From hot mess to happier mess

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

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

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

This picture makes me laugh so hard

I know where those eggs have been...

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

What a great weekend

What a poser....

What a great group to ride with!

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

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

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

Bed: 1. Julie: 3.

I hate it when my bed beats me.

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

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



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

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

I think Spring missed the memo

Dear Spring,

Today is March 20. Where are you?!

Warmest regards,
Freezing in D.C.

Seriously. How am I supposed to live like this?

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

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

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

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

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.

[sigh]

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



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

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.

Thursday's Wish

Thursday's Wish:

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

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

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

Jet lag

Sucks.

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

But it does.

4GB of RAM. Take that.

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

So last week I braved the dreaded Fry's.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sabbath Day Highlights

1. Most public dollar earned:

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

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

Julie: Uh, no.

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

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

Tom: [blank look]

Julie: What?

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

Julie: Right now?

Tom: Yeah.

Julie: Done. 

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

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

2.  Dinner Conversation:

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

Tom: --if I get married.

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

Tom: [blank look]

Brian: What?

Tom: Brian, what are you talking about?

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

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

[silence]

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

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

Julie: I was thinking the exact same thing.

3.  The dishes:

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

Brian: What?

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

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

Tom: [gives me his innocent face]

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

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

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

Tom: I do dishes all the time at home.

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

John: Look guys, I will do the dishes.

Julie: What?

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

Julie: And you will help him, Tom.

Tom: Fine.

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

Note to Self

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

I should start a support group

Really, I could start multiple support group given the myriad of quirks I possess, however, today I'm starting a support group for ladies with fine hair. I don't mean the "Dang girl, you look fine!" kind of hair, or the "How does my hair look?" "Your hair looks fine" kind of hair. I mean the kind of hair that doesn't obey unless you coax it with lots of product and hairspray, and even if by some miracle you manage to get it to do something, there's no guarantee it will stay there for longer than 20 minutes. I mean the kind of hair that looks stringy when it's too long, flat if it's too short, and "eh" anywhere in between. That's what I mean by fine hair. Those with fine hair tend to make lots of mistakes with said hair. Some of us are on an endless search for the product that will give our hair body without weighing it down. Some eschew all product in hopes the non-weight of product will miraculously produce bounce. Some of us have resorted to pixie cuts and pomade. Some find the perfectly stacked haircut that requires little maintanance and actually works. We all dream of having luscious locks--it ain't gonna happen, but we dream. And while holding onto those dreams, we sometimes resort to drastic measures.

Exhibit A: velcro/hot rollers.Hot rollers seem like a good idea to achieve body. You can hairspray your head all at once, roll the hair up, and leave them in until they cool and viola! Easy peasy. Wrong. Girls, if you have layered chin length hair or shorter do not give into this temptation. I repeat, do not give in.

Exhibit B: My hair at church yesterday.

I recently decided to invest in Exhibit A. My hair has reached that awkward length where I can't fit it into a satisfactory ponytail but it's long-passed the punking out phase. I decided hot rollers would be a nice break in the chin-length bob monotony. I WISH I had a picture of what it looked like when I took my hair out of the rollers. The only way I can describe it is medusa on top, mom on the bottom (if any of you have seen pictures of my mom, she has the most perfectly coifed hair - a.k.a. the proper use of velcro curlers).

Sadly I had chosen to give Exhibit A its trial run 15 minutes before I had to leave for church. I didn't panic. My hair, being oh so fine, usually calms down fairly quickly. Yeah...turns out that I've actually found some really great styling cream that I use (Bumble & Bumble products, though very expensive, are a Fine Hair Club member dream come true) and it worked like a dream with the hot rollers. Without boring you with the details, it was sort of a disaster and I didn't have any time to wet it down and start again. So I ran my fingers through it and said, well, serves me right in my vanity.

Exhibit C: Pomade.

It was already shaping up to be a little bit of a rough day aside from the hair. I took a little breather in the bathroom between sacrament meeting and Sunday School. I was fussing with the hair from hades when DeEtte walked in. She said my hair looked nice. I laughed and proceeded to complain about the disaster that was Exhibit A. What does she do? Not only does she commiserate with me about a velcro roller nightmare she once endured (she's a Fine Hair Club member herself), she pulled out pomade, hairspray and a pick. In 30 seconds flat I had a much tamer 'do that actually looked like what I had envisioned for the day. Why I didn't utilize this solution at home, I don't know. I think I was in too big of a hurry to realize I could fix it without starting over.

Exhibit D: The morning after.

Seriously, some day someone besides my roommmates will see the awesomeness of my morning hair after a day like yesterday. Again, wish I had the presence of mind to take a picture before I headed out for my run. Members of the FHC, UNITE!

In honor of 28 years...

I just pulled out my very first gray hair.

I've taped it to a post-it note.

I'm tempted to put it in my journal as a keepsake.

I now have a reason to keep dying my hair.

[sigh] It's been a long year.

"Sleep-a-fying"

I had a great time at home for Thanksgiving, but eventually all the germs caught up with me (I'm so glad we could all share). My 5-year-old niece Piper insisted that my brother (her dad) take a picture of me "sleep-a-fying" on "her" bed the afternoon I finally succumbed. I had no idea they were even in my room until I opened my email later that night with this picture in my inbox. Awesome.

I'm now trying to rejoin the land of the living. The blog postings will resume once the vertigo, congestion and cough subside.

[sigh] It's been a long year...

p.s. I was watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, just in case any of you were wondering...

Today's Battle

I sometimes love how there are moments of the pathetic in my life. I've tried to eradicate most of them, but sometimes I forget to be vigilant and fall victim to my own fixations. That's what causes the pathetic for me: fixation. I develop these habits, these patterns. I don't do them consciously, but once they're set, I'm doomed. I have to make a conscious effort to break them. One example: the holidays are here and therefore there are treats everywhere in our house. I know I have a hard time resisting when I'm home, so I made a new rule for myself: no treats at work. Who knew it was such a part of my afternoon routine?! It took three grueling weeks, but I finally broke the habit and am now no longer subject to the 3:30 gnawing. The sad thing is, even when it was going on I knew it was making me feel sluggish, but it was so engrained my routine that I had a hard time axing it. Anyway, I'm free from the vice, but you know what they say: something else will take its place if you're not careful. Well, careful I was not.

Two weeks ago it was my turn for the Costco run. I had the list and usually am pretty good about sticking to it, but I made the mistake of going before I had eaten dinner. I made a wrong turn looking for the olives and ended up in the chip aisle. Usually I am not tempted by chips, but I walked by the Cheez-Its and found my cart stopping.

"Cheez-Its," I thought. "Hmmm. I haven't had a Cheez-it in ages. This might be a fun snack to have in the house." Did I look at the nutrition information? Heck no. I just saw cheese and chip and purchased. In bulk.

To my credit, I have done very well with the Cheez-Its. A very small number of them accompany me on days when I bring a salad to work and that's the only time they are consumed. It offers a nice feeling of substance to an otherwise garden meal. The bad news: when you eat, food runs out, and yesterday I ran out of Cheez-Its.

Now, you'd think the solution to this problem would be easy. Except it's not. I hate grocery shopping. I hate Costco crowds. I hate Giant's setup. I hate Harris Teeter's parking. I loathe Shoppers' ghettoness. Consequently, Amy and I put off shopping until we can't take it anymore. Usually our breaking point is when I'm sitting on the floor in front of the pantry shelves yelling, "Amy! There's nothing to eat!" I mean, there's food there, but it would take effort, and even if we wanted to make the effort, we are missing just enough ingredients to not really be able to do much but eat a can of stewed tomatoes with pine nuts. Sick.

Add this fact to the part where we leave for the Thanksgiving holidays this week. Yes, we could get nonperishables before we leave, but that would require another trip to Costco or the regular grocery store upon our return. Heaven forbid we should have to go twice in one week. So we have to make do.

This morning I already pitched an internal fit about not having any Shredded Wheat to eat for breakfast. I was going to go hungry but my morning run won out and so I settled on oatmeal. (Side note: I usually love oatmeal, but this summer that was one of the only things I could eat. I think it might be years before I can eat oatmeal without a grimace.) After breakfast was solved, the next dilemma was lunch. I figured I should make a salad to use up the perishables that are left in the fridge, however, I hesitated. There were no Cheez-Its left. I decided not to worry, though. I had bought some the other day from the vending machine on 6 (when I forgot the baggie on the kitchen counter) so I decided I would just go down and buy some at lunch time. Well, noon came and my run-hunger was catching up with me again, so I went down to get my Cheez-Its. Bill in hand, I walk up to the vending machine only to find the Cheez-It slot was empty. "Arg!" I silently screamed. "Of course." (As if it was my firm's most ardent desire to deprive me of my snack.) So I walked back up the stairs and decided to try the 8th floor vending machine. Cold vending, no chips. Suck. Feeling slightly defeated, I decided to try the cafeteria on 10. Surely they would have them. No. Nothing. Totally robbed. What kind of office is this?! As I skulked back down the stairs, I decided to stop on 9, just for good measure...just in case. No dice.

I got back to my desk, which is on 7, and sat in front of my salad. I didn't want to eat it. I wanted the Cheez-Its that were supposed to go with it. I felt very dejected and a little bit foolish about my pathetic search for a lame cheesey chip. And all because of my dumb fixation on routine and taste and texture, and just as I was about to resign myself to eating the salad alone I remembered! The vending machine guide on our internal internet. I found one on 5 that I didn't try. I was feeling lukcy (read: hopeful) and so I took to the stairs once again. I almost got lost (I hate the 5th floor - hallways that lead to nowhere...) but at last I found the vending machine. I walked up, eyes bright with hope, and there they were: my very own bag of Cheez-Its. "Ha- HA!" I yelled, then looked around to see if had heard my exclamation. Ashamed, but with Cheez-Its in hand, I walked back to my desk and ate my salad with great satisfaction. Pathetic: yes. Determined: yes. Rewarded: Absolutely.

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.

TTC Hiatus

So, I've decided to take a little hiatus from the blog. It might be permanent, I don't know. I have some other projects I want to work on and will be focusing most of my energy on those. I hope this won't disappoint too many blog stalkers, friends, family, etc. In addition, I'm going to put the vault under wraps, so I'm taking it offline. Don't be offended if you get denied and think you didn't get an invite; I'm not inviting anyone. I just want to have the option of opening it back up at some point without losing all my data.

Thanks for all the support this year. It's been an interesting experiment and one that I might pick back up again sometime. We'll see.

Until then, here's to Tacos!

~Julie

Calvin may have had it right...

"Nothing helps a bad mood like spreading it around." ~Calvin

I feel better already. My apologies to my blog audience.

Meh

I know I've been blogging a lot lately but work has been slow and I've been feeling a little sassy. The sassiness caught up with me, though, and turned to a really foul mood sometime last night. I don't get in these moods very often, but when I do I hate it. I don't like feeling icky. I usually do everything in my power to squash it right away. Yesterday, however, I wallowed in the sick delight of a rotten mood for about an hour--tops--and then I was done. Maybe it's the indulgence that did me in...

I was doing mostly fine until I came home last night and started watching Hotel Rwanda. It's been on my list to see for forever, but it has always felt like one of those movies I needed to watch while someone holds me. I always want to watch those kinds of movies, but feel so vulnerable and sad during and after. Hence the need for human touch. Well, I really decided that three years was long enough to wait so I sucked it up and started watching it by myself. I think that's where I went wrong. I should never be allowed to watch these kinds of movies alone in my room with pop tarts (my current comfort food, and, last night, my dinner)...

I only got through about 20 minutes before I had to head to institute. By then I was beat from the day (when you get up at 5:30 it feels like bedtime should be around 8...) and not in the mood to have a somewhat remedial conversation about truth and revelation. Me=grumpy. I went home in a bad mood, went to bed in a bad mood, and woke up in a bad mood. I almost didn't go running this morning, but I knew to skip that was to subject myself to yet another reason to be disgusted with the day. So I went. Usually that is enough to dispel the mood. No dice. So I tried praying. Eh, marginal return (it was pretty proportional to my effort, really). I got a ride to the metro this morning. Nada. I got to work to discovery the tech guys had finally replaced my mouse. My pleasure lasted about as long as it took for me to discover that I no longer had to cajole my mouse to do its job. Once that was ascertained, my joy dissapated as I remembered I was at work. Zip.

I'm not sure what it's going to take. Maybe I need that hug after all. And maybe a kiss. And, while whoever's doing the hugging and kissing is at it, maybe a cookie as well.

Book Snob

Okay, I admit it. I'm a book snob. Someone once accused me of it and I was offended. And now I'd like to say I'm sorry I was offended. You were right.

Book recommendations are a tricky thing. My taste sometimes falls into mainstream and sometimes falls into quirky. Most of the time when people ask me for book recommendations I hem and haw until they get tired of waiting for me and end up changing the subject. In fact, I think I sort of bank on the fact that they won't wait for my response. Why? Because most of the time the books I love other people hate and it hurts my book self-esteem when someone bothers to come back and tell me they just couldn't get into one of my favorite books. I mean, it's fair enough. I find sort of random things funny. I identify with characters on strange levels and for strange reasons (they aren't strange to me...people just look at me real funny sometimes when I say what I really think about certain books. In grad school I could do this and be thought of as a valuable contributor to class. Now I'm just the local book snob.).

Well, here comes the snobbery for all to see because I have a rant. It's a rant against mediocre fiction. The last two books I have read have been terrible. Not just sort of bad, but really awful. Now, I do have to take some responsibility for my actions at this point. I have this annoying trait of finishing something I've started. I could have, at any point, put these books down. I was disgusted enough with them both that I should have. But I didn't. Why? Because I had to know if there was going to be any redeeming moment in them at all. I have this unfailing hope and faith that somewhere in the 400 pages of awfulness, evidence that an editor actually read the manuscript would come forth and the book would stop careening down the path of cliche and unoriginality!! I know this sounds harsh, but honestly, I want my time and money back. I'm not even going to admit which book was the first one I read. It's not even worth mentioning. All I can say is that I read it out of a "needed to know" obligation. The End.

The second book was a book by Shannon Hale, an author I really feel is very creative. I like her children's literature and have found it to be some of the most original and delightful fantasy I've come across (The Goose Girl and Enna Burning - the second one is particularly good). I recently came across a new-ish book she wrote in the non-kiddie section (I typed "adult section" but that sounded kind of wrong). I thought, hmmmm, and opened up the front cover. The prologue had me intrigued. It appeared to be about a girl who was obsessed over the Colin Firth version of Pride & Prejudice and was determined to rid herself of her fantasy obsession. The prologue was biting and I thought, ooooh, a good satire. I love a good satire. And since Hale had a good record with me, I bought it to take with me to the beach. What a disappointment.

The idea had such potential, but my biting satire instead turned out to be wish-fulfillment, and not even well done at that. I kept reading until the end, hoping for some ending other than the one I knew was coming. Even during the airport scene (which could have been so much funnier than it actually was) I kept thinking, there's no way this guy is getting on the plane. She wouldn't do that. But she does. I chucked the book across the room.

Now, please don't think I'm a cynic. I'm not. (I prefer to describe myself as an optimistic realist.) That being said, it's not that I didn't want the dude to get on the plane. There just wasn't nearly enough precedent for him to get on the plane. It was weird. It felt forced. I found myself examining my own writing, questioning what my own first story would be, if I were to finish writing it. Would it get caught in this weird place between satire and wish fulfillment? Maybe. Hopefully I'll have the good sense to never try and publish it. I'll lock it away in a drawer and pirate it for material 10 years down the road, not subject already vulnerable women to unlikely (and ultimately unentertaining) scenarios.

[sigh] Okay. Rant over. I'm returning to non-fiction for a while. I've had a lot of good luck with that genre this year, thanks to some excellent recommendations. (My friend, you know who you are, you have not failed me once. Thank you. You're at the top of my list. Don't blow it.)

N.B. I realize this may deter many of you from ever recommending a book to me again. That is not my intention. I love book recommendations. In all fairness I should point out that these books were not recommended to me. I chose them all by my lonesome. I wonder what that says about my own judgment... It reminds me of the time I rented P.S. I Love You and was mad the whole time and am still talking about how much I hated the movie.

Assignment: Please leave a comment about any of the following: Rants about books you hate/were disappointed in (and why - I'm curious). Praise for books you love (and why - I'm curious). What wish fulfillment literature does for you (love it? hate it? indifferent? it serves its purpose?). Or anything else you want to say (but try to be nice...or if you can't be nice, be articulate.)