2013 Thus far...

A few weeks after the Forever 21 excursion, I packed my finds into my luggage and headed West. ALL the way west to hang out with two of my best friends in San Diego, California.   Leaving gray, cold, sleety, Maryland to meet up for a girls trip with my two best friends was just what I needed to get me though the winter.  We went hiking, shopped at the street market and consumed the best sushi I had ever had. 

I don't have an official "bucket list," but while sipping a white wine over looking the Pacific Ocean at the Hotel Del Coronado, I realized I was fulfilling one of the items on the mental bucket list .  In my teens, I was obsessed with Baywatch and had great aspirations to become a lifeguard though I didn't swim well and my eyesight was completely dependent on coke bottle thick glasses. All the same, when the Baywatch gang went to the Hotel Del Coronado and Summer was haunted by a ghost I knew I would visit one day.  So there I was relaxing with some of my favorite people in the world rocking my faux Chanel and then of course there was this chick at the table next to us in real Chanel. Do'h! I looked like this.

I arrived back ready to concur the world.  Or, at least the last few weeks of winter. A couple of days later however, my last surviving grandparent passed away. Rationally, my Grandmother had suffered for far too many years from severe dementia and I am grateful she is at peace. But it's still death and it's still my Mom's Mom and it was and is hard. 

Have you ever heard elders speak of death almost casually in passing and wonder if it's something you get used to? Does it get easier, or is it a matter of circumstance? As I am fortunate enough to have only attended four funerals in my life, this was only the second with an open casket. I was fully traumatized at the first when my Grandfather looked absolutely, positively nothing like himself.  It's scary, and icky and unnatural but this time, the strangest thing happened. As my sister and I stood behind my Mom as she knelt in front of her mother, I forced myself to look at my Grandmothers face. After years of wearing panic stricken expressions from her dementia, her face was relaxed. She finally looked untroubled. She even looked like more like the Grandmother I had known many years ago. I don't know if it made it easier, but I did feel a sense of relief and calm for her. 

Calendar wise, spring is here, but weather wise, Maryland hasn't gotten the memo. I didn't follow through (yet) on my "Couch to 5k app" due in part to cold temps, family distractions and few minor illnesses. Tomorrow, I'm starting a 6 week boot camp class with some of the girls at work, so I anticipate that will kick start stupid running again. Running is so stupid, but I have a few pounds in the middle to loose so I WILL start and finish the app this spring. 

Surviving Forever 21

Clothes shopping for travel is pretty much all part of the preparing process for me. I need fresh karma free clothes. After having no luck at my usual stores, I begrudgingly entered the depths of Forever 21 on a Saturday afternoon.  I knew there would be 'tweens dressed alike, all up in my way looking at the things I wanted to see. Boyfriends with glazed eyes would block my view of the one chambray that was slightly different from the five I already had in my grasp.  Mother/daughter duo's would argue about sizes delaying my approach to the leggings I surely didn't need. If I made it through all this, and actually decided to buy some "disposable" clothes in a size XL as would surely be needed in such an establishment, there would still be the dreaded check-out.

These thoughts were quickly forgotten as within seconds I spied an Elvis Presley shirt. The fact of the matter is, I secretly adore Elvis. His story, his smile, his music, his moves, and his terrible, terrible movies. Even his sad and untimely, but glamorous demise. (Yeah, I just said that. What?!)  Without hesitation, I snatched that shirt with the image of Elvis singing sometime after he was gorgeous, but before the alcoholism had completely taken over. An in-between period you rarely see.  I would wear it with leggings, or maybe bright skinny jeans. It would be mine and I would not care if it embarrassed my friends. 

From there, it was long flowing shirts, bright flowers, a few palm trees. My second favorite find was a cream and black vintage Chanel inspired sweater which would match everything in an ironic kind of way.  I broke down and got on the chambray bandwagon because the color and price was just right. 

The accessory section lured me in, but I practiced extreme self control and only purchased two hair adornments which I fully intend to wear. Probably. 

I'm fully prepared for travel. And now, we wait. 

I managed to buy a fully interchangeable, layer-able vacation wardrobe for the first time ever. 

A Day at the Ranch

When my alarm sounded *Monday morning on my day off, I was in no hurry to get up. In fact, I briefly considered going back to sleep, but suspected the day ahead would be worth the early start.

We arrived at Kurt and Kristi's at 9 a.m. and after a quick stop at Cross Street Market in Baltimore for breakfast, coffee and a fresh fish as a gift, we were on our way. An hour or so later we found ourselves in Western Maryland at a cattle ranch. We slowly navigated up a driveway while curious cows casually blinked at us.

I was slightly apprehensive but curious about our adventure. After watching a few too many documentaries on the treatment of cattle and chickens, I do try to buy free range, but even then I wonder. Kurt and Kristi had told us all about this ranch where they had purchased a whole cow and wanted us to get the full experience.  We were kindly greeted by the owners, Celia and her husband along with their giant, white Samoyed dogs who lazily followed us along for the tour. It was cold, really cold, but the sun was shining and it felt good to be outside.

A gorgeous winter day in western MD. 

Celia answered so many of our silly questions like, "how much do they weight?" and was so patient with our provacotive statements such as, "his tongue is like sand paper," (Nat) and "Look!!! He's poo-ing!!" (sadly, me) while we fed the cows and even the massive bulls. I felt special when I unknowingly fed a white calf who had never taken treats from anyone including Celia before.

Casper, taking his first treat ever!

They called me the "Cow-Whisperer" and all was good until "Pop" the head bull decided he liked me too. I gave him a treat as I was about to climb back out of the fence, but he followed me. I fed him another treat, backed away and proceeded to exit again. Pop and his long horns, (NOT just a clever named) followed me along with a couple of other calves.

Entering the fenced in area. 

"Um, guys. I'm starting to freak out a little bit," I said as I gave him another treat. Kurt, helpful as ever, offered little guidance, but filmed by minor panic attack quite enthusiastically. "Stay." I said to the bull after putting another treat in his mouth. No longer the cow-whisperer, Pop moseyed on towards me some more, while some other young calfs closed in as well.

I only have a picture of me with "Pop" behind the fence, but look at this massive animal.  It looks like I'm counting my fingers to make sure they are all still there. 

Eventually, I escaped from Pop, but not from another blonde moment. Heading back to the house several chickens clucked about.  "So these guys just have free ran---oh, free range," I caught myself. Celia smirked and said that yes, they came and went as they pleased and were only put away at night for their protection from foxes and the like. Not one to quit while I wasn't even ahead, I questioned. "But how do they know to come back? I don't think I would know how to find my way home." My friends and husband thought this was hilarious as I insisted, "if I was a chicken!!!" But seriously, who knew chickens were that smart?

In the end, we learned that girl chickens can lay an egg everyday without the help of any boy chickens. The boy is only needed to fertilize the egg to make chicks.

Adult field trips are just as fun as school field trips, if not more! If I were in class the day after the trip and the teacher was asking us our favorite part, she would write down,

Julie said,  "My favorite part was when the roosters came running for the bread from Celia."

Mini Long Horns

*I wrote this last January and I just got around to attaching the photos. I had the Monday off because I was working in retail at the time. Depression was overtaking me last winter and this day was just as bright and cheerful as the photos reflect. 

Maybe this time I'll be a runner, unless it's still stupid

Every few years, I decide I want to become a runner, before shortly thereafter deciding running is mindless and stupid. Unfortunately, in the last year, my near militant workout and clean eating lifestyle have deteriorated.  I walk young Brubeck a good 15 miles or so a week but that is the extent of my "work out." I also consume potato chips on the regular. (I mean, regular, regular. Everyday regular. Gasp.)

I just needed a little extra motivation to get back on track with my former figure. Yesterday, I impulse bought a pair of Nike Free Runners in the most obnoxious color I could find.  I downloaded the "Couch to 5K" app on my phone, leashed up Bruby and headed out the door.

We got through the first day. Nice and slow. You run one minute, and then walk two minutes. Repeat a few times.  My running minutes entailed dragging, encouraging and pleading with this 90 pound Great Pyrenees/Beagle mix to step up his meander to a slow trot. Let's just say, Brubeck was not impressed.

Today, we got hubs in on the action and it went a little better.  My boy would still rather stroll and sniff, but I'm hoping since the training starts out so slowly, he might ease into it...and maybe I will too.

Not really a year in review. Just kind of.

Blah, Blah, Blah. Nobody wants to hear a long winded version of how I'd all but lost my mind at the beginning of the year but made a slow and steady come back that involved very little alcohol, a lot of maturing and just a few Night Notes. Nobody. Nor does anyone care about what I resolve to do in 2013. So here is the brief version. 

I spent a lot of time with this guy. 

 A little bit of time on the water.

A little bit of time in Ocean City.

And nine whole blissful days in the Outer Banks in October.

The 2013 Goals are as follows:

Get back to a healthier lifestyle.

Get my muscles back.

Read and write more.

Keep a cleaner house.

Foster at least one dog.

Happy New Years!

Tell me whatcha want, what you really, really want...

After ten years years of strategically only working at establishments within a six mile radius of my house, and accidently switching jobs five times in just over a year, I have finally settled in with a very promising company. I've got six whole months under my belt, I'm still learning new things and my co-workers are great. Aside from the fact that sometimes I travel to Silver Spring and that stretch of the beltway can make it take forty five minutes to travel five miles, (horrors) the job is really good. If you want to know the absolute truth, I semi adore Silver Spring. It's busy, diverse and the lunch break shopping is fantastic.

Oxymoron that I am, my ultimate goal is to eventually move to either Savannah, Georgia or the Outer Banks in North Carolina. The polar opposite of snobbish downtown Silver Spring. I love that I don't have to make eye contact with anyone here, much less smile at a stranger, possibly resulting in added wrinkles earlier than necessary. (A VALID concern.) Don't get me wrong. I'm nice, I'm just not "southern, stop and talk to everyone in the grocery store "nice. Let's put it this way. My Victoria Beckham scowl comes naturally. I've got places to be (home) and little time for small talk.

Basically, I'm kind of still recovering from the sad state that I was in last year, but I'm evolving more than ever and the future looks good.

Hubs, strong coffee and cocktails over brunch.  A few of my favorite things

My other love and best friend. 

Coming of Age

As a child, family functions meant running from the moment company arrived and being wired well after they left.  It was hard to find time to show and tell them everything in the limited time alloted, but surely the louder I spoke and the faster we ran, the more likely we would be to cover it all. What was up with the boring adults though? They were always quietly sitting in the fancy dining room discussing tragically boring things such as curtains while sipping weird smelling beverages. Sometimes they would get up to check on something in the kitchen before sitting back down in the same place just talking.

I spent yesterday morning kayaking with my good friend Katie. We found glassy smooth Annapolis water and watched herons fly by as we drifted along chatting and soaking in the sun. 

By the time we arrived at Nat's sisters in the late afternoon for his nieces birthday dinner, I was pretty worn out from my morning. Heat was beginning to emanate not only from the tops of my legs, pink with fresh summer burn, but also sneaky other parts where I had poorly applied sunblock. 

Nonetheless, I retreated to the cool basement with hubs where we had our choice from an impressive selection of nerf guns with an equally impressive variety of ammunition. I dived behind overturned tables to shoot at my nephew and hid behind closet doors with my niece to take cover and shoot with precision. Brubeck barked and ducked having no understanding of the loud, fast paced game. It might be fun if it weren't so scary! Velcro bullets clung to my shirt. This was hard work.

Directions on teams and elaborate explanations of gun clips, amo, and even laser sites were given when I decided to check on Bru who was now whining at the top of the stairs. The Grannies and my sister in law were sitting quite civilized in the dining room sipping pineapple margaritas. Bumps, bangs and screeches were heard from the sweaty trio down below. "Come on Bruby," I said. "This is more our scene." 

Just like that, I was calmly hanging with the ladies, Bru at my feet, sipping adult drinks, discussing window heights and never more content. 

"I'LL TAKE THE OFFICE AND YOU GUARD THE SPARE ROOM!!!!! " shouted my husband from the basement.