadness.  Whenever I think about Wilford, I think about how much life was lost so young.  I tried to picture what it would be like to lose a brother in war, and thought about how many people are living that reality today.  I felt gratitude this morning for the service the military renders, but also thought about a day when wars won't be fought, when there will be peace on earth, and wondered how that will ever happen.  And when.

I didn't make it to the memorial today, but I will this week and will take a moment to pause under Utah, to say a prayer for peace, and leave something in remembrance of Uncle Wilford's sacrifice.  I am grateful for the knowledge of eternal families so that I can hold on to the hope of meeting Uncle Wilford someday.  

Milkshakes and The Excited Feeling

I was falling asleep at my desk today. I mean, literally head in my hands asleep (pretending to read whatever paper I had on my desk, of course). When I snapped awake at the ringing of my phone, I knew I had to get moving. So I went downstairs to Potbelly's to get a milkshake. Why not a cookie? Because it's hot outside and I was feeling a little thirsty. (However, I did buy their mini-cookie bag so I could at least have a little taste of cookie with my milkshake.) Let me tell you, though: milkshakes are always a bad idea. I mean, they are delicious, don't get me wrong. They are creamy and sweet and chocolatey and COLD and wonderful. But I'm lactose intolerant. Dairy = FAIL. Epic fail, even. I do such a good job of avoiding all other types of dairy. Why do I feel like my intolerance does not extend to milkshakes?! Because guess what. It does. I will pay dearly in about 2 or 3 hours...if not sooner. And it's not like this is a hit and miss kind of reaction. It happens every time.

To better understand this behavior, let's visit why I was so tired in the first place. I have a bedtime that I'm usually pretty good about keeping but have failed miserably to do so the last week or two for various reasons. Last night I was all set to make it on time because I was getting up at 5:30 to swim and was determined not to flake. But then I started chatting with friends , and secrets were being shared, and before I knew it, it was midnight. At some point somehow the conversation turned to The Excited Feeling and how it's a deceptive friend. You know the Feeling I'm talking about. It's the one where you meet someone really great and you feel like you click and you are really attracted on multiple levels (or maybe just one...) and you start making irrational decisions and jump headlong into a potentially (and likely) 2 feet deep pool. Or, to use last night's example, crash a speeding vehicle into a brick wall. I argued for a while on the side of giving into The Excited Feeling. I felt the reasons for killing The Excited Feeling were cynical and constituted an abandonment of hope. I argued that it was better to feel than not to feel, better to crash into the brick wall than to never approach it at all, better to experiment and fail than to never even try. Halfway into my argument I saw my faulty logic (a common occurrence), but I didn't want to admit that giving into The Excited Feeling is a mistake, because (1) I usually can't help myself, and (2) I'm not very good at admitting certain kinds of mistakes. But as I followed the logic of the opposing argument, I realized they weren't advocating killing The Excited Feeling altogether; they were merely saying that you can't trust it to guide you to good decisions, that it must be felt and tempered and that no decisions should be made based solely on that Feeling, because those ones are usually the mistakes. And not just hit and miss mistakes, but consistently bad choices.

Conclusion: Easy in, easy out. If you want something lasting, you do your homework, date for real, let The Excited Feeling give you momentum but don't let it drive!!! Let it out in small doses.
Like milkshakes.

If I have one or two sips of your milkshake, it's going to taste really good, but it won't hurt me. I don't need to feel the pain a full one would cause. In fact, I will arguably derive more satisfaction from two sips than I would from an entire one because even though I will have a tasty treat for longer with a milkshake all to myself, the consequences for that poor choice will last a long time. However, if I have one or two sips, I get the yummy taste and refreshing feeling without the consequences.

As I considered all of this last night and today, I realized that as I've gotten older, I've actually converged to this way of living without really realizing it. At least over the last few months I've noticed a difference. My feelings are tempered. I'm more patient. I'm more rational. There is still life in me, but I'm not engaging in self-destructive behavior. In other words, I'm MATURING, people. Goodness, I never thought it would happen. And it only took a Potbelly's chocolate milkshake on a sleepy afternoon to realize it.

A speech like that deserves at least five cookies.

This is maybe too much of a confession for a Tuesday, but I've been sent a YouTube clip of how my psyche works and I felt it was only fair to share. Seriously, it's scary how close this comes to the truth some days...



Those who ran Ragnar Relay with me can attest to the single-tracked mind.

p.s. I haven't forgotten the fact that I never got my donut.

Another one about cookies

I can't help it.

Today I was thinking about a funny incident that happened about a month ago and started laughing.

A Sunday night in early April found my roommate Kim and me in my bedroom. I upgraded to a big girl bed (read: queen-sized loveliness) in January and my room has hardwood floors, so the bed is generally the place of congregation. Kim had a story and had just launched into it when she stopped suddenly and looked down at my bedspread. She picked up something from off of it and said, "Julie, have you been eating cookies in bed?" I started to deny it (quite passionately -- I don't eat in my room), when I realized she was holding up an animal cracker, the very kind I had bought the day before. I still denied eating cookies in bed, but I couldn't figure out not only how the animal cracker got upstairs but how it had sat in the middle of my bed without it coming to my notice before that moment (I had been in my room, on my bed for most of the afternoon). We laughed over it, and I tossed it into the garbage can across the room. Our laughter attracted Niki who came and joined us on the bed for storytime. Kim restarted her story only to stop in the exact same spot. I followed her eyes to find yet another animal cracker on my bed, only it hadn't been there a second ago!!! Even they admitted it hadn't been there. Our laughter only got louder as we considered the possibility that animal crackers were reproducing on my bed, a concept made even funnier by the fact that my bedspread is of Noah's Ark.

Emily was drawn upstairs by the laughter. We told the story of the animal crackers, whereupon she suggested there was some connection between that and the wacky dreams I'd been having (which will not be recounted on this blog, sorry to disappoint - I do have some boundaries...). Then someone remembered there was pie and ice cream downstairs, so down we went. Boy were we one one... ("Is there any ice cream?" [as someone looks in the oven.] "I know you don't spend much time in the kitchen, but that is an oven. The freezer is over there."... "Is this a pie?" [as I took a pie out of the fridge. In my defense I had meant to say "is this the pie," as in "is this the pie we are allowed to eat?"]...).

It took me three days to figure out how the cookies had made it upstairs. I got home late on Saturday night and had wandered into the kitchen to find something that might quell the garlic I'd eaten earlier in the evening. I must have grabbed a couple of animal crackers on my way to bed and walked upstairs with them and then gotten distracted and put them down on one of my blankets that I, on Sunday afternoon, eventually curled up with. Turns out they weren't reproducing after all, though that image still makes me laugh...

I love cookies.

I look like I'm having more fun than I am

There are many hazards that come with running. I've documented many of them here. Often. One that I haven't ever documented, though, is chafing (mostly because people feel uncomfortable talking about it). I'm not going to go into it in detail here (I'll spare you); I only mention it here because in the past two days I've been chafed not only by my swimsuit (it's been years since that's happened...maybe because it's been years since I swam as hard as I did on Monday) but by one of my running shirts. I have one nice scab and two nice bright red raw marks on my neck and collarbone. Needless to say I'm wearing a high-necked shirt at work today. This has happened before with my running shirts and the looks and questions at work are always uncomfortable. I wish I had a better story, but alas...

On another note, I had maybe the best peanut butter/chocolate drop cookie I've ever had last night, and that's saying something. Leanna described so perfectly what made the cookie perfect: there was just the right amount of chocolate to get a bit of it with every bite. Plus the chocolate was so creamy and the cookie didn't fall apart at any point. I have to go back to that bakery and get more.

Robin Hood Season 2 arrives tonight. I couldn't be happier.

Confession: Cookie Consumption

I've been so good the last month or so. I haven't even CRAVED a cookie. I've eaten a couple here and there, but nothing like what this blog has been filled with the last year or so. I attribute it to my intense workout schedule. I only have so much time to eat and I have been trying to make sure all the good stuff goes in so that I have the fuel I need for the craziness. But the last three days, I don't know what happened.

Let's analyze:

Sunday: I made cookies for the first time in weeks. I ate three (plus a shameful amount of cookie dough).

Monday: There were gingersnaps on the counter. I don't usually like gingersnaps but I was hungry and the fridge only had stuff in it that required work to make edible. So I partook. They weren't half bad. Then I went to FHE, where I usually avoid the treats, but I got embarrassed while telling a story and insisted on having a cookie before I continued. Then I had two more to follow it up, trying to wash away further embarrassment. I felt sick before I even got home.

Today: A friend/boss brought in her baby [sigh] which she gave birth to in Argentina, even though neither she nor her husband are Argentinian (long story). She brought me back some Alfajores...I couldn't resist....

This has got to stop. I feel so ill. What has happened to me???

Confession: I sort of wish I was Maid Marian

I really thought the confession well had run dry, but apparently as I live life, I continue to generate more confessions. I should probably be more embarrassed about aspects of this confession than I'm going to be, but the embarrassment is outweighed by my current enthusiasm. I'm sure in a few months it will wear off and I'll reread this blog post and blush a little bit, but for now...

Some of you know of my medieval...leanings. I studied medieval history at Cambridge for two summers during my masters program, did most of my masters work on Tolkien, have a penchant for King Arthur, love the brilliance of Monty Python and the Holy Grail and am generally drawn to other various medieval appropriations, whether in book, film, or song. [Side note: No, I did not go to BYU and therefore no, I was not part of the "medieval club".] My interests are primarily scholastic in nature. However, I have been known to indulge in the occasional guilty pleasure.

Behold:

Robin Hood.

Be still my beating heart.

I know he doesn't look like much here, but rent, check out, buy, whatever, this BBC series. Trust me, you won't be sorry. It's smart, it's funny, the music is great, and the cast amazingly stacked with talented, reprehensible creatures as well as surprisingly charasmatic ones.

I was up until 1:00 this morning finishing season one, and for those who know how strict I am about my bedtime on a weeknight know, it takes a lot to break that routine. But I just had to know what happened.

I can hardly wait for season two to arrive...waiting...waiting...not so patiently...

(If you're still not convinced (this reference is primarilyfor the ladies because most men I know have not seen North & South), Mr. Thornton plays the Sheriff of Nottingham's right hand man...so if Jonas Armstrong (Robin Hood) is not enough to tempt you, just think about that one.)

(Picture courtesy of Emily via email this morning. Subject line: "welcome to work ms. bradshaw")

Channeling the Spirit of Coach Barnett

I'm not gonna lie, this week has been challenging. I'm tired from my training, I haven't been feeling well (don't worry, it's not swine flu), my room has been a sauna (not the good Jamaican kind), I'm studying for my tests (which includes reading some books that I just don't get/enjoy), and juggling what feels like a thousand other small tasks and emotions. Wednesday night I could feel myself bending under the pressure but tried to keep a good sense of humor about it all. But yesterday, when I found out an attorney who works across the street from us had committed suicide in his office that morning, I lost it. Like started crying at my desk. Wow, Bradshaw. Pull yourself together. Mom said I should just go home and try to regroup, but, refusing to be defeated, I pulled myself together, finished my day, and went home on time like a responsible adult. But then I did what I do best when I need to cope: I went running.

Usually by Thursday, my body feels pretty beat up by the workouts of the week. I usually tell myself I'm going to do a speed workout but usually end up doing something long and slow. Yesterday, however, I decided I would never know how tough I was until I pushed through those feelings of fatigue. I pretended Coach Barnett was running the workout. There's no way he would give me the day off just because I was "tired." He would have laughed at me. He would have expected me to run so hard I thought my lungs would explode and my legs would ignite and crumble beneath me. He would have told me that was the only way I was ever going to have a chance of making it to the finals. So I decided to see how fast I could run a 10k.

When I finished the first 5k in 21:30, I thought, "A 5k time trial is good enough, right?" Then the image of Barnett popped into my head, screaming at me from across the track with arms waving and ponytail flying when he saw my turnover flagging and my arms creeping up towards my chest. I dug a little deeper, shook out my arms, pushed off harder, put my feet down faster, and settled in for another 5k.

In the end, I beat my old 10k PR by almost a full 2 minutes. I've always wondered what it would feel like to run one in 45 minutes. Now I know: it hurts. But it's possible. Suddenly my training didn't feel for naught; all that fatigue suddenly felt right and proper. Suddenly I'm dreading leg 3 of Ragnar just a little bit less. (But only a little bit.)

Swine flu is no laughing matter

But my goodness if this isn't the funniest captioned picture I've seen in a long time
(especially on the day they've tracked down "patient zero")
(thanks for sharing, Mary)

In some ways I might be a 12-year-old boy...just sayin'

Okay, not really, but I sort of felt like it last night. I'd had a long day...it did perk up mid-day, but then there was the metro break-down on the way home and subsequently a very crowded train and a man who did not need to be standing as close to me as he was, smelling the way he did. Then the pollen explosion during my "hill workout" (I'm not kidding, I could feel it coating my mouth and skin) and the cramping hamstrings and calfs...I know, I'm borderline whining. But all this to get you to the end of my day, which was really great

I'm laying in my bed, watching season one of Robin Hood (greatest Netflix find this year), brushing my teeth, trying to decide if it's too early to turn in for the night, when Emily gchats me from the second floor asking if I'm home. Then asks what I'm doing. I tell her. Then I say, though I think we should be playing Nintendo. She agrees. I head down to the (much cooler) second floor.

Super Mario Brothers 3: I love that game so much. I think it was the first videogame I ever won. Countless hours spent on it as a teenager. It was actually kind of scary to find that after this many years, I still go to the same blocks, use the same turtle shells, the same tubes, fly in the same places, and still play with the B button constantly pushed. AND, we both found ourselves playing along with the other when it was their turn. There were lots of close calls and gasping, but we made it all the way to level 3 without losing one life. But let me just tell you, the water world is HARD!! It always has been. But Emily has a cheat book (seriously, 12 year old boys!) and we got the frog suit out of one of the mushroom houses.

The dumb squids stole our suit from us long before we were ready to give it up, but we had fun with it nonetheless. About that time, I had to put myself in bed for real and wished we'd had time to get to the level where we could use this bad boy:

I love the Tanooki suit.

I can't wait until the next Nintendo night.

p.s. I ended my game at level 3 with 15 lives. Just sayin'...

From hot mess to happier mess

Do you ever have those mornings when you wake up and you know it's going to be a rough day? Well, for me, that morning started at 1 a.m. when I woke up at the wrong end of my bed. Literally. I had been asleep for about 2 hours (a miracle I even fell asleep considering it was about 85 degrees in my room) and when I woke up I found I had relocated myself to the edge of my bed right under the ceiling fan. I had also opened my window at some point and I think it was the sound of a fire engine that had woken me up. I got up and closed the window and tried to go back to sleep...

The rest of the hot mess of a morning all stemmed directly from the heat and the associated issues of showering and getting ready (still 85 degrees in my room), as well as a wardrobe choice with serious issues that were not noticed until I was on the metro. [sigh] I got to work only to find a huge stack of agreements ready to be edited and I just sat and wished I could go back and start the day again, preferably with a better attitude and/or sense of humor (and an air conditioner that actually works).

I had to settle for a vent session in my journal, a couple of pep talks with friends, and the harsh reality that I was at work and was going to have to recover the day somehow. Mercifully, the stack of agreements weren't as horrendous as I thought they were going to be, I made lunch plans with a dear friend, and then I came across these gems of photographs on Facebook:

This picture makes me laugh so hard

I know where those eggs have been...

This sort of feels like an Andy Warhol painting to me for some reason, or something out of Brave New World or something equally creepy.

What a great weekend

What a poser....

What a great group to ride with!

I'm still dreaming about that ice cream...

After viewing the pictures (and probably commenting annoyingly on said pictures), I had the lunch date with my friend, outside on a blanket in a park, whereupon she played for me a song that she recently heard that made her think of me. We laughed together as I listened to the words, and I felt very grateful for a friend who knows me so well.

Turns out I didn't have to go home to start the day again. Turns out I just need good friends and a few good laughs. Though I wouldn't mind an operating air conditioner and a more work-appropriate outfit... :)

Educational weekend

This was one of those weekends where I learned various random things about myself.

1. A weekend vacation in Jamaica really can derail you for an entire week post-vacation.

2. My bedtime really is 10:30 whether I like it or not. I fell asleep sitting up in the backseat of a car during a fully interactive conversation for what felt like 5 minutes but I'm told was more like 40.

3. My allergies really are that bad. I ran out of medication and thought, I should be fine now, right? Wrong. By the time we made it to PA I was all croaky and my sinuses were building with pressure. We got meds but not soon enough, as evidenced by the fact I could barely breathe once we got back from our bike ride. It was not that big of a deal, but I guess it's sort of comforting to know that I'm not spending all this money for nothing...

4. I am still a little bit afraid of my bike, but a 60 mile ride did a lot to help me feel more confident, especially after my chain fell off and I put it back on like a pro and managed to catch back up with the group.

5. Despite my fear of clipless pedals, I'm determined to put them on my bike in the next week or two so that I can quit being a poser and be a real cyclist...or at least attempt to be one.

6. I realized I might be able to do a half-ironman at the end of the season...maybe.

7. I still won't eat soggy bread, no matter how starving I am. Seriously, if you (and by you I mean any restaurant) are going to have a gooey BBQ pork sandwich, you should really invest in more hearty buns for the sog-averse eater.

8. Paying someone a total of $6 ($1 per buggy) for saying good morning in German to the Dutch Amish is definitely worth it.

9. I'm too nice to make a "vroom" sound while passing a cyclist competing in an actual race.

10. I should never get off my bike after 50 miles with 10 to go. Ever.

11. My "happenings" tree is even more beautiful in bloom but casts the same spell over me as before. If I could lay under that tree every day for even just a few minutes I would be so happy.

12. I have great potential as a music producer.

Dad's Counsel

My dad is full of wisdom and good counsel. Having him as a mentor has made it so that as I get older, the stage at which I bring a problem or a decision to him for advice gets pushed further and further down the line. I will admit, though, sometimes we as his children would roll our eyes when he would give us the same few pieces of advice over and over again. Almost without fail, regardless of the problem, a counseling session with dad would elicit his most famous phrase : "Just tell that person how it makes you feel. Say 'I feel ________ when you do _______.' No one can argue with how you feel." We thought it was the lamest advice as kids. I mean, what kid uses that sort of sentence construction? But lame as we thought it was, we remembered it. Just this morning, Tom and I were talking about how wise that counsel was and how we use it a lot now in our adult lives, though I think it's probably been years since either of us have heard those words from our father.

The other piece of counsel my dad frequently gave has definitely been a governing force in my life. He used to tell me, "You can gauge how much you want something or how important it is to you by the price you are willing to pay." That counsel used to frustrate me so much as a teenager (and even as a college student), because he usually said it when I just wanted him to give something to me or tell me the easy way or find some way to circumvent the path that everyone else had to take. I felt cheated at times, feeling that certain paths were not open to me because of one thing or another, when in reality many (not all) were closed to me because I was unwilling to pay the price.

As I've set about trying to make some pretty serious life decisions for myself the last couple of years, I have used both this counsel and the feelings of the spirit to explore and make decisions. I have had some idea in my mind of where I have wanted to go and what I have wanted to do, but have been frustrated by my lack of experience required for some programs or jobs as well as various fears, such as failure, standardized tests, being poor, choosing the wrong path, etc. Earlier this year I took a break from actively pursuing and researching various ideas. I figured I either didn't know myself well enough to know what I wanted (or what I wanted enough to sacrifice for it), or that it just wasn't time to move on from this particular phase of life. Instead, I chose to focus on other short-term things I knew I could be successful in, racing being one of them.

I got involved in some intense training and planning and even coaching a little bit. I became aware one day of all the time I was putting into this and remembered my dad's counsel. Clearly this was something that was important to me because of the time and effort I was putting in, and, while it was taxing at times, it didn't feel like sacrifice. I filed that feeling away (but not too far away) hoping to be able to access it when I felt it was again time to start exploring job and life options.

That time came not too long after. I think because the training experience was so fresh in my mind, and because I had been mulling over Dad's counsel, I revisited a path that had initially felt closed to me but suddenly became an option. And not only an option, but upon investigation was the obvious choice. The amount of work required to go down this path did not change, but I found that I was no longer daunted by the steps required. In fact, it has been fun and exciting, and I feel confident I will succeed.

I mentioned this all in passing to my dad soon after I had set the plan in motion. He listened to the details and then said, in that soft and low voice he uses when he's really proud and feels both rationally and spiritually that something is a good decision, "I think this is a really good path for you, Julie." I didn't need his approval to move forward but because I had used his counsel to make a decision that I felt great about, his reaction was so satisfying. And when he followed that up with, "I have complete confidence that you will continue to make good decisions for yourself," I cried just a little bit. The only words that came to my mind were, "Because of you Dad. Because of you."

I hope I will have the same unflagging courage (and capacity) to give unpopular but wise advice to my own children. I will always be grateful to my own father for his wisdom and courage to share freely what he knows to be true.

Quotable quotes: Jamaica Edition

I think one of my favorite parts of any kind of trip or prolonged experience with close friends are the quotable quotes that come out of it. I'm sure that most of these quotes aren't funny to anyone but us, but they make me laugh just the same.

1. "We need a safety word."
"How about 'nip slip'?"

2. "This is the best V you'll ever have."

3. "Chips in my bed, Niki?" [some time passes] "Are you going to clean up those chips?" [more time passes] "We are on a tropical island!! You better not be putting your chip foot on my bed!" [confused looks from the rest] "There are bugs on tropical islands!"

4. [sitting in the sauna] "I think I'm pregnant."
[little hand raise] "Me too."

5. "I'm so persecuted."

6. [as we're reading our scriptures on our bed] "You guys better not run away with any locals while we're gone."

7. "I don't know what I'd do, maybe take my shirt off."

8. "That's enough feed for the fodder...father? Not father. Fodder. Wait, is that right?"

9. "I'm feeling desperate right now." [takes one step forward] "Very desperate."

10. "Those aren't games. That's called role play."

11. "I also need to become a street dancer."

12. "There is no way (a) I'm prepping to kiss you and (b) your lips are coming anywhere near my nose."

13. "2....4....0....9"

14. "They will cut you."

15. "Quick, someone fake a seizure."

16. "Please don't hop or skip through the metal detector."

17. "We're at sea, and I'm a GOD at sea."

18. "What if we pushed our spa appointment back one hour so we can have one last pina colada with Ralston?"
"I love that we call it an 'appointment'."

Jamaica rundown: successes and mistakes

Almost immediately upon our arrival in Jamaica we started making a list of all the trip's successes. While it initially began as a "Successes" list, there were a few mistakes that had to be acknowledged. They all came late in the trip, though, and none of them were too monumental. Mostly they were just funny (except for the two "Epic Fails")

And now, in as best chronological order as I could recreate, I present Girlcation in Jamaica.

Successes:

• Staying at the Ritz on the cheap (thanks, Em!)


• Fletcher the cab driver


• Ralston and his amazing pina coladas











• The electric violin band


• Beachside pilates


• $7 omlette




• Christian Reggae music


• Leanna's discovery of the sauna and cold plunge













The hobie cat adventure







• Soft chairs and towels, beachside and poolside




• Pizza and Ruffles, The River Wild, The Holiday, Two Weeks' Notice, and Step Up 2


• Tennis




• Bocce Ball and Cricket













• Richard the Cabana Boy
• Monday morning: everything about it


• Outrunning the Jamaican storm


• Not being on the hijacked plane
• Leaving the Oreos in the drawer


• Leaving the Australian Gold "sunscreen" behind




• Jamaican pirate store
• Finding a cutout of Usain Bolt in the airport

• Catching our flight in Dallas



Mistakes:

• Hostage situation at the airport (EPIC FAIL)


• Australian Gold "sunscreen" (another EPIC FAIL)




• Fletcher's busted up Toyota Camry


• Jamaican Muesli


• Pool-side pina coladas, the slushy mess that they were





• Missing the Reggae Dance class


• $16 omlette


• letting (some would say I invited...) hobie cat man touch my leg


• the Oreos


• $3.50 water


• the mossy rope [shudder]


• Saph the tennis instructor


• the $1 bellman tip


• forgetting to get the sisters a ride to church, then dreaming all night about asking for their forgiveness


• Dominos pizza


• Sprinting with all our luggage to catch our Dallas flight

All weekend we kept seeing "signs" that we were meant to be in Jamaica, from the LeBron James Sprite bottles to the Sauna and cold plunge to the beachside Pilates, to dancing in a restaurant barefoot to "I Will Survive" ... the only word I could think of all weekend to describe it all was magical. The weather was perfect (we arrived at the airport just as a torrential downpour began...we liked to think Jamaica was crying over us leaving...), the water warm, and the quotable quotes flowing freely.

It was really hard to be back at work yesterday, especially the wearing clothes part, but alas here we are.

Kind of hard to believe this was us 48 hours ago...

I should be working

I should be working, but instead I'm dreaming of the next three days...

I thought this day would go by far too slow, so when one of my bosses came out and said she was going to another office to work because hers was too messy, I decided this would be a perfect project to pass my half day. I don't know about you, but when I would become overwhelmed with the disorganization in my room, my mom would offer to come sit with me while I worked. This way I was kept company and when I wasn't sure how to organize something or where to put it or whether or not I should throw it away, I had the master organizer/thrower-awayer right there to advise me. I have realized over the years that I have picked up this habit, for better or for worse. I enjoy helping others clean and get organized, even if that just means sitting with them quietly and reading a book so they don't feel lonely, so I told her confidently we could have it workable in 15 minutes. She looked skeptical, but I decided to be forceful (which I think surprised her - I'm not often that way) and practically dragged her back into her office to address the...tornado of papers. I'm not kidding.

Undaunted, I launched right in. I began labeling things, taking piles of papers away, slotting boxes for shredding, getting rid of empty boxes, etc. Within 15 minutes, as promised, her office was clean and ready to be worked in. But guess where all the boxes not slotted for shredding are now? You guessed it. In my workspace.

Now, while I love getting myself and other people organized, I absolutely hate Accutracing boxes, which is our firm's program for file storage. I'm not sure why, but there it is. So what have I done instead? Well, I checked the weather in Jamaica, thought about how hungry I was and found my yogurt and granola bar, talked to little brother Tommy on the phone, made a list of things to pick up at CVS on my way out, thought about my book choices for the trip (hoping I've chosen wisely), tried to figure out if I forgot to pack anything (not that I need much more than swimsuits, sunscreen and a PASSPORT, but I had a terrible dream the other night that I showed up in Jamaica and had forgotten to pack my swimsuit! and I wasn't sure last night I actually knew where my passport was since I hadn't looked for it since the move. Thank goodness for everything having a place and everything in its place...), and now I'm blogging about my avoidance.

I know if I don't do something with these boxes now, they will sit here for a week as I employ more avoidance techniques. And honestly, it will take me maybe 30 minutes (the amount of time I've been avoiding them) to actually file them away. I guess I better get to it, because in 2 hours, I'm outta here!

(Oh dear, now the fire alarm is going off. Maybe I'm not going to get to this today...)

Bed: 1. Julie: 3.

I hate it when my bed beats me.

I'm not quite sure why this week has felt so long, but it has. The workouts have been hard but not that hard. (Okay, so maybe the hills on Tuesday hurt a little, and those 50s fly we did yesterday were hard...) I was all set for a track workout this morning. My alarm went off. I turned over. My ribs hurt. Then my left leg cramped. My stomach growled. My bed was warm. My nose was cold. My phone was under my pillow (not sure how it ended up there, but then again I also had a couple of books in bed with me so I probably fell asleep mid-something). I took those all as signs that I could and should skiv off the morning's workout. I texted Katie to let her know I wouldn't be picking her up in 15 minutes. Then I turned back over and went back to bed. It felt great to sleep and my achilles probably thanks me for the rest, but when I finally got up I couldn't help feeling like I had just gotten outkicked at the end of a race. Tomorrow, though, I will prevail.

On another note, I got into work today and found this lovely gem of a video waiting for me.



I get on dancing kicks every once in a while. My most recent one ended about a month ago and while I'm not really ready to get back into it just yet, seeing videos like this one makes me wish I had a dance partner with whom I would put together great routines like this one. These two are pretty much the best west coast swing dancers in the world. I got to see them dance last year and it really is quite a sight.

And now I'll leave you on the best note ever. Tomorrow I leave for Jamaica! I couldn't be happier about it. I really need a break right now and what better way to get said break than around some warmth and water. I'm also hopeful that the weekend will provide more interesting stories than I have been feeding you all for the last few weeks. I'm thinking with 4 women, an island resort, and no set plans, there's no way it can possibly disappoint. Cross your fingers!

Confession

I'm actually a little bit embarrassed to offer up this particular confession because it's just the sort of thing I make fun of my mom for.

Up until about a week ago I thought

The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man

was actually

The State Puffed Marshmallow Man

I know, I know. It makes no sense, but I saw Ghostbusters for the first time when I was pretty young and that's what I heard and I've had no reason to even consider I had heard wrong. Imagine my surprise when, while purusing last year's Peep Show contest on The Washington Post's website, I saw a diorama of the famous scene from Ghostbusters with a caption that had the correct spelling (and therefore the correct concept). It was like this gigantic lightbulb went off in my head as I thought, "Aaaaaah, now that makes more sense."