Milkshakes and The Excited Feeling

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

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

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

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

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

Another one about cookies

I can't help it.

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

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

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

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

I love cookies.

Swine flu is no laughing matter

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

Educational weekend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12. I have great potential as a music producer.

Quotable quotes: Jamaica Edition

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

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

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

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

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

5. "I'm so persecuted."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

14. "They will cut you."

15. "Quick, someone fake a seizure."

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

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

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

Dear Spring, take 2

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]

Coupon offer

This is for you.

(You know who you are.)

New crimes, new culprits

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.

It's like real life Mad Gab

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?

The Flying Protector

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?

Warm Weather and Dodgeball

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.

Thursday's Wish

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.

1 of 3 Things

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.

Thursday's wish

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.

Dear Pirates...

I miss Janey for so many reasons, one of which includes the hilarity of our conversations. We derail so quickly... Now that Janey's in CA we have had to make do over gchat. Sometimes it's scary how our minds travel along the same trajectory. I thought, for your day's entertainment, that I would just share a piece of one of our gchat conversations from today.

*****

Jane: julies what's up with the somalian pirates? seriously, people still do that?
Julie: yes it's still very lucrative
i'm sure it's been going on for a while
they are just getting a lot of press right now for some reason
Jane: ohh really? i thought pirates were from days of yore
Julie: i think we forget (I know I do) that there are still a lot of things that are transported by cargo ship
Jane: um do they talk like pirates? and have wooden legs?
Julie: ha ha ha probably not sadly
Jane: becuse that would just be awesome
Julie: i know, especially if they were somalian ;)
Jane: lol you know i would like to see more of the world
Julie: ha ha ha
Jane: from a safe vantage point, of course
Julie: yeah, i'm not sure piracy is safe
Jane: i would imagine they use guns instead of swords now but i wonder if they watch pirate movies and just laugh
Julie: ha ha ha
they probably think, we've come a long way, boys
Jane: lol maybe there's still a dread pirate roberts!
Julie: we should write them an email and ask
Dear Pirates, Is there still a Dread Pirate Roberts? Please write back. Sincerely, Julie and Jane
Jane: dear pirates, i'm sorry you face such stigma from all of hollywoods interpretations of "pirates". It's got to be tough when you really have two eyes and both legs. I was just wondering, is there still a dread pirate roberts? If so, is he handsome and does he have a good heart like wesley? Your response will be greatly appreciated. Loves, XOXO Jane & julies
Julie: ha ha ha ha ha
I like yours better
Jane: oh you did one too! yours is more susinct
they'll probably be more likely to read it lol
seriously, people should become more aware of modern day pirating
ohhh do they still use the calico jack flag? because that would also be cool
Julie: ha ha ha
we can ask them in the email
Jane: you know this email might really help bridge the misunderstandings
Julie: AHHHHHHHH
my friend grayden just sent me this
http://huntoftheseawolves.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/060706-modern-pirates_big.jpg

Jane: ohhhhhh pirates are scary still!

Julie: yes very

Jane: Julie, I'm doing some research on pirates

on wikipedia, you know, the source of all truth and good solid research

and um i don't think they have the happiest lives

Julie: rethinking your desire to see the world?
via pirate ship?
ha ha ha
what does the wiki say?
Jane: well
they never actually got to bury their treasure
as it was usually not gold

and they lived off of limes and bananas

which would get old after awhile
Julie: but they wouldn't get scurvy

Jane: that's true, no bowed legs for them!

and if they got injured during battle then the ship would give them health insurance

that's nice

also, most pirates are outcasts from traditional society. and since I tend to like society, I don't think i'd fit in very well.

I guess being a pirate isn't all it's cracked up to be. Perhaps I should be a maiden instead.

********

Maybe it's only funny to us.

Mid-week highlights

1. Monday morning our office administrator came to my desk. In the two seconds I had to reigster that she was coming to talk to me, I racked my brain for any possible reason I could have given her to pay a personal visit to my desk. I expected to be chastised for something, since that's what I usually expect when approached by an authority figure with whom I have previously had little to no contact, but I couldn't think of anything I had done.

"So, Julie, we've installed new faucets in the ladies' restroom down the hall. " Okay, I thought, I'm not in trouble, but this also is not exactly desk-visit-worthy intel. "We have installed a different one at each sink." I tried to keep from rolling my eyes as I considered the extravagance of our firm installing three different types of faucets in an attempt to satisfy the washing needs of the firm. She continued. "Would you please 'test-drive' each faucet over the next couple of weeks and let me know which you prefer?" Was she joking? No. She absolutely was not. "Depending on which one our hallway likes, we'll install new faucets in all the ladies' restrooms in the building." I blinked. "Will you send me an email once you've decided?" There were so many ways I wanted to respond to that question but I instead exerted all of my professionalism and simply replied, "Yes, of course." She proceeded to the next office occupied by a female. Really, I can't believe this issue even made it onto the firm administration's radar. Oh wait, yes I can.

In case any of you are wondering, I voted for the one on the far right.

2. Today at work I composed and sent an email with the subject line "boxes slated for destruction." I've been laughing about it all day.

I sometimes wish I didn't take so much delight in the ridiculous, but I just can't help it. I feel like those moments are little gems from God intended to brighten up life.

Oh Mr. Darcy, where are you? Keep your promise!

I am not ashamed.

Thank you to Shawn and David for sharing the love.

Public Service Announcement

My father would like you all to know that he still believes in dowries.

Limited time offer on the Corvette-as-dowry. He's thinking of selling it. Do me a favor: help me give him a reason not to.

Do you like tacos?

One night earlier this month I came home from something rather late in the evening. I don't remember what it was. I just remember that I was beat. I went through my normal routine: dumped my purse by my bed, kicked off my shoes, and booted up my computer while I changed into my pjs. I saw I had new email (that always makes me happy) and saw that one was from my friend Shawn. Shawn doesn't email me very often (we are gchatters more than anything) but whenever he does, it's always something good. Sure enough, the subject line was "I found the perfect t-shirt for you..." and I opened up the email to find this: "...I think you might really enjoy it and need to get a few for your Tuesday night festivities :) Enjoy!!" Included was a link to an online t-shirt store called TorsoPants (pants for your torso, apparently). Their humor is a little...funny. I opened the link and found that Shawn was 100% correct: he had found the perfect t-shirt for me.
In case you can't read it (or if you want to buy one for yourself...who knows, maybe this could be my fanclub t-shirt! jk), click on this link: http://www.torsopants.com/store/product.php?productid=5033.

I about died laughing when I saw it. My first thought was, "Why on earth would anyone make a t-shirt like this?" I mean, do these people even know what "tacos" MEANS ? Tom and Brian, I hope you guys especially got as much of a kick out of this as I did (and still am). I mean, how much more perfect could it get, right?

If enough of you are interested, I think it might be time to share the real story behind Taco Tuesdays. But in the meantime, isn't the t-shirt awesome? This website has all kinds of entertaining shirts. And every time I have typed that word tonight I have almost typed a swear word. It's time for bed. Long live Taco Tuesday.

Do you like tacos? I do. I wish every day was Taco Tuesday. [sigh]

Once There Was a Snowman

This isn't really a confession. Well, yes it sort of is. But it's about my family as a whole, not myself as an individual. Well, I guess since I'm part of my family, and participate and even initiate, it is an individual indictment. But it's also collective. Mostly collective.

Mom says no one should know about this game while I'm still single, and has forbade us kids from playing it around any unsuspecting male I may bring home until I'm safely married to him. However, today I'm feeling a little nostalgic and I'm missing my brothers and sister a little bit, so I'm going to rat out the family.

I don't remember when this game debued, but I remember who introduced it. Scott. Who else? It was before Megan (Scott's fourth child) was born, so it was Scott and Wendy and their three, very active boys. All under the age of 4. Seriously. I don't actually know that for a fact, but there's not a lot of space between the kids, so they were all very young at the same time. I think the unveiling was at a family home evening. Family home evening tradition is first, an opening song, then opening prayer, then talent performances. Everyone had to share a talent, whether it was to tell about a good grade they received, played something from their music lesson that week, or sang a song. It was good performance practice for us, and Mom and Dad felt like they were getting a return on their investments (at least as far as music lessons were concerned). Then we'd have a lesson, then games, then treats. This was our format, with rare deviations, if any.

You'd think this "game" would have been introduced during the game portion of FHE. No, no. It was Scott's family's "performance" when they were visiting one Monday evening. It goes something like this. You all know the song. In case you don't, let me post what the church's website has on this song:

“Once There Was a Snowman,” Children’s Songbook of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 249

Playfully

Once there was a snowman, snowman, snowman,
Once there was a snowman, tall, tall, tall.
In the sun he melted, melted, melted.
In the sun he melted, small, small, small.

Improvise actions as suggested by the words.

When looked at in a Bradshaw context, the italicized portions of this excerpt are particularly hilarious: The song is to be sung "playfully" and singers are to "Improvise actions as suggested by the words." In primary, we crouch "reverently" in front of our chairs, beginning as a small ball, then grow tall, and then shrink back to small. Usually the majority of the primary is lying on the ground by the end of the song (or at least that's how it was in ours). So when Scott told us they were going to perform "Once there was a snowman," this is what we expected. Little did we know a new Bradshaw family tradition would be born out of what we actually saw.

They all stood up in a circle. Scott started them off: "oooooooonce there was a snowman, snowman, snowman..." but instead of staying stationary, they ran around the living room as fast as they could in a circle. They sang the entire song together at top speed, racing around the living room, and when they finally got to "small, small, small," it turned into wrestlemania: the kids were bodychecking each other and putting each other in headlocks, finally ending in a heap in the middle of the floor. It was hilarious.

A few months later a larger group of the family was together. I forget the occasion. It's not important. It was sort of a chaotic day; family night was falling apart with kids everywhere, and finally we gave up on any sort of order and moved onto the games. Well, Scott and his kids were there and requested we play "Once there was a snowman." The other grandkids didn't know what this was, but they quickly caught on. Pretty soon we had a full blown mini-WWF ring in our little living room. Slowly, while laughing at the situation, the adults stood up and started hanging around the edges of the room. This is usually an indicator in our house that more than one person wants to do something, but no one is willing to take the initiative. Everyone sort of hangs out until one person says, "let's do it," and then everyone's on board, just like that. So, the circling/lingering had begun and finally someone said, "Okay, this time it's an adults-only round." The mothers quickly grabbed their little ones and pulled them onto the couches out of harm's way (in theory - the living room really isn't that big). All of us circled around and waited for Scott to start singing: "ooooooooonce there was a snowman, snowman, snowman..." The entire house shook with the force of 5 or 6 grownups running in circles, arms pumping above their heads. We got to the end ("small, small, small") and I wasn't sure what was going to happen; my brothers and I are not kid-sized anymore. I wondered what sort of mischief would end the song, what piece of furniture would break, who would take out the TV, etc. I didn't have much time to think about it. The last "small" was yelled and the shoving started immediately, everyone a little bit uncertain as to how violent this game was going to turn. Shoving turned to bodychecking. Someone went down hard and before I knew it, my shirt was tugged forcefully and I was sinking towards the bottom of a very large pile of boys. As I tried to worm my way out (screaming for Mom the whole time), I felt someone grab my ankle and pull me back in. There was no escaping. Finally Mom called an end to it, afraid Brian (who was on the bottom) was going to be crushed. Her fear was probably not unfounded.

Now anytime we get together, we have to play at least once. We have a separate kids' round - we don't want them to get hurt playing with us - and really the only point is to not end up on the bottom. Bonus points if you end up on top. It seems, however, that usually someone is marked at the beginning of the game. No one says a word, but somehow everyone picks the same person. Well, almost everyone. Unfortunately for Brian, for years it was him at the bottom. ("You have been chosen!") I remember the day he got big enough to finally win one round! As the years have gone on, the shoving starts earlier and earlier in the song until someone reigns the group back in...

Some pictures to help you visualize the madness.

This picture was taken about 10 years ago. Notice how David has his hand on my shoulder, ready to take me down the moment we utter the last "small."

Here I am neither winning nor losing, merely surviving. Brian and James are not so lucky this round. Since Dad is holding a video camera, I'm presuming there is footage of this somewhere.

This picture was taken about 6 years ago. I'm pretty sure Brian (winning on top - quite gracefully, I might add) had just kicked me in the head.

Apologies in advance to any potential suitors. We don't expect you to play the first visit to our home. However, you are expected to fully participate in Christmas caroling. Winter Wonderland, anyone?