Taco Tuesday Confessions

Confessions of a recently engaged woman

2012-01-06T07:49:00.006-07:00

1. I never thought I was a shiny ring kind of girl. But I tell you what--when someone grabs my hand and tells me how beautiful my ring is, all I can think is what a good job Dave did and how happy I am that he didn't listen to me (as far as size). It's so pretty!

2. I always thought I didn't have opinions about certain wedding planning things, but now as I'm presented with decisions I find that I do have opinions. Strong ones, it turns out. And it's really stressing me out. I think I need to find some soul-centering activity, like yoga.

3. I wasn't going to have bridesmaids. I thought I was too old for that nonsense. Then I started trying to plan a wedding alone in St. George and without a mother. I now have six bridesmaids and my wedding planning life is a thousand times better. Now if I could just find appropriate dresses, we would be set.

4. While we're on the topic of my mom, planning a wedding without her has been hard. We're coming up on the two year anniversary of her death and, while I try not to let it, the date kind of looms. Yesterday I was so stressed out with planning that I woke up in the wee hours of the morning and couldn't get back to sleep. Irrational thoughts ruled the darkness and I started getting scared of the future. It reached its fever pitch when, suddenly and unexpectedly, I felt sleepy and couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I dreamed that I was allowed to talk to Mom on the phone about all of my worries. I don't recall the details of our conversation, only that in the end she told me it would be okay and, when I woke up, my heart was at peace. I think maybe she's more involved in this whole process than I realize. I'm positive she's doing all she can to make sure I don't screw it up.

5. Pretty sure I'm going to be living by the spreadsheet for the next couple of months. It feels so good to put everything into their own little box. I am a recovering red, after all.

6. I love Dave. Every day I am amazed that this is even happening. It's such a miracle that we found each other. Even more of a miracle that we fell in love with each other. He'll for sure blush when (if) he reads this, but, you know, I live with my crazy every day. I know what kinds of cracked out things go on in my head. So it's amazing to me that he loves me, crazy and all. Every once in a while the crazy makes its way out of my mouth and falls on his ears. The longer we are together, the more of those cracked out ideas, thoughts, opinions, rants, etc. he gets. And what does he do? Most of the time he just laughs. Sometimes he hugs me, but that's only if my internal dialogue is accompanied or followed by tears (like last night). But most of the time he just laughs. If it were anyone else, I would smack them, but for some reason when he does it, I am able to see just how ridiculous I am and usually start laughing, too. We are going to have a wonderful life, I think.

The biggest and best confession of all

2011-12-26T00:41:00.011-07:00

One day, about 2 months and 12 days ago, I was sitting in my office at BYU, pretending to work
(I might have actually been succeeding at the time, it's hard to tell) when I got a phone call from my oldest brother, Bruce. It went something like this:

"So, I just went to the doctor. You know, the single one I've been telling you about." Internal eye roll from me. "We got to talking and I found out he's not dating anyone AND he's going to be up in Salt Lake City this weekend. I asked him if he would be interested in going on a blind date with you. We did a little Facebook stalking and he said he would be game if you are."

Ugh. I had to think long and hard about that one. Number one, my track record with blind dates: not great. Number two, my track record with men in general: not great. But I had JUST said the week before that I needed new ways to meet men my age. I couldn't very well turn down a date with a pretty decent guy (from what I could tell from my own Facebook stalking skills as well as my own brother's testimonials) and then complain about my dating/marital status. Plus, blind dates hardly ever call. So I said, "Sure, what the heck!" I asked a few questions, chit chatted with Bruce a little bit more, and then called it a day at work. I was pooped. I thought a little bit about this David Grygla character, but soon put it out of my mind. He'll never call, I thought.

Well, he called. That night. Like three hours later. And I missed it. Not that I would have answered an unrecognized number anyway, but still. It was 9:00 p.m. by the time I saw
the missed call. I debated calling him back that night. I decided to put it off.

That was Thursday night.

Friday morning, I sent an email to a group of old roommates, polling them as to whether or not I
should call this guy back. Niki's response: "You should go. At the very least, you'll get a free meal and a good story out of it."

Truer words have never been spoken.

So, after a day of hemming and hawing, I called him back on my way home from work. We talked for probably 30 minutes, which was surprising to me since I'm usually a terrible phone talker, and he had me laughing the whole time. The conversation ended with us agreeing to meet up at the Spanish Fork airport the next day for a lunchtime airplane ride to Heber followed by an aerial fall foliage tour. Yes, in his plane. Yes, piloted by him. Was I crazy? Maybe a little.

I think we both went into the date pretty curious. What kind of 40 year old man who's never been
married chooses to practice medicine in St. George? What kind of California girl lives in DC for seven years and then ends up teaching at BYU? Needless to say, the conversation was not usual first-date fare. We could have talked for hours longer. When we parted ways, I wondered what, if anything, would come of it. He said he hoped I would come to St. George soon, and if so, he hoped we could go out again. I said I'd work on it. I was intrigued. Apparently, so was he.

He has called every day since then. I found myself down there the very next weekend.

Needless to say, it has been a whirlwind romance. With him in St. George and me in American Fork, our courtship was done largely over the phone, hours on end talking about anything and everything, combined with intense, alternating weekend trips. There wasn't a lot of point in holding back. We both knew we were playing in the big leagues, playing for keeps. If this wasn't going to work out, we both wanted to know as soon as possible. But it just kept getting better and better. And then, about two weeks ago, I took the plunge and moved to St. George.

I could bore you with the details of our first kiss (which consisted of me leaving church during
Sunday School and driving to St. George on a whim--so reckless!), the week I spent with his family at Thanksgiving, the day I realized I would marry him (the day after Thanksgiving), the day he told me he loved me (which was the day after I realized I would probably marry him), and all of the huge decisions that have followed since. But I know you really just want to know about
tonight.

Dave surprised me a couple of days ago by telling me that one of his colleagues had offered to cover his OB call if we wanted to go somewhere for Christmas. He suggested we fly up to Utah County to spend Christmas evening with his sister's family and asked if I wanted to invite my dad along, too. I, of course, was thrilled. It was my first Christmas away from home, and while we were making the best of it and having a good time with just the two of us, I was happy for the chance for both of us to be with family even for just a few hours. So, as soon as church was over, we headed for the airport and flew up to the Spanish Fork airport, where it all started.

Dave was acting a little funny, but I chalked it up to him being a little nervous about meeting Dad for the first time. After dinner, he started getting pushy about me playing the piano for everyone. He had insisted I bring up some piano music to play after dinner, and I was fine with that until I heard one of the grandchildren tearing it up. I got self-conscious and refused to play. It took careful prodding from Dad (who was in on the plan) and pleading from Dave (who promised to make it up to me later) for me to agree. I went out to the car to get my music and when I returned, Ed had set up his camera with lighting. All eyes were on me, and the parents kept shushing their kids. I couldn't understand what all the fuss was about, but I sat at the piano anyway and tried to calm my nerves to play. I decided to play for Dave and Dad and no one else. My fingers steadied, and I started to play the Wexford Carol.

Dave stood next to me at the piano, which I took as a move of solidarity, and I appreciated the gesture. As I began to play, I could feel a little clunking in the left hand. What is that noise, I wondered. I kept playing. The clunking continued, but I wasn't about to stop and point out to people I hardly knew that their piano was a little crappy with a couple of busted hammers. Then Dave noticed the clunking.

"What's that sound?"

"I don't know." I kept playing.

A few seconds later, Dave said, "Seriously, Julie. What is that?" He peered into the piano. I peered right along with him. I stopped playing when I realized I could see something sitting there on the strings. My first thought was, What kid left their Christmas present in the piano? So irresponsible! Dave pulled it out gingerly and held it out for my inspection. When nothing registered on my face, he carefully opened the box. In it was the most beautiful, sparkly ring I had ever seen. And it was for me.

I, of course, burst into tears.

Much hugging and kissing and picture taking ensued. There was a question in there somewhere--and a yes from me--and then the realization that I was going to marry the best man I knew. People talk about how you just know, how it's different than all the rest. Yeah, you can't really do that feeling justice--you've just got to feel it--but boy is it real. And it. is. amazing.

Ed captured the entire thing on video. So did Dad. Turns out everyone in the room knew I was
being proposed to except for me. And I didn't suspect a thing. Not one darn thing. Dave asked me the other day if I liked surprises. I had no idea this is what was cooking.

So, there you go--the biggest and best confession of all. I am in love with the best man I've ever
known. And he's in love with me. So we're getting married.

In the words of my future husband, David Glen Grygla: It's a freaking miracle.

The most wonderful time of the year

2011-12-01T22:32:00.006-07:00

This is my favorite time of year. We've just finished up my favorite holiday -- Thanksgiving -- and Christmas is right around the corner. It's also my birthday month, which is always fun. There's a chill in the air, and there's nothing quite like a cup of hot cocoa and a blanket to complete a long, pre-winter day.

It's interesting to think back to this time last year, how difficult Thanksgiving and Christmas were. My heart hurt so badly on all sides of the holidays--leading up to, the day of, and the aftermath. This year, I find that the wounds have mostly healed; I didn't dread Thanksgiving once, and the day of was peaceful and full of love. Of course, that mostly had to do with this man.

He gave me one of the best Thanksgivings I've ever had; I have spent this week feeling so grateful for him. He is truly remarkable. Love never felt so good.

It's not Tuesday, but it's a confession

2011-10-14T09:40:00.002-06:00

As most of my old roommates know, I have a history of pretty scandalous dreams. In the past it has been mostly making out with people I know with an occasional celebrity thrown in. The last year or so has been pretty quiet on that homefront so imagine my surprise when James Roday showed up in my dream last night.

It all started (the dream) when an old student of mine from BYU-I came into my class at BYU to surprise me. I was probably way more excited to see him in my dream than I should have been, but it's my dream right? My rules, too, apparently. The awkward thing was that the entire class was rivited by this somewhat awkwardly happy reunion of kindred spirits. We took our reunion to the hallway, but when I walked out, it was right onto the set of Psych. I was, of course, now Maggie Lawson--you might know her as Juliet O'Hara. I was supposed to do her scene...only problem is, I'm a terrible actress. So when the director told me to say my line, it was sort of awful.

So, the director told me to take a seat on the couch and make some popcorn while he let Dule Hill do his scene. It was a very long and involved scene wherein he gets to steal Shawn's thunder for once as he draws a poster of the scene of the crime (this made a lot more sense in my dream). So there I am, sitting on the couch, waiting for my stupid popcorn, when James Roday (not Shawn Spencer, and while I wish it was James from Season 1 it was more like James from Season 5) comes and sits down next to me.

He starts chatting me up, asking me how things are going, and I realize that since I'm Maggie Lawson, I'm also his girlfriend in real life. So he starts saying sweet nothings (see, not very Shawn Spencer-ish) and starts kissing me. On the couch. While Dule is monologing. Of course, no one else is paying attention to this little indiscretion. Meanwhile I'm asking myself why I am letting him kiss me since I am not REALLY Maggie Lawson and am still not sure why everyone thinks I am.

Dule's scene ends, the director calls it the best work he's ever done, and the poster is a masterpiece. But when they review the footage, turns out there was an errant elbow or two of mine or James' that made it into the frame, ruining the entire thing. A very typical Psych broo-ha-ha breaks out and I exit stage right.

Needless to say, I woke myself up right about then.

It's nice to know my brain is finally back to its normal functions.

What I did on my summer vacation

2011-08-14T18:28:00.005-06:00

Item #1: Survive my first real teaching experience. Yay!

Dad comes to Rexburg!

What my poor students had to look at every day.

Item #2: Go to Island Park/Yellowstone

Vacation at last. I could go back to this cabin every year and love it.
The fire pit made the hours of search worth it.

Take me back there.

Yellowstone did not disappoint.

We were at Old Faithful so long we saw it blow twice.

We took at day at Mack's Inn and Big Springs. Pay no attention to my runner-tanned legs. I fixed that at the beach last week...

Big Springs: Lots of bugs but beautiful views!

This waterfall was most unsettling.

This one was fiercer but didn't give me that same feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Take the picture! Take the picture!"
That sucker was coming right for us.

Yellowstone Lake

The Grand Tetons. The only good part of our not-so-brilliant path home.

Item #3: Go to Grand Canyon

A bit apprehensive pre-helo ride.

Trying to be brave. Once we took off I was fine.

Bright Angel Trail. Someday I will hike rim to rim.

Plane ride > helo ride

This is what my hair looks like at 6:30 a.m. I wasn't nearly as nervous for this ride since John told me planes are inherently more stable than helos (thanks bro!).

Antelope Canyon was the big surprise of the day! Gorgeous!

The Colorado from the air. Someday (maybe) I'll raft it.

Glen Canyon beauty.

It was about 10 degrees hotter on the shore than on the river.
I took care of the heat problem a little later.

Turns out cooling the feet wasn't quite enough.

45 degree water is wonderful when it's 110+ outside.

And now it's time to start a new adventure. I was just hired to teach adjunct at BYU--miracle of miracles-- so I have to leave for Utah on Wednesday. I'm sad to cut my California time a little short (once a year visits are not quite enough) but this is an opportunity I can't pass up. I just hope these three weeks of vacation were enough to carry me through! Wish me luck!

The Men of Lark Rise and Candleford

2011-07-21T15:54:00.014-06:00

It's a long list, and not nearly as star-studded, but I could be an early fan of many on this list. Let's first start with the attractive and/or hilarious but taken.

Robert Timmins
(Brendan Coyle)

Brendan Coyle is quickly becoming one of my favorite BBC staples. He played Nicholas Higgins in North & South and John Bates in Downton Abbey (a must-see after you finish Lark Rise to Candleford - streaming on Netflix). He is a bit type-cast--strong, opinionated, advocate for the working man, principled above all--but he plays the part so well. Robert is a devoted father, a loving husband who isn't quite sure he's liking the changing tides of women's rights, and the hamlet's political pot-stirrer.

Twister Turrill
(Karl Johnson)

I have never seen this actor before but he is hilarious. He blames every lazy bone in his body on "the rheumatism" and yet he finds enough energy to get into plenty of trouble around the hamlet and in town. There isn't a penny in his pocket he doesn't spend on drink, much to Queenie's ire. However, his shenanigans are perfectly balanced with his spells where he isn't quite in his right mind: he gets lost sometimes, hears voices, and sees visions. You're never quite sure if he's gone loopy or if he's connected to the earth in a way similar to his wife, Queenie.

Thomas Brown
(Mark Heap)

I thought I had never seen this actor before, but apparently he was one of the King's sons in Stardust. That makes me laugh a lot; those sons are pretty hilarious. Thomas Brown falls into the in-between category of the Men of Lark Rise: he eventually enters the realm of the married but until then (and after, I suppose) he is a most devoted servant of Her Majesty, the Queen, as Candleford's postman. He is also obsessed with being a Christian and is determined to convert everyone around him. His self-righteousness can be wearisome at times, but he also has his fair share of hilarious moments.

--And now we transition in the MEN of Lark Rise. Between Laura and Dorcas Lane, there are many, uh, treats that make their way through Candleford. Some are better than others. Let's begin with the most stable character.--

Alfie Arless
(John Dagleish)

Alfie (or Alf, as he's known in Lark Rise) is Laura's childhood friend. He might even be a little sweet on her, but since I'm not doing spoilers here I will leave it at that. It is really a pleasure to watch Alfie grow from a child into a man in this series. He has a less-than-responsible mother, a father away at sea, and four younger siblings, so he has to grow up pretty fast. He is a man of the land, through and through, and a loyal friend and lover. I love how his story ends up.

Laura's Love Interests

Phillip
(Oliver Jackson-Cohen)

The fact that I can't find one picture of this guy in costume leads me to believe that people feel the same way about him as I felt about my high school boyfriend: better left in the past, better if it hadn't happened at all. I was glad to see Phillip kicked to the curb and with as much passion as Laura did it with. Good riddance. (Sorry for breaking my spoiler rule--I just can't stand this guy.)

Fisher Bloom
(Matthew McNulty)

Why I can't find a better picture of him is beyond me. This hardly does him justice. Fisher the clockmaker. Mmmm. As Mac (my friend who introduced me to this show) said, "Have you gotten to Fisher yet? When you do, hold onto your socks." I had no idea what she meant, but when I got there I knew she was right. Fisher is like every bad-idea/"but he has so much potential" boyfriend I've ever had or tried to have: he is so hot, the kissing is amazing, but you know he can't possibly stick around. Or can he?

Daniel Parrish
(Ben Aldridge)

Be still my beating heart. Seriously you guys. Look up his profile photo on IMDb. YOWSER. I mean, when you meet him as Daniel, he's a total prick. I really didn't think he was going to last. And when he did, I wasn't sure I wanted him to. And I'm still not really decided, except that I think Daniel is the most accurate representation of what real-life-with-a-man-you-want-to-marry is like. There are power struggles, mistakes are made, feelings get hurt, but ultimately you are on the same basic trajectory and you make it work. Plus, the kissing is still really good and you know he'll stick around.

Dorcas Lane Love Interests

I knew I had arrived at adulthood when I realized I wasn't slobbering over what's-his-bucket in that Amanda Bynes' movie, What a Girl Wants, and instead was actively lusting after Colin Firth (who was not the intended eye candy for the teens the movie was aimed toward). I have to say that the fact I was more invested in the following men plants my feet firmly in womanhood.

Sir Timothy
(Ben Miles)

Sir Timothy is the squire of Lark Rise and Candleford, childhood friend of Dorcas Lane, and spends a curious amount of time at the post office. He's also married to Lady Adelaide. I detest infidelity of any kind (real or fictionalized) and so, while the chemistry between him and Dorcas is incredible, it always left me feeling pretty unsettled. I think I have secret fears of marrying the wrong person, and this just kind of added to them.

James Dowland
(Jason Merrells)

Wah wah. What a sad follow up to Sir Timothy. Former Lark-Riser, now-successful hotelier, barging in on Candleford like he owns the place. Not cute. Not charming. Ends up being kind of pathetic. Blech.

Gabriel Cochran
(Richard Harrington)

Man. Or, as Dorcas says, "He's a manly man." A former blacksmith, and down on his luck after the unexpected death of his wife, Gabriel wanders into Candleford looking for work. Dorcas just happens to have an empty forge and a need for a blacksmith, perfect for him to start over. He's hot-blooded and passionate, but can also be quite contemplative. He's not perfect by any means, but he's the just type of man you hope wanders into your life after a long dry spell following a whelp like James Dowland.

And that, my friends, is it. Watch it quickly so we can talk about it!!

Not really a confession...

2011-07-20T13:45:00.012-06:00

Okay. Let's give this a go. Just to see...

You all know of my penchant for British dramas/miniseries/series. My newest love is Lark Rise to Candleford. This series is based off of Flora Thompson's memoir of her childhood in Oxfordshire during the turn of the century (1895-ish). The series is delightful--LOTS of familiar British faces and a plethora of healthy love interests. It follows the interactions of the hamlet of Lark Rise with the town of Candleford, conducted largely through the activity in the post office. It sounds iffy, but I promised if you give it a go, you will not be disappointed! All four seasons are on YouTube, so you can watch to your heart's content. One tiny confession here: I spent the majority of my last month in Rexburg watching all 4 seasons, once staying up until 3:30 am watching episodes...

There's too much for one post, so we'll break it into several, beginning with the women of Lark Rise and Candleford.

Laura Timmons
(Olivia Hallinan)

Laura, the oldest Timmins child, was born in the hamlet of Lark Rise. When she turns 17, her parents ship her off to work at the post office in the nearest town, Candleford, with her mother's cousin, Dorcas Lane. I've never seen this actress before, but she's a pretty good Laura. We see her come of age over the course of the series: She falls in love, finds and defines herself and her opinions, and learns how to interact with her hamlet family once she is exposed to the ways of "town."

Dorcas Lane
(Julia Sawalha)

You might remember her better as Lydia Bennett in the 1995 (Colin Firth) version of Pride & Prejudice. She also plays Horatio Hornblower's wife Maria in the A&E miniseries Horatio Hornblower. I recognized her as Maria but didn't make the Lydia connection until the end of season 4 for some reason. I'm kind of glad I didn't, because if I had this image of her giggling at the soldiers in Meriton, it might have ruined it for me (sorry folks). Anyway, she owns the post office and forge in Candleford and is well-known as the most beautiful of the four spinsters in town. She is well-meaning but constantly meddling in everyone else's business...And beware of her "one weakness."

Queenie
(Linda Bassett)

You may recognize her as Mrs. Jenkins from the new Sense & Sensibility. She is fantastic as Queenie Turrill. She is the unofficial but recognized matriarch of Lark Rise--she's lived there the longest of anyone. She raises bees and sells nuts to survive, takes in anyone in need of food and shelter, believes in ghosts and natural remedies, and is kept busy by her mischievous and lazy husband, Twister. I think her character is one of my favorites. I love how close she is to the earth and her people. She's not ashamed of her roots or her poverty. It's a lesson I needed to learn while living in poverty in my own little town this summer.

Emma Timmins
(Claudie Blakely)

She's pictured here with her husband, Robert Timmins (more on him in the next post). You may recognize her as Charlotte from the Kiera Knightly Pride & Prejudice. She plays Laura's mother in this series and does a smashing job of it. She does such a great job especially of portraying that fine balance between being subservient to her husband while also questioning the accepted roles of women, perfect for the time period of this series.

Minnie
(Ruby Bentall)

I love, love, love Minnie. She doesn't show up until season 2, but she is delightful in every way. I have to admit, I was skeptical of how long she would last on the show, but her character takes on such unique and refreshing qualities that you can't help but love her. Her honesty and purity (and her naivete) have me laughing through many episodes. Her love, though, is also some of the most touching in the series.

Lady Adelaide

(Olivia Grant)

I have to admit, I spent most of my time feeling sorry for Lady Adelaide. She's only in season 1, though she does pop back up for a surprise visit in season 3 I think, and she's not even in very many episodes, but she is perfect for her role. I won't say much more than that for fear of giving too much away. Suffice it to say, she is a potent force in both Lark Rise and Candleford.

Margaret
(Sandy McDade)

I have never seen this actress before, but she is perfect for her role. Sometimes I want to shake her, but for the most part I like her. She's the rector's daughter and is one of the four spinsters in Candleford. I think my favorite episode of hers is the one about cricket.

Pearl and Ruby
(Matilda Ziegler and Victoria Hamilton)

I haven't seen anything with Pearl in it, but Ruby played Maria Bertram in the movie version of Mansfield Park. This picture captures these spinster Candleford dressmakers perfectly. It's like you can see in their eyes what vicious gossips they are.

Caroline Arless
(Dawn French)

The "fat lady" from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. She is constantly getting her Lark Rise family into financial scrapes. She is well-meaning but has absolutely no discipline. She only appears in season 1 but she sets the stage for the plight of the Arless family through all 4 seasons.

See what I mean: LOTS of famous faces. This should just whet your appetite. The men of Candleford and Lark Rise are not quite as famous, but they sure are lovely...Are you excited yet?

Ahem

2011-07-18T20:15:00.002-06:00

Confession: I come back here frequently to relive some of my most favorite moments that I've shared. And I'm contemplating, after a 2+ year hiatus, of revisiting the blog. Mom did love the blog...

Anyway, no promises. I'm just thinking.

A Fond Farewell

2009-06-08T14:21:00.003-06:00

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

2009-06-04T13:08:00.004-06:00

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

2009-05-29T13:03:00.005-06:00

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

2009-05-27T10:39:00.003-06:00

I'm thinking of going back to this haircut:

Any strong opinions one way or the other?

Tiffany's and BBQ Sauce

2009-05-27T10:07:00.004-06:00

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:

2009-05-27T09:05:00.003-06:00

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

2009-05-25T21:17:00.002-06:00

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

2009-05-21T14:32:00.004-06:00

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.

2009-05-19T13:49:00.004-06:00

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

2009-05-07T09:53:00.005-06:00

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

2009-05-06T09:14:00.003-06:00

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

2009-05-05T14:42:00.003-06:00

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

2009-05-04T08:06:00.006-06:00

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

2009-05-01T08:16:00.006-06:00

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

2009-04-29T11:58:00.003-06:00

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'

2009-04-29T09:15:00.008-06:00

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

2009-04-28T09:31:00.005-06:00

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

2009-04-27T13:36:00.003-06:00

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

2009-04-24T09:12:00.003-06:00

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

2009-04-22T12:35:00.004-06:00

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

2009-04-21T13:08:00.014-06:00

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

2009-04-17T09:37:00.003-06:00

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.

2009-04-16T08:05:00.003-06:00

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

2009-04-14T10:32:00.004-06:00

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."

Warm Weather Wish List

2009-04-13T19:51:00.004-06:00

Today was definitely a Monday. I woke up to run at 5:30 after not nearly enough sleep, and in my stupor locked the door behind me without bringing my keys with me. My legs were exhausted from the last few weeks and so my run was painfully slow. Add in the fact that I was worrying about how I was going to get back into my house without waking my roommates far earlier than they needed to be woken, and by the time I got back from my run it had already felt like a long morning. As I packed my bag for work, I realized I'd misplaced my earphones and had left my iPod in my car. So I took out my spare earphones and grabbed my iPod on my way to the metro, only to find that the cold weather had zapped my battery so i had no tunes to get me to and from work. By the time I got to work, I was really ready to go back to bed. I just had a hard time getting going today. I was moving pretty slowly until my boss yelled from his office that he needed something I was supposed to have gotten to him about an hour earlier (but I felt no sense of urgency, clearly because I hadn't checked his morning schedule to see the conference call he'd added last night...[sigh]). That woke me up pretty quickly and thankfully the rest of the day went fairly smoothly. However, it left me longing for the warmer, longer, seemingly quieter days of summer. The last couple of years I've taken to making a warm weather wish list, and I tend to make that list on rainy spring days when my pining is at its apex. This year that would be today.

In no particular order, these are the things I've had a hankering to do today.

go to a Nats game
backyard bbq
slip 'n slide
hiking
camping
Florida/Disneyworld
waterfight
attend at least one thing at Wolftrap
see Ragtime at the Kennedy Center (not really a warm weather thing, but it's on my list of things to do)
take an international trip that requires a backpack and a good sense of adventure
read books in the park
play kickball
go to a state or county fair
swing on the swingset
watch sunsets
road trips with the sunroof open
Air Force memorial concerts
jazz in the sculpture garden
relearn how to play tennis
more hiking and camping
go to the beach (preferably at home with some friends--start planning now--but I'll take anything at this point)
dance in the rain
lots and lots of bike rides
lay in a field and tell stories

With a list like that, how can you not be happy, even on a dreary spring day.

This is going to be a good summer...

Easter thoughts

2009-04-12T14:33:00.002-06:00

Last Sunday was our church's General Conference and one of the talks that made a particular impression upon me was one given by Elder Jeffrey Holland. Elder Holland is a speaker I often connect with because of his choice of topics and the manner in which he addresses them. He often speaks to the very things I am struggling with and speaks to them in a way that touches my spirit. Last week was no different. He spoke about lonliness and about our Savior's final days, particularly the final suffering of the atonement. This week the church put out a video with a portion of that talk combined with some music and clips from a moving video called Testaments.

As I watched this video this afternoon, I reflected on an experience I had on Friday. I have found myself distracted this week and have found it difficult to focus on Easter as much as I would have liked to. On Friday as I took a walk during lunch, in a hurry to run an errand across town, and cut across the park in front of the White House, where there are often protests and other displays. As I entered the park I saw a display I had seen in years past but had forgotten about. There were several men dressed up as Roman soldiers and one man dressed as Christ and carrying wooden cross. They walked slowly and silently through the park. At first I was a little bit embarrassed by this display. I'm not quite sure why, but I was. Then I observed the behavior of those around me. Some were staring with similar feelings of discomfort; some were oblivious; some were taking pictures; some were stopped reverently. As our paths were about to cross, my feelings began to change, but I didn't understand them. I knew they had moved away from discomfort of the display to discomfort with my own reaction. I considered what the reaction of the people of Jerusalem would have been on that Friday. Were there some who stared in discomfort? Were there those who regarded it as just another criminal trial and therefore were not interested? Were there those who payed attention and made mental historical notes? Were there those like me, unsure of how to feel, but sure that they must feel something? All these thoughts took place with lightning speed as our paths crossed moments later. As soon as I passed Christ, my spirit reacted. Unexpectedly, I felt pain, I felt the tragedy of that day, but I also felt of God's love for me and for all of us as He sent His son to live and die for us. I felt my eyes well up with tears and a few spilled over as I passed this silent march. I repented for my initial discomfort and expressed gratitude for these people's willingness to remind me of the significance of that day.

As I prepared myself this morning to sing my solo part in Beautiful Savior, I considered the words I would be singing. This hymn has a beautiful, simple melody and a simple message: the world is a glorious, beautiful place. Take all that glory and beauty and it does not compare to that of Christ. That is pretty remarkable. During the closing prayer of our services today, I felt that reaffirmed in my heart. I was touched by God's love for me and for all mankind.

I know that Christ lived and died for us and was resurrected on the day we celebrate as Easter. I know that He loves us and that He walked that lonely road alone so that we would not have to. I know his sacrifice opened up the way for us to return to our Father in Heaven. His sacrifice makes this life worth living, for without it we would be lost. For that I am eternally grateful.

Happy Easter.

Mystery subscription

2009-04-10T09:18:00.003-06:00

I'll admit, sometimes I don't read fine print or I click boxes that I assume are waivers so I can get to the next page. However, I'm usually pretty careful when clicking those boxes involve committing myself to something long-term or when it involves money. That's why I can't for the life of me figure out how I started receiving this magazine:

I already subscribe to Runners' World and have been considering subscribing to Running Times (the mystery subscription) but haven't done anything about it. At least I don't think I did. No charge has shown up on my credit card, no bill has come in the mail (yet), and the April and May editions of this magazine showed up in the mail at my house yesterday. I'm so confused.

Is someone sending me magazine subscriptions secretly? If so, will you tell me who you are so I can properly thank you? Because I am really excited about this new magazine.

A boring, mish-mash day

2009-04-09T13:59:00.004-06:00

1. I've been listening to the same two songs on repeat for the last 2 days.

2. In an attempt to get my hands on my SAT scores, I've discovered I need to submit by mail, a form to drudge my scores out of the SAT archives. It brought to my remembrance the days of yore when I had to register for college classes over the phone and I felt a teeny bit old.

3. Generic allergy medicine does not equal brand name. I will never make that mistake again.

4. I watched a movie this past weekend that made me want to compete in track and field again real bad. I've been working hard to move from marathon mode to 10k-and-below mode but I forget how much "quick" hurts. I'm not used to my lungs feeling like they're going to explode, but I kind of like it. Today I noticed that, tired as I was, there were hints of that old familiar feeling of sore but strong muscles that can and will work through anything. Mmmmm...I can almost smell the hot rubber of an all-weather track now...

5. I had an inexplicable urge to watch a Bollywood movie while on my run yesterday and my celebrity-crush on Hrithik Roshan came rushing back. I kind of want to watch Kaho Naa Pyaar Hai. Or Krrish.

One of my favorite clips from KNPH, for your viewing pleasure:

And maybe a picture of Hrithik, just so you get the idea:

6. I ate a cookie on Sunday and felt sick. I haven't had one since then. I got a little scared today that perhaps -- I'm almost afraid to say it outloud -- I'm reexperiencing an extended period of time during college wherein I lost all desire for sweets. I suppose there are worse things in life, but still, it was a strange realization.

7. I had a really funny thought when I woke up this morning but I can't for the life of me remember what it was. Then around mid-morning for some reason a quote from the movie Emma to my mind: "And I know how you like news." I love that quote. And I love that movie, except for the middle part with Jane Fairfax and all that nonsense. I always have to fast-forward through the picnic scene because it's just so uncomfortable.

8. The sunrise was beautiful this morning.

9. Today, due to a series of events I will not outline here because (if you can believe it) they are more boring than the rest of this blog posting, I revisited the story of David and the Bathsheba aftermath. You know, the part where the prophet Nathan tells David the parable or the rich man taking the poor man's only lamb and then tells David "thou art the man." I remember the first time I was taught about David's fall. I felt so betrayed that all through primary we learned about David and Goliath and about David's friendship with Jonathan and all these wonderful things and then BAM! You get to seminary and learn about Bathsheba and all that mess...I remember that day in seminary so clearly. I literally cried through most of the day. It was the cause of some great soul searching during my sophomore year. Every time I think about that story, my heart feels so heavy, both because it is so tragic and because feeling the weight of the Lord's chastisement is my worst nightmare. Basically, he told David, I've given you everything, and had you felt like it wasn't enough, I would have given you more. And yet, and yet...you had to go and take the one thing you shouldn't have taken, and that was where you fouled up. You can hear the love wrapped up in the tremendous disappointment and feeling of tragedy in God's voice. My worst fear, truly, is for God to be disappointed in me because of a lack of faith and obedience.

10. Can't end on that downer. I found, no joke, an eyebrow about an inch long this morning, hiding. In fact, the only reason I saw it was because sometime, somehow it had turned BLONDE. Weird. I plucked that sucker right out. I almost sent it to you, Tom. You know why.

Dear Spring, take 2

2009-04-08T09:22:00.004-06:00

Dear Spring,

I've waited and waited for you to come. You tease me with warm weather then blow me down with winter wind. You bring me beautiful trees and blossoms but require that I medicate myself daily so my allergies don't kill me. I've tried to be patient. But alas, I cannot wait any longer. Therefore, I'm informing you that in 8 short days, I will be traveling here in search of my warm weather:

I can hardly wait.

Jamaica here I come.

(Take that.)

Maybe next year you will come sooner and with less wind. Or maybe not. Maybe what I'm really wishing for is San Diego spring, which I need to admit to myself will never happen out here. Ever. [sigh] I'm sorry for wishing you to be something you're not. But I'm still going to Jamaica.

Sincerely,
A dislocated Southern Californian who needs to abandon all hope of unseasonably warm weather and submit patiently to seasons. [sigh]

Genius (or maybe I'm just a little slow on the technology front)

2009-04-06T19:34:00.008-06:00

Can I just tell you how much I love

my computer,

Google, and

my little brother Tom.

I've only recently discovered that my computer has a webcam with a built-in microphone and that Google's videochat is really high quality, all thanks to Tom. We had a little video chat session tonight. I can't tell you how much it lifts my soul, especially when I'm missing my family. It's the next-best thing to actually having them physically here. The first time we videochatted I almost emailed Google kind of a schmoopy thank you email because I was just so happy to have been able to see my little brother in real time, all thanks to their genius. Sometimes it's hard being so far away.

PSA: For all you new allergy sufferers out there

2009-03-25T10:36:00.001-06:00

You all know how anxiously I have awaited Spring. However, I always seem to forget in my anticipation that spring also brings things like pollen, ragweed, grass, etc. Things to which I am very allergic. I never had allergies in San Diego, but they started up about a year after I moved here and they have gotten progressively worse each year. Each year I try a different cocktail but have never really found what works for me. I decided this year I should go to the doctor and get some advice. I couldn't get in to see my normal doctor last week, so I went to this other whackadoo doctor and it was a complete nightmare (I can't even talk about that doctor's appointment, it was so traumatic, and I don't even think I'm being overly dramatic about it).

Yesterday my allergies hit bad and I was just so cranky last night (sorry to everyone who had to deal with me). I finally got in touch with my real doctor today who told me to buy these two lovelies:

These are AMAZING if you are having leaky and heavy eyes.

I put one drop in each eye and a minute later I had my eyes back.

No joke.

These are better than the 24-hour relief. By a LONG shot.

The 24-hour pills aren't even worth taking.

I love my doctor.

Down with crazy doctors.

Bring on the spring.

(Man, what a difference the right drugs make.)

Tommy Chucky Wah

2009-03-22T21:27:00.004-06:00

As a great surprise my little brother Tom drove down for the afternoon from Philly (where he is working for the weekend) to hang out with me.

Tom has a special face I like to call his "sweet and tarty" face. He spent the day trying to help me perfect the look.

This might be my favorite picture of the day.

Bob....and Frank...

Joining the tourists on a beautiful spring afternoon.

I also really love this picture.

This is the "sweet and tarty" face and pose.

Tom says this was my best attempt of the day.

I love brothers.

Boston-bound

2009-03-22T20:50:00.007-06:00

3:40:13

What is that, you ask?

My official National Marathon time from Saturday.

I eeked into Boston qualifying by 47 seconds.

Close.

Way too close.

Feelin' good at mile 17

Devoted fans, anxiously awaiting my arrival at the finish.

Not feelin' so good at mile 26.

(Kim gets the award for best marathon pic taken)

Way too much emotion going on.

I just couldn't stop crying.

The timing was so close no one was sure if I had made it or not.

I'm not even sure if I can explain why I was crying, uh, sobbing. The first 20 miles went really well. I was sitting pretty around 7:40-8:20 pace (depending on the hills). Then Scott (who is hugging me in this picture) jumped in and ran miles 21 to 25.5 with me. When he found me, I was hurting, worse than I can ever remember hurting during a marathon. I went out to leave it all on the road and so when I hit that wall at mile 20, I hit it hard. I wasn't sure I was going to qualify, let alone finish the darn race. I can't lie: I almost quit twice. I cried twice (and around the same two spots I always cry in marathons). I threw up twice (a new experience for me - I think it was the GU I ate). (I know this makes you all want to do a marathon.) And when Scott left me to finish by myself at mile 25.5, I told him I hated him for leaving me. Then I tried to run as hard as my lead-legs would carry me. When I came across the line and stopped, I burst into tears. The official asked me if I was okay. I said yes, that I was just happy to be done. He made me walk through the chute. So I did. I was freezing, so off went the shirt as they handed me my metal cape. I tried to hold it together but I was still choking back sobs as I was looking for my friends. Then I saw Scott...and the floodgates opened. I sobbed into his shoulder as I've never let anyone see me sob before. Shameless. I was relieved to be done, grateful for his help, disgusted with my weak mind (I can't even count how many times I told him I didn't want to run anymore and wanted to quit), happy to have qualified again.

I have really great friends.

I'm really glad Boston is a year away.

I thought about trying to go for a quick run tomorrow but I tried to run after something today and my knees buckled under me. Maybe Tuesday...

Oh, and Jay made me cookies. They were divine. Absence (abstinence?) makes the heart grow fonder...

Google got the memo

2009-03-20T12:09:00.002-06:00

You guys, how much do I LOVE Google's logo today?

A LOT.

It makes me so happy.

I think Spring missed the memo

2009-03-20T07:42:00.005-06:00

Dear Spring,

Today is March 20. Where are you?!

Warmest regards,
Freezing in D.C.

Seriously. How am I supposed to live like this?

I have a few things to share today in an attempt to spice up an otherwise cold and windy SPRING morning.

I forgot to mention something in my shoe post yesterday. As soon as I left the office, it started raining. And it got cold. And I was in a dress. And of course I didn't bring an umbrella. As I stood at the stoplight by work, I considered my options: go back to the office and race on Saturday in hashed shoes that are hurting my feet, or weather the cold rain and get the shoes. Mid-contemplation, a very nice middle-aged man from South Carolina offered me shelter under his umbrella. Then he walked me to the metro. It's hard to explain the effect his kindness had on me. I forget sometimes that I truly appreciate the gentlemenly-types. It makes me feel and behave more like a lady, which I like. It also makes me blush a little in a non-scandalized way, which I also like.

So, the marathon is tomorrow. I'm proud to report that the only cookies that derailed me over the last month were Girl Scout cookies. I did not bake one treat during the cookie fast, nor did I fall victim to the dreaded pink cookies of death. Aren't you so proud? We'll see if it did me any good. Also, the marathon's in D.C. so anyone finding themselves on the mall up towards the capitol around 9 or 9:15 or so can see me at mile 16 or 17. Not that you need to, but just in case you want to.

I think that's all. Sorry for the boring post. I do have a great confession in store for next week, though. And suddenly I just want to ask, how is everyone doing? I'm not very good at posting things that inspire a lot of chatter (still learning), so I don't feel like I get to engage in online conversation, but I do really want to know what's going on. Talk to me. At the very least, give me the link to your blog so we can blogstalk each other.

[insert big fat smiley face right here]

2009-03-19T12:57:00.006-06:00

During lunch I went to buy these:

Which I did.

But I also bought these:

[insert big fat smiley face right here]

You might be asking why I need two new pairs of running shoes (and why the second pair makes me smile bigger than the first pair). Or you might not actually care, in which case you should stop reading because I'm going to explain and it might be boring for you.

The pair on top, the Mizuno Wave Creation 10, are my trainers, the pair I do my long runs in, the pair that are for sure going to take care of my feet, shins, knees, and back. They are my reliables. I realized the other day I had put close to 450 miles on my current pair (oops!) instead of the 350 I thought I was at. (You really should only put about 350-400 miles on a pair of shoes, especially if you are injury-prone.) So yeah, I needed a new pair. Check. Nice, but not necessarily exciting.

Now the Brooks Racer ST4...those are exciting. Why? Well, because they are racers. What are racers? Racers = speed (they weigh less than half what the Mizunos weigh), and it's been years since I've put on a pair (even though I've been researching them almost every year). These babies make track workouts fun, hill workouts easier, and races faster. These babies are going to take me to a sub-6 mile this summer.

I saw them. I wanted.

I succumbed to temptation.

I tried on a pair. I caved. I bought.

I'm so excited.

p.s. On a completely unrelated note, I just saw an advertisement for X-Men Origins: Wolverine and got a little shiver of anticipation. I can hardly wait.

The Ability to Create

2009-03-18T07:53:00.004-06:00

I was all set to blog today about my very first experience with a Neti Pot last night, but as I worked my way through a network of blogs today, I stumbled across a video that I rather liked and felt would be more worthy of today's blog space than a comical account of saline solution being poured through one nostril and coming out the other. (I'm not kidding--and now that I'm thinking about it, maybe it's best that I don't post on the Neti Pot. Ever.)

About a week or two ago I became aware of a YouTube channel called Mormon Messages. A statement on Lds.org explains its purpose: "If you are looking for a simple way to watch and share brief, gospel-centered videos, visit Mormon Messages, a Church-sponsored YouTube channel that is updated each week with teachings of our basic beliefs, stories of hope and inspiration, and more." I think this channel is not only a great missionary tool, but also a great way to give members of the Church both uplift and clarification on various concepts. These short messages, I believe, can help unclutter our own personal articulations (or inarticulations, as the case may be).

The video that automatically plays when you go to Mormon Messages right now is on why Mormons build temples. I sent this video to some of my temple prep students last week because I felt like it was a great great sum-up of what we have learned in class. I found it to be very powerful as it was direct, informative (but succinct), and quite uplifting. I'm sure many of you have seen it. If not, here it is:

It's a great video, but not the one I came to blog about. The one I wanted to talk about briefly was one I found in my blogging travels today. It is a talk/music/image medley. The text of the video is taken from a talk President Uchtdorf gave at the last General Relief Society broadcast:

I'll be honest, I usually feel like these kinds of videos are a little bit cheesy, but for some reason instead of rolling my eyes a little bit, I felt comforted and inspired.

I loved this talk when it was given, and I actually quite like how it is presented here. I believe him when he says that the desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul. I also believe him when he says that we can satisfy that yearning through the small and simple tasks of our day. Too often, I think, I want to change the world by being involved in a great, far-reaching, world-impacting organization or cause. Too often I forget that creation is something I do every day, and that my actions often have a domino effect, affecting more people than I realize.

I know this blog usually revels in the ridiculous, but I want to make sure I take time every once in a while to share the things that matter most to me--such as family, temples, and eternal progression--because in a lot of ways this blog is a major creative outlet, and, while I absolutely love to entertain you all (I really mean that; It brings a lot of joy to my soul), I also hope that sometimes I can provide a little positive lift. Especially on a dreary Wednesday morning following a very... interesting experience involving a Neti Pot and allergy medication. Ah Spring.

Coupon offer

2009-03-16T08:46:00.004-06:00

This is for you.

(You know who you are.)

Four eyes

2009-03-13T10:32:00.005-06:00

These are the glasses I wear at work, except imagine them in a smoky green color.

I have another wire-framed pair I keep at home and travel with (they are not as comfortable but more durable).

I haven't had my prescription changed (or even checked, come to think of it) since I moved to D.C. Not because I haven't needed to, but because I've just been too lazy/cheap. However, the last two weeks have been long and have convinced me that it's probably time to pay a visit to the optometrist. I took off my glasses the other day to talk to my boss (it's hard to focus far away with the glasses on and hard to focus on what's being said when you can't focus on the subject speaking...so annoying) and then turned back to my computer screen to do something only to find that without my glasses...well, I had to work infinitely harder to figure out what was going on. So depressing. Driving at night has been more difficult as my depth perception has been worse than usual in the darkness (I've almost biffed it down my stairs countless times on my way out to run or swim). Soooo, I have an appointment for next week. I'm considering getting new frames.

These are a few I saw and liked:

I like the two-tonedness of this pair.

I know these two look essentially the same, but they aren't...

I don't love these as much, but they could be an option.

Thoughts?

Other suggestions?

You guys

2009-03-12T14:32:00.002-06:00

I saw them. Last night. On my way to the temple.

They weren't there last week.

Spring might happen after all.

Addendum to "Yeah, NOT a kid's movie"

2009-03-11T12:40:00.004-06:00

My sister lovingly found this for me. (Karen, my heart started pumping really hard when I saw it and I felt a little bit pathetic. I hope you're happy.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mttxfNhi0Y&feature=related

Go to minute 4:20. As soon as I saw it, I remembered that this is what freaked me out so badly.

My fear makes a lot more sense now...I mean, seriously, that is freaky. Right?

Yeah, NOT a kid's movie.

2009-03-11T09:19:00.010-06:00

Last night was an interesting night. The ranks gathered for TT and the jokes about yesterday's post were flying. One of the attendees hadn't had a chance to read the post (hey, at least someone's working at work) and so Kim decided to read the post aloud in the kitchen as we finished cooking.

I'll admit, I've never heard my work read aloud in a non-workshop setting. It was slightly unnerving. It was also a little exhilerating. It made me sort of feel like a real writer. Everyone laughed in just the right places, moments were relived, and some even clapped when it was done. I self-consciously stirred the beans and occupied myself with serving up dinner, but was secretly a little bit pleased.

We ate, talked, and confessed, and eventually the crowd dispersed and I was left in the kitchen with Leanna and Katie. Leanna was cooking up a storm, as usual, and I was trying to learn by observing, as usual. Leanna cooks with lots of different vegetables, which I love. Last night she pulled out these:

Radishes.

I have an irrational confession to make, and it deals with radishes. It's not that I don't like them--I can't actually remember the last time I ate one (I was maybe 7?)--but they scare me. I know. Who gets scared of vegetables, right? Well. Hi. My name's Julie.

I decided I hadn't really confessed to anything earlier in the evening, and I've always kind of wanted to have this fear quelled, so I decided to share:

"So...I've always been a little bit afraid of radishes." [Leanna paused in cooking and Katie looked straight at me, ready for a good confession.] "I know this sounds weird but one of my earliest childhood memories involves a movie, and in it there's this woman who's pregnant and I think she craves radishes and --" I paused, uncertain I wanted to continue. Why? Well, other than the fact that it is ridiculous to feel the way I do about a vegetable, I've always been afraid that it's been a made-up memory, and yet it has seriously governed my feelings towards radishes. (And dreams, come to think of it.) That's when Katie chimed in with "--and her husband goes out to the garden to get them for her?"

Relief washed over me. The memory was real!

"Yes!! That's it!! And then something totally creepy happens in the garden and it's dark and then she can't eat the radishes for some reason and...and...I don't remember what else!"

Neither one of us could remember the movie's name or what it was even about, but we both had the same memories of the movie. I was convinced it was some horror/thriller movie that I had inadvertently walked in on my brothers watching. Anyway, the scene in the garden was so traumatizing that I have avoided radishes my whole life. I know. It's ridiculous.

Want to know what's even more ridiculous? I got up this morning, still thinking about how I felt like a missing piece of my life's puzzle had been found, and decided to google a few terms ("radish husband garden movie") to see if I couldn't locate the movie that scarred me so badly. Yeah. Not a horror film.

Rapunzel.

With Jeff Bridges.

What?!

I opened the synopsis and was horrified to relive this memory that was so traumatic at 3 or 4 or however old I was. Sure enough, there in the synopsis was the dream, the radishes, the garden, the WITCH, the baby-stealing, everything. I don't remember this movie having anything to do with Rapunzel. I just remember the dream. And the radishes. And the husband. And the garden. And the creepy thing that happened in the garden. And BAM! Just like that, at the tender age of toddler was born a fear of radishes. Not of witches, or baby-stealing, or gardens. Radishes .

Yeah. Not a kid's movie.

Love Versus Lust (a.k.a. Samoas v. Granny B's Pink Cookies of Death)

2009-03-10T10:29:00.011-06:00

Oh, the composition of this blog post started off so differently than it's going to end up. That's one thing I really love about writing. Thinking you're going to write about one thing and then you get to the end and realize you have to rewrite the whole thing because you're last sentence was dynamite and the whole blog post should really be about that. Yeah, this is one of those.

This post is ultimately going to be about cookies and love.

And pink cookies and lust.

Let's start at the beginning.

There was an...incident in the kitchen the other night. It was Taco Tuesday and I thought as a nice treat to the group, I would purchase some Girl Scout cookies for dessert. I thought for sure I would be strong enough to bring the contraband into the house and not partake. [sigh]

I won't go into details of how we ended up here, only to say that around 10:30 that night, I found myself in the kitchen with three of my roommates and one honorary roommate. I had purposefully brushed my teeth to avoid consumption of the Samoas I knew were in the kitchen. We started chatting about the day, etc. when someone opened the cookies. They smelled really good, and I figured I could probably just eat one and be fine. Problem is, everyone knew about the cookie fast. I think Kim could sense my shifty eyes, because she moved them farther away. I finally decided I wanted one, and because I didn't want to have to justify my decision before I ate the cookie, I lunged across the counter and in one fell swoop swept up the cookie and popped it into my mouth, all before anyone could say anything. I don't know what I expected, maybe for the conversation to go on without interruption, but the reaction in the kitchen was...well...funny. First there was stunned silence. Then came the laughter and reenactments. Emily likened me to Buddy the Elf with the cotton balls. Reed said he'd never seen such a deft lunge. I did it to be funny (the lunge, not the consumption), but I think it was seen as an act of desperation. After all, I did break the cookie fast in one deft lunge; or, rather, it broke me.

Today I was listening to a segment of RadioLab (I will blog about my love for RadioLab another time) and laughed at its appropriate timing. This week's short podcast was on Mischel's Marshmallows, an experiment in which they were testing the ability of children to delay gratification.

This is the link to the podcast:

http://blogs.wnyc.org/radiolab/2009/03/09/mischel%e2%80%99s-marshmallows/

And below is the video associated with it. If you don't listen to the podcast (it's only 15 minutes) basically this is the video of 4- to 6-year-olds put in a room with three cookies. They are told they can either have one cookie now, or two cookies later...if they wait.

I love this video because of the tactics these kids use to stave off temptation. I especially love the kid who licks the insides of the cookies and then tries to rearrange them so that no one will notice. I know which kid I would probably be. I know what you're probably thinking, that I would either be the kid licking the cookies or the kid not shown leaping across the table to grab all three. Not so. I would be able to resist. I have lots of willpower.

I wrote as much in an email to those who witnessed the kitchen incident.

To my shock, these are the replies I received:

From Reed: "Yeah, in my mind Jules, there's no doubt about it. You'd have definitely failed. But you would have dominated the eat the cookie in one bite test!!"

From Kim: "Dominating that test while killing all others who may be in the path to said cookie..." (Just because there was almost an additional incident involving a "cup"...)

And my favorite, from Emily:

Now, here's the thing. Maybe I should be embarrassed. Along with all of this, recently a friend remarked to me that he had never met anyone who took so much joy in the making and/or consumption of cookies. And I was embarrassed at first (I mean, who wants to be known as the girl who eats cookies, let alone the one who lunges across counters for them?) but then I realized that my love for them really has become more...pronounced as I have spent more time away from my family.

My mom used to make her famous chocolate chip cookies every week. She would time them to come out of the oven for right when we got home from school. We were allowed to have one spoonful of cookie dough and one hot cookie with milk. We would stand around and eat them as we talked about our days. I can still feel the sunshine coming into the kitchen through our awesome 70's wavy-glass window as I tried to pick out the perfect cookie. So, I guess cookies = love. Could I resist them? Yes, of course. But that's like saying I can resist love. Sure, I can do it, but why would I want to? It's much more satisfying to give and receive than to eschew, even if it does require I run a few extra miles to accommodate.

But do all cookies = love? you ask. I say, nay. Some cookies = LUST. Specifically, Granny B's (a.k.a Granny B's Pink Cookies of Death). I can be funny and lunge across a counter for a Samoa because they are yummy and little and sold once a year. You can be funny about love like that. Granny B's Pink Cookies of Death...I don't know. The first time I ever had one was in Nauvoo. We had participated in Mississippi by Moonlight or something to that effect and done some reel dancing and our treat was these individually wrapped sugar cookies. I normally don't like sugar cookies, I told myself, but I'll go ahead and try it. [sigh] I had never tasted anything so wonderfully sinful. I mean, the cookie is not even that good, but something about it spoke to my guilty pleasure meter. Those are not cookies you lunge for. Those are the cookies you sit and stare at, walk by, walk around, and tell yourself in no uncertain terms should you eat one. And yet. And yet...

We have a box of them sitting on our kitchen counter.

I saw them last night and I think a wimper might have escaped. I have had imitation versions of these cookies over the years, but I have never since had a Granny B's. Not since that fateful night in Nauvoo, 8 years ago. It might be more than I can take, I thought. But this morning I saw them again and did not feel tempted. It's not worth the sugar jolt to my system, nor is it worth jeapordizing my run in the morning. I can tell the difference between love and lust...I will prevail.

Take that.

Free Tibet

2009-03-09T11:59:00.007-06:00

While I may not love my job (even though today I was officially told I "consistently exceed expectations" and essentially that I am the best - thank goodness I decided against wearing my pink chucks to work today...I'm pretty sure that wouldn't have gone over too well during my evaluation), I do like the location of my office. A lot. I am right across the street from the White House, so when the weather warms up I usually head to LaFayette Park for my lunch break. I have missed my beloved park. Winter has been cruel, and pre-spring has been mostly kind...and by pre-spring I really mean just this weekend. I could have done without the snowstorm on Monday.

Today I ventured out to the park and was not disappointed. It is definitely windy, but the sun is shining relatively warmly. I laid out my blanket, took out my book and settled in for a peaceful hour in the sunshine. Wait, scratch that. I walked into the park, saw the "Free Tibet" protest, chose a corner of the park where I wouldn't be intruding on their space, and then laid out my blanket, took out my book and tried to have a peaceful lunch hour. Cue the demon squirrel who took my thrown shoe as an invitation to share my blanket. SICK! Once homeboy skedaddled (it took about four shoe shooings - I didn't want to actually hit him, just scare him away), I turned my attention to the speeches and rally cries of the protestors. As the rally cries grew in fervor, I found myself asking questions (silently, of course) about the conflict between China and Tibet. I realized I don't know much about it. I know it has something to do with the Chinese (and a possible invasion?) and independence and the Dalai Lama (I think), but I don't understand the nuances of the conflict. Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized that the chanting was growing louder. It sounded like they were right on top of me. That's when I saw the camera man.

He was right in my face, snapping photos of me reading my book in the park. I thought, "Boy, that is just weird," until I realized that the protestors had started their march, and they were right on top of me. I could just see the tagline on the photos he was taking, "Disinterested American reads in White House park as disenfranchised Tibetans march for independence." I felt like maybe I should act as interested as I felt so he would know I was not a "disinterested American" (does being uneducated about the conflict equal disinterest?), so I closed my book and looked at the long line of protestors making their way out of the park and onto the streets of DC. I wondered what brought them there today. Do they have family in Tibet? Are they from Tibet themselves? Do they have Tibetan friends? Or are they just friends to the Tibetan cause? I also wondered, as they left the park, what rally I would ever find myself at, or if I am even the rallying type. I have some ideas as to where I might end up, but I'm still not sure I'm the rallying type. I sort of feel like I'm more a "letter to the editor" type. But I don't know; I'm not sure. I'll have to think on it some more.

Are you the rallying type? What kind of a rally would you find yourself at?

All in all, another interesting day in D.C. I feel lucky that I get to live here and see things that make me think and ask questions on a regular basis.

New crimes, new culprits

2009-03-05T08:02:00.004-07:00

Today is one of those glorious days where blog material after blog material comes screaming into my life. And it's only 10:00 in the morning.

Let's start with the fact that I was a touch late to work because I stood in the shower for far too long this morning. I keep looking at the weekend forecast, looking heavenward and kissing the sky for the forecasted 70 degrees we are going to be blessed with on Saturday, and thinking that my runs in the morning should feel like that balmy. Yeah, no. There's still snow on the trail. And ice. Not a ton, but enough to make my feet sore and me nervous about breaking or twisting something. Anyway, the shower was divine and it's going to be 70 degrees on Saturday. Gosh, okay, the weather = not interesting blog material. But all that was to get us to breakfast.

Everyone seemed to be running late today, not just me, which made me sad because preparing lunches and eating breakfast is sometimes my favorite part of the day with my roommates. It's where we talk about the previous night's activities, dreams we've had the night before (usually that's just me), plans for after work... There was no time for details this morning, only allusions to funny stories that must be shared. The suspense is killing me. I do love a good story.

Then, I got into work. On the high of story delight, I was called back down to "reality" upon the discovery of a new printer issue. Yeah, remember how this blog started? The confession involving the legal assistant who never filled the printer with paper and my daily routine of ream...opening? Read here if you're lost. The rest of this story won't make sense otherwise, and as this is the incident this post has been building up to, it's really in your best interest to read it. Ahem, anyway. As I was saying, we now have a new culprit and a new crime.

Lately, when the orange light blinks and I walk over to fill the printer with paper, I find that someone has already been there. Recently. How do I know? There is an almost complete ream of paper still inside a mangled wrapper sitting by the printer. Whomever is doing this is simply putting just enough paper in the printer to finish their print job. What?! I have two issues with this:

1. It seems incredibly self-centered to put in just enough paper for your own print job and no one else who might come after you. It is, after all, a shared printer. And what about the next print job you're going to send there? Huh? What are you going to do then? Just put the whole ream in. Then I won't have to look at the mangled shreds of your attempt. Which takes us to number two.

2. (And this probably should have been number one) Why are you mangling the wrapper?! It hurts my heart to see it opened so haphazardly. For several reasons. The first being my need for order and cleanliness. I don't know why it extends to the ream of paper, but it does. Second, it's like finding out that girl you don't really know but get the feeling that you don't really like has started dating your ex-boyfriend. She doesn't necessarily know that every time you see them together a little part of your heart aches, so she goes about her business, oblivious to everything but her own needs and happiness. Okay, so maybe that's a little dramatic. I mean, it's not like I anxiously await my opportunity to fill the printer with paper, but it does feel a little strange to know that someone else is doing it, and doing it without the thoughts that plague me. I sort of wish sometimes that I could live a more normal life with a less-active imagination and/or internal dialogue. But then, I wouldn't be me and this blog would be a lot more boring.

All of this, along with poorly-chosen g-chat statuses and subsequent chats have given me quite the entertaining morning.

I hope the afternoon passes a little more quietly. Wait, no I don't.

Random Twitching, Inspirational Articles, and New Nakies

2009-03-04T13:42:00.006-07:00

I don't know what I've done, but the back of my neck is twitching rather uncomfortably. Maybe it's my overuse of the mouse (pathetic job). Maybe it has something to do with my swim this morning (doubtful, but maybe). Maybe it has something to do with the same thing that's making my heart do funny things, namely the depletion of electrolytes that I have failed to replenish (hmm, most likely, I think)... Whatever it is, I'd like it to stop. The sooner the better.

On another, completely unrelated note, Ch sent me a great article (in the mail!) the other day. It was one of those articles that had a similar effect as discovering Anne Fadiman's familiar essays. Discovering myself as a writer has taken considerably more time and effort than I anticipated and this was yet another piece of writing that unlocked a little bit more. More on that maybe tomorrow.

And one last note: I'm an aunt again! Evan James Bradshaw was born on Monday. It's times like these I wish I lived closer to home. Just look at this preciousness. I just want to pick him up and smell him and kiss him and call him Magnus...I mean Evan.

I will say, it's a little eerie how in this particular family resemblances have begun to repeat themselves. Jonathan is a mini-Paul. Evan is a mini-Matthew. I wonder if they had another (I know, Wendy, bite my tongue) if he would look like a mini-Josh. Or a mini-Megan.

Check out little Jonathan with Evan. I love this look of curiosity and excitement on his face. [sigh] I have two little nakies now and I miss them both.

Okay, I will now stop being schmoopy about my family. This is not that kind of blog (I'm not exactly sure what kind of blog this is, but it's not really the type where I parade pictures of family in a non-interesting way. I would be more entertaining about this whole thing if babies did anything remotely interesting, I mean besides being really really cute. The only story Evan can give me right now is the fact that we were all pulling for him to be named MAGNUS because it was mentioned once in jest about how it's a family name and they were going for a family name, or at least considering it, and how I told Wendy that I might just call him Magnus anyway, because I'd already gotten my hopes up for it and I wasn't sure if I could make the switch in my heart and how she responded that she was prepared to accept that. I mean, that's the only story I've got so far. He could be a Magnus, right?!)

I love babies. The end.

More on that interesting article tomorrow.

It's like real life Mad Gab

2009-03-03T09:53:00.003-07:00

Have you guys played that game MadGab? It's the one with cards that have sentences that mean nothing on them. You read the sentence aloud with the hope that if you run the words together just right it will actually sound like a phrase with which you are familiar. Well, sometimes, my life is like MadGab.

I have real problems with hearing sometimes. It's not that I'm hard of hearing (when I want to I can actually hear lots of things that aren't intended for anyone to hear). It's just that sometimes I space out when someone is talking in a group or during periods of silence and I tune back in either very slowly or at the very wrong time. Or sometimes I'm friends with mumblers who provide me with a treasure trove of malaproprisms. :) Or sometimes I don't think too hard about what a song is really about and just assume the words are what I'm hearing.

Some recent examples:

What I heard: "By the grace of God"
What was actually said: "The grapes are gone"

What I heard: [said very mysteriously as we walked down the street] "Ooh, look. Duplex apartments. I wonder who's in them."
What was actually said: "Ooh, look. Two black suburbans. I wonder who's in them."

What I heard: [in the chorus of a hip hop song] "Birdseed"
What was actually said: "Mercy"

What I heard: [in the chorus of a good running song] "Candied Heels"
What was actually said: "Canned heat in my heels" (Yes, I know the name of the song is "Canned Heat" but I didn't make the connection until one day on my run after listening to the song for the umpteenth time.)

Sometimes I know I couldn't have heard correctly, but I also can't help but repeat what I thought I heard (lack of filter). Sometimes I'll realize what was actually said mid-question, but I can't put those words back in my mouth. Sometimes that's okay. Sometimes that's disastrous.

Most of these have happened in the last couple of weeks (the "Grace of God" one was quite a while ago -- my roommate reminded me about that one). I'm sure there have been more...many more. Do you remember any? Do you have any of your own?

[sigh]

2009-03-02T10:57:00.004-07:00

Too bad Arlington County doesn't offer this kind of service (well, minus the breaking down part).

6+ inches of snow = stuck on the treadmill tonight. 10 miles have never loomed so...but we're three weeks out so there's no messing around. Attitude is everything, right? I should have just gotten out and run in the fluffy snow at 6 a.m. like I'd planned, but that howling wind...oh the wind...and the thought of wet feet with that wind...[sigh] Treadmill it is. Pray for warmer weather.

A Hodgepodge of Confessions

2009-02-24T12:43:00.007-07:00

My problem with confessions these days is that I haven't had a lot of time on my hands with which to get into trouble. Okay, that's not entirely true. I did have this dream the other night that I thought was really funny and randomly shared with my house (and one other - this turned out to be the mistake) and that got me into a lot of trouble--funny trouble, but trouble nonetheless. A few days later I unveiled to a friend a special "talent" and was informed by him that, while "guys will say certain things are awesome [like the talent I just performed], in a way it says 'welcome to the guy club.' But you don't want to be in the guy club...right?" To which I had to stop and think a moment, and then responded, "Sometimes I do, but most of the time I don't." You all know, I grew up with a lot of brothers. I feel comfortable with guys, sometimes more so than with girls. That being said, I got teased by the boys growing up (and even still sometimes now) for girly tastes and tears and so it's just easier sometimes to slip into "brother mode." But lately I've started to realize that it's okay to be a girl. And not only is it okay to be a girl, it's good to be a girl. At least it's good to be the good parts of being a girl.

I still don't love shopping (though I do like to look cute...hard to reconcile the two of those sometimes) or chocolate, two things I feel are somewhat characteristic of being a girl, but I do love me a good Jane Austen or Elizabeth Gaskell book and/or screen adaptation. I can outburp anyone (this is the "talent" I displayed--my mom is always surprised when people (guys especially) are grossed out by this. In fact, she recently said, "It can be pretty impressive." To which I responded, "Mom, I love that you think that." Mom's response: "Well, you know that I try to teach you guys what is proper but I also appreciate all your talents." My dad has also expressed similar sentiments. I love my parents.) and I really like getting dirty when I play sports or work in the yard. I also love a good hot shower and getting clean and smelling pretty and having soft skin. I guess it all balances out. At least I hope it does. All in all, I like being a girl. This is a big step coming from a girl who at one point in life refused to wear anything even remotely pink. (All of this of course has nothing to do with the eternal quality of being female, though it is an interesting discussion for another time.) Thoughts?

I just rewatched Return of the King and cried (not just welled up with tears, but cried) for the last 10 minutes of the movie. This also happened to me when I, for grad school, read The Lord of the Rings in a matter of four days and cried for the last I don't even know how many pages and then sat in my living room and cried for a solid I don't even know how long. I felt exhausted for days afterwards. I don't often cry at the end of movies or books guys expect a girl to, but kill off Dumbledore or send Frodo to Valinor via the Grey Havens leaving Sam behind and I'm a mess.

I wore my pink Chucks all day at work again today. I just don't see the need to change out of my commuting shoes when it's sort of slow and I'm at my desk all day long. It makes me happy, wearing my Chucks.

I hope there's dancing and Candy Cane Jo Jo shakes at Taco Tuesday tonight.

I ran a 7 minute mile last night and then followed it up with several 7:20 miles. It hurt. A lot. But in a good way. I have a goal to run a sub-6 minute mile by the end of the summer. Just one. Just to see if I can relive the glory days of high school again. I'm not sure I know how to make myself hurt quite that badly anymore, though. Anyone want to try with me?

A little this and a bit of that

2009-02-23T12:00:00.005-07:00

Things I'd like to do this week:

1. Attend a professional piano performance

2. Play raquetball

3. Take a bath in a bathtub I fit in

4. Dance in my new pink Chucks ------>

5. Make Candy Cane Jo Jo shakes
(maybe while dancing in the kitchen in my Chucks?)

6. Watch a movie I haven't seen under lots of blankets

7. Go to sleep without setting my alarm

I'll take company on all but numbers 3 and 7.

This morning I saw a dude on the metro reading Twilight. I thought that was interesting.

We had a very interesting discussion on ordinances during my temple prep lesson yesterday. I learned something new which was exciting for me.

I danced on Saturday night like I haven't danced in a very long time. I attribute it to the pink Chucks.

I made two very sketchy confessions this week, both of them unintentionally and somewhat unwillingly. I was uncharacteristically uncomfortable and embarrassed during both of them. I am starting to learn both the meaning of and wisdom in tighter boundaries.

My mom and two oldest brothers are coming for a visit in five weeks. I am thrilled.

My marathon is in four weeks.

I have broken the cookie fast once in one week. I consider that a victory.

I've started thinking about turning 30. I'm both excited and a little nervous, but mostly excited.

I'm afraid of clipless pedals, but I'm going to get them anyway--though I can't decide if I want to upgrade my current bike or sell my current bike and get a better one.

I've been thinking it's time to quit the blog once and for all and finish the book. I can't seem to do both at the same time.

I need to plan another trip somewhere. Any suggestions?

The Flying Protector

2009-02-18T08:47:00.003-07:00

I got this from my sister-in-law's blog. Thanks, Nat!

Your Superhero Name is The Flying Protector

Your Superpower is Kissing

Your Weakness is Body odors

Your Weapon is Your Wind Sword

Your Mode of Transportation is Rainbow

What's Your Superhero Name?

I have a few comments on this.

1. How did they know my superpower? Their superpower is omniscience.

2. "Body odors" includes cologne, aftershave, soap, and general "boy smell." You know the smell I'm talking about. The one embedded in their sweatshirts that prompts the kidnap of said sweatshirt. It turns into your pajamas until the smell wears off, whereupon you return the item of clothing fully intending to re-kidnap it when it's been washed and worn again. I know, it sounds creepy. That's why it's called a weakness.

3. I'm not exactly sure what a "wind sword" is, but I think it could either be very cool or very bad.

4. I like the idea of traveling on a rainbow.

5. I like the idea of being a flying protector even better.

Your thoughts?

Darn you, Jay

2009-02-18T08:05:00.004-07:00

My cookie fast is going just fine. But this morning's gchat conversation with Jay is threatening to submarine me. He started off by asking me what my favorite kind of cookie is (it's like asking a parent which child is their favorite). I tried to answer his questions to the best of my ability and then asked him if he was trying to sabotage my cookie fast. He hadn't read yesterday's blog entry yet, so he didn't know. So he says. He claimed he was just asking the advice of the cookie expert. I'm not convinced.

So then of course that got me thinking.

I used to work at a law firm on 4th Avenue in San Diego, on Banker's Hill right between Hillcrest and Downtown. I hadn't been working there long when one day my boss handed me some cash and sent me to a place on 5th Avenue I had never heard of before--Karen Krasne's Extraordinary Desserts--with instructions to buy half a dozen of their cherry chocolate chip cookies for our office meeting (which I discovered was really an excuse to eat pastries from Karen Krasne's--best job ever).

I can still remember my intimidation at walking into such a high-end dessert shop. In fact, I don't think I had ever set foot in a shop dedicated solely to desserts, unless you count the donut place down in Ocean Beach. But this was nothing like that.

The cookies are in the upper right hand corner of this delicious dessert montage.

The link, if you want a closer look: http://www.extraordinarydesserts.com/cookies.htm

I successfully purchased the goods and made my way back to the office, unsure of how I felt about cherries in my cookies, but willing to give it a try.

The verdict? Best. Cookie. Ever. Perfect moistness, perfect ratio of cookie to chocolate, and the cherries...wow.

If you live in or are visiting San Diego, go to Karen Krasne's. You won't be sorry. Everything there is, well, extraordinary. And if you are there and want to buy me a cookie and send it to me, I won't say no. I'll break my cookie fast for Karen Krasne's.

I'm so weak.

Multiple Confessions

2009-02-17T12:20:00.003-07:00

Confession:

Whenever I type the word "marathon" without fail I first type "marathong" and then have to go back and fix it, provided I actually catch my mistake.

What does that say about my typing autopilot?

******

I'm running another marathong in five weeks, March 21. I'm on a cookie fast from now until then in an attempt to fine tune the running machine. I made it through day one (yesterday) without a hitch. I'm also doing fine today. Funny how sometimes the switch just flips and it's not hard at all. Funny how I feel like I have almost no control over when that switch gets flipped. It's like I just wake up one morning and decide. Like yesterday, when I was waking up from a Candy Cane Jo Jo Shake hangover it was really easy to promise myself that no matter how fun the party is, I simply will not partake.

Dumb Trader Joes. Selling Candy Cane Jo Jos for 99 cents long after we thought we were safe from their clutches. Maybe the cookie fast will get harder once I detox, but I think I'm committed.

I think.

I hope.

The shakes really were amazing...

Warm Weather and Dodgeball

2009-02-09T12:44:00.002-07:00

This weekend made me so happy for many reasons. First and foremost, I got my "Thursday's Wish" from last week. The granting of this wish was really at the heart of my great weekend. I needed a warm day. God granted me two (going on three).

I milked Saturday for all it was worth. I had a long run in the morning then went on a long-ish bike ride in the afternoon. It was heaven. Coming back on the WO&D trail, there was a wooded area on my left and an open-ish field on my right. The sun was low in the sky, giving off my favorite kind of pre-dusk light, but still high enough to warm my back. I coasted for a moment to just...bask. I really am a solar creature. I can maybe stand another few weeks of winter having had that reprieve but I can hardly wait for real spring.

Saturday night, after my marathon day of exercise, I got to have dinner with a good friend with whom I studied abroad almost four years ago. We met up at our usual place near campus and spent three hours catching up over a disappointingly new menu (how do you take BBQ pulled pork off the menu after 4+ years, I'd like to know), discussing everything from books, to the food bank, to the economy, to foreign affairs, to love affairs, to getting beat up by life. As my friend finished telling me about her past 2 weeks, which, admittedly, were pretty hellacious, she summed it up like this:

"I feel like the last 10 days have been like one big game of dodgeball. And I'm the fat kid with asthma."

It took a moment for the image to settle in, but once it did I just laughed and laughed.

I came home exhausted but so happy. I slept well for the first time in weeks and had a great Sabbath, complete with a peaceful afternoon walk in the warm sunshine. Two glorious days of warmth. I'm grateful for wishes that come true.

I love Jesus but I drink a little...

2009-02-06T13:08:00.004-07:00

I like Ellen. She has a great sense of what is funny (she genuinely delights in the ridiculous, which I love) and has great comedic timing to go along with it. This clip made me laugh pretty hard today (the funniest part comes towards the end, but the whole thing is pretty great). It really made me miss my grandma. I love old people with little filter and a lot of sass.

I hope I can be this entertaining when I'm 88.

Thursday's Wish

2009-02-05T13:28:00.004-07:00

Thursday's Wish:

For winter to be over.

I have been such a good girl this year. I haven't complained much about the frigid temperatures we've been experiencing this year. I finally bought the right training gear, a proper winter coat, and a hat and this winter has been the most bearable one in my almost six years out east. I told myself the frozen-over Potomac was beautiful; it hasn't done that since my second winter here. I told myself the geese sitting on a sheet of ice, squaking at runners as they ran by, were cute (after I laughed at the thought that maybe they were there because their feet were frozen in the ice or their bums had somehow adhered themselves to the river). I thought the construction cone sitting in the middle of the Tidal Basin was funny. I also thought it was funny when the water in my fuel belt froze through on one of my long runs. I feel so tough training in this. But when I come home from a run and my hair is in icicle dreadlocks...for the fourth straight day... and my skin is bright red even though I have been wearing three layers...and I get caught in a snow downpour and start sliding all over the roads when I'm already really tired of running...and the trail takes a week to de-ice, and even then there are still treacherous patches you can't see until it's too late and you start screaming like a girl and everyone wonders why until they hit the same patch of ice... it's just time for it to be done. I've had my opposition. I'm ready to appreciate spring.

Cherry blossoms, why do you feel so far away?

Speaking of cherry blossoms..... They signify warmth, longer days, the kite festival, and..... a visit from the Mama. And while we're here and blogging and on the topic of the Mama...

Last night I received a Valentine's package from my parents. I opened it to find a container of "Cupid Corn", some Jolly Rancher suckers, and a tube of mascara. I thought a few things: 1. That's nice of Mom to not send me this thing absolutely full of candy; 2. A tube of mascara is a funny thing to send instead of candy; 3. It looks a little beat up...maybe she got it from the dollar bin at Target...I'll give it a shot. I tried it this morning and really liked it.

I called Mom this afternoon to thank her for the package.

"Hi Mom. Kim declared me the mail winner last night since I got your Valentine's Day package. Thanks for the mascara. I tried it this morning and I really liked it." Silence on the other end. "Hello? Mom?"
"I'm here."
"Did you hear what I said? I really like that mascara."
"Well... isn't it yours?"
"What?"
"Didn't you leave it here when you were home for Christmas?"
"No."
"Oh. I sent it to you because I thought it was yours."
"Oh. I thought you sent it to me to fill the package with something other than candy."
"No, I really thought it was yours. It was in the bathroom after you left after Christmas."
"Yeah, now that I'm thinking about it I remember you asked me before I left if it was mine and I told you no."
"Oh. I thought you told me yes."
"No."
"Oh." ... "Did you like the Cupid Corn?"
"Yes, of course. You know I love candy corn. Thank you! I just mentioned the mascara first because I thought it was interesting that you'd send me that and that it was kind of beat up and not in a package or anything."
"No, I just threw it in at the end. The Cupid Corn was supposed to be what you were excited about."
"Oh. Well I am. I was just confused about the mascara. But thanks! They are both great."

We then proceeded to laugh pretty hard (Mom apparently fogged up her glasses because she was laughing so hard she was crying).

Maybe next week I'll tell you about my dad and his wheat milk experiment ... I love my family.

Oh, and if you visited my house this Christmas season and left an orange tube of mascara that looks like this:

Let me know. I'll mail it to you.

Taco Tuesday Confessions - all dried up?

2009-02-03T10:27:00.005-07:00

I've been trying to think all day of a really good confession, one along the lines of the one that birthed this blog. But alas, I can't think of any more incriminating confessions that I haven't already blogged about. Is it possible my reserve is all dried up? Have I really become so boring that I haven't created any more confession-worthy experiences? Or am I merely wising up in my propensity to share?

Maybe I should open it up for you to confess for me? Incriminating stories? That could be dangerous. Maybe you all should confess something for a change. (Do I allow anonymous comments on this blog? I don't think so.) Hmmm. What to do, what to do...

On another note: Not confession-worthy, but noteworthy (for me). I know I told many of you I swore I'd never do another marathon, but I decided to make an exception so that I could have a comeback story for myself (of sorts). i've been slowly working my way back for the last three months (well, five months really, but calculated training for the last three). I finally went on a seriously long run a couple of weeks ago and felt great. It was the first time since August that I really felt like myself health-wise. I was beat, but it was the normal kind of beat. The beat you expect to feel after 18 miles. I felt really grateful that my body has healed completely (one month sooner than the doctor had anticipated even!) and that I'm right on target for a successful race. 7 weeks and counting until the big day. Then the real fun begins. Maybe another race in April (we'll see how this marathon goes), Ragnar Relay in NY in May, triathlon #1 in June, have fun and gear up during July and August for triathlon #2 in September. It's going to be a great race season. I actually have more than one person to train with this time around so it's almost like being part of a team again. It's made me the happiest I've been in a while (athletically speaking, anyway, which I guess does translate to general happiness).

But seriously, refocusing from the side note of the comeback. Help the blog. Confess. Please.

The week in summary

2009-01-30T07:47:00.005-07:00

Behold,

A summary of one aspect (or two) of my training this week...

A summary of my eating habits this week...

The sum of these parts equals a whole...

A great, big, sad black hole.

I hate these kinds of weeks.

How is it possible for me to have so much discipline in one area of my life while failing so dismally in another?

1 of 3 Things

2009-01-27T12:07:00.004-07:00

An excerpt from a gchat conversation with Katie earlier today:

Julie: our random conversations = I love
Katie: but have you ever noticed that most of our "random" conversations come back to 1 of three things?
speedos
poo
cookies
Julie: (or raisins)
and yes
I love that they all degenerate into some form of that
Katie: entropy.
its inevitible.
Julie: it's going on the blog
Katie: I can't wait.

Some explanation, simply to enhance your enjoyment of the confession.

1. Speedos: Katie and I discovered our shared...non-aversion to speedos one evening during one of those "we're-so-tired-we're-delirous" girl-chat moments. I don't think I should share anything beyond that.

2. Poo: Katie and I have been training partners for 3 years now and have shared a lot of...moments. One thing about training is that all sense of propriety goes out the window. (Mostly modesty and things like that.) Along with bad behavior comes somewhat inappropriate conversation. We sort of talk indiscriminately about things that probably aren't considered polite and almost inevitably it degenerates into poo-talk of some kind. I won't sell either of us out beyond that, but let's just say one of us is always happy to see a port-a-potty and one of us wishes the body would cooperate to make use of it. Both situations create plenty of running drama and lots of funny stories. Most of which should not be shared outside of the car...if at all. Add in the hospital drama from last year, and the fact that Katie is a doctor, and, yeah...poo: it's always funny. To us anyway.

3. a. Cookies: Really? Do I have to explain this? b. Raisins: Take all my blogs about cookies and substitute the word "raisins" [shudder for the momentary blasphemy] and you've got Katie's world. Her raisin-love is equal to my cookie-love. It's really quite shocking.

On a totally unrelated note, and not that you really care anyway, but this is my 100th post. The blog is coming up on its 1 year anniversary too. Have I really been allowing you all this window into my life for so long? Amazing. And quite possibly very stupid.

Poo! Cookies! Speedos!

Ha ha. [sigh] They will always be funny.

Just one of the many perks of living in D.C.

2009-01-23T12:53:00.007-07:00

Sorry for all the local friends who don't really care about seeing my inauguration photos or hearing about my day in the city, but my family and out-of-town friends have requested some details and I figured the blog was the easiest place to do this. Feel free to skip this post if you're on Obama Overload.

One of the many perks of living in D.C. is the fact that I didn't have to pay an arm and a leg to rent a hotel room in D.C. for inauguration. (The downside is that I pay an arm and a leg to live here year-round.) I live just about 5 miles from my office, which is directly across the street from the White House. It's pretty neat. Sometimes I forget how great it is to live in such a place. But this week I was reminded as I watched tour bus after tour bus invade our town in the tourist off-season.

Because of our awesome office location, we always have a huge party for our clients for inauguration. I worked last time. I was supposed to go to work this time. But my boss couldn't decide whether or not he wanted/needed me. Ultimately he left it up to me. I was conflicted up until the moment I met up with my friends to catch a bus into the city. Once we got into the city and on the wrong side of the mall, I knew I was committed to not going to work and started to feel really excited about the day!

I'm a local, therefore I do not need signs like this one to tell me which way to go.

Also, I look super fat in this picture because I have wool socks and emergency food hiding in my puffy coat.

As we approached 14th St., I decided to turn around and see what was behind us. I couldn't believe how many people had streamed in after us (the crowd in front of us wasn't nearly as thick and compact).

This is the scene we were greeted with as soon as we turned onto 14th St. We were playing the lemming game, basically just following the hoardes of people to wherever they were letting us onto the mall. You couldn't really see anything so you had to trust that someone was driving the boat. Dangerous assumption.

I was with about 7 or 8 friends at this point and Friend Mary, ever the organizer, created a chain to get us into the crowd together. Let's just take a moment here to acknowledge my fairly severe claustrophobia. I'm not sure what I was thinking (the last time I ignored a warning from an organization regarding event conditions I ended up in a medical tent with hypothermia...you'd think I'd learn), but I wasn't really anticipating the crush to be SO bad. I was fine until it required me to sort of pop through the crowd with the aid of my slippery puffy coat. When I looked up and saw how many people were surrounding me, the rushing in my ears began, along with some hyperventilation, followed by wave after wave of nausea and the absolute surety that I was going to die. Soon. All it would take, I thought, was one moment of panic in the crowd, one pipe bomb, one bomb scare even, and a stampede would ensue, and surely I would be one of the fallen. Then, the worst happened. Katie and I got separated (we were supposed to be travel buddies). I managed to turn around and give Jay a look of panic, who in turn informed Katie that I was in trouble. Katie gave me the "secret call" (which would have been funny in any other situation) and then barrelled through the crowd to get to me. After a little water, a little food, a tiny bit of personal space, some prayers, a miracle phone call to Mom, more prayers, more tears, and a game of gin rummy, I managed to take out my camera to document what had me all panicked.

That front-and-center guy who looks very intimidating was actually very nice and my best bodyguard. He was no shorter than 6'6". The woman next to him in the green beenie was awesome. She had on this very impressive green eyeshadow that matched her Obama beenie along with enormous false eyelashes.

This is me pretending I'm really happy to be standing where I am. You can see in this picture just how tall my "bodyguard" was. There was an equally tall man standing in front of me as well. Bless them. Tender mercies, people.

Once I regained my senses, I was able to more fully take in my surroundings. We were surrounded by very excited, very exuberant Obama supporters. The majority of our new friends were African Americans. I am optimistic about this presidency and it felt good to be there knowing that the guy I voted for won. But to see their excitement and to feel of their energy, I knew that it included a whole other dimension I would never know. I know what it feels like to be marginalized as a woman, but have never known what it feels like to have race added on top of that. I know that much has already been said on this topic, but I was moved to see what this meant for them.

We had to stand in the cold for about 3 hours but everything but my feet stayed pretty warm (thermal garments+puffy coat=warmth). I was highly entertained by the two prayers offered, thrilled to "hear" Yo-Yo Ma "live" (you can't expect instruments to perform well in that kind of weather. I don't blame them for dubbing their performance), and appalled by the lack of respect for President Bush when he was announced (I mean, I didn't love him as a president but I am going to clap out of respect for enduring a hard, crummy job for 8 years).

Beginning of political talk--After the bobbled swearing-in, I waited anxiously to hear what our new president would have to say to us. I wondered if he would give into soaring rhetoric or if it would be a speech rooted in action. I think it was a mixture of both. I know a lot of people took issue with what was said, but I was both impressed and moved by his words. I felt like he managed expectations, said some hard things, and put a lot of responsibility on the people. Some said that was a cop-out given the campaign he ran, but I don't think so. Our country is only as good as its people. We do need to step up. I can honestly say that it was the first time I can remember being moved to tears by a secular speech. I may not agree with all of his politics, but I had the impression as he spoke that he is the right man for us right now. You may not agree with me and that's okay, but it's my blog and I can say what I want. :P --End of political talk.

One of my fears during my panic was how we were going to get out of that mess. Katie assured me we would wait until the crowds died down before we attempted the walk home. But it was COLD. So we spent some time in front of the Washington monument getting the blood back in our feet.

Still too crowded to walk home.

We decided to take some pictures. :)

Someone came along and offered to take one of all 5 of us. Then a few people came along and took our picture with their cameras. A little weird, but kind of funny.

This is my favorite one of the bunch, mostly because my friend Dave has some serious air and style. He says it's because of his ballet training. :)

All in all, it was a great experience. I don't know if I will ever brave the mall again for inauguration, but I can tell my children and grandchildren that I was there at least once for a peaceful transfer of power (from a white man to a black man no less). You've got to admit, that's pretty cool.

Thursday's wish

2009-01-22T11:45:00.005-07:00

Thursday's Wish:

That every workday could be like today.

Early this morning: I got to go swimming with three of my favorite people in DC. Even though a couple of them are far too chipper for that time of the morning :) I love them a lot and am grateful for their friendship.

Later this morning: I got to commute into work with Katie. We laugh a lot together, but this morning we also talked about some more sober things on our minds. I'm so grateful that I have a friend with whom I can laugh as well as talk about the weighty matters of life.

Lunchtime: Katie is working just three blocks from my office this week. We met for a last-minute impromptu lunch at ABP which proved to be the best decision of the day. We got all of our somber talk out of the way this morning. Lunch was solely for the laughs. A taste of our conversation:

J: Sometimes I have a hard time feeling like a girl. Too often I feel like I get treated like one of the boys.
K: That's ridiculous.
J: Yeah, I know. I need to get over that feeling. M told me once that I could be quite sexy when I wanted to be. I found that kind of funny.
K: That's hilarious. Did he point out anything in particular?
J: Oh no. I knew exactly what I was doing when I was doing it.
K: Then why can't you do that now?
J: Because when I was doing it then I knew he was looking.
K: And now?
J: No one is looking.
K: Ah. Sort of like if a tree falls in the woods...
J: Exactly.
K: Maybe you should invite someone into the woods.
J: I'll post an advertisement on my blog. How do you think that would go over?
K: I'm sure you'd have some takers.

This afternoon: I've kicked my workouts up a notch the last couple of weeks and as such have had a greater need for hydration. Of course, that also necessitates more frequent trips to the restroom. Three this morning, in fact. I know, overshare Julie, but it's pertinent to this story. We have automatic faucets in the restrooms but every time I have walked into the bathroom today the faucet I usually go to has not been working. In a hurry to get back to my desk, I have just shifted over one sink, washed my hands, and moved along. However, after lunch, I had to go yet again and stuck my hands under the same non-functioning sink (habits, people, habits) and in frustration finally took a moment to look down to see what the matter was. Well, remember when I had to give my input on the faucet's in the ladies' bathroom? Well yeah. I thought that issue had been resolved a long time ago but apparently not. They switched out the faucet yet again to an antique looking double-handled hand-operated faucet. I laughed outloud in the bathroom thinking about how dumb I have looked all day sticking my hands under a non-automatic faucet, waiting for water that would never come, and then moving to the next sink without even stopping to consider why there was no water flowing. I really do get a kick out of things like that.

Currently: Breaking my no-sweets-at-work rule. Mint 3 Musketeers are so much tastier than I thought they would be.

Thursday's Wish

2009-01-15T11:25:00.003-07:00

Thursday's Wish:

That companies would quit overcharging me for their services. Honestly, how difficult is it to calculate the charge for a 10' moving truck, 7 miles driven, and a full gas tank upon arrival? I'll give you a hint: it's not double the amount quoted. I promise.

I would like someone at this company to please pick up the phone so I can get my money back.

I made a phone call on something else last week and got that all cleared up, money credited back to my credit card, easy peasy done. I have a feeling with this one it's not going to be quite that simple...Just a feeling...

Gold Star Wednesday

2009-01-14T09:32:00.003-07:00

Today's gold star goes to:

This morning's metrorail conductor.

Things I learned on my ride in this morning:

1. That beeping sound you sometimes hear when your metro conductor announces your arrival at a station is the system telling him he's speeding.

2. There are 24 doors on an 8-car train, 16 on a 6- car train, and they all open for your convenience.

3. The 6-car trains are stopping at the same place as the 8-car trains right now, so position yourself accordingly on the platform so you don't miss your train.

4. The reason there is almost always a delay coming from Rosslyn to Foggy Bottom is because (a) there are two lines coming together and (b) traffic always gets a little backed up downtown.

5. You should not play near the edge of the platform. Ever. The trains come into the station anywhere between 25 and 42 mph. If you are standing too close, the conductor will honk his horn at you (as he comes speeding into the station, apparently).

6. He is nice. He said so himself. It was because he opened the doors an extra time for customers to get on.

I'm not kidding. He talked the entire ride in. I was cracking up. I don't know if anyone else was paying attention. I looked around to see if anyone was as tickled as I was for such an entertaining ride in, but everyone's noses were buried in their newspapers. Oh well. The gold star still goes to the conductor. He made my morning.

When I wake up I want to see something I love...

2009-01-13T12:30:00.005-07:00

I have been mocked for many things many times: my inability to keep a white shirt clean, the crumbs that usually surround my plate (and sometimes my chair) at the end of a meal, my cookie...fascination, various laughs that manage to escape despite my greatest efforts to keep them in, varying levels of clumsiness and grumpiness, and the list goes on and on. Well, according to some (one witness and two who I floated the story by), we just added a new one to the list.

It all started with the big move, which, mercifully, is reaching its end. I still have one corner of boxes to be addressed and a huge Goodwill pile (ginormous suitcase that almost weighs the weight limit, anyone?) to dispose of. This was a more taxing move than the others have been. I think because it's the first time I've moved without really needing to. I mean, granted, I haven't had a bedroom door for the last 2 years but other than that things were fine.

I deemed Sunday an "ox in the mire" day and started unpacking my books. There was no way I was feeling the spirit with all that clutter, so I decided to pull the "house of order" card and got to work. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and slightly lonely though, so B came over to keep me company while I tried to figure out how I wanted to arrange my books.

Now, if you'll refer to the post immediately preceding this one, you'll remember that I was feeling badly about my possessions. But as I unpacked I realized that had I not owned so many books, it literally would have cut my move almost in half. I'm not exaggerating. The mountain of boxes blocking my way on all sides was almost all books. I was also surrounded by five bookshelves: one very large, dark wood, 5 shelf; one tall and blonde and one short and white, both from IKEA; one nasty particle board that I inherited three houses ago; and one very cool fold-up three shelf that, up until 3 days ago, was occupied by sweaters and jeans in my closet. That's a lot of literary paraphenelia. I was feeling a little bit better.

Traditionally, the nicest bookcase (my large one) has held Tolkien, Lewis, Rowling, Austen, Gaskell, Scott and Eco, along with all my medieval manuscript and politics books. So I put them across the top three shelves. No brainer. Then I started to fill in with my other favorite books (my nonfiction tastes, having taken off last year, filled almost an entire shelf!), relegating my box labeled "American Lit" to the corner where the particle board bookcase had been banished. After I filled the big bookcase, I moved onto the particle board, where my reference books, Horatio Hornblower (the cad), Spanish materials and family history documents were destined to land. I filled that bookcase when suddenly I realized I hadn't done anything with American Lit.

Now let me just pause here to say this: it's not that I don't like American Literature. I have liked lots of books written by Americans. Anne Fadiman, an American, is one of my favorite authors. I just read The Grapes of Wrath and was terribly moved (being a Californian I think made me cry through it all the more). Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls holds a dear place in my heart. But when I looked at the box of books and thought about them in the blonde IKEA bookcase which I had placed nearest my bed, I felt sick. I didn't want to wake up to American Literature every day. I wanted to wake up to the large brown bookcase full of Tolkien, Lewis, etc. But the big bookcase doesn't fit in that part of the room. I had two choices: I would have to either wake up to AmLit or relegate the Brits to a second-rate bookcase. I stood in between the bookcases for probably five minutes. B finally noticed I had stopped moving and asked what the matter was. Lost in my thoughts, I explained my dilemma to her, not even stopping to think how ridiculous it might sound. Her laughter brought me back to someone's version of reality (certainly not my own - mine dealt with the dilemma of book placement!). I maybe should have been embarrassed (and maybe should be embarrassed for this very lengthy confession as well) but I wasn't. It is a big deal to me! When I wake up, I want to see something I love. So I decided: the Brits would have to move. Turns out they fit perfectly in the blonde bookcase. AND, non-fiction got to stay in the nice bookcase and was promoted to the top shelf. Suddenly it was like my world fell back into place. There was balance in the room: my favorite books were in an okay bookcase and my second-favorite books were in a great bookcase, and both got top-shelf status. I felt pretty good about my decision. B decided to mock me a little further, though, by pointing out that I had been referring to my books by name as I, yes, talked to them, and that at one point I apologized to Gaskell when I thought she was going to have to sit next to Dickens (He is not a favorite. However, I soon felt at peace when I realize that Gaskell is actually the perfect combination of Austen and Dickens, which happened to be the two authors I had placed her between). Anyway, all that to say, the books are unpacked and my room feels more like home. You can call me a nerd, it's okay. I'm actually pretty comfortable with that. You can call it a commentary on certain specific aspects of my life. I'm less comfortable with that.

Oh, and the fourth and fifth bookcases? I finally have a place for all my church books, right next to my reading chair, and one for my sheet music, right next to my piano. That makes me happy.

Thursday's Wish

2009-01-08T09:23:00.002-07:00

Wish #1:
That ice would melt on the trail before I wake up to run on it. Thankfully, no spills this morning, but there was plenty of unintentional ice skating going on. Treacherous! How am I supposed to train in this?!

Wish #2:
A repeat wish I made before Christmas: That my house would pack itself and magically appear at my new house, and, as a bonus, DEJUNKED. Seriously, I have lived in the DC area for 5 1/2 years and it is astounding the things I have accumulated. In some ways I am really embarrassed by all I have. I think about the humanitarian trip I'm planning for this summer and how little those people have. Looking at my boxes upon boxes of books and stationery and sewing materials and kitchen whatevers last night made me ill; not because I was thinking about moving them, but because I was disgusted with the excess and lack of simplicity my life has taken on over the last couple of years. Last night I determined that I have to go through a bunch of already-packed boxes and take out the stuff I haven't touched in a year or more. And then make do with what I have and quit accumulating. Another part of me doesn't feel bad at all, because most of the stuff I have is what it takes to run a comfortable home in the US, but in the end I think the first feelings of repulsion are going to win out.

I wrote a letter to a friend last night after I had this realization and decided to list out to her what I would take with me if I was limited to a handfull of boxes. It came down to about 20 of my favorite books (including scrips and such), running and swimming gear, some pictures, my diplomas, my computer maybe and some clothes. I don't think my iPod even made it onto the list. I looked over the list and thought, why do I own more than what is on this list?! I sat in the silence of the night and came up with a few key reasons why. The list of reasons why I guess is now my list of personal improvement goals for the year. So I guess I don't want wish #2 after all. Packing up has been really good for me. Humbling really, and it's been at least a good two days since I've had some serious humbling...

I still really want wish #1.

Gold Star Wednesday

2009-01-07T07:59:00.004-07:00

Today's gold star goes to:

My new Kitchenaid.

Just think of all the cookies she will make... and bread... and rolls... mmmmm.....

She should arrive by the end of the week. I think I'll name her Daisy.

Jet lag

2009-01-05T09:03:00.002-07:00

Sucks.

You wouldn't think three hours would make much of a difference.

But it does.

Kono's goodness

2009-01-02T12:00:00.003-07:00

Today is our last day together before everyone goes home.

We had one more stop to make for the 2 week adventure to be complete.

Kono's = happiness. Big breakfast #2, hot chocolate, and orange juice out on Crystal Pier in Pacific Beach.

Happy New Year!

Caught. Again.

2008-12-30T23:58:00.003-07:00

If you're female, you know this badge of shame well, or at least you've done the walk of shame. No, not that walk of shame. I'm talking about the ones at weddings. The ones where the emcee announces it's that time, the time for the bouquet toss. When you're 16, it's exciting because you're still dreaming of that cupcake dress and ostentatious wedding to some missionary serving in your ward. When you're 18, your dream may shift to the missionary you sent off. When you're 28, it's just embarrassing.

The first bouquet I ever caught, I believe, was when I was 15. It was at David and Rachel's wedding. It was exciting.

The second bouquet I caught was when I was 17, almost 18, I think. It was at Gary and Natalee's wedding. I think I shared the honor with a niece who really wanted to catch it. I held her and we caught it together.

I won't bore you with the third, fourth and fifth bouquets I caught. Let's just say that the supersition that whomever catches the bouquet will be the next to wed is not true, and I have single-handedly proven that fact.

********

Two of my cousins got married this last week, within 3 days of each other actually. The weddings have been beautiful. There is something so special about attending a sealing where the spirit is so strong. You know they love each other, that they are faithful, and that they will do their best to live the gospel. I love seeing people so happy.

Rich's wedding was on Saturday in the San Diego temple. While San Diego no longer really feels like home, the temple here always will. It was where I received my endowments and it's where I feel like my adult life really began. The reception was both freezing temperature-wise and informal as far as emcee and structure was concerned, so when I found myself being herded into a single female mass against my will, I immediately turned and headed towards the warmth and safety of the house. On my way there, I was harassed by my brothers, parents, and male cousins and guilted by my single cousin Jayne who was also being forced to stand in the Crowd of Shame, clumped both with the girls who couldn't get it done and the ones who were twittering with the excitement of cupcake dresses and returned missionaries (or whatever it is teenage girls dream about these days).

"Julie, if I have to stand there, so do you." And so I did, because I love Jayne. Here's the only problem. My competitive spirit. One of the reasons I abstain from this dumb tradition now is because if I'm in the group of women, I'm going to get that bouquet, not because I want it, but because it's there and the point is to get it. This is the only reason I have caught so many. The problem is...it makes me look desperate. Which I am not. At all. For the ten foot walk of shame across the dance floor, I had this internal struggle. Do I go for the bouquet or do I just stand there like an idiot and not even try. I sized up the group. Pathetic. I had 5 inches on all of them with my heels on. I stood a little off to the side, still indecisive about what to do. Rich's bride counted. 1...2...3!!! The bouquet flew into the air. All I had to do was stick my arm in the air. I couldn't help it. It shot above the crowd. I felt the bouquet in my hands and then in an instant I decided: I didn't want it. I took my hand down. Some 16 year old sister of the bride caught the bouquet. She was ecstatic. My family was appalled.

"Shameful withdrawal of the hand, Julie."

"You totally had that! What's the matter with you?"

"[head shake]"

The truth? I don't know why I didn't just grasp it. I think because I could feel the tension of the little girls behind me. They wanted it so badly and I didn't care for it at all. Plus, I had no relation to Rich's bride. I was just some cousin. Give it to a sister, I say.

Today was wedding number two, my cousin Abigail, Rich's sister. We had a great day with our families. The sealing and reception were both so beautiful. The toasts were moving, the daddy/daughter dance brought tears to my eyes, and the cake cutting was cute. Then...the bouquet toss was announced. I rolled my eyes. For the last three days all I've heard from my family is the hand-withdrawal debacle from Rich's wedding. Sure enough, Jayne and I were made to endure the walk of shame one more time. We stood together sort of huddled off to the side, shooting our parents dirty looks, while the groom's sisters all stood excitedly in a group.

"Julie," Jayne said, "I really don't want to catch this, but I think you should."

"Why me? She's your sister. I think you should have to catch it."

"No really. Please catch it."

"Seriously, Jayne. I really don't want it."

"Please?"

I told her I would at least reach out my hand in committment this time.

Abi counted. 1...2...3! It was headed straight for the group of sisters. But the flying orange and white was too much for me. The girls were just standing there, waiting. Because I refused to make any grand gesture to strip these girls of the bouquet, I stood exactly where I had been and reached my hand up and over. And waited until the last possible moment to snatch it out of the air. And snatch I did. In fact, I snatched with more force than I meant to; a couple of flowers were lost in the effort.

It was actually kind of fun to catch the bouquet of someone I loved so much. And it's always fun to win. :)

4GB of RAM. Take that.

2008-12-29T22:00:00.005-07:00

I finally broke down and bought a new laptop. I told myself I wouldn't buy a new one until next year at the earliest but I have secretly been shopping around for the last few months. The decision was ultimately made when it took me a full 2 minutes to open my iTunes to play my brothers a song. This may not seem like a big deal, 2 minutes shouldn't justify a multi-hundred dollar purchase, but it was indicative of a larger problem. I could only run one program at a time if I wanted my computer to play nice. Blogging was becoming increasingly difficult as my processor seemed to be stuck in molasses mode. Defragging the hard drive had stopped working. I was simply out of disk space and working with a processor that had simply run its course.

So last week I braved the dreaded Fry's.

Fry's = geek heaven. It's actually a great place if you have money to spend. If you don't, it's the worse tease of a store there ever was. For those unfamiliar with Fry's, it's bigger than Costco. No joke. It was an old Incredible Universe store/warehouse, so the store is ginormous and they've filled it with every possible electronic you could want or dream of. Displays of high-def televisions, Blue-ray players (I can't tell you how much I want Planet Earth on Blue-ray), washers, dryers, mixers, mini-laptops, sound systems for your car, house, bedroom, computers...the list goes on and on. I went in focused: all I wanted was my laptop. They had the one I wanted for a really good deal. All the brothers and Dad came, which meant it wasn't going to be a fast trip.

Sure enough it wasn't, but it was okay. It was actually fun to stand in the Bose demo room and try to talk my dad into buying a new sound system for the family room. And to sit in the plush chairs and watch Indiana Jones in high-def. The only downside was that they didn't have my computer in stock. Ha. So they gave me a raincheck and told me to call back in a few days. Which I did. No luck. The boys "had" to make another run out there the following day. They checked for me again. No dice. So I called today. Only to find out that they had discontinued my laptop. Pray tell, why would you give someone a raincheck for a computer you weren't ever planning on getting in? [sigh] I fumed internally for about 2 seconds and then asked Tom if he would help me find a new laptop. Off we went.

First stop: Circuit City. Packed with customers, short on help. Ugh. They had my laptop, but...not in stock. Of course. At this point, I'm sure you're asking yourself why I didn't just order one online, and I have a good reason for that. Because Dad has all the software I need right here at home and Tom has the skills to easily transfer all my files from one computer to the other. It was just easier to do it here at home with the safety net of nerds.

Second stop: Fry's, to see if they had any satisfactory alternatives. Negatory. It was picked so over it really was a wasted trip. And there were SO MANY SHOPPERS out today. We couldn't figure out why people were out en masse on a Monday.

Third stop: Best Buy #1. Also packed. What the? Despite the packed-ness, we found a GREAT deal on a laptop almost exactly like the one I wanted out at Fry's but of course they were, you guessed it, out of stock. By this time I hadn't eaten in several hours (and had gone on a long run this morning and been cheated out of the bagel I had thought about all morning [cough-Tom-cough]) and was starting to get very grumpy. I started snapping at no one in particular. Tom knew it was time to 1. feed me, and 2. find a computer. STAT. The guy at Best Buy said they had my model out at the store in La Mesa. I handed Tom the keys and said to drive me there because I was done. He did. Happily.

Fourth stop: Best Buy #2. We walk into a deserted Best Buy. Amazing. We described the laptop to the salesperson. They had no record of the model in their store, on their website, or anywhere in their system. So they call the store in Mission Valley. No one answered. Why would they? By that point I was ready to walk out of the store and eat my old laptop for lunch. Low blood sugar really isn't good for me. My brothers like to say "feed the beast" when I get like this. It's fair.

Finally another salesperson overhears the drama of the non-existent laptop and solves the mystery. Well, not so much solves the mystery as to why it's not anywhere in the system so much as points out that there is a box with that model number in the cage behind us. Sure enough, it rings up with the specs and price we had seen in Mission Valley. Retail really makes no sense to me at times, so I didn't ask questions. I just purchased the computer and we walked out of the store. Tom then drove me directly to Santana's. I was then not only in possession of a new laptop but also a California burrito. It takes so little to make me happy.

Now instead of 512 MB of RAM I now have 4GB, along with a whole bunch of other cool things, including an unexpected remote control that wasn't in the computer specs. Take that!!!

(We still have yet to actually figure out how to use the remote, but it's still cool!)

Sabbath Day Highlights

2008-12-28T14:57:00.004-07:00

1. Most public dollar earned:

Scene: Julie at the organ at church (filling in) playing prelude music. Tommy comes to the organ before church starts to tell me I was doing a good job (a joke from an earlier conversation). I start practicing one of the songs I have to play, "Ring Out Wild Bells."

Tom: Julie, I will pay you one dollar if you will switch that song from minor to major and play it.

Julie: Uh, no.

Tom: C'mon Julie, it will be the easiest dollar you've ever earned. Just ditch the flat and add a sharp.

Julie: Uh, I'd have to add two sharps and I'm not doing it. I'm just filling in for Suzie and Zelma would have a fit if I pulled that on her during sacrament meeting.

Tom: [blank look]

Julie: What?

Tom: No, I mean just do it right now...before church.

Julie: Right now?

Tom: Yeah.

Julie: Done.

I play "Ring Out Wild Bells" in a major key. No one bats an eye. Tom tosses a dollar on the organ and goes to sit with Mom and Dad.

[Just as a side note, the most public dollar I ever made Tom earn was at a pops concert on the waterfront a few years back. There was a "donkey song" being played by the orchestra and I paid him a dollar to put a blanket over our friend's back and ride on him like he was a donkey in front of our seated row.]

2. Dinner Conversation:

Brian: Tom, just as a word of advice, when you get married--

Tom: --if I get married.

Brian: If you get married, don't ever withhold something from your wife just because she wants it.

Tom: [blank look]

Brian: What?

Tom: Brian, what are you talking about?

Brian: Abby won't let me bite her bicep.

Abby: Honey, that's because this sweater is new and you just ate.

[silence]

Julie: I love how that's the reason she won't let him bite her bicep at the dinner table.

John: Julie, I think that's worthy of your blog.

Julie: I was thinking the exact same thing.

3. The dishes:

Julie: Tom and Brian, I think you should have to do the dishes today.

Brian: What?

Tom: Yeah, what? I totally set the table and grated the cheese for dinner.

Julie: Yeah, only because I threatened you. Plus, I've done the dishes like three times since I got into town and you haven't done them once.

Tom: [gives me his innocent face]

Julie: I'm calling you Dead-beat Tommy the rest of the day.

Mom: Julie, that is not nice. I will do the dishes.

Julie: No you won't. The boys just ate and they need to clean up after themselves. [Boy was I bossy today]

Tom: I do dishes all the time at home.

Julie: That's because you live alone. Mom has fed you all week. The least you can do is do the dishes once.

John: Look guys, I will do the dishes.

Julie: What?

Tom: See, Julie. John will do the dishes.

Julie: And you will help him, Tom.

Tom: Fine.

What actually happened: I washed and rinsed the dishes. Abby dried. Mom put them away. What were the boys doing? Sitting in the living room watching clips of Brian Regan.

Note to Self

2008-12-27T16:04:00.003-07:00

It is possible to get tan at 9:00 a.m. in San Diego in the winter. Must wear tank top for next long run to counteract farmer's tan acquired today...

Gold Star Wednesday

2008-12-24T17:02:00.005-07:00

This week's gold star goes to the obvious.

It's Christmas Eve. It's a sacred night. As I sit here under the Christmas tree and type this, the house finally quiet, I have some time to reflect on this week's star.

As I flew across the country this week, I started a book called Trusting Jesus. It's been a long, hard year. That's no secret. I've been really looking forward to this year's end, ready for a fresh start but I think part of me is afraid that next year won't be better. Usually I'm an optimist, always hopeful, always believing. But lately believing has required an increase in energy.

Tonight, as we read the Christmas story, I thought about the birth of hope and redemption, an event to which the prophets looked for thousands of years. And why? Because without this birth, and subsequent life, the plan of God would have been frustrated and we would have been lost to Him. What an exciting day it was, the day these prophecies were fulfilled! We have lived our lives with the knowledge that Christ has come whereas they spent their lives looking forward to that event. What a relief all must have felt!

I also thought a bit tonight about the faith required of the Nephites as they waited for the sign in the Americas. Some waited, I'm sure wondering if, if not feeling almost sure, they were going to be disappointed. Some waited, I'm sure knowing they would be delivered. I wondered tonight where I am right now. Am I on the side of believing? It can sometimes be scary to believe, though I didn't used to feel that way. In fact, it has always been just the opposite for me. I think my new, fresh start needs to include the choice to be more believing, to take things as they come in faith, to trust that God will lift the burdens that feel too heavy to bear. Because as I read back on the record of my life, the evidence that He cares is there, that he is not, as Elder Holland says, a divine referee waiting to tag us out on third.

Tonight's Gold Star definitely goes to the Star of Bethlehem, the signal of the dawn of redeeming grace, a sign that God keeps His promises, a sign of His infinite love for His children. With evidence like that, how can we not believe?

Merry Christmas.

Why I had to get home by Monday night

2008-12-23T20:48:00.007-07:00

The Monday before Christmas our family has a caroling party. Part of the crisis in getting home through cancelled flights this year was making it home in time for this party. I know that seems a little melodramatic, and it was a little bit, but the family caroling party is a big deal for me. This is usually how it goes: First we sing to the neighbors.

Second, we all pile in the van. Everyone who doesn't have a seat sits in the back of the van. Then the swan biting/wrestling match begins in the back of the van. Scott usually starts the fight. He's 38. And a bishop. I'm just sayin'...
Those in the back of the van do their very best to drag everyone who has a seat into the back of the van. It can get a little brutal...
This is me avoiding getting dragged into the back of the van...

This is Brian getting worked by Tommy and our nephie Paul...
This is me getting worked while working Tommy...
This is Abby trying to protect her husband... I love Tom's taunting face.
Utter chaos.
And me cowering in the corner. At one point my face was pressed up against the glass and I prayed that the side door wouldn't come open... Mom was afraid we were going to ruin our singing voices with all the screaming. She has stopped worrying about the roughness. She knows if it starts to get out of hand Dad will take care of it by hitting the brakes.

Of course the caroling has a destination. We go sing to the widows in our ward.

This is Betty. She's like another grandmother to me.

After we sing, we go home for goodies and games. Christmas Basket is a Bradshaw Family favorite. I just tried to explain it here but I just don't think I can. It requires a sturdy whacking device, fast thinking, and a good sense of humor.

Brian was the victim of a Christmas Basket secret combination. He chose "Present" as his Christmas Basket identity.... It was the most popular name of the night. My brothers dubbed me Vixen, despite my requests to be "bow" instead. Anytime my name was called I called out Comet...who wasn't in the game. I kept meaning to say Candy Cane (which was Tommy's identity) but it never came out right before I got whacked. There was no mercy last night.
Brian did an awful lot of jumping up and down and dodging.
And Tommy was the victim of revenge...

We had a great night as a family, singing to our friends, singing to our neighbors, playing as a family. As we all stumbled into bed, I heaved a sigh of relief that I was home and had made it in time for the party. When I was in Dallas, stuck, I wondered if it was worth it.

It definitely was.

Today was the last bit of Christmas shopping, Santana's (finally - delicious), and a nice, long run down to the cliffs with my AWESOME GPS WATCH. It's really good to be home.

Next year I'm paying the money to fly direct...

2008-12-22T11:03:00.003-07:00

Take 1:

Pack Saturday, run errands like crazy, get to the airport in just enough time to catch my flight. Check in, get to the gate, watch my flight time get pushed back further and further. Realize I won't catch my connection in Dallas, discover it's the last flight out of the night. Rebook my flight for the following day. Go home and watch BYU football. Buy a new toothbrush at CVS. Sleepover at Katie's.

Take 2:

Sunday: Get ready for church without any of my toiletries since they are all on their way to San Diego (quite the adventure). Go to church. Find a ride to the airport. Move my luggage to driver's car. Discover a voicemail on my phone. Flight has been cancelled due to mechanical failure. Awesome. Reschedule flight for the following morning.

Take 3:

Still Sunday: Call Jay to get online and see if there were in fact no flights left for that night. Discover I've been hoodwinked by the airlines. Katie calls the airline while I'm on the phone with Jay demanding they put me on one of those available flights. I call my dad to tell him what's going on. Shed my first tear of the saga. Aaron offers his handkerchief and a shoulder. After an hour, we get my flight changed to go out of BWI, leaving in just a couple of hours. Move my luggage again to the new driver's car. Have an uneventful drive up.

Take 3 continued: Get to Dallas. Have way too much time to think. Discover when I get there that we will be delayed another 3 hours due to flight crew time-outs. So tired and so frustrated, with a nearly-dead phone battery due to the rescheduling drama earlier in the day (and having stupidly checked my phone charger), I sit in the Dallas airport and try not to cry. Miraculously there is a plug nearby that isn't being used, so I plug in my computer and watch a movie. The moment I get on the plane (2 a.m. DC time) I immediately fall asleep and don't wake up until we are approaching San Diego. I thank my lucky stars I decided to pack my neck pillow.

We land at 2:15 a.m., San Diego time. I'm pretty much delirious at this point, stumble down to baggage claim, call my mom (who stayed up waiting for my phone call), get both my bags immediately (miracles of miracles) and get into the car. Brian had come along (thanks little brother) to help with my bags, and no one asked that I be particularly chatty. I step on Tom as I try to get ready for bed, which really just consists of me putting on my pajamas and falling into bed.

The End: I'm sitting in my living room with a fuzzy mouth, smelling my dad making breakfast, listening to Tom play the spinning song and Brian running through the living room like a ballerina (sort of...I'd have to post video for you to really understand). Oh dear, now he's shimmying. Okay, I have to go. Time for showers, breakfast and then we're off to Fry's!

Birthday Magic

2008-12-19T08:57:00.018-07:00

I turned 28 on Wednesday. It was a good day, nay, a great day. The birthday before--27--was rough. I didn't know why at the time; I dreaded it months in advance. I think maybe it was a sense of foreboding; something in my psyche knew that it was going to be a rough year. This birthday, however, did not come with the same feeling. I have actually been pretty excited about 28. 28 feels like a good, solid age. Firmly in my very adult-feeling late-20's, I have a better sense of who I am, am more comfortable in my own skin, and am surrounded by really great friends.
The day started off well. I woke up early to work on my blog posting so my mom could read it first thing. Then I opened a couple of presents my family sent. I made the mistake of opening the card Mom and Dad sent to me when it was still early. It sang VERY loudly to me. :) I about fell out of bed.

I got dressed and headed out into the misty morning with a surprisingly good attitude about having to go to work on my birthday. I ran into a good friend on the metro which added a little more bounce to my step. I didn't get much work done at work, what with all the phone calls and gchats and Facebook messages popping up. Plus, I played "hookie" during lunch and trekked back to Pentagon City for a lunch date with J who then drove me back to work. It wasn't NYC, J, but it was still fun! I felt so much love all day. Really, my birthday could have ended there and I would have been happy.

BUT.

It didn't. I came home and bought some dance music with the iTunes gift card Tommy emailed me. Then I went to dinner with a few friends. At the Palace. Kabob Palace. Of course. I received a gift of Oreos from A (a great reminder of the scandalous consumption of Oreos at Shakespeare in the Park this summer - ha!) and had a lot of good laughs as we relived some of the funnier moments of age 27.

It didn't end there either. My roommates (present and former) and visiting teacher cooked up a small get-together at my house. Very casual. VERY fun.

My parents sent me 12 days of birthday, a small gift every day leading up to my birthday. Mom doesn't like the thought of me potentially celebrating alone, so she tries to spice it up. She's good like that. Towards the end I started receiving various parts of a birthday party: balloons, birthday banner, confetti, noisemakers, a candle that sang to me and microwavable cake mix...

and....

...an inflatable pin the tail on the donkey. Which we promptly hung from the ceiling fan in the dining room. Then we started an impromptu dance party with my newly-purchased dance music until the guests arrived.

First order of business: sing to the birthday girl (who was having her birthday party in pajama bottoms and slippers. Happiness is...)

Second order of business: Play pin the tail on the donkey. This is Katie cheating.

Third order of business: have the obligatory butt conversations. This is me thinking I'm funny, but really, I'm just being an idiot.

We were a little bit confused as to how all 8 tails were supposed to fit on Jack's (the donkey's) rear end all at once so I decided to read the instructions (to see if we were supposed to remove tails after putting them on in order to make room). Turns out the back of the box's instructions gave much more fodder for laughter... And that's when things got interesting...

The tails started appearing other places other than Jack's behind.

If you look in the background of this picture, you can see the new variation on the game...we tied jack to the fan blades and, um, turned on the fan... We tried to incorporate the blindfold, but that only led to trouble. I'm waiting for Aaron's video ...

Meanwhile, the tail art continued.

Pirate donkeys. Classic.

THEN. As if my birthday couldn't get any better, we played.... THE BLANKET GAME!!

Round 1: The laughter that was going at the moment this picture was taken... Priceless!

When I said this is what I wanted to play, and even after I explained it, everyone looked at me like there was no way they would ever play this game if it wasn't my birthday. In fact, I may have even pulled the "it's my birthday" card when I got the uncertain looks people give when they're about to submarine your idea. I began to wonder if this was maybe a Bradshaw game whose funniness did not transfer outside the walls of the Bradshaw home on Wisteria Drive, but I pressed on. I wanted to play.

All it took was two rounds, according to one participant, in order to be hooked: one to be under a blanket and one to be a guesser. The game is this: most everyone goes outside the room with enough blankets, one for each person. Everyone gets underneath a blanket and then crawls out one by one into the living room and stops. A few people stay in the living room to guess who is under which blanket.

I know, it sounds lame. But it really is so fun. In fact, one participant (male) said, "I could play this game for hours." And we did. Because once you get the first few rounds out of your system and people start recognizing your body shape, you start getting creative with ideas of how to trick the guessers.

Such as tying Jack the Donkey to your back and then putting a blanket over you...

If my birthday day was a portent of the year to come, I'll take it!

Thursday's wish (a day late)

2008-12-19T08:54:00.002-07:00

Yesterday was a busy and scattered day and I didn't get around to posting. My wish yesterday was very simple: for me to magically snap my fingers and have my room packed and ready to go. My wish was not granted. I had to settle for packing while watching Abbott & Costello's The Time of Our Lives. A rather satisfactory substitute if there must be one.

I also made a wish before I blew out my birthday candles. That wish has not come true either. Yet. And probably not ever. But one can hope. There's always hope.

Gold Star Wednesday

2008-12-17T05:06:00.013-07:00

This week's Gold Star Wednesday is dedicated to:

Mom.

28 years ago today my mother gave birth to me, her ninth child, her second girl.

My amazing mother holding her chunk of a child (one week old)

This is what I get for being born a week before Christmas. :)

My mom is an amazing woman and deserves far more shout-outs than she gets. She is the mother of 11. She married my father at the tender age of 18. He had just finished college; she was just starting.

1965: Gold and Green Ball

They started their family soon after.
And it quickly swelled in size. She started with three boys. They were very...energetic. And cute.
All the while she remained terribly fashionable... (what I wouldn't give for an outfit like that). Mom is always good at making birthdays the child's most special day, making a cake of their choice and ensuring that each sibling had bought a present, even if it was only a box of candy.
Their small family grew even larger, though thankfully adding in one girl along the way. Some might be daunted by the large family, but mom only grew in organization. And love.
Together with my dad, she fought the good fight each week to hold FHE. We have never missed a week. Ever.
Despite our protests and occasional disinterest, we were eagerly taught the gospel, not only on Monday nights, but every day. My parents lived the gospel fiercly and faithfully.
The family kept growing, and the Lord kept sending my parents boys... (We call this picture of Mom the Statue of Liberty picture. The positioning was an accident, though it wouldn't surprise me if one day I found out that Mom had secretly positioned herself there.)
Some might be cowed into keeping life simple with so many children, but not Mom. Life was meant to be lived, even if it meant making a huge mess. She taught us to have fun and instigated most of the rowdiness in the house (or at least encouraged it, along with Dad) She also taught us how to clean up after ourselves afterwards. :)
28 years ago she was blessed with a second daughter. :) Her fashion sense didn't always get passed on to her children, however, as evidenced by the bonnet that appeared in only one of the many baby photos. Clearly I was unhappy.
However, I must have forgiven her for the bonnet. I think because it was clear we were meant to be best friends.
She encouraged all my wild behavior, my laughter, my love...
She did that for us all. That's one of the reasons we were voted "Family of the Year" by the Kiwanis Club in 1983.

One thing that always amazes me is how organized my mother was and is. How she got dinner on the table for so many every night is a mystery to me.

Chaos is the only way to describe our home during those years, but it seemed Mom and Dad thrived off of the noise of little children screaming and laughing. A bustling house was a happy house...
She took time out of each day to play with and love each of her children...And we could definitely feel it.
Everything that could be was a family affair. She made sure we supported each other in each thing that was important, such as baptisms, award ceremonies, graduations, recitals, etc. She still works tirelessly to make sure our family stays glued together. She makes sure that the glue consists of right gospel teaching. One thing I admire most about Mom is that she is unfailingly obedient, faithful no matter how angry her kids are with her or how unpopular her beliefs are. She was having a large family during the zero population years. She endured years of ridicule and scorn but she was undeterred. I wish I was as strong as Mom.
As if teaching all of her children wasn't enough, she taught the ward's children as well, seminary being one of the many ways in which she did that. She taught early morning seminary for over 12 years. I've never met a more competent scriptorian... (this picture is of her making breakfast for her seminary kids on test day--seriously...the woman is amazing)
Seriously, my mom is super-woman. When my youngest brother graduated from elementary school, it marked 25 years of Loma Portal having a Bradshaw at their school. I think by then Mom had been president of the PTA several times, had run a holiday gift shop for the children to come to in order to shop for Christmas presents for their families for years and years, volunteered in classrooms, directed the junior chorus year after year, and the list goes on and on. It was impressive. So impressive that they named the school auditorium after her. She ran that thing for 25 years. She earned it.
Mom likes to be cool. She thinks wearing sunglasses with us is cool. We let her think so. She also likes to use words like "disked" and "word?". We think she's cool because she tries so hard.
Mom was not only a spiritual educator, but a champion for secular education as well, always encouraging us to do our best (and, if possible, to be the best). :) She's a pretty smart lady, always learning, always curious, always asking questions.
She taught me that a lady should always look her best...Even though the tomboy in me bucked against this time and time again, as I get older I realize the valuable lessons she taught me about appearance and behavior. I hope I can always be as classy and appropriate as my mom.
Classy does not always mean refined, however. As a mother of boys, she was often the instigator of chaos. Such as the times she challenged her boys to wrestling matches...
Or the times when she chases them down the beach...
And falls. This night was maybe one of the funniest as far as Mom's physical blunders. As she was chasing Scott through the sand, he quickly changed direction. Mom tried to follow but ended up running almost sideways before she finally ate it in the sand. The best part was she just laid there straight as a board and laughed and laughed and laughed...

My mom is my best friend. She taught me how to love the world, how to love God, and how to love learning. In turn, I tried to show her the world. This is her first international trip.
One thing I love about my mom is how gutsy she is. Less than one year after her first international trip, she was on board with my trip to India. From a crowded marketplace in Delhi...
To an elephant ride at the Amber Fort...
To wearing traditional Indian dress...
To becoming an adoptive relative to Hitesh for his wedding...
To a camel ride in Mandawa... She was an amazing sport and adventurer through it all.
She saw me through my entire education, supporting, cheerleading, helping through it all. Cheerleading is one of Mom's greatest strengths. She has unfailing hope and believes her kids can do anything. She is always ready with words of encouragement both in times of hardship and in times of plenty and happiness. She is a natural optimist, choosing to look on the faithful, good things in life.

She deserves today's gold star and the gold star for every week throughout her life and mine. I'm so grateful God blessed me with such a mother.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I know it's mine, but it's yours too, you know, since ya done borned me. I love you. Thank you for everything.

A better confession than White Christmas viewing in the morning

2008-12-16T19:55:00.003-07:00

So, I'm moving almost as soon as I get back from the Christmas holidays. Not far, just a few blocks away from where I currently am. As such, I'm trying to get most of my life packed up before I take off so that I can enjoy Christmas at home and not have to stress about packing things up as soon as I get back. Tonight, my goal was to get all my books packed up. That might not seem like a very big goal, unless you've been in my house or helped me move. (A great Reid quote: "You know, Julie, this move would be a whole lot easier if you weren't such a nerd.") And here is my confession:

Number of standard-sized file boxes I just filled with my books: 14.

And I still have a few stragglers without a home, but I'm out of boxes.

My room feels so naked.

The best part about packing up the books is being reunited with the gems I have read (I don't revisit certain shelves often enough) and discovering some gems that I haven't read yet (thank you Stephen for stocking me up). I have some great books to read over the break and some great winter reading for when I get back (failed expeditions to the South Pole anyone?) without having to spend a dime. Good thing, too, since I'm now on a spending freeze...

[sigh]

The Cure for Overly-personal Confessions

2008-12-16T09:56:00.003-07:00

I have found that the cure for overly-personal confessions is to make sure I write in my journal first, before I decide to open a new blog posting with whatever happens to be banging around in my mind, though it has its drawbacks. The confession that comes after journaling often feels censored, forced, and a bit lackluster. I wish I knew how to find a happy medium--ah, the great quandry of my life...a happy medium.

Today's confession was going to involve something about singing and crying and trying to pull it together, first in front of about 500 people and then again the next day in front of about 20. But I journaled that all out and found that, minus the emotional commentary, all that was left was one embarrassing situation of almost falling on my way back to my seat because my legs were shaking so badly, and then another of losing it right before I was set to sing in front of a small group (which, I should add, is more terrifying to me than singing to a hall full of people). Terribly uninteresting.

So, instead, I'm going to confess to something else. Something less...emotional.

In the mornings, after I run, I go down into the basement to stretch and lift weights. Usually I'll put on the classical station (since it's still early and I don't want to wake the roommates above) and listen to a few pieces while I go through my usual routine.

At home, one of our Thanksgiving traditions is to watch White Christmas or Holiday Inn. This year it was White Christmas' turn. However, what everyone at home forgets is that not only do I turn in fairly early when I'm in DC, but that when I'm in California, I'm still on DC time for the first few days. Therefore, if you turn on a movie at 9:00 p.m. it's almost guaranteed I'll be asleep in the first five minutes. This year I made it through 30 minutes before I gave up, and Mom still leaves me exactly where I fall, even at age 27. I woke up at 3 a.m. with a numb butt and shoulder in an empty living room. I'm pretty sure I stepped on Tom (who was sleeping on a mattress on my bedroom floor) as I climbed into bed. Sorry Tommy.

ANYWAY, all that to say that I decided the only way I was ever going to finish the movie was to watch it in 15 minute increments in the mornings while I stretch. Today I got to my favorite dance number in the whole movie: Abraham. It's also one of my favorite numbers in Holiday Inn, but for entirely different reasons. Vera-Ellen is one of those dancers who blows my mind. I'm not sure I'm going to have time to get through Holiday Inn in the same way, so if anyone is interested in joining me Thursday night to get it in one shot, I think that's when I'm going to do it. Just let me know. :)

I know, lame confession this week, but I really really love White Christmas and have loved having it as a little morning treat for the last week. I can't wait for Holiday Inn. Fred Astaire...mmmm...

Austenbook

2008-12-15T09:10:00.004-07:00

I was going to post today about the Christmas program yesterday, but the boss just got back which means it's a crazy day here. As such, I have decided to share with you a little gem N sent me on Saturday. This will be especially appreciated by Facebook and Jane Austen addicts. I don't know where people get the kind of time to put something like this together...

http://www.much-ado.net/austenbook/

The Nutcracker (Not Suite)

2008-12-12T07:39:00.004-07:00

My first exposure to the Nutcracker, believe it or not, was the Care Bears Nutcracker Suite. I was eight.

When I discovered years later that it was actually a ballet, I was intrigued. I had these dreams of being a dancer, but alas, funds made it an impossible avenue to explore. Until college that is. I discovered I could take dance classes on the cheap, so I started with ballet. My dreams of being a ballerina (rrrrright) were shattered one day when, during bar exercises, my teacher started yelling at me from across the room: "Ms. Bradshaw, tuck your pelvis under, keep in alignment." I thought I was in alignment. I double-checked. Yep, all tucked. "Ms. Bradshaw, TUCK, TUCK!" Frustrated, I wanted to yell, "I AM tucked," but it was not a refined enough response for a ballet class, so I just looked at her helplessly and continued. She came marching over to me, placed one hand on my stomach and one on my butt, and tried to move my pelvis. She stopped short, "Oh, you are tucked." I wanted to say, "And that's what they call bootie, ma'am," but I simply sighed and crossed ballet off my list. If that wasn't evidence enough of my doomed career as a ballerina, the floor exercises would have done it. Me trying to pirouette was disgraceful. I discovered then that I had zero balance. It was embarrassing. But I digress...

Fast-forward many years later to when when Ch and I moved in together. She bought a Nutcracker piano duet book and we happily slaughtered Tchaikovsky all Christmas season. Then we decided to see the Nutcracker at the Kennedy Center. Despite my failure as a ballerina, I was pretty excited. I had never been to a ballet and I figured since I already knew the music and the basic storyline it would be a good introduction. And it was. Except... I honestly still had the story of the Care Bears Nutcracker Suite in my mind and I was pretty confused at parts. Also, I couldn't get over the fact that Dr. Drosselmeyer looked a bit sinister throughout (a little like the evil vizier in the Care Bears). Is he supposed to? Despite that, I did, however, fall in love with ballet.

Last night I went to see the Nutcracker at the Kennedy Center again. I had forgotten how much the story really doesn't make much sense, but remembered that it also doesn't really matter. Since I have now seen the ballet several times, I was able to pay attention to some other things, such as the people sitting around me and their reactions, as well as various parts of the ballet I had missed before. So, ladies and gentlemen, I present last night's highlights:

1. The little girls in their formal little Christmas dresses, some of them probably seeing a ballet for the first time. Their little eyes were wide with excitement going in, and even wider with wonder coming out.

2. The snow prince. He was dynamite.

3. When the snow queen did her very elegant blind twist and jump (I wish I knew the term for this because it was much more elegant than I'm making it sound), landing delicately on the snow king's shoulder with no hint of a bobble. Truly impressive.

4. The reaction of the septuagenarian sitting behind me when the Nutcracker Prince came on stage in the second act. (He merely said what we all were thinking) "Did you see his glutes, dear? Check out those glutes! I mean, that's impressive." It was hard for me not to giggle a little bit. It was impressive. With him clad in white tights, he looked like a piece of sculpted marble. (I probably should be blushing with that description, but I'm not.) One of the reasons I love ballet is the incredible athleticism mixed with delicate grace. It is absolutely mind-blowing what they do while looking so beautiful.

5. The Russian dance. Always the Russian dance.

6. The Grand Pas De Deux. For some reason last night it made me cry. It was beautiful. The music was incredibly moving and the dancing was lovely. I am always taken with the idea of the male lead doing everything he can to make the female lead look at beautiful as possible: their lines, the lifts, everything. They were a great pair.

7. The Nutcracker Prince's solo following the Pas De Deux. I couldn't help it: the thought came into my mind, "This is where he proves he's more than a pretty pair of glutes." Very impressive. He was super tall (which you didn't realize until Clara stood next to him and came up to his waist) and yet incredibly light on his feet.

8. All the little kid ballerinas. Adorable. I wanted to eat all of them.

Thanks, M, for organizing such a fun night!

Thursday's wish

2008-12-11T12:43:00.004-07:00

I want.

I'm only allowing myself to spend a very small portion of my Christmas bonus on something I want. I think I've spent it about three times over in my mind. I really have to nail it down soon, like before tomorrow, which is when I actually get the bonus, so I can stop thinking about it.

I don't want much, just a GPS running watch that tells me how far I've run at what pace and at what rate of calorie burnage...and it's such a great deal at Costco. Nevermind the other expenses that I should probably be channeling this money towards...or the fact it would look great in savings...or...or...or...

Why do I feel so tortured when it comes to spending money on myself?!

But I really want it. I swear the mile markers on the Mt. Vernon trail are wrong, and I'd like the opportunity to prove my internal running odometer/pace clock.

Did I mention you can upload the info from the watch to your computer so that you can track your training?...

Gold Star Wednesday

2008-12-10T15:09:00.004-07:00

Today's gold star goes to:
Though I'm sure either a nap or an earlier lunchtime would have achieved the same result...

*****

Addendum: 12/11/08 -- gold star has been stripped from Excedrin. Any medicine that takes away the headache but gives a stomach ache and a little bit of vertigo doesn't get any kind of star, unless it's the death star...

Revenge of the Dove

2008-12-09T08:12:00.011-07:00

Our family usually buys the Christmas tree on the first Monday after Thanksgiving. Mom bakes Christmas goodies (haystacks, rocky road, sugar cookies, Christmas coconut bars, blond brownies, Russian tea cakes (blech), puffed rice balls, and fudge), heats up apple juice and calls it cider :) and we turn on the Osmonds...always the Osmonds. We happily sing along to the entire CD as we put on the lights and ornaments. Sometimes we listen to it twice.

Mom and Dad were never picky about what ornaments went on the tree, or in what location various things were placed. I'm pretty sure Mom silently rearranged things in the days following to even it out, but so long as they weren't too broken or huge, everything that could went on the tree. One year my Aunt Jeanne made these cute clothespin reindeer. Each reindeer had the name of a child written on it. Our favorite part of the tree decorating was finding our own and putting him or her in the row of reindeer right across the front of the tree. We converted a See's candy wagon into a sleigh and recruited the gumby Santa from a box of sugar cereal for a full set! Our tree topper for as long as I can remember has always been two (very sad-looking) doves. They always drooped a bit but Mom really liked them because they represented the Holy Ghost (am I making this up? possibly).

Then, once upon a time, the Christmoose was gifted to our family. I'm actually really not sure where he came from, but he appeared sometime during my late childhood/early adolescence. The Christmoose is a moose that says, oddly enough, across its chest "Merry Christ-moose!" He has little suction cups on his four legs and is frankly, kind of funny. I think he may have spent one Christmas attached to our front window, but after that he was graduated to the tree.

I'm not sure exactly how this happened, but with our houseful of boys (and tomboyish girls) something is always being hatched as far as Christmas tree "themes". One year it was the the overthrow of the Christmas tree. You see, the Christmoose wanted to be the tree topper, dethroning the doves. Mom refused. We begged. She didn't budge. So what did we do? We started the Christmoose's slow ascent up the Christmas tree. It took nearly 10 years to get Mom and Dad to acquiesce, the Christmoose taking a stealth position, teaming up with other ornaments, creeping further and further up the tree, year after year. Finally the Christmoose was too close to the top of the tree for them to deny us a tree top war between the Christmoose and the Dove (the other Dove finally fell apart a few years before). They did, however, put their foot down when we proposed the moose attack via a zip line across the living room.

Finally, the Christmas before Brian went on his mission, the Christmoose took his place at the top of the tree and has reigned there for the last 5 or 6 years; the Dove sits on the branch just below. And of course, there is always drama going on with Santa and the reindeer, such as last year's reindeer rebellion where they made Santa pull his own sleigh.

Just last night, I received this email and pictures from my brother John. (He and his wife and daughter are staying with my parents and my oldest brother Bruce is visiting while he remodles the bathrooms. Mom told me last night that the boys came up with this by themselves...John is almost 30. Bruce is 41. I'm just sayin'...)

******

Hi Everyone,

As you may recall, there has been an ongoing saga of the moose trying to catch the dove on the Christmas tree. Last year the reindeer rose up in rebellion against Santa Claus...In a bizarre turn of events, as punishmentfor last year's rebellion, Santa Claus tied up his reindeer, put them under guard and promoted the Dove to guide his sleigh!

The moose of course is still hanging on tight to the sleigh, trying to catch the dove...more to come as the events unfold...

Love, John, Dagmara, Piper, Mom, Dad and Bruce

************

I could not stop laughing at the narrative and then when I opened the attachment and saw the pictures... It's just so funny, especially since I've grown up with all of these ornaments. I just love the pathetic look of all the reindeer all tied up and being guarded by that freaky ornament. Thanks John and Bruce! This is a tree to remember!