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.
Showing posts with label cookies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cookies. Show all posts
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
A speech like that deserves at least five cookies.
This is maybe too much of a confession for a Tuesday, but I've been sent a YouTube clip of how my psyche works and I felt it was only fair to share. Seriously, it's scary how close this comes to the truth some days...
Those who ran Ragnar Relay with me can attest to the single-tracked mind.
p.s. I haven't forgotten the fact that I never got my donut.
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.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
I look like I'm having more fun than I am
There are many hazards that come with running. I've documented many of them here. Often. One that I haven't ever documented, though, is chafing (mostly because people feel uncomfortable talking about it). I'm not going to go into it in detail here (I'll spare you); I only mention it here because in the past two days I've been chafed not only by my swimsuit (it's been years since that's happened...maybe because it's been years since I swam as hard as I did on Monday) but by one of my running shirts. I have one nice scab and two nice bright red raw marks on my neck and collarbone. Needless to say I'm wearing a high-necked shirt at work today. This has happened before with my running shirts and the looks and questions at work are always uncomfortable. I wish I had a better story, but alas...
On another note, I had maybe the best peanut butter/chocolate drop cookie I've ever had last night, and that's saying something. Leanna described so perfectly what made the cookie perfect: there was just the right amount of chocolate to get a bit of it with every bite. Plus the chocolate was so creamy and the cookie didn't fall apart at any point. I have to go back to that bakery and get more.
Robin Hood Season 2 arrives tonight. I couldn't be happier.
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.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Confession: Cookie Consumption
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???
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A boring, mish-mash day
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.
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.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Boston-bound
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...
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Love Versus Lust (a.k.a. Samoas v. Granny B's Pink Cookies of Death)
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.
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.
This post is ultimately going to be about cookies and love.
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.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Darn you, Jay
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.
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Multiple Confessions
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...
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, December 5, 2008
We all have a little cookie monster in us.
This kid is definitely my nephew.
Just look at that perfect combination of joy and guilt.
You can't learn that.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Thanksgiving happiness
For as long as I can remember, Thanksgiving has been my favorite holiday. Growing up, we would get up early and get a couple dozen donuts on our way to the practice fields at our local junior high. Around 8 a.m. the ward would start to gather for the turkey bowl. The game was traditionally between the young men and the elder's quorum/high priests, but it was also a family affair. The kids would play their own game off to the side and the moms would sit and chat and eat donuts and drink juice (except for my mom...she always stayed home to cook for the masses). I'm sure it comes as no shock to find out that I complained rather loudly each year that I wasn't allowed to play; I was a fast runner and a great receiver, but alas, my gender was against me. By the time I was a teenager, though, we didn't have enough young men to field a team and so they needed me (suckers). I was proud to be one of the players who came home caked in mud with a few bruises underneath it all. There was something wonderful about stepping into that hot shower, knowing that when I emerged Thanksgiving dinner was not too far away.
Turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, rolls, stuffing, green bean casserole, cherry pineapple dessert...it was heaven at Grandma's and Grandpa's. If it was chilly enough, we even got a fire in the fireplace. As evening fell we would all eventually wake from our respective food comas and be ready for pie. Mom would ask Grandpa every year, "Apple or cherry?" to which he would reply "Yes." It never got old. And then we would watch either White Christmas or Holiday Inn.
My grandparents have passed on and the house has emptied out. The traditions have changed and I don't always get to go home for Thanksgiving, but my love for the holiday has not changed. I love Thanksgiving for many reasons, but mostly because it feels so good to be grateful. This year I feel particularly so. Last week for FHE we had a "Cornucopia of Gratitude" night, I think it was dubbed. As I considered all that I was grateful for, I felt myself become a bit emotional. A lot has happened this year. I have experienced some significant trials, but the blessings at the end have been even more significant. I've seen miracles happen in my life and in others' lives. As I have considered these things over the last week I have felt how much my Heavenly Father truly does love me and all of His children.
I make a list every Thanksgiving. It tends to be pretty comprehensive. I won't share everything here, but I thought I'd give you some of the highlights. They aren't listed in any particular order. Enjoy!
Turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, rolls, stuffing, green bean casserole, cherry pineapple dessert...it was heaven at Grandma's and Grandpa's. If it was chilly enough, we even got a fire in the fireplace. As evening fell we would all eventually wake from our respective food comas and be ready for pie. Mom would ask Grandpa every year, "Apple or cherry?" to which he would reply "Yes." It never got old. And then we would watch either White Christmas or Holiday Inn.
My grandparents have passed on and the house has emptied out. The traditions have changed and I don't always get to go home for Thanksgiving, but my love for the holiday has not changed. I love Thanksgiving for many reasons, but mostly because it feels so good to be grateful. This year I feel particularly so. Last week for FHE we had a "Cornucopia of Gratitude" night, I think it was dubbed. As I considered all that I was grateful for, I felt myself become a bit emotional. A lot has happened this year. I have experienced some significant trials, but the blessings at the end have been even more significant. I've seen miracles happen in my life and in others' lives. As I have considered these things over the last week I have felt how much my Heavenly Father truly does love me and all of His children.
I make a list every Thanksgiving. It tends to be pretty comprehensive. I won't share everything here, but I thought I'd give you some of the highlights. They aren't listed in any particular order. Enjoy!
- Cookies. There's just something about them that make me so happy. I am grateful for the nights where there are cookies, good friends, some cold milk, and an empty kitchen floor. It can set any day right.
- Blustery days. There's something comforting and a little romantic about going out into the elements while bundled up in a big, chunky sweater. I love it when the wind whips my hair around my eyes and blows some leaves across my path. I feel in those moments God lets me know He's alive.
- Blankets. Combined with a fire and a good book (or conversation, or cookie, or movie), this might be one of the greatest joys of life.
- Good books. See above.
- Good conversation. The best usually come from reading good books.
- Good music. Playing, listening, attending...I'm grateful for it all.
- The beach. I love the feeling of the sand in my toes. I even like the feeling of sand in my teeth when I'm eating a hot dog post-body surfing. I love watching the sunset as we're all huddled around the bonfire (even if the green flash is a myth). I love the wind and the waves.
- My family. We're big, we're sort of loud, and we really love each other. I'm grateful for whatever pre-earth process determined my placement with the Bradshaws.
- The gospel. It binds my family together; it binds my friends and me together; it gives life meaning.
- The temple. I am grateful for the binding ordinances performed there. I am grateful for the peace that is found there. I am grateful God has given us a place on earth where He dwells, a place we can come if we are worthy.
- Dove soap. It smells so good.
- My kindred spirits. You know who you are. My life is made rich because of you. I am grateful for the moments when we don't have to say anything and it's okay. I am grateful for the times we laugh so hard and so long that our sides hurt, our eyes leak, and the room fills with an almost tangible energy. I am grateful for the roll of toilet paper you keep in your car for teary conversations. I am grateful for P&P, for Taco Tuesdays, for Bad Poetry Night, for Last Call, for freezing morning runs and misheard statements (I wonder if jaw straps are uncomfortable...), for DDR and bats, for dancing in hurricane rain, for Baltic states, for Baja Fresh and homemade guacamole, for the reenactment of the tiny towel story at 2 a.m., for piano duets, for all the "oh gosh" moments, for "do as I'm doing," for Collin Golightly, for bad novels and even worse film adaptations, for not having to preface anything, and for all things confessional. I am grateful you love me in spite of me. I am grateful you let me love you.
- I am grateful for you. I really am. I probably don't say it enough but to all who render service, to all who let me serve them, to those who take time to just sit and chat, who forgive me and let me grow, who trust me to forgive and let you grow...you have my love and my gratitude.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Friday, September 26, 2008
Happy smells make happy people
I smell really good today. I'm not sure what makes today different from any other day. I washed my hair with the same shampoo, used the same soap, same lotion, same everything. But for some reason, I can still smell my soap (9 hours later), which is one of my favorite smells in the whole world. Maybe because it makes me think of newborn babies. I wish they bottled that smell, because I would carry it around with me all day, every day. But that might get awkward because when I smell that particular smell I want to cuddle and nuzzle and kiss and....what? Isn't that everyone's instinct when they hold a newborn? I digress.
I thought today about some of my favorite smells and why they are my favorite. Some I know why, others I don't. I've tried to put them in order, but of course it all just depends on the day.
1. Dove soap, the original white kind. See above.
1a. Newborn baby. I think this might be the same smell as Dove but I'm not sure. See above.
2. Fresh cookies. I know, I know. It really says something about Dove soap for it to be #1 and cookies to be #2. I'm serious about my love for that smell.
3. Ocean air. This is smell and feel combined, though.
4. Men's deoderant/cologne. I don't know why. I don't have a particular favorite "scent." I just like the sporty-smelling deoderant. And not on me. Not that I've ever tried them on. I'm just saying that this one might also be smell and feel combined. Not feel, but object-related. Nevermind. As far as cologne...I know there are a couple of smells that I love no matter who they are on. I just don't know what they are called, which is really very tragic.
5. Red Christmas spice(?) candles. The cinnamon ones, I think. I don't know what exactly they are, but they are red and I love them. I feel like the Christmas season has really started when this smell begins to waft through the house.
6. Pot roast on fast Sunday. No joke. There is nothing better than coming in the door from church and being blasted by the heavenly aroma of pot roast slow-cooking in the oven after having been without food for a solid 24 hours. Mmmmm.
7. Wet cement. Usually right after it starts to rain. Or on a hot summer day when you've been playing with the hose and you shouldn't have been because we're in a drought and we've been in a drought for the past 8 years...[sigh] Seriously, I think the drought lasted my entire childhood.
8. The new shed. The shed doesn't smell good, but it smells like hiking and camping since that's where we stored all the stuff. That's the smell of adventure.
9. Cleaning products. I do love me a clean bathroom and kitchen.
10. Chlorine. More specifically, the way I smell when I get out of the pool. Sometimes (when I swim regularly) I start to smell like this all the time, no matter how many showers I take. I actually really like smelling like the pool. I remember the first time I sat in my car on a hot day the day after a particularly long and hard workout. I sniffed and thought, did I leave my towel in here? Looked around. Nothing. Sniffed again. It was me. In that moment I felt so tough, I can't even tell you.
Favorite smells? Anyone? I know I can't be alone in my love for Dove...
I thought today about some of my favorite smells and why they are my favorite. Some I know why, others I don't. I've tried to put them in order, but of course it all just depends on the day.
1. Dove soap, the original white kind. See above.
1a. Newborn baby. I think this might be the same smell as Dove but I'm not sure. See above.
2. Fresh cookies. I know, I know. It really says something about Dove soap for it to be #1 and cookies to be #2. I'm serious about my love for that smell.
3. Ocean air. This is smell and feel combined, though.
4. Men's deoderant/cologne. I don't know why. I don't have a particular favorite "scent." I just like the sporty-smelling deoderant. And not on me. Not that I've ever tried them on. I'm just saying that this one might also be smell and feel combined. Not feel, but object-related. Nevermind. As far as cologne...I know there are a couple of smells that I love no matter who they are on. I just don't know what they are called, which is really very tragic.
5. Red Christmas spice(?) candles. The cinnamon ones, I think. I don't know what exactly they are, but they are red and I love them. I feel like the Christmas season has really started when this smell begins to waft through the house.
6. Pot roast on fast Sunday. No joke. There is nothing better than coming in the door from church and being blasted by the heavenly aroma of pot roast slow-cooking in the oven after having been without food for a solid 24 hours. Mmmmm.
7. Wet cement. Usually right after it starts to rain. Or on a hot summer day when you've been playing with the hose and you shouldn't have been because we're in a drought and we've been in a drought for the past 8 years...[sigh] Seriously, I think the drought lasted my entire childhood.
8. The new shed. The shed doesn't smell good, but it smells like hiking and camping since that's where we stored all the stuff. That's the smell of adventure.
9. Cleaning products. I do love me a clean bathroom and kitchen.
10. Chlorine. More specifically, the way I smell when I get out of the pool. Sometimes (when I swim regularly) I start to smell like this all the time, no matter how many showers I take. I actually really like smelling like the pool. I remember the first time I sat in my car on a hot day the day after a particularly long and hard workout. I sniffed and thought, did I leave my towel in here? Looked around. Nothing. Sniffed again. It was me. In that moment I felt so tough, I can't even tell you.
Favorite smells? Anyone? I know I can't be alone in my love for Dove...
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
What the hey...
I'm home sick (again) for the next two weeks, Natalee tagged me, so I thought, what the hey. Here it goes.
Rules:
List 3 joys, 3 fears, 3 goals, 3 current obsessions/collections, 3 facts about yourself. Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog!
Joys:
1. The perfect cookie at the perfect time with the perfectly chilled glass of milk.
2. Being with my family at the beach.
3. The temple.
Fears:
1. Becoming so self-absorbed in my own problems that I forget about others.
2. Losing my parents.
3. The world suddenly running out of cookies.
Goals:
1. Develop better recall of the things I read.
2. Perfect Kate's cookies.
3. Get well enough to run a race by the end of the year.
Current obsessions/collections:
1. I picked up my mom's habit of keeping every spare button I come across.
2. Cookies.
3. Writing in my journal.
Facts about myself:
1. You make me cookies, I be your friend.
2. My house is always immaculate, my room a complete disaster.
3. I love deeply.
Um, I tag Cherie, Ali E., Kim W., Janey, and Melinda S. But you don't have to if you don't want to.
Rules:
List 3 joys, 3 fears, 3 goals, 3 current obsessions/collections, 3 facts about yourself. Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog!
Joys:
1. The perfect cookie at the perfect time with the perfectly chilled glass of milk.
2. Being with my family at the beach.
3. The temple.
Fears:
1. Becoming so self-absorbed in my own problems that I forget about others.
2. Losing my parents.
3. The world suddenly running out of cookies.
Goals:
1. Develop better recall of the things I read.
2. Perfect Kate's cookies.
3. Get well enough to run a race by the end of the year.
Current obsessions/collections:
1. I picked up my mom's habit of keeping every spare button I come across.
2. Cookies.
3. Writing in my journal.
Facts about myself:
1. You make me cookies, I be your friend.
2. My house is always immaculate, my room a complete disaster.
3. I love deeply.
Um, I tag Cherie, Ali E., Kim W., Janey, and Melinda S. But you don't have to if you don't want to.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Cookies
I've had some serious cookie cravings this week. Serious ones. Enough to kill an entire package of Oreos with the help of only a couple of friends. The fact that I resorted to store-bought cookies is a sign of serious desperation. And it hasn't stopped at cookies. It extended earlier this week to a shameful consumption of cupcakes someone left in the kitchen at work. I don't even like cake, and yet there I was with my piggy hands, sneaking them away two-at-a-time like some awful closet eater (which I'm not). Just yesterday I had my nose practically pressed up against the display case at the Starbucks in our building, trying to decide which cookie was going to satisfy my desire. I must have looked pretty pathetic because my boss walked in and ordered his usual afternoon cappucino and paid for my cookie while he was at the register. On our way back up in the elevator he asked me which kind I got. I said chocolate chip. He said he thought for sure I was going to go for the M&M one. Sadly, he was right. I made a last-minute switch. I should have stuck with my gut instinct, but I made the mistake of considering the molasses one at the last minute and I got confused! I knew if I tried to choose between the M&M and the molasses I would end up getting both so I panicked and decided to go with a different cookie altogether. It was a rookie move. It ended up being a small step above the Oreos, about on par with the cupcake, and a huge step below Kate's homemade magic. [sigh]
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