jean's blog

Mile 20

2010-07-20T18:44:00.000-07:00

I feel a bit like I've hit the figurative mile 20. Many people say that when you hit mile 20 in a marathon, you hit a wall.
It started about 3 weeks ago; I felt unusually fatigued physically, but even more so mentally. My desire to go out for runs diminished, I overslept on several mornings, completely missing my alarm.Then on my last long run, I had excruciating pain in my left knee; I had to walk/jog the last 2 miles of a 17 1/2 mile run. I think it was a combination of dehydration, worn out shoes, and not being completely mentally in it.

At this point, I should be excited, I should be preparing, I should be grinning ear to ear, right? I've never planned a wedding, but I feel a bit like what I think most brides do leading up to the big day: I wanna get it over with already!

But that just seems like such a crappy way to enter into a race. After all the hard work and training I've put into this, I want to enjoy it! So, I'm guessing I need to do now what I'll need to do at mile 20. Take a sip of water, a bite of PowerBar, a deep breath of air, say a prayer, suck it up, smile, and just keep running.

UBC = Victory

2010-06-07T16:21:00.000-07:00

I drafted this post back in March, but never got around to finishing it. For many reasons, I find it relevant for my mindset today and specifically this week: It's IRON WEEK at the dojo, where I attempt to complete as many classes as possible, including a few days where I punch, kick and sweat it out in 3 classes.

Yesterday was a stunning success. Well, not stunning, because I've been working for this for 10 weeks. I dropped 10 pounds, 3% body fat, 5 inches off my waist and improved my pushups, situps, and flexibility. In addition, I ran a mile and a half in 11 minutes 40 seconds, which averages to about a 7:45 minute mile.
However cheesy it may seem though, what I learned along way was a much bigger achievement than any physical changes I've accomplished.

The power of visualization.
I used this technique not only during the mid- and final-assessments to keep my mind focused on my goals, but I used this EVERYDAY before EVERY workout. I never thought, "Hmmmm...How will today's workout be? Will I be tired since I didn't get much sleep last night?" Instead, I took a moment to think about what I was about to do and the kind of attitude I would need to bring to get over the physical and mental blocks that comes with every good workout.

Nutrition for life.
I'm still figuring this one out, and that's ok. My favorite theme in the program is "progress, not perfection."
My successful weight loss when I did UBC for the first time taught me exactly what I need to do to quickly lose fat. But how do I get to my optimum weight and then stay there? This time doing UBC, I focused on creating habits based upon my goal to eat well for a lifetime of fitness. Up next? The SF Marathon, which means I need to be a lean, mean, running machine. It used to be pretty easy to get away with eating crap one day and still training hard the next. But I'm now up to 20+ mile long runs. Trust me, it feels like a detox as empty calories, dehydration, and especially alcohol affect my body as I push myself. I'm getting much better at the forethought thing.

Recharge.
My old workout mantra used to be "push it." Now, it's "relax, focus."
It's possible for me to train my brains out, everyday, sometimes twice a day, without rest. But that'll last three weeks tops then, BAM! My body says "No more!"
I'm beginning to learn how to listen to my body and acknowledge that my mind needs a break, too. Running for 4 hours straight takes a lot of mental toughness; balancing it with down time, creative time, and most importantly, laughter, is more critical than ever before.

What’s going right?

2010-04-21T14:36:00.000-07:00

So many techniques and strategies that I use in physical fitness I find I can use in my personal and professional life.

This morning, I woke up in a sour mood. There was no reason for it, really – I simply didn’t want to get up. After a cup of coffee and a couple hours of work, I remembered a strategy I’ve found helps me during long runs. I ask myself the question: “What’s going right?” In other words, focus on the positive.

When running, sometimes my knee begins to ache. When I focus on the achy knee, then I notice my tight lower back, then I get irritated by my sports bra, then I need to change the song on my iPod…the list grows quickly.

I recognize this thought pattern and stop. Then I ask myself to find one thing that’s good. When I find that one thing, guess what? The good list, just like the bad one, grows quickly.

So today, when I was feeling low, I stopped and looked at the roses my parents sent me last week after the ½ marathon. Life can’t be that bad when you have parents like that (and I’m healthy enough to participate in running events).

I downloaded the picture I took with Billy Blanks, the inspirational, motivational, butt-kicking, calorie-burning, amazingly down-to-earth creator of Tae Bo. I trained with him for the first time last Saturday (wow was it intense!). My smile says it all. Life is good!

I ran 13 miles and all I got was this artichoke

2010-04-16T15:01:00.000-07:00

I like to call people names during races. Not in a mean-spirited way, but definitely in a competitive way.

Last weekend was the Artichoke Run, the third half marathon I've done, and this one was the most challenging, yet most rewarding so far.

I started the name calling with "Mexico" a young man wearing a Mexico soccer jersey. He was running at my pace for the first 3 miles, which included an uphill battle along Pescadero Road, featuring 40 mph wind gusts and a steady rain. I wanted to beat him. Somewhere between the turnaround for the 10K-ers and the turnaround for us, though, he picked up his pace and just kept getting faster.

Push it! Running the last few yards of the Artichoke 1/2 Marathon in Pescadero

There was also "Stompy." He annoyed the bejesus out of me. After about 4 miles on Pescadero Road, we turned around. The wind was at my back and I found myself sprinting downhill. Soon we turned onto a smaller road, surrounded and protected my massive Redwood trees. Stompy had a very different running strategy than mine. He would run at about a 8:30 or 9 minute mile pace for a half mile or so, then walk for a bit, then run again. I wouldn't have been so annoyed if 1) we weren't constantly passing each other and 2) he didn't stomp and tilt forward like a1 year old learning how to walk. I mean, that can't be good for your joints, right? On top of it, he was wearing a poncho which flapped in the wind (his other name was "Flappy").

The "Loud Girls" were nice enough, but I got tired of listening to their boring conversation, so I passed them. Ha!

"Black Clothes" was my target. I passed her and her friend along the Redwood trail, but she had a burst of speed and passed me during the last 2 miles. I held back for a bit, starting to feel the mileage, and her friend passed me a 1/2 mile later.

All of a sudden I thought, "Jean, this is when it counts - not the first mile, but the last mile!" Yeah, I know...cheesy. But it worked. I passed her friend and set my sights on Black Clothes, now a good quarter mile ahead. I pushed and pushed, sprinting full force once we came around the last bend and the tiny town of Pescadero's flashing red stop light was in sight. I never caught up to her, but I definitely narrowed her lead.

The most inspirational person was "Old Guy." I'll offend my older readers, I realize, but that's what I called him. He was likely in his late 60s, maybe 70s and boy, did he have a kick at the end. I even told him at the finish line how impressed I was with his energy burst.

There was also Jean Machine. Not wind, nor rain, nor miles could stop her. I'd say that's pretty inspirational, too.

New Mexico, part 2: Santa Fe and Albuquerque

2010-04-05T20:45:00.000-07:00

The drive to Santa Fe was a bit touch and go – a big winter storm was moving through the region and we were in a white pickup truck in an almost white out snowstorm. Sean handled White Lightning like a pro and by the time we arrived, the sun was shining and Santa Fe was covered in a pretty layer of powder.

They really shouldn't let people like me have a mallet to ring a bell that's older than this country.

Full of artists, [wealthy] hippies, and Native American culture-lovers – Santa Fe is sort of the Monterey of the Southwest. It’s home to Canyon Road – the greatest concentration of art galleries per square mile – in the world.

Beautiful designs made with colored sand

The best part of Santa Fe is its size. The downtown/oldtown area included the incredible staircase in Loretto Chapel, an open-air market of American Indian jewelry and art, the bell of San Miguel (inside the oldest church in America), and plenty of interesting shops and restaurants.

The "Miraculous" Staircase in Loretto: Built with no central support

On a brisk morning, Sean and I explored one of the Dave Ball hiking trails. He tried to teach me how to read a hiking map, but I decided things would go a whole lot better if he just took care of leading the way. That and trail was icy – I wanted him to find all the slippery spots.

Almost all buildings in the area are adobe style and color, making them blend into the landscape.

Several Indian art/culture museums are clustered “Museum Hill,” where. And only a few miles more was Bobcat Bite, home of the best green chili cheeseburger I’ve ever tasted.

San Miguel - adobe walls built in 1610

The oatmeal stout at 2^nd Street Brewery was delicious and I won the who can handle the spiciest chilies at the Horseman’s Haven Cafe. That sauce was HOT!

Our experience in Albuquerque was the result of being tired from a week of traveling [i.e. I was grumpy], some not so nice weather [i.e. hurricane-force winds], and it being the off season [i.e. a ghost town]. Also, don’t stay at the America’s Best Value Inn Downtown. Just…don’t.

Red chilies drying in Albuquerque's Old Town covered walkways

Old Town was cute, as in small, and it felt forced to go into yet another old church, another gift shop, another rattlesnake museum….wait, what? Yes, a rattlesnake museum. We went into the gift shop area and decided life would be ok without seeing 50 different varieties of poisonous snakes.

Unique building in Albuquerque. Do you see any people in this photo? Yeah, we didn't either...

The “Nob Hill” district (did they copy San Francisco?) of Albuquerque, just south of the University along Route 66 included a few trendy shops and restaurants, but wasn’t particularly intriguing when we visited Friday afternoon.

Old Town, Downtown, and Nob Hill districts all run along historic Route 66, or Central Ave. in Albuquerque

And we when walked around downtown Saturday morning, we found only a handful of businesses open – it was deserted! We did find a great little coffee shop – The Daily Grind - and the very popular [but I think perhaps overhyped] brunch spot – the Grove Market and Café.

Note my fantastic silver feather earrings I bought in Santa Fe. Also note our huge smiles.

In all, it was an adventure – meeting Sean’s friends, seeing new places, learning that I need to chill out when we don’t have exact directions. Thank God Sean makes me laugh.

Before flying out, we hung out at the airport’s viewing lot, where you can park your car and watch the planes take off and land. My stomach hurt and I didn’t want to say goodbye.

New Mexico, part 1: Roswell, Portales, and Las Vegas

2010-03-31T13:35:00.000-07:00

Sean often pokes fun of New Mexico, where he’s currently going to school. The state motto is “The Land of Enchantment,” but he shared with me the local’s real motto that it’s the “Land of Entrapment.”

New Mexico has the third highest poverty rate in the

, so I suppose people are trapped by simply being unable to afford to move away.

I wouldn’t describe New Mexico as enchanting, but I sort of felt like it was the desert’s answer to Hawaii. Cities are small, surrounded by vast amounts of open land, rather than water. Locals are a mix of white, natives, and immigrants, and there’s no sense of hurry: Sean told me about the “mañana” syndrome, or the sentiment that it’ll get done tomorrow. It’s both frustrating and appealing, he said. There’s great beauty in that simplicity, but it sometimes makes a backward-ness about the place.

He told me he came in peace

I flew into Roswell on a tiny American Eagle commuter jet, full of kids returning from spring break to the New Mexico Military Institute, one of the country’s best high school/jr. college private military prep schools. The “airport” was the size of a large house and the “gate” resembled the back door.

New Mexico Military Insitute's mascot, the Bronco, in front of the unique fortress-style architecture

Roswell is a decent-sized town by New Mexico standards: 45, 000 people and as you’d expect, full of alien memorabilia, designs, and mentions. The local Arby’s sign states that aliens are welcome, and street lamps are in the shapes of alien heads/faces.

Note that Arby's welcomes all beings

We walked through the museum and took a tour of the Military Institute. I found the school more interesting…

A shot of Lea Hall on the NMMI campus, founded in 1891

Next on our trip was Portales, home of Eastern New Mexico University. Sean’s dorm is actually a nice apartment on a small and well-maintained campus. It was quiet (okay, deserted) since it was Spring Break, but a couple of his friends were around for an impromptu steak fajita feast.

I went for a run and found myself out of breath. I wondered why I was feeling to tired until I found out that despite the deceptively flat area, Portales is actually at 4,000 feet. For you Bay Area folks, that’s 200 feet higher than Mt. Diablo. I didn’t feel as lame after I learned that.

Sean's dorm, after a big snowstorm in January; it was in the 70s when I was there!

We drove up to Las Vegas (New Mexico) where we watched the ENMU baseball team lose, quite painfully, to Highlands University. Las Vegas has a nice downtown area with a old west style plaza, but the best part of the trip was meeting Sean’s friends and them telling me how wonderful I am for him. C’mon, who wouldn’t love that? Sean, are you listening?

Photos by yours truly and Sean Manzi

Sunday Sermon

2010-03-08T08:07:00.001-08:00

I pray to the church of running. I wake up at 7 am on Sundays to hydrate, stretch and run. And run. And run. Yesterday 9.5 miles. Next week 11. And next month, I'll be running further than I ever have in my life.

Runs like yesterday's make me wonder, how can anyone NOT like running? You get in a groove, forget you're even moving. I ran along the American River bike trail - birds chirping, sun shining, rowers shouting on Lake Natoma. Bikes whizzing by, runners waving a friendly, "good morning!"

To think - I could have slept in - could have gone to the donut shop. I didn't. I ran. And ran. And ran instead.

San Francisco Marathon

2010-03-04T18:29:00.000-08:00

The San Francisco Marathon is only about 20 weeks away and I'm signed up.

Today I came across a New York Times feature called Running Voices, profiling runners of all ages and backgrounds, and experience.

Emily Schaller is 27 and has cystic fibrosis. At the time the article was written, she was training for a marathon and had plans to do a half marathon in every state.

Every time I feel like quitting, I may want to think about her.

Quote of the Day

2010-02-08T19:58:00.000-08:00

It's easy to call out other peoples' delusions. It matters much more to call out our own.

Penelope Trunk: Check-up for self delusion

Changing lanes

2010-02-02T19:24:00.000-08:00

I was driving home tonight and found myself behind a large coach bus.

I changed lanes, increasing my speed, then...BRAKE! A slower car cut in front of me while the coach sped on ahead next to me.

Changing back to the lane I was in, I found myself behind the bus once again, going slower than I'd wanted.

Normally at this point, I curse, or at least feel instantly anxious. But a new thought occurred to me.

"Jean. You don't need to change lanes. There's no hurry."

Ha.

I was struck by how applicable that thought was in several aspects of my life.

Sometimes, you need to change lanes. Sometimes, the lane you're in will get you where you need to go, but maybe not at the speed you want. Sometimes, there's a giant bus in the way. But if you pay attention and check the mirrors, you'll get there. No problem.

Cabin fever

2010-01-17T22:32:00.000-08:00

After an almost sleepless night Friday (that's a whole other story...) I woke up ready to take on my Saturday UBC workout with a positive attitude. It was the best way to start a fun, relaxing, and tempting weekend; I headed down to the Santa Cruz mountains to stay at a friend's family cabin. There was a warm fire, friends, kids, and A LOT of food and wine.

The worst part was the cookies - they opened the box and I got a whiff. It's like crack. But I stuck to it.

I felt a bit awkward eating chicken breast and an orange while others had German chocolate cake; then enjoying my salad and tuna when everyone else was eating steak and bacon-laced roasted vegetables.

In the end, it wasn't that hard - I told everyone what I was doing and stuck to it. In fact, I find the most difficult times are when I'm alone. No one's looking... But, eventually, I will face the truth. The scale, the way my jeans fit - those don't lie.

Today was "playday" - a day in which I can eat and drink whatever I please. First on my list? Coffee. It was delicious. Going off of it made me enjoy it and savor ever sip, rather than gulp down cup after cup as per my usual morning ritual. The light bulb went on. That's why this program has a "playday".

I'd almost forgotten. It's not just about resting, mentally and physically, it's about remembering how to enjoy food and beverages rather than gorge on them without a second thought.

As I take on week two, I'm committed to paying more attention to my food preparation and enjoyment, rather than seeing it as a means to an end.

Pantsless Subway Ride 2010

2010-01-14T11:42:00.000-08:00

“Why are you doing this?!” a man in a suit and tie, desperately asked me.

“Because life’s too short to wear pants.” I responded, then laughed.

How could you not laugh while marching with hundreds of other San Franciscans, pantsless, around the Powell St. station?

I was participating in the 9^th annual Pantless Subway Ride, an event started by Improv Everywhere, a group out of New York.

There’s no reason behind it other than, well, why not? I sometimes take myself (and my life) too seriously. So I figured going out in public without any pants would be a great way to get outside of my comfort zone. It worked.

I wasn’t brave (or stupid?) enough to wear a thong, or even briefs as many people did. Instead, I wore a pair of short boxers and my long coat. In fact, I was wearing more than I would to a day at the beach. But it was also around 55 degrees out.

I walked, along with two brave friends (sporting bloomers and frilly panties), around the Mission to the 16^th St. BART station, exit at Embarcadero, then paraded down Market Street with other revelers.

A couple of participants created banners promoting the “down with pants” motto using symbols and stick figures.

The police blocked off the Powell St. BART station (I think they were afraid we would be riling up the certifiably crazy people around there), so we walked up Powell to Union Square, where everyone took pictures and admired each others’ costumes (one man sported a –ahem- stuffed “chicken” on top of his underwear).

From there, we broke from the group and headed over to the Irish Bank, a nearby pub that had no problem serving people wearing no pants (in fact, on waiter joined in on the fun).

We met an adorable couple, and upon hearing our explanation of the event, the young man proceeded to take off his pants, leaving his female companion speechless and taking pictures with her iPhone. I was impressed with him and everyone that spontaneously joined – I at least had a week to work up the nerve.

The most surprising revelation I had that day though, was body acceptance. Seeing everyone's junk made me a lot less critical of my own. After viewing enough cellulite, paleness, and hairiness to last me a lifetime, I thought, if all these "imperfect" people can have so much fun without self-consciousness, why can't I?

UBC - my first challenge

2010-01-09T11:02:00.000-08:00

My refrigerator broke.

After defrosting the freezer (to make room for healthy veggies, proteins, and carbs for my UBC program) I turned it back on and began coughing uncontrollably. An oily gas started leaking from the tube that lines the freezer portion of my fridge/freezer combo.

Turns out it's bad to inhale coolant. I felt what I believe someone with asthma feels like; luckily it was only temporary.

I'm not sure what's worse: Admitting that I was defrosting my freezer on a Saturday night, or dealing with this new challenge I never anticipated.

You see, the UBC course I've signed up for requires a commitment to eating fresh fruits and vegetables, healthy carbohydrates, and lean proteins. Unfortunately, very few of these are shelf stable, so I'm left to discover exactly how resourceful I am until my refrigerator is repaired or replaced.

I could let this be an excuse to complain, whine, or argue that I don't really need to start until I get a fridge. But I believe that this is just a test.

When it happened, my mind raced "should I keep my groceries at work?," "can I figure out where to find healthy pre-made meals?" I felt under pressure to make some decisions. Quick.

Then it hit me. My old apartment, just 2 blocks away, is still empty and under the care of my friend Nikki. She'll give me the key and access to the fridge.

Yeah, it's going to be less convenient to walk over there, but it's actually a blessing: 1) It'll force me to plan ahead and 2) It's a big barrier to eat anything beyond my plan. Mindless eating will definitely not happen.

I've done UBC before, but this occurrence has made me sure that this time will be different. There will be a new set of challenges, a new set of accomplishments, and I have a feeling, will require a new level of commitment. Bring it on.

***

I enjoyed re-reading my posts about doing UBC in the fall of 2008. In case you would too, here they are:

Are all women about to jump off a cliff?

2009-12-04T16:07:00.000-08:00

Seems like that’s what a flurry of new studies, articles, and opinion posts are saying.

An article on Elle.com contends that it’s been a “long, slow disappointment,” that women who fought for equal rights decades ago thought we’d be, well, equal by now.

The most talked about inequality is in the workplace: A UC Davis report found that of Califorina’s 400 largest public companies, only 15 had a female CEO and 118 had no female board members or executive officers.

The outspoken ladies on ABC’s The View discussed their theories, which included the fact that women today are expected not only to be successful in their careers, but to continue to be the primary childcare giver and run the home.

Marcus Buckingham’s piece on the Huffington Post pulls in happiness data by age and gender; not only do women become less happy as they get older, but men tend to become happier.

Buckingham’s follow-up post suggests that perhaps women are simply more honest now than they were years ago when asked similar happiness/satisfaction questions.

But above all else it seems, Buckingham’s theory hinges on the fact that women are much more stressed and much less focused on a single role than they were 40 -50 years ago. Women think their kids want more time with them, kids it turns out, just want their moms to have more energy and less stress.

So what are women stressed out about? For one, there’s a lot of pressure to be successful in their careers. After all, we’ve still got a long way to go to be “equal” to men in leadership roles in business and government.

My question is why does the success of women’s equality need to be defined only by how far up women move in a company?

There are a lot of great reasons why women should never want to be equal to men; crime rates are probably the best illustration of that. There’s got to be a mix of biology and society that causes women to commit fewer and less violent crimes than men. Isn’t that a success? Why don’t we study how to get men down to the crime rate of women?

Or how about women’s rate of enrollment in colleges and universities? Women passed men as the majority of students in the early ‘90s. We should declare victory for achieving that and continuing to climb percentage-wise. And shouldn’t men be trying to figure out why they aren’t attending?Women also face the pressure to be “beautiful” which of course shifts as the decades pass, but they nevertheless are expected to conform. And women will be the first to say that they spend hours on their hair, put on makeup, strap on heels, and spend loads of money on nice clothes all to gain attention and admiration from other women more than men.

Singer Nelly Furtado’s “Maneater” captures this jealousy/desire sentiment precisely: “Hey everybody look at me / […] You either wanna be with me or be me.” It’s all a giant competition. Didn’t women actually support each other at one time? The fact that I’m more likely to get into a catfight than make a new friend when I go out certainly doesn’t make me happy.

So what’s a girl to do? Well, I think ‘doing’ is actually the problem. Women (and men) get caught in the cycle of believing they’ll gain satisfaction through doing and acquiring things: The next promotion, a nice home, marrying, losing weight, getting out of debt, having children, etc. How about we just enjoy and feel blessed as we are instead of putting off happiness until the next goal or step? It’s cliché, but the more you have, the more you have to lose and boy do we have a lot these days. That’s got to cause a lot of anxiety about all those “what ifs."

What do you think the cause of this dip in happiness is?

Blomo Thanksgiving 2009

2009-11-28T11:54:00.000-08:00

It's been a year of blessings for the Blomos and we celebrated the best way we know how:

Jim worked out on the back porch to Jillian's Michael's 30-day Shred.

No weights? No problem. He used rocks - we Blomos are resourceful like that.

My dad changed my oil and rotated my tires.

Don't worry - he was happy to do it since I made him shortbread cookies in return.

Before chowing down, I did the 10k Run to Feed the Hungry with my friend Michelle. And I don't have the official results, but we think we beat last year's time.

I'm thankful for a lot of things this year, including the fact that I have enough money to pay for my registration, unlike the idiot that stole my sticker off my license plate. Idiot.

While we indulged in our tradition of watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy, I handed out some cocktails - Jim enjoyed a White Russian.

Dad sipped on his Long Island Ice Tea and my mom commented she was feelin' her rum and coke.

Being the classy lady I am, I made myself a gin martini with some olives. Yum!
Mama Blomo made everybody's favorite - sweet potatoes. And this year, we went non-traditional with salmon and duck instead of turkey.
And here's the family portrait - not sure why mom's squinting so hard. Note that the two most important components of the meal - the salad and the wine - are close to me. And see the pink roses? Those are from my dad to my mom to celebrate their 30th anniversary. We are blessed indeed.

Where are they now?

2009-11-22T19:38:00.000-08:00

Do you watch NBC’s The Biggest Loser?

I usually catch the end of each week’s episode and it takes me back to when I participated in the Ultimate Body Challenge. And was it a challenge! But it was also a success.

Next week’s Biggest Loser episode will feature the show’s previous ‘Losers,’ including one contestant that apparently has back on the weight they lost.

What’s the difference between someone who keeps the weight off and someone who gains it all back…and then some? I think it has something to do with the word ‘maintenance.’

Let’s say “Joe” set a weight loss goal of 50 pounds and reached it. “OK,” Joe says, “Now I need to maintain this weight.”

But what incentive does he have to stay at that weight? The only tool he has to measure his success and failure is his scale. And his confidence, and possibly happiness is tied to the numbers on it. How depressing is that?

What if, instead of number of pounds, Joe decided to train for a 5k. After the 5k, Joe trains for a half marathon and starts weight lifting at the gym. He finds that salads and fresh fish make him feel a whole lot better during his training than the Big Macs he used to eat. Then Joe takes up biking and swimming, and in a year, he finishes a triathlon.
He doesn’t need to take his blood pressure meds any more and his doctor tells him he’s no longer pre-diabetic. Joe has lots of reasons to keep training and improving his fitness and nutrition.

The point of my example is not that you shouldn’t focus on losing weight or that you need to train for competitions to be healthy. The moral of the story is that life isn’t about maintenence, it’s about defining the next goal, confronting the next challenge, and being an active pursuer of your next success.

Would you work your ass off at your job to get a promotion, then, in your new position say “Gee, let’s see how I can stay here the rest of my career!” Heck no! You’d celebrate your success, then figure out how to be good at your new position and begin working towards the next promotion.

It seems a bit overwhelming, right? Like you can’t ever stop working at it. Well, it’s true. It can be overwhelming. I’ve had times when I felt completely burnt out. It’s a constant balancing act of pushing yourself and enjoying your accomplishments, something I’m still learning how to do.

Whatever doesn't kill you...

2009-10-04T16:02:00.000-07:00

My splits say it all. I started strong in the first 5k, running an 8:56-minute mile. I felt great; the past few days I stayed away from coffee, alcohol and sugar, and ate tons of vegetables, protein, and drank lots of water.

But I was running so fast that I didn't adhere to my original plan: sip of water and bite of food (I brought apple bites and almonds) every 1/2 mile. That strategy worked well for my 1st 1/2 marathon in Alameda back in May but I was so focused on speed I didn't give myself the chance to warm up and by the time I ran out of fuel (around mile 5 or 6) I couldn't recover.

By that time, my brother, who had started behind me, had caught up. We took a quick bathroom break (another error: should've gone again right before starting). He quickly moved ahead and I kept slowing down.
I did finally come to my senses and re-hydrated both at the water stations and with my own water bottle, as well as started eating my snacks.

The irony was that what I was most worried about, my knees, specifically my right, didn't hurt at all. My calves on the other hand truned into rock-solid blocks of tightened muscles.
But what was truly amazing was my mental state: I was so strong! I knew exactly what was going on and I pulled myself through it. I even smiled. I waved at the 14 bands along the way: A high school marching band, a rock band covering Pink's "So What", an old-school do-woop group, and 2 cheerleading teams. We wound our way through downtown San Jose, Japantown, a beautiful neighborhood. Kids and adults cheering and waving and giving high-fives.

The race seemed to go by quickly; I focused on enjoying the experience and frankily, learning from my mistakes rather than punishing myself for them. That's not to say I wasn't disappointed. I fished 4 minutes slower than my personal record. Ugh. I hate writing that. When you don't meet a goal, you either give up, or you keep going. I guess this means I need to run another 1/2 marathon...

P.S. A big congrats to my big brother who completed his first 1/2 marathon! Go Jim!

Le grand tour

2009-09-05T18:17:00.000-07:00

Thanks for your positive feedback about my Picture Post: Around the hood! I received few requests to see inside my studio, so please join me on a quick tour (after all, it's a studio).

Bedroom/Living Room:I was surprised by how much fit in this room; my (full) bed, futon/couch, coffee table, armoire, dresser and desk.The side of the room has a bench-type built in. I originally thought I'd set it up with some cushions for seating, but my bookshelves, mirror, and TV fit nicely on it, and it serves as a night stand next to my bed as well.
The armoire came with the studio; it's really beautiful and just barely fits my hanging clothes. I find studios are a great way to down size and figure out what you really need!
What I like best about this place is the kitchen. Full gas stove, large refrigerator and a nice deep sink. The cabinets provide all the storage I could need and then some.
The bathroom is in great condition, too; it includes a pretty pedestal sink, strong pressure shower and even a full bathtub!Here's a closeup of the wallpaper. It's a nice maroon color with gold emblem sort of designs.
They're nice until you put it over all wall surfaces. It took some...er...getting used to. Now, when I'm bored, I cross my eyes and try to spot the 3-D image.I have a few storage purchases to make, but I'm pretty much settled in and loving it!

Picture Post: Around the hood

2009-08-31T21:57:00.000-07:00

To celebrate my 6 months of living in the City (and about 1 month in this studio) I thought I'd share some sights.

And if I could, I'd complete the sensory experience by inserting the sounds of Muni running along electric wires, the smell of pot, the taste of a late night burrito, and the touch of mystery substance on a BART seat. Hmmm...that sounds kind of negative. Let's change that to the sounds of a live band coming out the door of the Knockout, the smell of Martha and Bros coffee, and...well, the burrito is definitely good, and the touch of Delores Park grass with bare feet. Wait, I'd advise against that...

I live in a studio. With one window, what it lacks in natural light, it makes up for in privacy (my front door in lower right).
The location is along the "Bernal Bricks." Some neighbors insist on posting signs to save these bricks, but for the life of me, I cannot find their history. Side note: I Googled it, then gave up.
Bernal Hill has some of the best views of the City skyline and it's a short walk from home.What's on the top of Bernal Hill? This ugly tower.
I'm pretty sure Barbie lives here:

And some really sickeningly supportive parents live here. They probably have "My kid is an honor student" bumper stickers plastered all over their cars.

Parking can get tricky. There are some tight fits. Side note: In actuality, these are not tight fits, but this was the best I could find. I contemplated staging a tight fit with my own car, but decided not to chance it.

And there are people who don't know how to park on hills. Only YOU can prevent roll-aways.
San Franciscans refuse to admit they do not have real front yards. So they surround dirt patches with a "fence," plant a single bush, and water it with joy.
San Franciscans, and especially Bernal Heights-ians, love their dogs. Check out this doggie ramp. The weird part (if that weren't weird enough): There's a doll arm stuck in the windshield wiper.
On that note, I love it here! There's always something unexpected around the corner; sometimes pleasant, sometimes funny, sometimes creepy. And I'm ok with that.

The bull run is B.S.

2009-07-10T13:01:00.000-07:00

Maybe I'm feeling mean today. Or maybe I'm finally having a moment of clarity. After coming across this Associated Press video of this year's running of the bulls in Spain, I began rooting for the bulls. I actually had the conscious thought that I wanted those people to get hurt to learn a lesson. Somehow, though, I don't think it would be a lesson, I think they would just use it as bragging rights.

The bulls didn't look big and aggressive and powerful, they looked scared and defensive and confused. The humans (they are not real men, in my definition) were pulling at their tails, poking them with sticks and, when the bull was lucky, being gored with a horn.

One man died this year. I'm not cold-hearted enough to say that I'm not sorry for his friends and family, but imagine the shame he has standing at the pearly gates, explaining to God that he died purposely harassing an animal with sharp horns. I feel ashamed just being the same species as this guy.

I'm not a vegetarian and I don't necessarily go out of my way to purchase products from companies that practice better treatment toward animals. But somehow torturing animals for entertainment seems worse than for food. Am I being hypocritical? Sometimes PETA crosses the line, but I can get on board with this protest.

Here are some other posts/articles - on both sides of the fence - in case you're interested.
US News - Bonnie Erbe (be sure to read the counter argument from commenters - interesting points are made here)
Wikipedia
Los Angeles Times
MindReign
another video:

SF Update

2009-06-17T19:45:00.000-07:00

After hearing about my local parking patrol officer leaving me a “Welcome to the neighborhood!” note on my car, my neighbor suggested I write an update to my City by the Bay post.

Unfortunately, the timing couldn’t be worse, as I’m moving!

Well, maybe the timing is actually perfect and I now have the opportunity to reflect on some of the stories and memories that are quintessentially “SF.”

Wednesday Dinner at Annie’s

Almost immediately, I was welcomed into the family that formed every Wednesday night in Annie and Noah’s apartment in the Mission. We cook spaghetti, tacos, breakfast for dinner and even paella, along with consuming countless bottles of beer and wine. But the highlight, no matter how delicious the food, is the conversation and the company – a hodgepodge of high school buddies, past and present coworkers, boyfriends, girlfriends, best friends, and yours truly, a friend of a friend of a friend.

Parking

Sometimes I score a close spot, other times require a 4 block hike up the hill, but I never got tickets, until entering my third month of residency. Then, within a month, I got 3 tickets. The funniest, or perhaps most ironic part is that about a month ago, the parking patrol left me a blank ticket form with no violations on it. It simply read, in plain, all caps lettering, “WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD!” That’s nice, I thought. Now I know better – they were just thanking me in advance for helping them meet their quota.

Bernal Hill

I try to end my runs with a jaunt to the top of Bernal Hill, which really feels more like a mountain after a sweaty 4.5 mile run. On a clear day, you can see Twin Peaks to the West, the Golden Gate Bridge to the North, downtown and the Bay Bridge, the East Bay, and even candlestick Park to the South. Being up there always puts things into perspective for me. The other evening, Sean and I walked up the hill to find the sky ablaze with an amazing red sunset. He took amazing photos, I stood in awe.

Eat, drink, and be merry

San Francisco is saturated with good food and good bars. So much so, that despite sticking to my intense workout routine, I’ve managed to find a few of my lost pounds again. But I think the countless pints at the Dovre, burritos at El Gran Taco Loco

(featuring a mural of a gun-wielding jalapeno chasing a taco), sandwiches at Socha, BBQ, Cambodian cuisine at Angkor Borei, spicy prawns and linguine at Emmy’s Spaghetti Shack. And I can’t leave out my ultimate

favorite: Coffee from Martha and Brothers; that Martha is a true master.

Roomie

After living on my own for 2 years, I feared I either wouldn't be a good roommate or I wouldn't be flexible enough to live with someone. But in the few short months I found out that yet again, I've lucked out with a comfortable, fun and friendly living situation and it's a little bit sad for me to see it go. She welcomed me into the Dovre family, gave me flowers after my half marathon, and provided that perfect balance between friendliness and leaving me the hell alone when I just needed me time. Oh, and she makes the best meatloaf. Ever (sorry mom). Unfortunately, we don't take good pictures together, but I did find one with Dovre owner Julie in the middle.

My first SF adventure ends, another begins.

The truth in tea

2009-06-03T14:00:00.000-07:00

The tag for the tea I’m drinking right now has “Enjoy the Experience” written on it. It reminded me of what I kept repeating to myself while running the two hours and 12 minutes it took me to complete my first half-marathon last Saturday.

Don’t get me wrong, telling yourself to enjoy it and actually enjoying it are two very separate things. But it did encourage me to stop focusing on the end, when of course I’d be happy and proud, smiling and giddy, and start focusing on the present, when I’m taking it one stride at a time.

The photos taken of me that day are all within the last mile of the run. Looking back, I wish someone had taken a picture of me at mile 1, when I was still feeling winded, not quite warmed up. Or mile 4, when I began struggling with my fanny pack zipper, cursing at it and startling a nearby runner. And maybe a shot or two at mile 8, when I thought, holy %&$, I still have 5 more miles (I can only imaging the look on my face). Then maybe mile 10, when I felt a burst of energy, and mile 11 when my knees started aching. Those shots would have shown the truth, or rather, the whole truth, about my run.

I guess that’s what happens in life, too – we take photos and have memories of reaching our goals: Graduations, Weddings, baby showers, promotions. But rarely do we remember, let alone celebrate along the way, all the ups and downs we go through to get there. What if, as my teabag tag so wisely proclaims, we enjoy the experience? It doesn’t diminish the end, it simply allows you to truly believe that it’s the journey, not the destination.

Of course, in my case, the destination included my loved ones, chocolate, and champagne…not too shabby.

And here's the sign my proud mom made; she saw me finish this time ;)

Thanks for the photos, Sean (not to mention being there)!

What I learned on my practice run

2009-05-13T14:09:00.000-07:00

Go to the bathroom before the run

The jarring from running doesn’t feel good on the bladder. Kristine and I arrived in plenty of time to join the group for a stretch and orientation, but I couldn’t be bothered to wait in line for the toilet, so thought I could wait it out and find a bathroom further down the course. We passed three or four bathrooms and was just too excited to stop. Then, when it started to hurt, no bathrooms were in sight. I ended up holding it the whole time. Probably not healthy, but I think in the end, it was more nervousness than an actual physical need.

Wear a pedometer

Apparently, while I practiced my run, the people putting on the event were practicing getting the mileage and the mile markers accurate. It was supposed to be 10 miles. I was mentally prepared for 10 miles. I sped up around mile 8 thinking I still had energy to finish for a 10 miles run. Instead, the run was about 11.5 miles. I almost died. OK, I was fine, but my mind started playing tricks on me, like telling me I couldn’t do it. But I had some good advice before the race – the end will always be there, focus on the process. The process was that I ran for 1 hour 53 minutes almost non-stop (had to wait for 2 traffic signals along the route) which means I ran better than a 10-minute mile.

Wear a belt with a zip-up pocket to hold your food.

A delicious and refueling peanut butter and honey sandwich does no good if it falls out of the pocket of your jacket tied around your waist. My training hasn’t yet included eating on a run and I was looking forward to trying out a peanut butter sandwich as my fuel about 45-50 minutes into the run so that I could feel the benefits around mile 8 or 9, when I start to crash. The sandwich fell out at about mile 4 or 5. So those ridiculous looking belts are definitely on my shopping list now. Or maybe I’ll just find a super cheesy looking fanny pack just for the heck of it.

Use those good thoughts

There were 2 distinct moments that I doubted myself. The first was when I began on a downward spiral of negative thoughts:

I have to go to the bathroom. Is this really 10 miles? It feels like way more. Why doesn’t this stupid lady stay to the right, doesn’t she see me passing her? Hello! Get out of my way! Those girls need to shut the hell up, just because they’re wearing their San Francisco Marathon t-shirts and can run 10 miles while holding a conversation doesn’t mean they need to rub it in everyone’s faces. Man, the Bay smells like sewage! This is disgusting! Why didn’t they mark the 10 miles better? They said they’d have mile markers for this! I don’t remember passing this before. Am I on the right route?

Then I looked up. The San Francisco skyline was on my left. I felt a chill run through my body – I got goose bumps. I thought, ok. What is going right here? My knees and hips are ok, I still have a lot of energy, I’m the perfect temperature, I’m not thirsty or hungry, I can see the park where we finish from here – it’s really not that far. And my mood improved. My chin went up, and I finished the run with a smile on my face.

Mexican Adventure

2009-04-29T11:20:00.000-07:00

When Sean asked me to go to Mexico with him, I assumed he was joking. Actually, the first time he asked, I’m certain he wasn’t serious; after all, it was during our first phone conversation ever. But he kept asking. And then when he booked the flights a few weeks later, I think there was still a hint of doubt that it would actually happen.

The funny thing is that my mom was more concerned about me being kidnapped my Mexican druglords than the fact that I was about to go on vacation with a guy I’d known for about 2 months. I was worried about getting along with Sean and what clothes to bring. Sean was probably worried about how well he’d play in the volleyball tournament. My dad was worried about what pastries he’d be eating the next day, as he was still in Italy at the time.

We flew down to Phoenix, where we stayed with the energetic and gracious Luis of Outta Town Productions and helped him load up his trailer for his semi-annual Rocky Point Volleyball Tournament. Held in Rocky Point (Puerto Penasco), Mexico (in the “crotch” of the Baja California bay, as Sara called it) Luis hosted 36 4-person teams for the weekend and Sean and I were along for the ride and some assistance in setting it up.

Rocky Point is small and sleepy during the week, but as soon as Friday afternoon rolls around, Phoenix’s youth (and those seeking youth) looking for cheap beer, sand, and sun, drive 3 hours south and stay in one of the towns many “resorts” (more like large hotels, some with pools). Playa Bonita Resort served as the tournament location and our home away from home; most of the rooms had beautiful views of the hotel’s courtyard and the beach; and when the sun sets, the outline of Baja California is just barely visible out to the West. Not a bad way to spend a few days.

I had been planning on spending the day of the tournament working on my tan, taking a few pictures, and perhaps a dip in the water. But I somehow found myself playing on a D-level (read, lowest level) team who needed a girl to enter the tournament.

“You realize the last time I played volleyball was 11 years ago when I tried out for my high school team?” I asked skeptically of Dan, the team captain.
“And I didn’t make the team.”
“No, it’s fine, we’ll give you pointers!” He responded enthusiastically.
“So, how many times can you hit the ball before it goes over the net?”

The thing about me is that while I may be athletic, I have absolutely no sports knowledge. I can watch sports, but I’d definitely rather be playing them, and even while playing, I don’t like to be caught up in so called “rules.”

But like most things in life, it turned out ok. We played about 7 or 8 20-minute games and ended up, if not last place, then next to last place. I did, however, manage to score a few points, execute some “digs” as they call them, and have a few good “touches” (nice way of saying at least you touched the ball before we lost the point). Sean even got a few photos where I look like I know what I’m doing (or not, how the hell would I know?).

We spend the end of the trip spending another day and a half relaxing and visiting with friends in Phoenix before making our way back to the Bay. It had been a good mix of activities, relaxation, new friends, and old friends.

Now just have to convince everyone that the headcold I have is not in fact the Mexican swine flu.
[All images from Outta Town Production's gallery - Luis Garrido]

View from the top

2009-04-02T14:30:00.001-07:00

Last Saturday, I participated in Climb California, a stair-climbing event hosted in several locations throughout the US that benefits the American Lung Association. With my team from Dojo USA, I climbed all 1,197 stairs (52 stories) to the top of the Bank of America Building in downtown San Francisco.

“Pace yourself!” everyone gave me as advice. They also showed some concern when I said I hadn’t participated in any of the practice events.

But it was, dare I say? Easy. No, it just wasn’t as challenging, mentally or physically, as I had anticipated. I took two stairs at a time the whole way up, finishing in 12 minutes, 32 seconds. The record time was somewhere in the 6 minute range. Wow.

My quads started burning at around flight 45, but there was never a moment where I thought I might give up, never a second I doubted myself. That’s a powerful feeling.

Even more powerful was the energy at the event – teams of all sizes, made up of people of all ages, backgrounds, and fitness levels, were screaming and shouting, pumped to get to the top.

At the base of the stairs, just before we started, we were lead through a narrow hallway lined with butcher paper and pens on stings. Signs read “Tell us why you are climbing today.” Some people dedicated their climb to loved ones who had lost their lives to lung-related diseases, others were doing it for fun, some as a test of their fitness.

One person wrote that they had given up smoking for more than 10 years now – this was their way of celebrating their lungs.

I wrote, “Because I can.”

Team Dojo USA raised more than $20,000 and the event raised almost $400,000 - Thank you for your donations and support!

The best of OK

2009-03-26T21:40:00.000-07:00

I wanted to share the funniest quotes from profiles, conversations, and emails on OKCupid.

This guy’s profile made me laugh:

Also, finally starting to get back into playing music after a four year hiatus due to a serious burn-out at music school (long story)...

This conversation made me want to send him an emoticon with a smiley face being strangled:

Him: I prefer eastern europe over the west. night and day. the people are so much more genuine and real.
Me: ummm...ok - you're talking to an Italian descendent. so I kind of take offense to that.
Him: oh really. but have you been to eastern europe like slovania for instance? if you have been then I understand. but if not then you should go and see for yourself. Im just expressing my experience. the people were a thousand times more friendly there

I wasn’t sure how to respond to this message:

as a guy, I am seldom encountered by female and/or interested male weirdos. I suppose I have it easy in that regard.

This guy didn’t know my nickname, but he figured it out anyway, the subject line read:

Hey beautiful jblo ☺

I mention twice in my profile that I look like Jessie Spano. This schmuck asks in the subject line:

Who is Jessie Spano?

Ummm….you ever heard of Google?

Speedy Gonzales

2009-03-23T09:42:00.001-07:00

After the dorm adventure and shopping with a shadow, I was in need for something to make me believe in online dating. And it happened. In fact, things are going so well with #3 that I am too scared of screwing it up by telling all here.

So this post is about #4 (which, for the record, I scheduled before things went really well with #3). I’ll call #4 “Speedy” because it’s ironic and you’re about to find out why.

Speedy and I connected online and chatted about our shared interest in working out; specifically running; I’m training for a half marathon, he’s applying to the Coast Guard. We met on a Sunday morning and while I was irritated that he had forgotten about daylight savings and was late, I forgave him because hell, I’ve done it before, too.

He looked nothing like his pictures and he was clearly nowhere near what I’d consider “in shape.” I wasn’t upset that he wasn’t fit, I was upset that he misrepresented himself.

“So, how many miles do you want to do?” I asked, hoping his gut was just an illusion from his baggy T-shirt.

“Well, that’s the thing,” he said nervously. “See, I’ve been running, but I’m only up to about a mile and a half right now…”

My jaw must’ve dropped because he interjected:

“But I want to go further, I need to do well on my Coast Guards test.”

And no, that’s not a typo; for some reason, he kept referring to the Coast Guard as the Coast Guards in the plural. Not sure why. But back to the main point: A mile and a half? What the eff? I’m training for a half marathon, buddy! I told him I was up to about 9 miles on my long runs, I’m not here to be your personal trainer!

So off we went on a fairly flat route, at a slow pace. He was a nice guy, but there was no chemistry, no attraction, nothing. On the way back we had to stop twice and getting up the hill to his car was a struggle.

I think even outside of the disastrous run, I still wouldn’t have been interested in Speedy, the run just made this worse, plus, I felt like I had wasted a workout.

He texted me twice after our run, thanking me for pushing him (we actually went about 3 miles and all in all, he was a good sport). And the texting made me question dating etiquette; should I reply to be nice, or not respond to make it clear I wasn’t interested? My online dating consultants said not to respond, so I didn’t.

Thank goodness #3 is super fit and pushes me; we went rock climbing and he climbed the same wall I did – without using his legs. Showoff.

Quote

2009-03-08T11:37:00.000-07:00

When the distinction blurs between one’s few close friends and the many who are not, it seems pointless to distinguish between private and public.

New York Times article: When Everyone’s a Friend, Is Anything Private?

Shopping with a shadow

2009-03-07T17:22:00.000-08:00

The hardest part of a date is the goodbye. You stand there, awkward as hell (or I supposed, if it’s a good date, it’s not that awkward), struggling for the right words to say. Somewhere between polite, but not too honest, because at that point, you really have no idea whether you will call them or you want them to call you.

Date #2 (or I guess planned date #1) started out great. Attractive guy, with a good job, good conversation, and after my experience on Thursday, I was thrilled to learn he lives by himself.

We finish our coffee/tea and he proposes, since it’s such a nice day, that we take a walk.
“Do you like vintage clothing stores?” I ask.
His face brightens: “Yeah!”
“Well, let’s head up Valencia – there are some great stores nearby,” I suggest.
We start walking and he starts talking. And talking. And talking. I’m a bit taken aback; he was asking me a lot of questions at the café, but the conversation seemed one-sided now. I wouldn’t have minded if he spoke about himself, his experiences, etc., but he was more rambling. Was he nervous?

I pop into the first used clothing store and start browsing; he stays right at my hip.
I look up and realize it’s all women’s clothing.
“Oh! There’s no guys' stuff in here, sorry!” I say and tell him we should move on.

We walk into Buffalo Exchange, which, for the record has plenty of men’s apparel.
Spotting a cute jacket, I head for the rack and begin my treasure hunt again. He stays right at my side again. Have you ever had someone read over your shoulder? Well, someone watching over your shoulder as you shop is about 10 times worse.

“So, do you like shopping for clothes?” I ask. Maybe he was just being polite earlier when I had suggested the used clothing store idea.

“Yeah, just did some shopping earlier today,” He responds, smiling.

I try not to be bossy (especially on a first date) but this was just weird. I wanted to tell him to go find a funky outfit and try it on for me.

Instead, I tried to make conversation while browsing and he continued to move with me like a shadow. The conversation is awkward. He’s awkward. At one point, he tried to dance, and well, I’ll give him an A for effort on trying to be fun.

I went to try on some clothes, and let out a big sigh as I closed the curtain. Maybe he’ll shop while I’m in here, I thought.

I exit the dressing room and there he is, right where I left him.

After making my purchases, we walk back to his car and hug. I try to think of what to say if he asks me out, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t mention calling, or talking, or seeing each other again.

Walking away, I can’t help but think that maybe, it was just an off day for him. Maybe he was nervous or I was acting in a way that intimidated him. But I realized that I never, during the entire date, felt a strong physical attraction. I gotta have the spark.

Like I’ve said, when It’s right, it’s right. When it’s wrong, it’s wrong.

I've got a lot to learn

2009-03-07T16:57:00.000-08:00

Thursday evening, after a tough and sweaty workout, I was checking my OKCupid mail, checking out profiles, and, y’know, looking for true love. I got an IM from someone and checked out his profile. Cute guy, well traveled, and seemed interesting.

Long story short, my spontaneity, plus this guy’s convincing (and his British accent) equaled a spur of the moment decision to meet up with him for a pint at 11:30 p.m.

If nothing else, it was an ego boost. He was complementary on my personality, my bum and we had a couple drinks and a ‘chin wag’ (gotta love those British idioms) while I tried to work out just how surreal the moment was. This was a great way to dive into the world of online dating, I thought. I wasn’t especially attracted to him, but glad I at least took the chance.

He’s in film school, and was passionate and adamant about showing me his work; I trusted he wasn’t a creepo, so I agreed to take a look at one of his videos, have some water, and then get on my merry way home.

We leave the bar and approach his building.
“Keep walking past like you don’t know me,” he instructs.
“What?” I peer into the window and a security guard is facing the other direction, talking to some young people.
“Security here is really tight. Just keep walking, I’ll let you in the back.”
Too confused to react otherwise, I walk past and stop in front of the back door.
30 seconds later, the door opens, my companion smiling brightly. As I step in, the alarm blares.
“C’mon!” he shouts and bolts up the staris
“What the???” I follow him, wondering what the hell is going on.
Up until this point, I found him a bit forward, maybe a tiny bit awkward, but all in all a nice, normal-ish guy. This just seemed bizarre. Where was I? Why wasn’t I allowed to come in the front door?
He leads me to a his front door and it hits me. We’re in the dorms.
“Oh man….” I say under my breath and flashback to my own memories of coed life.
Bunkbeds are everywhere, the kitchen is a mess, I definitely do not want to see the bathroom. He hands me a bottle of water and we walk up to a loft area where his computer is set up.
He shows me the video, but really, all I remember was that it was in black and white and there’s a Tom Petty song in the background. I sit there trying to figure out how I got here and can’t help but laugh at myself. So this is what online dating’s about, huh?
The video stops and I attempt to compliment him on it.
He walks me to my car, mumbles something about moving out of there soon and we hug and say goodbye.

All in all, it wasn’t a disaster, I guess. Nothing’s wrong with living in a dorm, but I’m not in that place in life anymore – I guess that’s the danger in going out with a younger guy.

Live and learn: Always ask about their living situation.

Dear Sir or Madam that left the strawberries in the breakroom,

2009-02-25T09:05:00.000-08:00

Thank you for getting my hopes up, then crushing them with a blow to my most tender, sensitive spot – my stomach.

It’s Wednesday, the day frequently referred to as “hump day” because it represents the hump over which we must cross to complete the work week. When I saw the strawberries in all their glistening red glory, sitting on the counter this morning, I thought, “wow, this is the best hump day ever.” I had brought milk and cereal and was literally just thinking about how I wished I had some berries to supplement my breakfast (I was envisioning blueberries, but I was willing to compromise).

Smiling, I picked 4 of the ripest pieces and trotted back to my desk, ready to tackle my email. I began slicing the first one with my flimsy white plastic knife. Huh, I thought, the inside of this one is the same color of my freakin’ knife. I put it down and picked up another. Not even a hint of pink; they were literally all red on the outside and white on the inside.

I picked up a sliver and tasted it. It had great texture, at least. But no taste. Upset by the disappointment, but already invested in a) the thought of berries in my cereal and b) having sliced up half of what I had taken, I went ahead and ate the damned things. Guess what? My unsweetened high fiber cereal had more taste.

So please, for the love of ripe produce, which, by the way, is in abundance in California and especially the Bay Area, put a note, a warning, something that indicates that you are trying to pass off your unripe, tasteless fruit because you’re either too proud to toss it or too impatient to let it ripen.

Best regards,
Jean

OK, here we go

2009-02-23T14:31:00.000-08:00

I finally did it. After months of deliberation, I made the gut-wrenching (ok, that’s a little bit overly-dramatic) decision to join okcupid.com, a free online dating service.

It was quite a process; filling out a profile, uploading a photo, answering a bank of questions to be used to match yours truly with their pool of candidates. And to think, this site is simple compared to the big names (Match and eHarmony).

Here’s what’s funny. This feels a lot like my job, which involves me creating Requests for Proposals, searching out the best possible candidates, comparing responses, selecting and interviewing finalists, and finally, making a decision on the best fit.

Why has my love life all of a sudden become my second job? Every person I’ve spoken with that’s ever tried it says it takes a lot of effort to be successful. Am I foolish for thinking what’s meant to happened does, and you don’t need to force it?

Also, I feel a bit like I’m being sucked into the strategy of selling happiness. I’m buying into the societal pressure that you can’t truly be happy until you have [fill in the blank] an iPhone, a puppy, a significant other, a sweet ride, a Big Mac with cheese, or a cure to restless leg syndrome.

Lastly, I’m afraid that this is yet another portal for rejection. Other than real, in-person rejection, I’ve got the phone, text messages, emails, and Facebook. Do I really want to add more complication?

Well, what’s done is done. I’m out there. I’m trying. And hopefully, I’ll come out of it with some great stories (although, I’ve got to say my dating life pre-internet has it’s gems).

Wish me luck! And don’t worry mom, I’ll be careful.

Thought of the day

2009-02-19T14:05:00.000-08:00

I like running because it reminds me of exactly where all my jiggly parts are. It's great motivation. Also, running is the best hangover remedy ever. The first ten minutes are excrutiating, but then it's smooth sailing from there. Doing Tae Bo hungover? Not so much.

SF Day 1: Drug bust and using a shopping cart for transportation

2009-02-02T15:46:00.000-08:00

Moving day was trouble-free, thanks to the generosity of my parents, their friend’s truck, my brother, and his girlfriend (also, I may add, my own neurotic organizational tendencies).
I had hoped that by seeing the apartment and neighborhood, any worry planted in my parents’ heads would be dashed.

My dad frequently makes up outrageous stories to get a rise: For example, his favorite when I was young was, “Did you hear the helicopter landing on the roof last night?” Actually, he still says that occasionally, so when he told me that on the way to my place they witnessed a “drug bust,” I laughed. Later, my brother told me they had in fact seen someone getting arrested a couple blocks away, but the drug part was questionable. There goes dashing away the worries…

While unloading boxes, my mom, my brother’s girlfriend, and I heard an increasingly loud metal rattling sound and looked up the hill. A man propped up on the back of a shopping cart was coming full speed (i.e. car speed) down the hill, his shoes dragging on the ground. My mom let out a gasp, and I examined the man’s face, which was forming a giant grin.

“I think he’s done this before,” I said, trying to assess his speed and the quick approach he was taking to Mission St.

“He’s not going to stop!” my mom yelled, concerned and horrified at the same time.

He slowed, and professionally maneuvered the cart to a right hand turn onto Mission, without stopping. He’d definitely done it before.

Ah, San Francisco. What entertainment will you have for me next?

An observation

2009-01-22T15:13:00.000-08:00

Dating is a lot like trying out a new restaurant:

you’re not sure what to expect
copious amounts of alcohol improve even the worst situation
there’s a fine line between keeping the water glass full and just being really annoying
when a lot of people have hyped it up, you’re bound to be let down
it’s always better to be a bit over-dressed than too casual
when it’s right, it’s right; when it’s wrong, it’s wrong
it can taste a lot better than it looks (and unfortunately, vice versa)
you feel like everyone’s staring at you because you don’t know what the hell you’re doing
start with a cocktail and end with coffee…
dining and dashing may cross your mind
remaining open-minded yields the best results
the entire time, you’re thinking of how to reenact the experience to your best friend
you sometimes end up thinking, “I did my hair and makeup for that???!!!”

The City by the Bay

2009-01-12T13:21:00.000-08:00

About three years ago, I helped my friend move into her studio apartment in downtown San Francisco. I distinctly remember calling another friend after the move to tell her how much I disliked the City.

“I don’t understand why people love it! It’s loud and dirty and expensive. Not to mention the parking…”

She responded with something like, “Well, with some people, it just takes time to appreciate it…”

I visited the City more and more often, and then on one unusually warm evening this November, I fell in love, or rather, realized I was in love. I don’t pretend to know a lot about San Francisco, but for the first time, I wanted to know more. I wanted to find my favorite coffee shop, my favorite clothing boutique, my favorite local bar. And most of all, I wanted to know what it would be like to live there.

Having mostly been a suburban dweller, this was a big moment for me.
So, when I decided on Saturday that I’d take a chance and move into a great flat in Bernal Heights, I got that “I’m scared to be out of my element” feeling, which is the very feeling I live for.So, let the exploring begin, and your suggested favorites are welcomed!

Excuses, excuses

2009-01-05T13:56:00.000-08:00

I'm not a fan of excuses. I hate hearing them, including coming out of my own mouth. But I've come to realize that I procrastinate because I have at least one excuse that I beleive, at least partly, to be a good one.

And in the season of resolutions, excuses are a-plenty. So I hope by writing them down here I can see how very silly some of them are (usually of the "I don't feel like it" variety) and get them done!

Completed

Signed up, paid for ½ marathon
Began researching pedometers/heart rate monitors
Asked friend for guitar instructor recommendations
Created budget including weekly breakdown for groceries, gas, dining out, clothes, etc.
Researched and found digital photo print service

Overdue

Get evaluated at Road Runner
Excuses:
I didn’t feel like driving there
Afraid they’ll recommend really expensive shoes
Don’t want to spend a lot of money on shoes right now
Embarrassing to run in front of strangers and be critiqued. It’s not that I think they’ll laugh at me, but I have this little voice that keeps saying, “What if they think, ‘she’s not a runner – what the hell does she think she’s doing?!!!’”
I ran about 6 miles on Sunday with very little knee pain – the main reason I thought I needed to be evaluated.

Resolution Time

2009-01-02T12:33:00.000-08:00

Time: 12:30 pm, Jan 2nd, 2009

Place: My freezing cold apartment (I live in an in-law unit where I don't control the heat. When the people in the house leave on vacation, I freeze).

Purpose: Commit to resolutions

Strategy: I'm an over-achiever. I want to believe I can do anything and everything and all at once. So I hope that by making specific "due dates" for the steps needed for each resolution, I can actually achieve them.

Goal 1: Run a 1/2 marathon

Milestones:

Jan 2nd: sign up for race, pay fee
Jan 3rd: go to Road Runner and get evaluated, buy running shoes
Jan 4th: research pedometers
Feb. 8th: buy pedometer
Feb. 9th: begin training program
May 30th: run the race!

Goal 2: Play guitar

Milestones:

March 1st: commit to 10 lessons
March - June: Practice 30 minutes, 5 days a week
After June: practice 30 minutes, at least 3 days a week

Goal 3: Create and stick to a budget so I can pay off car and save for a trip!

Milestones:

Jan. 4th: Create a new budget, goals for completion of car payments, travel budget
Feb. 8th: 1st month check-in
April 12th - 3 month check-in

Goal 4: Print out favorite digital photographs

Milestones:

Jan. 4th - find and decide on best digital printing service
Jan. 11th - pick out favorites from my 2006 trip to Europe
Feb. 8th - pick out friends favorites
March 15th - pick out family favorites
April 12th - pick out all other "event" pictures
May 17th - back up digital photos
June 14th - delete all but favorite photos from hard drive

Goal 5: Maintain my weight loss and continue to improve my fitness level

Milestones

May 30th: Achieve goal of completing a 1/2 marathon
Weekly weigh-in and body fat measurement
Stay at a size 10
Aerobic training for 1 hour at least 4 days a week
Strength training for 45 minutes at least 2 days a week
Continue with 6 small meals per day, and 3 "splurge" meals per week

Now that I'm looking at these, they're all within the first 6 months of this year. Maybe I'll make New 1/2 Year Resolutions in June...

I'm also committing to blogging about whether I met each of these goals within one week of the milestone dates.

Wish me luck and Happy New Year!

Jean, Jean, the Running Machine

2008-12-11T16:00:00.000-08:00

A few months ago, running wasn’t fun. I’d get tired pretty quickly, my extra weight added stress to my joints, and I couldn’t get past 3 miles without an all out struggle.

By following the UBC program, my body has become stronger and leaner, not to mention my mental strength allows me to push myself further than ever before.

When I completed the Run to Feed the Hungry (6.2 miles) with nothing more than some calf cramping, for the first time I thought, “huh, I could really do this. I could be a runner.”

So I started doing some research, and it turns out there are a lot of runners around here, along with a lot of running events (go figure!). I’ve now committed myself to train for a ½ marathon, my eyes specifically on See Jane Run ( May 30th) in the lovely (and flat) Alameda. There’s a 7-mile event on April 4th in the Golden Gate Headlands that will prove my training is going smoothly and keep me inspired to reach the 13.1 mile mark in May.

Along with cross-training on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturdays doing Tae Bo and resistance bands, I’m following the schedule below, running 3 days a week and tracking my time:

I have about 2 months before this “official” training begins, so I need to focus on getting myself prepared for it. And frankly, I need it since I have a lot of questions to answer:

Shoes
What kind of shoes should I wear and how often should I change them?

Nutrition
What, how much, and how often should I be eating while training?

Pedometer
What’s the best kind of pedometer to use and what else should I be tracking (time, heart rate, exertion level, etc)

Emotional support
Where can I find inspiration to keep going? Should I join a running club?

Music
What’s the best kind of music to listen to?

Running partner
Should I pick a running buddy? What if they are way better than me?

Long-term injuries
Is running a good activity to pursue? I hear about a lot of injuries! (I know, a funny question coming from a former rugby player…)

Gear
I see a lot of expensive clothing and gadgets, do I really need them? What is nice to have and what is necessary?

If you're a runner, I welcome your advice! If you're not, be prepared to learn a lot about it (or just don't read my blog for the next few months).

Recipe for success

2008-12-08T15:26:00.000-08:00

Ingredients:
3 cups planning
1 ½ cups strength training
1 ½ cups vigorous aerobic training
1/8 cup splurging meals
84 ounces water
1 part protein
1 part carbohydrate
1 part vegetables
Heaping teaspoon of hunger control
3 tablespoons each of sweat, blood, and tears
1 food diary
1 personal diary
3-5 close supporters

Directions:
Preheat your body, strength train 3 days a week (45-60 mins), aerobic train 3 days a week (45-60 mins), and rest 1 day per week. DO NOT use working out as an excuse to overeat. Watch exertion level: Are you working hard, or hardly working? Push through the wall!!!

Spread out meals to 6 per day (1 protein, 1carb, and at least 2 veggies per day). 1 serving is what fits into your palm, not your oversized plate. Take a multi-vitamin and drink at least 84 oz. (8 cups) or water everyday.

One day per week, eat and drink whatever you want!
Let simmer and see physical results in 2 weeks or less; watch energy level rise, weight drop, and waist shrink. Feel emotional strength increase as bicep muscles explode!

Quarter Century

2008-12-04T17:00:00.000-08:00

When I was about 7 or so, I named my Barbie ‘Jennifer Whitney,’ who was, at the time, one of Sacramento’s leading news anchors (pictured left in her power-blazer glory). My Barbie 'Jennifer' was 25, drove a bright pink Corvette convertible, lived in a multi-story house, always wore high heels, and enjoyed going out on the town with Joey McIntire (from New Kids on the Block).
At around age 19, I met the real Jennifer Whitney when she came in as I was working at a café. I told my boss the Barbie story, and she in turn told Jennifer. I was mortified. Apparently, Jennifer was flattered.
But meeting my one-time idol was disillusioning: Here was this person I looked up to, who I thought embodied the perfect “Barbie” image I had of a smart, beautiful, successful woman and she was…well, human.
Monday, I turned 25. No Corvette, no multi-story house and certainly no Joey McIntire in sight. I did, however, buy a pair of bright red high heels.
I thought at age 7 that 25 was somehow the perfect age, which is why I chose it for my ‘Jennifer.’ And now I find that the disillusionment I felt when meeting Ms. Whitney is happening all over again.
When you finally reach the age, goal, or overcome the obstacle that you’ve sought after for so long, you’re forced to reconcile with the past, considering everything you thought you’d have accomplished by now.
I think at 25, I’m in a good place – the place I’m supposed to be, but I also can’t help thinking about everything I had once dreamed or truly believed that I would be doing. And I wonder whether I’ve been sidetracked or if I am simply following the path that is best for me.
Regardless, I’ve learned a few things along the way:
1. No matter how important it is to be independent, sharing experiences with others far outweighs doing it on your own
2. Keep it simple
3. Peanut butter on a spoon is the ultimate snack
4. Always pursue the path with the fewest guarantees
5. Becoming more and more like my mom isn’t so bad
6. Going with the flow is a great skill, but so is knowing how to create a back-up plan
7. I procrastinate because I’m a perfectionist (I wanted to post this on Monday, but needed to make some edits…)
8. Learning another language helps you better understand your own
9. I am much more productive when I’m listening to music
10. Spandex, skinny jeans, and Speedos are a privilege, not a right
11. Weaknesses afford the opportunity for improvement
12. I can relate most of life’s situations to Seinfeld (I dare you to test me)
13. Enjoy it, change it, or accept it, but don’t waste time complaining about it
14. Happiness is a cup of coffee, the Sunday paper, and a few hours to enjoy it
15. It always seems like a good idea at the time…
16. I have freakishly large man-calves (damn you, footwear industry, for not providing me with tall boots that fit!!!)
17. It’s impossible to dance without smiling
18. I like Brussels sprouts
19. Always check your ego at the door
20. Carmex is addictive
21. I like violent movies, but can’t stand violent video games
22. Pessimism is the easy way out
23. La Cumbre has the best hangover cure…I mean…burrito. Ever.
24. My fears usually stem from lack of knowledge or experience
25. Hard work always pays off

Happy Birthday to me!

Gobble gobble

2008-11-28T14:33:00.000-08:00

"I'm hurtin'" Michelle moaned as we reached the 4-mile mark.
"Push through the wall!" I screamed, maybe a bit too loud, because the woman, whose elbow had come dangerously close to my chest one to many times, half turned around.
In a crowd of an estimated 28,000 participants, Michelle and I were 2 thirds of the way through the 10k Run to Feed the Hungry.
"Man, this is like running a gauntlet," she laughed during the first mile, darting around kids, a few slower joggers and groups running together who didn't understand the concept of letting others through. Michelle's a soccer player, a sprinter, the hare to my tortoise.
"Take it easy," I laughed; I needed a nice, slow warm-up so that the last few miles wouldn't be too tough.
Unfortunately, my excitement and the jostling just couldn't support a full bladder any longer, so we stopped at the at the 2-mile mark where the first set of port-a-potties quickly attracted a line of others like me.
Taking us through the beautiful Fabulous Forties neighborhood in Sacramento along J St, winding up and around McKinley park, then stretching down Elvas, the course was sprinkled with supporters, shouting words of encouragement, smiling, and handing out Dixie cups of water and Gatorade.
One woman had a Bloody Mary stand in her driveway, ready to coax a tired runner with a quick pick-me-up.
The pump-pump-pump of drums and a bass guitar matched the rhythm of my gait; the music grew louder as we came upon a quiet street along 36th Way. A 5-piece rock 'n roll band was set up on a front yard, jamming as runners smiled and waved.
I felt a little bit like some form of entertainment as we ran by what appeared to be a Frat house; several young men were sitting in lawn chairs on the porch, drinking beer and barbecuing. What a curious way to spend Thanksgiving, I thought. Watching a bunch of people run by your house.
After one last push up a slight incline near the finish line, my calves began to burn. We had met back up with the 5k course, full of strollers, Thanksgiving-themed costumes and couples holding hands.
I firmly planted my foot on the reader on the finish line as it scanned the tiny chip in the tag on my shoe. I did it! I screamed in my head.
Michelle and I cruised around the finish area, which was well-stocked with water, granola bars, apples, cookies, bananas and sport good vendors and merchandise.
My mom and dad were there, my mom holding a home-made a sign, complete with balloons, that read, "Jean, Jean the Running Machine!"
I finished in 1 hour 3 minutes. Not bad, considering it was the first time I'd ever run 6.2 miles (and stopped to use the potty).
"Thanks for making me do it," Michelle beamed, biting into her post-run apple.
"No problem," I smiled, stretching out my calves. This pride? Definitely worth the soreness.

What now?

2008-11-25T15:45:00.000-08:00

This week is my first week of the ultimate UBC – the program where I keep going for the rest of my life.

Seems daunting, right? I’ve probably had more anxiety this entire time about the “graduation” than about the program itself. I thought I’d be so happy I was done that I would go to Geoffrey’s and eat a mushroom burger, onion rings, and vanilla shake to boot.

Instead, I hit up the $2 sale at Goodwill (medium T’s here I come!) with my fellow UBC-er Michelle and stuck to my meal plans. Sunday, I shopped, cooked, and prepped for this week just like I did last week.

In fact, I feel more confident and more on-track than ever before. The foundation is laid and now I’m building the house…no, the skyscraper!

In case you’re wondering what I did accomplish (in quantitative terms) during the past 10 weeks, here’s a few highlights:

Went down 2 dress sizes
Shaved 2 minutes off my 1.5 run (final run was 11:45)
Lost 18 lbs.
Improved number of pushups (modified) and situps
Reduced my body fat by 5%
Before and after pictures to come mid next week!
5" off my waist (and I didn't measure it, but a whole bunch off my caboose)
Leg workout with purple resistance bands

I've received a lot of words of support and congratulations; the truth is I couldn't have done what I have without the support of my UBC teammates and the network of support from my family, friends, and coworkers. Thank you!

FYI

2008-11-18T17:37:00.001-08:00

5.1 miles in 54 minutes. Booya!

Week nine is mine

2008-11-11T14:46:00.000-08:00

"These last two weeks are the victory laps," Peter says. It still feels like a fight to me. Everyday, I go to battle. But what the battle is has changed from week one to week nine.

Week one, I struggled getting out of bed at 5:15 a.m. I fought the urge to overeat, I had to constantly readjust my technique during strength training.

Week three I was seeing some results, but felt the need for outside approval; I learned to feel it from within.

Week six I knew what the results were and felt invigorated, doubling my workouts and as a result, doubling my hunger.

Week nine I'm almost there - too soon to say "I did it!" but far enough to feel anxious about whether I'll accomplish all I had hoped.

UBC has been nothing like I imagined, mostly because I don't like having expectations; I'm addicted to the unexpected.

Skeptical about the nutrition plan at first, I am now a convert and beginning to convert those around me; I learned how to trust myself and give it a shot, rather than making excuses why I couldn't do it.

I've been saying I should run an event for a few years and last week, I finally did it, signing up for The Run to Feed the Hungry, benefiting the Sacramento Food Bank and Family Services. It's 10 k (about 6.1 miles) of pumpkin pie preparation (I won't feel so guilty about that extra slice). If you'd like to support me on this run, please visit my fund raising page.

Blog Tag

2008-11-09T08:51:00.000-08:00

I guess I'll play along...

Rules

Link to the person who tagged me (Beth, the best knitter EVER)
Mention the rules
Reveal six quirky yet boring, mundane, banal and pedestrian facts about yourself
Tag six other bloggers by linking to them
Go to each of their blogs and leave a message letting them know they’ve been tagged!

My quirks

I keep all those extra buttons you get on sweaters and pants in a small box in my jewelry chest; an ever-growing collection I cannot fathom getting rid of - what if I need one?!!!
I find it very hard to watch a movie by myself
Slow drivers in the fast lane: God's way of testing my patience?
Sometimes when I'm falling asleep, I sigh. Also related to sleeping, I only drool when I take a nap (?)
To me, the most repulsive sound in the world is cracking knuckles
I'm a big fan of This Old House and Hometime, but have absolutely no desire to ever remodel a home

I don't have 6 other bloggers to tag, but I know the very talented Janna and the best roommate EVER, Marisa might play.

Tag, you're it!

Let them eat cake

2008-11-06T13:21:00.000-08:00

The breakroom is a dangerous place.

Last week, it was a Ziplock bag full of “Fun Size” Snickers, Hershey’s bars, and Milky Ways. The week before, it was a box of leftover vegetarian pizza. And the week before that, a pink, grease-stained cardboard box full of glazed, frosted, and sprinkled donuts.

The placement of these items is deliberate: Always on the counter next to the refrigerator so that when I bend down to grab my lunch, I am nose-level with whatever treat is there for the taking.

Today it was white cake with vanilla frosting and strawberry glaze (not that I was looking…). I had my salad out and started cutting up my salmon when a coworker walked in.

“I wonder how long this has been here?” He peered down at the cake with large, desire-filled eyes.

“It wasn’t here this morning,” I responded, squeezing my lemon wedge.

He began cutting through the cake with a plastic knife, carefully transferring the piece onto a paper plate. “How many pieces would you like?”

“Oh, none for me, thanks.” I responded as I began mixing up my salad.

“Wow, that looks pretty healthy there.” He said slowly, looking back and forth between his piece of cake and my salad.

I gave him the biggest smile I could manage.

“Enjoy your cake.”

Fall fun

2008-11-02T16:16:00.000-08:00

Whenever I download photos from my camera, I'm reminded how lucky I am; this October was full of some really enjoyable weekends:

My softball team, the "Brew Crew,"and some of our supportive "fans" headed up to Truckee for a weekend of beautiful (albeit COLD) weather and lots of laughs playing Loaded Questions.

Apple Hill was warmer and more crowded than I've ever seen it; the Blomos and Bullingtons performed a "taste test" of sorts on the apple donuts at Abel's Apple Acres and Boa Vista Orchards then headed up to High Hill, Larsen Apple Barn, and Honey Bear Ranch, hoping to satisfy my mom's quest to find the best craft booths around. After sipping down a London Porter and soaking up the sun at Jack Russel Brewery, we stopped by Lava Cap and Boeger, to swirl, taste and critique the latest vintages they offered.

Halloween, although completely devoid of candy corn, proved to be a celebration afterall. The morning Tae Bo crew showed up in costumes, some more workout-ready than others (the genie in the bottle lost her fake lashes as she began to sweat 5 minutes in). My UBC team, Team CIA, put on all black and shades, transforming ourselves into top secret CIA Agents. It was odd watching a pirate, a gangster, and male stripper throw punches and perform roundhouse kicks, but I got a great workout and a good laugh.

Later that evening, I pulled together a hippie costume and enjoyed a low-key party at Jim and Sue's.

Moment of Truth

2008-10-21T13:10:00.000-07:00

Standing on the scale Saturday morning felt a bit like the weekly weigh-in on the NBC’s “The Biggest Loser.” I took off my shoes, contemplated taking off my extra shirt (but didn’t go so far as to take a bathroom break as was the strategy of others) then stepped on.

Peering down at the red digital numbers calculating, I felt nervous. I saw the number and half expected it to jump back up to something higher. Glancing up at one of my trainers, I saw her smiling. “How much did you lose?” I was so speechless I temporarily couldn’t do the simple arithmetic. “10, 12, no, 14 pounds!” I said out loud.

The weigh in was the final victory of the day. Earlier that morning, the UBC participants ascended to Skyline College at 7 a.m., covered in a cloud of fog so thick the track wasn’t fully visible. Compared to the first day assessment, I beat my mile and a half time by a minute, did 10 more push-ups, and shaved 4 and a half inches off my waist.

I’m not going to lie – I was on a high for a little bit (OK, all weekend, really). The assessment didn’t prove anything: The proof is in the thousands of decisions I make every day. The assessment simply measured some of the more concrete items that I try not to get too caught up with, but allow a certain objectiveness to the process. I don’t need the scale to tell me how hard I’ve worked or the stopwatch to show how much stronger I’ve become.

Today we ran to a parking lot where we did a series of squats and lunges. I had to laugh for a second because I never imagined me, a caffeine addict who loved to sleep in, awake and working out at 6:30 a.m., then going home to scramble egg whites and boil water for herbal tea for breakfast. It’s hard to imagine going back to the old habits I had developed, but I’m certain it’s not difficult.

I really like this week’s mantra: “Progress not perfection.” I’ve heard it used a lot in my professional life, but I can see why it is easily applied to personal health. Setting and reaching goals is important, but so is never settling; there’s always room for improvement. At the same time, when you do trip up, you learn from it and move on, rather than dwelling on what’s already done.

Thank you for the words of encouragement; I feel blessed to be surrounded by supportive friends and family!

Jet lag? What jet lag?

2008-10-15T20:04:00.000-07:00

Traveling is a great exuse to eat poorly, not exercise, and completely blow off the plan I've been following. Before I left for a business trip to Detroit, however, I decided it wouldn't be an excuse of mine.
It's been a challenge; the time change, group lunches, crammed schedule, and lack of sleep have all planted seeds of doubt. But the key to my success has been planning.
Before I left, I did the following:

Create meal plans for the travel and meeting days, taking into consideration what I need to pack and what I can buy
Make sure the hotel has a gym with a treadmill; back up plan? A safe route for running the distance I need
Stop by a grocery store for fresh fruit, milk, other food that is unavailable during meetings and store in the mini-fridge
Always carry a refillable bottle of water (carry through security empty, refill once inside the terminal)
Don't be afraid to ask for special preparation of buffet/pre-planned meals; if vegetarians or those with food allergies can request this, so can I
Stay strong: Coworkers will be curious at first, test you, then admire you

After boxing up half my salmon and steamed veggies, and passing up the flourless chocolate cake for some apple cinnamon herbal tea, my colleague exclaimed, "You're so disciplined!"

Disciplined is when you're doing something you may or may not want to do because you see your behavior as a way to get where you want: The means to an end.

I don't look at the program this way. I see it as a commitment and a continual learning experience - not something I need to get through to the end, but a process that in itself reaps the rewards. I'm re-evaulating my desire to make poor food choices or skip exercise; is that really what I want, or am I making those decisions because I have a lot of excuses?

I'm on East Coast time right now. When I woke up at 6:00 a.m. here, I could have thought, "It's 3:00 a.m. for me!" But I didn't let that stop me. As I stepped onto the treadmill to run 3 miles, I could have thought, "I went to bed so late last night!" but it didn't slow me down. As I finished in less than 30 minutes I could have thought, "Wow! That was fast!" but I got down on the floor for some crunches instead.

In the end, I had enough energy to propel me through a full day of meetings and still have the power to write this post. I thought traveling would present the risk of taking me off track from the plan; instead it has proven its incredible value and my commitment.

Ruthlessly competing

2008-10-06T11:05:00.000-07:00

Every week, the UBC guide has a quote at the top of the fitness and nutrition grids where all my workouts and meals are recorded. This week is “Ruthlessly compete with your own best self.”
It’s difficult to wrap my head around this idea because everyday I feel an improvement: I’m my best self all the time because I’m better than I was yesterday; physically, mentally, and emotionally.

This ties into the idea of living in the present; not letting the past determine what you do and how you do it in this moment. So, I have to learn to compete against who I am right now, not who I was a week ago, a month ago, or a year ago.

My motivation is starting strong this week; mostly because of what I conquered last week:

Giving up coffee
Working out and continuing the program despite a nasty head cold
Attending a food-centric birthday gathering and staying on track
Giving up red wine
Adjusting to one or fewer servings of starches a day

I complained a lot about each of those things above. Probably at least twice a day to anyone who would listen. And my friends fed into those complaints – many because they’d been there before, a few because they can’t understand why I’d do this to myself. But the complaining didn’t help; it didn’t make the diet adjustments any easier, didn’t make the workouts any less tiring, it didn’t scare away my cold.

So this week, competing with my own best self doesn’t just apply to working out at the dojo or planning my meals; it means creating a positive attitude that accepts the choices I’ve made and the situation I’m in.

Outside the comfort zone

2008-09-30T21:29:00.000-07:00

My three most feared words were uttered today:
No.
More.
Coffee.

My heart sank. Despite my success in cutting back from 4-5 cups a day to about a cup and a half, this 10-week UBC program can't be completely successful without me limiting my caffeine intake to my "playday" (Sunday). It's suggested replacement? Mint tea.

Red wine: Also out. Or, at least limit to Sundays and up to one more glass a week. My first week, I had a glass almost every night. I think it was mostly because I needed something to hold on to. Limiting alcohol, especially the post-softball game beers, has definitely contributed to my shrinking waistline, so I'm motivated to making this change.

Also, after receiving feedback on the food journals I kept for the first two weeks, I've been recommended to replace starches (bread, pita, pasta, cereal, potatoes, etc) with vegetables. My first reaction? A twinge of anger. OK fine. I was cursing under my breath. I've moved completely to whole wheat grains over the past couple years: I thought these were healthy! But I recognized my reaction as a resistance to change - a fear of moving outside of my comfort zone. Reluctantly, I wrapped up my bread and put it into the freezer. It's not that whole wheat pasta will never have a place in my diet now or long-term, but getting the most out of these 10 weeks means making different choices.

So, I'll cheers (with my cup of chamomile tea) to learning how to adapt to these changes.

Quote of the day

2008-09-29T20:23:00.000-07:00

What you need from work is to make sure it's not undermining your ability to create sanity in your life.

Penelope Trunk, Brazen Careerist

It's working!

2008-09-29T19:44:00.000-07:00

When I put on an old pair of jeans yesterday - the ones pushed to the back of the shelf in the hopes that "one day" I could fit into them again - and I zipped them up comfortably, it all seemed worth it. The countless "no's" including cake at the wedding I attended on Saturday.

"Can't you just count Saturday as Sunday?" more than one person has asked (Sunday I can eat whatever I want).

It's funny. That question was essentially what I was asked when I went on TV fast. Why is it that people - even the ones you know love and support you - are so quick to try to test your commitment? It's like they're trying to get a sense of how serious you are.

First, they'll ask me about switching the day. Then they'll try to see if I'll budge on portions: "If you eat more now, then just eat less later," or "have 3 glasses of wine now, and don't drink for the next 2 days.

And the really funny thing is that they are verbalizing exactly what my brain is asking me:
"Your body needs this one extra forkfull..."
"You're so hungry, don't starve yourself - that's not healthy!"

And not only about eating, but working out, too:
"Pace yourself. You've still got 2 sets left."
"That woman over there is doing way worse than you, don't push yourself."

So how do you move past this? I'm still learning, but it has a little bit to do with trusting that the program I'm following is sound and a lot to do with just doing it. No excuses.

So, instead of getting upset or irritated when I'm tested, I'll have to thank them for being my teacher. Then I'll get an A+.

Cupcakes at work

2008-09-18T21:36:00.000-07:00

Let's face it. Life will always bring cupcakes at work. You know - the kind that are so sweet you can smell the sugar from down the hall. The kind that show up, out of nowhere, exactly when you need that afternoon pick-me up. Exactly when I'm halfway through the first week of a ten-week Ultimate Body Challenge.
After working out at Dojo USA for almost six months, I've had some good results: down a dress size, more muscle tone, more energy, more confidence and new friends. When UBC was offered earlier this summer, I hesitated; I didn't think I was ready for the commitment. Now, ready to jump into week number two, I'm glad that the second time it was offered I took the opportunity and am committed 100%.
So, when the cupcakes showed up in the conference room right across from my office, I was tempted, but didn't doubt myself for a second. And even today, my "free day" in which I can eat anything in any amount, I didn't go overboard. Food is quickly becoming less of a narcotic and more of a nourishment.
Additionally, the focus in my workouts has intensified. Instead of trying to get through it minute by minute, I trust in the fact that if I push myself outside of my comfort zone, I will improve a little bit everyday in every move I make.
Many may look at this as a weight loss program, but healthy weight loss happens as a result of building muscle, burning fat, and creating a foundation of nutrition and exercise that you can tweak as your life and body changes. That said, I'd much rather lose body fat percentage points than just see the numbers fall on a scale. I'd rather improve my 1.5 mile run time or push-ups per minute. Those are real results.
So. Here I am. 1/10 of the way into this program and ready. Ready for the challenges and the triumph. Ready for the "after" picture.

How I make tough decisions

2008-03-26T06:20:00.000-07:00

There's a scene in Seinfeld where George is trying to decide whether to call Susan, with whom he's recently broke up.

"Listen to your little man" Kramer urges, the little man being George's subconscious.

"Ahhh...my little man is an idiot!" George retorts, disgusted at the thought.(photo from Sony Pictures)

This is much how I feel. People say listen to your heart, chose your gut instinct, visualize what you want. There are so many ways to make a decision, yet all assume that you know, deep down, what's best. The fact is, you don't know what's best, and really, you never will.

Also, I don't trust my "little man," either; I'm Italian and tend to be on the overly emotional side. Listening to my heart would cause me to fall in love too fast, make too many purchases, eat and drink too much, basically moderation would be out the door.

So what do I do? I take the choices I have and think which choice, having not been chosen, would I regret the most?

It's the polar opposite of what everyone normally suggests, but I've found it helpful because I also have a fear a failure (who doesn't, right?). That fear sometimes causes me to make the safe choice. What if down the road I look back and think about that choice that wasn't so clear? Will I regret not even trying?

My brother gave me similar advice, which was basically that you should choose the option with the most unknowns; it'll be a better learning experience.

Making a decision is difficult and whenever I'm feeling stressed out about it, I also try to remember to be thankful that I have the power to make the choice. Some aren't so lucky.

How to stay sane at work

2008-03-21T06:58:00.000-07:00

I won't claim to be some kind of career expert, but in the short time I've been working in the corporate world, I've learned quite a bit about workplace behavior.

The funny thing is, I feel like I learn the most from what not to do. People who act professionally do so in a quiet, unnoticeable way that I can't quite figure out at first. Here's my best guess at what their secrets are, and how I've managed to stay relatively sane.

When you want to react, don’t
When you receive an email or hear a statement that makes you want to react, don’t react. Write down (on a piece of paper or a word processor, not an email) what items make you upset. Now, write down possible solutions to those items. Do you have control over any of those solutions? If so, do them, if not, let it go. Then evaluate what your response will be.

Sit on a balance ball
It’ll force you and others not to take work too seriously. Also, it’s fun to bounce while excited or angry.

Look at job postings. Every day.
There is nothing wrong with looking at available jobs on the market. It doesn’t mean you don’t like your current job, current boss, or current pay. Looking allows you to constantly evaluate what kind of skills you are acquiring in your current position, your worth, and the direction you want to go. Does that job sound awesome? Do some research. Use LinkedIn to find someone who has a similar position and find out if it’s really what you want. If so, either apply now or set in place an action plan of how you’ll prepare for it.

Stop comparing yourself to others
Whether Tommy is doing twice as much or half as much work as you, the only thing you can control is how much you do. So do it well. If he’s making you look bad, either ask him what his secret is or re-evaluate whether this job is right for you. If his lack of initiative is causing an increase in your workload and you can’t handle it, tell your boss exactly what workload you feel is your limit.

Pretend like you’re in a cubicle
Maybe you are already, but always assume that what you are writing and saying will be heard or read by those for which it was not originally intended. You can be honest, while being professional, too. Save private conversations for lunch or after work. Yes, gossip can wait that long.

Take a moment for your personal life
Read your personal email. IM a friend. Make an optometry appointment. Catch up on your favorite blog (obviously this one). Schedule a meeting in your calendar for 10-15 minutes once a day, when you typically feel unmotivated (usually about 3 p.m. for me) and do something that puts your job into perspective. If your workplace doesn’t allow personal phone calls or blocks websites, take a walk. Obviously, don’t let it take up too much time. Your coworkers and your boss will notice. Even if you get your work done.

Make friends and play nice
Even if you are certain that after you leave you will never talk to your coworkers ever again, be friendly. Open up and ask them about their personal lives (as long as they seem comfortable, that is). Learning how to make good relationships doesn’t have to stop at the workplace.

What are your stay-sane secrets?

Tae Bo-riffic

2008-03-19T19:14:00.000-07:00

Until now I was afraid to write about taking Tae Bo classes: I didn't want to jinx myself.

It started when my friend emailed a picture of herself with Billy Blanks, the founder of the Tae Bo phenomenon (image at left from billyblanks.com). She had been working out at Dojo USA and its influence upon her daily behavior became so ingrained that recently, she took a karate-style stance in the copy room when surprised by a coworker. Don't mess with her.

How can I get that confidence? I thought. Lifting weights in the gym just wasn't cutting it for me anymore. So the dojo offered a month trial period and three weeks in, I'm addicted.

When I filled out the initial paperwork, it asked for a history of my physical activities. As I wrote them down; horseback riding, track and field, rugby, softball, running, lifting weights, and now Tae Bo, I couldn't help but think how random they were.

"Life is random" the trainer responded, smiling. It is, but I think only on the surface. Regardless, I'm lucky to have finally found a workout worth getting up before sunrise to do.

My Panama article is published

2008-03-14T20:57:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't live in the Sacramento Area (the printed version is in the two SierraStyle publications), see the online version here.

Quote of the day

2008-03-07T15:41:00.000-08:00

...in truth, you do not consist of what you've done or seen or eaten or even who
you married or how much you make or what you drive or drink or suck. You are
made up of far, far subtler stuff than that.

Mark Morford, Notes and Errata

Dear Cupid,

2008-02-14T23:15:00.000-08:00

Me celebrating your day is a bit like me celebrating Hanukkah, which is to say I don't.
My most memorable Valentine's Day celebration was spent drinking pints of Guinness in an Irish pub watching 6 Nations matches on T.V. There wasn't a love-dovey couple in sight. It was excellent.
Tonight I went to see Definitely, Maybe with my single gal-pal (by the way, you have my blessing to shoot an arrow at Ryan Reynolds). The movie was a cute, but instead of feeling defeated that my life doesn't follow a fairytale romantic plot line, I had a fantastic time hanging out with my friend.
This year, people ~~g0t suckered into~~ were estimated to spend about $17 billion on cards, flowers, and candy. Seems a bit excessive. Especially after J-Lo let us know that "My love don't cost a thing."
Oh, it's a played story, and I'm not really sure where I'm going with this.
Just thought I'd reach out and say hi, since I haven't really seen much action from you (again, your arrow + Ryan Reynolds = awesome). Guess I'm a sucker too.
Happy V-Day Cupid!
-Jean

Five fun sites

2008-02-13T20:03:00.000-08:00

Ever feel the need to write a passive aggressive email? Check out Ze's clever video.
Great modern art with accessible, humorous topics: Curioloy.com
World flags with a message.
Steve eats everything that mildly resembles food.
"I don't work here. I'm a consultant." and other hilarious condescending phrases.

Customer service

2008-02-10T23:09:00.000-08:00

It stems most likely from my years in customer service as a barista/sever at a cafe, a sales "associate" at a mall furniture store, and a crew member at Trader Joe's: I tend to go out of my way to treat anyone in the customer service sector with more respect than they ever expect. Maybe it's my way of giving back.
When my internet was down on Monday night, I freaked. After all, the week before, the interweb had become my replacement for T.V., but I thought I'd give AT&T at least a day to sort things out (plus, I really didn't feel like calling). But alas, arriving home Tuesday, the light on my router still blinked red, so I gave up and called tech support.
Two years ago I read this article in the San Francisco Chronicle that changed me. So even though my service rep was named Anthony, I knew by his accent that he most likely resided in either the Philippines or India. And even more likely, he had already dealt with dozens of angry, rude customers that shift.
I immediately flashed back to a scene at Trader Joe's a few years ago. A man, red-faced with rage walked up to the manager's desk demanding that he speak with the "person in charge."
"I bought this canned tuna and it is absolutely disgusting!" he raised his voice loud enough for other customers to notice.
But, like many times before, the manager remained calm and explained that the store guaranteed the quality of their products and took the offending can of tuna from the man offering him a complete refund.
"I'd also like to mention," she replied to the man, who had yet to show signs of the steam from his ears receding, "that this tuna is meant for animals, as indicated on the lid that days 'not for human consumption."
This time the man was red, but from embarrassment. He mumbled something and exited the store.
So although I was upset that my internet wasn't working, I thought about that man and how being angry gets you nowhere. I was transferred from one rep to another because they didn't have much familiarity with Mac OS, but I was patient. The rep even told me he had no support material in front of him, he was "winging it" and I appreciated his experimental approach. And when, after finally figuring out that I in fact, was the one to blame (I had, two days previously, re-set my email password, but ignored the instructions to re-set the router), I was happy I didn't make a fool of myself yelling at the man who was being paid to help me.
So please, remember canned tuna man when you feel the need to be rude to someone in customer service; it'll put things into perspective and hopefully, save you from some embarrassment.

Why my name is awesome

2008-02-07T23:27:00.000-08:00

If you have a common or an easily pronounced name, you probably don’t ever think about it. But the time comes, when I meet someone for the first time, and they ask for my last name. Every time, I hesitate. For a split second, I try to guess what their reaction will be. Cocked head confusion? Muffled laugh then apology? Guess at its ethnic origin? The results are across the map.
More recently, my coworkers have taken to calling me only by my last name, some claim it’s fun to say. And Bethro has come up with the band-sounding nickname, Blometown.
The full story is that it morphed from Bellomo (or bell’uomo, Italian for handsome man) to be more “American” sounding; my relatives wanted to assimilate. Which is ironic because now my Italian heritage is a source of great pride for me.
Although I still hesitate (maybe it’s a reaction that never goes away?) I embrace my name (first name, too, which is common only among the over 50 crowd). Here’s why:

I never worry about someone else having my URL, screen name, or email address
It’s a great conversation starter:

“What’s your last name?”
“Blomo"
“Hahahahahaha! No, really?”
“Uhhh….Blomo. It’s Italian.”
“Oh…oh…OK. Sorry…I...What an interesting name!”

My fly girl name is J-Blo
Jean rhymes with a lot of words (including, I might point out, dream and lean)
Everyone feels like they’ve invented a new joke when they say “Hi Jean!” and realize that a homonym is hygiene. Sorry.
Prevents me from dating any guys named ‘Mo’
Because Safeway cashiers are required to say your last name as they hand you the receipt, I love hearing them struggle, they always end up mumbling it under their breath.
My middle name (Michelle) throws everyone off: Is she French? Is she Italian? Wow, she's so amazing and exotic (I get that a lot).
Italians pronounce my last name perfectly, but my first name comes out sounding like “gin.” I always think “and tonic” in my head.
I immediately know who’s a telemarketer, spam sender or junk mail provider.
It’s a guessing game when I go to Starbucks: Will they spell my name “Jean” or “Gene?”

Aren’t you jealous now?

Does backtrack on Blogger work?

2008-02-07T19:15:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure, so I'm doing a quick test with the Janna Monologues and her latest post, a rebuttal to Michelle Goodman's post on the Anti 9 to 5 Guide.

Yes, Superbowl does count

2008-02-03T14:17:00.000-08:00

It's the last day of my T.V.-less week, which also happens to be Superbowl Sunday.
"Can't you just skip today and do it tomorrow?" My friend Janna commented.
"I think you should make an exception for an event that only happens once a year," Sarah added. But isn't that always the excuse for not doing something that is difficult?
I compared my no-T.V. experiment to a diet, and again, the analogy applies. After all, how many times have you started a I'm-going-to-eat-healthy promise, but make one small "exception" for your birthday, or Christmas, or that pot luck party? The point of giving something up, or making a behavior change is that it forces you to overcome some difficult moments, and this is one of them.
I don't particularly like the Superbowl however, I do enjoy the funny ads, the good food (mmm...beer and hot wings), and most of all, the excuse for hanging out with friends on a Sunday afternoon. So it was admittedly difficult to say no, but I don't think I'll regret it.
I also felt a pang of irritation yesterday when my dad was watching PBS' This Old House. I drive up to Sacramento about once a month to visit my parents and friends and I always consider it my down time to recoup in a relaxing environment, and watching T.V. is usually a large part of my weekends here (along with naps...I love naps...). So, as my dad sat down to enjoy Norm, Kevin, and Roger's newest endeavor into home remodeling, I walked around the house, room to room, picking up a magazine, then folding laundry, then flipping through the newspaper, then reading blogs. What I really wanted to do was sit down next to my dad, comment on the show and make fun of their Boston accents - "now we'll show you the gaaah-dehn."

So here's what I've learned this week:

The reason I like to watch T.V. is because I equate being relaxed with being passive
My mom's favorite movie is Murphy's Romance and she tried, unsuccessfully to get me to make an exception and watch it with her (I promised I would next time)
I am able to relax while being engaged; through reading, writing, and being around people
The shows I miss the most are on PBS, which isn't all that bad and makes me a big nerd (wait, I already knew that)
My friends and family have been really supportive of this experiment

In the end, I highly encourage everyone to try it out. A week isn't long enough to break me of the habit of watching T.V., but it certainly has made me aware of how much I rely upon it to help me relax. It's all about moderation. So, now I begin the task of finding a balance and hoping I don't have to miss another Superbowl.

Quote of the day

2008-01-31T18:36:00.000-08:00

Don’t waste your breath proclaiming what’s really important to you. How you spend your time says it all.

Eric Zorn, Chicago Tribune

I am Saddam Hussein

2008-01-31T17:28:00.000-08:00

I like to take personality tests. I think it started in my high school psychology class when I found out I was an ENTJ on Jung's test (1.8% of the population). And of course, ironically, the fact that I'm proud that my personality type is so rare is yet another indication that I'm an ENTJ.
Anyway, I came across the Holy Grail of psychological personality quizzes at similarminds.com and I decided to take a fun one about what famous leader you'd be. Ummm...mine was disturbing to say the least. And yet, I'm happy I didn't get Bush or Hitler.

What Famous Leader Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Now take the more serious Jung Test. My results are eerily accurate. However, I find the barcode over the brain image choice a little creepy and disturbing.

ENTJ - "Field Marshall". The basic driving force and need is to lead. Tend to seek a position of responsibility and enjoys being an executive. 1.8% of total population.

Take Free Jung Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Main type	Variant

Take Free Enneagram Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Type	score	type behavior motivation
1	27	I must be perfect and good to be happy.
7	22	I must be high and entertained to be happy.
8	21	I must be strong and in control to be happy.
3	20	I must be impressive and attractive to be happy.
6	20	I must be secure and safe to be happy.
9	20	I must be peaceful and easy to get along with to be happy.

In the end though, people are 3-dimensional; there's no test that can possible encompass anyone's entire personality, which, in the end changes over time. Also, I don't necessarily believe the compatibility charts between personalities. Mostly because I don't believe personality similarities/differences make or break a relationship, I think it's core values.

If you take any of the tests, let me know how yours turned out!

Day Three: The deafening sound of silence

2008-01-30T19:03:00.000-08:00

Did I mention that food tastes better? Well, it does. Found out why below:

Typical end of workday:

4:30 p.m.
Think about going to the gym

4:45 p.m
Think about what to eat for dinner. No, must go to the gym! Think about going home, ruining appetite with chips and salsa while watching The Simpsons and NBC Nightly News

5:00 p.m.
Finish up email and powerdown. Must...go...to...gym.

5:01 p.m.
Get in car and drive directly home - I can work out tomorrow right? Besides, I think I'm coming down with something, my throat hurts *cough*

5:30 p.m.
Pour glass of wine (it's been a stressful day, ok?) and flip between McNeil Leher News Hour (why am I watching this???!!!) and Still Standing (again, why am I watching this?)

8:45 p.m.
Shit. It's 8:45 at night and I still haven't eaten dinner. What have I been doing for the past 3 hours?

9:00 p.m.
Make quesadilla and dip in salsa. Protein, check. Carbs, check. Vegetables, check. Wait. I better eat some chocolate covered raisins to cover the fruit category. Or maybe wine counts? Pour another glass of wine. Hmmm...did I just polish off this bottle?

11:51 p.m.
Oh man, that Youtube video is hi-larious. Send to 3 friends. Ah jeez, it's almost midnight. Oh crap! I missed Jay Leno's Headlines!

1:23 a.m.
Must...watch...Conan's...last...guest...

1:22 a.m.
Asleep

No T.V. end of workday:

5:00 p.m.
OK, I'm not going to lie. I've still been blowing off going to the gym.

5:30 p.m
Man, this place is a mess. Clean apartment, including *gasp* washing dishes. So that's where that smell was coming from...

6:30 p.m.
Sit at table and eat. No T.V., no music, not even a book. I sit and eat the meal I've cooked and enjoy it. Bite by bite. I'm actually tasting it. And I'm a damn good cook, if I do say so myself.

7:30 p.m.
Blog. Because I have millions of readers who need to know what I do everyday.

9:00 p.m.
Ummm...is there any wine left? This book is funnier when I'm drinking wine.

10:30 p.m.
Go to bed. Wait, but there was a new episode of...No. Go to bed. Fine.

Thus concludes the findings thus far of my experiment. Signs are pointing to my life changing, ever so slightly, for the better. I still really wanted to watch Frontline last night though. Kinda mad I missed it. And, I think if I watch it online it's cheating.

Turned off, Day Two

2008-01-29T21:52:00.000-08:00

Seeing as I've written on my blog two days in a row, it's apparent that I am successfully implementing my no-T.V. experiment.
I just finished The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs, a funny autobiographical account of a man's attempt to read the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica. Makes my quest seem lame. If you, too, decide to give up T.V. for a week (or even for the evening) I highly reccomend this and his more recent The Year of Living Biblically. What I especially like about The Know it All is the organization - it mimics the Encyclopedia in that each chapter is a letter and he chooses various entries that interest him from either an intellectual standpoint or when the entry relates to his real life.
I've taken inspiration from this style and am attempting to put together a more in-depth multi-media account of my trip to Panama. Scrapbooking is fun, but I enjoy the flexibility and portability of presenting content electronically. However, my (admittedly superficial) research into electronic scrapbooking has turned up less than satisfying results, at least for what I want. I want to show my photos, 2 videos, written journal-style entries, while incorporating outside sites (and maybe experiences and content of my family and friends that were there with me) through linking. How do I do this? Surely I'll figure it out by week's end.

Experimentation (not the sexual orientation kind)

2008-01-28T20:40:00.000-08:00

I'm conducting an experiment; one I've tried so many times before, and much like diets (donuts are my downfall) have failed.
My television, antennae, and DVD player are all unplugged. For a week. I know, drastic, right? Don't get me wrong; I love my veg out time. It's a neceassary component to my overall mental health, because after eight hours of emails I can always use some American Gladiator to calm my nerves. However, I feel that lately, I've been overdoing it. And without cable, I've resorted to one too many episodes of Cheaters (I love how Joey Greco comforts and instigates the 'victim' with the finesse of a brain surgeon).
It's going well so far - Day Two is almost over - but already, in an absent-minded second of trying to fill up time waiting for my brother to arrive for dinner, I attempted to turn on the T.V. "What the hell?" I said out loud (OK, it was probably a worse obscenity I'm too embarrassed to admit uttering for such an insignificant reason). It's so second nature of me to turn it on when I get home, and let the background noise fill my apartment while I surf the web, cook, read, write, and then I'll occasionally glance at it when Simon lets out an especially devious insult to the latest talent-less American Idol auditioner. I'm glad I've unplugged it - because I'm sure I'll have more of these forgetful moments.
The purpose of my experiment is twofold:

Make myself realize how much of a habit it is for me to turn on the T.V. and zone out
Make myself 'do' more

One or two hours spent watching T.V. can be better spent elsewhere, writing my blog, for example. Also, reading, playing guitar, practicing Italian, organizing photos, or doing one of the millions of craft projects I promise myself I'll do 'when I have time.'

So, wish me luck and send me funny websites to check out. Here are some of my suggestions:

5 Most Horrifying Bugs in the World - humorous take on some creepy insects
I Will Teach You to Be Rich - just featured on ABC News for his sound financial advice for young people. Yay Ramit!
Penelope Trunk - improve your social skills
I Park Like an Idiot - seek vengeance on morons who think they don't need to follow the rules
US Department of Laughs - one man's take on ambiguous government signs

Image from trashyourtv.com

Panama - Part 3

2008-01-17T05:10:00.000-08:00

I´ve uploaded pictures!!! Check them out on my flickr account.
Being a part of my mom´s quest to find some of the people she worked with 40 years ago in the Peace Corps was both touching and quite fun. We headed up to Penonome´on Monday morning, and took the road northeast to Sonadora, her second site during her 2 years here. The roads were newly paved (not so when my mom was here) and when we arrived in the town, she barely recognized it. Because of a new push to discourage the old ´slash and burn´techniques, there is a lot more vegetation; great for the environment, bad for my mom´s memory. We found the school where she held charlas, or talks, and taught the chidren of the village English.
With recent funding from the government, the community was able to build a computer room and operates it by charging to print pages.
We were able to find my mom´s landlord and the wife of a man who was in the sixth grade when my mom was there - they now have grandkids.
Next, we headed up to Sangreja, where my mom didn´t expect to find the man from which she rented, because back in the ´60s, he was in his 50s. But sure enough, the 94 year old Ignacio was still kickin´and rememebered my mom.
After spending 3 nights, 2 days in Buenaventura, a ritzy gated community just south of Farallon, we´ve travelled back to Panama City and this morning await a half-day guided walking tour of some of the historrical and cultural sights.
We were invited to stay in a large 4 bedroom rented home in Buenaventura by one of my mom´s fellow Peace Corps volunteers, who has it rented for the entire month of January and is recieivng various groups of family and friends. Jim and I had our own room and bathroom, and all rooms were air conditioned which is usually limited to nicer restaurants and hotels here. Of course, now that I´m accustomed to the 90-plus degree weather, it felt cold!
Panama hasn´t been without frustrations, though. While most of Panama has paved roads, they are rarely kept up, and as a result are full of potholes that could easily damage a car - I´d advise renting a car with a lot of ground clearance. Yesterday, we went to the national airport to drop off our rental car and no one was there - we had to wait about an hour and a half (Panamanian time for 20 minutes) for the Thrifty person to arrive from the other side of town. But what´s really frustrating is that now that Panama has control of the canal and the economy is doing well, the dichotomy between haves and have nots is astounding. Not that this doesn´t happen in the United States, it just seems more prominent here.
To end on a good note, I can´t beleive I only have two more days here, I wish I could stay longer and visit Bocas del Toro, more of the Azuero, and see the Kuna indians in their native lands. I want to eat more patacones (fried plantains), sancocho (chicken and yucca soup), and drink more Balboa beer. Guess I gotta make the most of it!

Panama - Part 2

2008-01-13T17:39:00.000-08:00

I haven't quite figured out the Panamanians, but I have found them to be helpful and eager to answer questions. In fact, today, as I browsed the vendor tables at the market in El Valle, they didn't hassle me, nor try to convince me to buy their jewelery, pottery and art that they were selling. But they did smile, then respond to every question I had without hesitation and with an apologetic smile if their English wasn't perfect.
We've stopped at least 10 times while driving ("road signs" are a foreign word here) for directions, and once, a lovely young man walked along side our car - which was out of his way - for a block to point us to a hotel we had missed.
Today I experienced my "highlight" thus far. My brother and I went to the Canopy Adventure in El Valle, a community up in the crater of a once active volcano, just northwest of Panama City (and full of wealthy Panamanian weekenders). We were fitted with harnesses and lead along a 20-minute hike up a fairly steep hillside by Roje, a friendly local with the best office in the world - the Panamanian forest. He pointed out birds, butterflies, and beautiful shrubbery as Jim and I stared at the stunning beauty. I always thought of the forest as being quiet, but with the combination of a strong breeze, cicada's buzzing, and flow of the stream and nearby waterfalls, we were in nature's concert hall. We descended by "zipping" along 4 zip lines, one of which spanned across a 150-foot waterfall. It was thrilling and left my legs shaking in fear and delight.
Our visit to the Azuero allowed us to experience the daily life of coastal Panamanians. Locals are jack-of-all-trades; the men frequently fish to feed their own families or provide local restaurants with fresh seafood as well as have side jobs as farmers, carpenters, and tour guides. The women make polleras, cook at restaurants, and become primary caretakers of the children.
Perhaps the most unexpected (and I don't expect much) aspect of meeting Panamanians is their lack of interest in America. During my travels in Europe, if I shared that I was from the U.S. (and especially California) they would sigh and say how much they wanted to visit and move to the States. But Panamanians are content to be here. The family is the center of their life and they would rather live out their days in modest homes, making enough to support their family and celebrate all of the numerous festivals throughout the year. I can learn a lot from this culture.
I've enjoyed choosing not to use a computer, cell phone and T.V. This way of life has shown me the simple pleasures; beautiful weather, delicious food, and the company of family and friends. It's all you really need.
We've now arrived in Buenaventura, a new gated community near Rio Hato and I spent the afternoon swimming in the warm ocean (don't worry, the waves are small, I can't hurt myself again...), then swinging and falling asleep on a hammock on the patio.
Tomorrow, we'll be visiting my mom's Peace Corps site - she lived in a tiny house where my mom's friend's Pam says she was able to spread out her arms and touch both walls. Wow. My mom was pretty hard core. And apparently, there's more stories where that came.
Buenas noches.

Panama - Part 1

2008-01-09T06:36:00.000-08:00

First off, please excuse my bad punctuation, the keyboards here are a bit different.

35 minutes after our arrival in Panama, my mom got into a fight with our cabbie. Ive never seem my mom get so heated, let alone in another language, but she wasnt about to be had: Tourists, just like anywhere else in the world, are especially prone to being taken advantage of. But it turned out OK - while we paid more than our original estimate, we got the life story of Bernardo, who also dabbles in real estate (a regular entreprenuer, this guy...) while on the ride from the airport to our hotel a little bit outside of Panama City in Amador.

View Larger Map
When my parents relayed that they live in the Sacramento area, he was excited; turns out hes friends with the owner of Centerfolds, Sacramentos largest strip club. Nice.
Stepping out of the airport, I was struck not only by the sense of relief one gets when realizing that you have almost completed a long trip with luggage successfully retrieved, but by the heat. It was a muggy 85 degrees and it felt great! When we left San Francisco at 6:10 a.m. it was hovering around 40 degrees.
I am in the Country Inn and Suites now, which sits on the coast at the entryway to the famous canal , an incredible system of locks that allows massive ships to traverse from the Atlantic to the Pacific.
Well rested and ready for our drive to the Azuero, I am excited to see the traditional dress of Panamanian women: the pollera. Sometimes taking a year to complete, the lace skirt and blouses are incredible works of art and the Azuero locals are known for their ability to keep the tradition alive, despite Panamas shift to modernization.
While driving along the Interamerican highway last night, one minute we passed by the bell tower in Panama Viejo, one of few ruins left after Captain Morgan (apparently, he was pissed that they ran out of rum) in the late 17th century. The next minute, we gazing upward at highrises in Punta Paitilla, a ritzy district on the shore that has seen a recent real estate boom, attracting many American retirees.
Well, I need to pack, I hope to write again soon, and with some pictures.

Como esta?

2008-01-02T21:36:00.000-08:00

So, I need to brush up on my Spanish, or hope that people can understand Italian on my upcoming trip to Panama.
In the late 60's, my mom served in the Peace Corps in Panama and in a week, she'll be fulfilling a long-time wish to go back to see how much its changed, reunite with her fellow Peace Corps-ians and show my dad, brother and I a piece of her history.
While reading and hearing about Panama more in-depth, I look forward to the warm weather (December-April is the dry season with temperatures in the mid-80s), beautiful beaches, hiking, as well as learning more about the Panamanian culture.
Of course, we'll visit the canal and I'll at least snap a photo of me in a Panama hat (which by the way isn't from Panama...), but I look forward especially to learning more about my mom's experiences there.
When I decided to study abroad in high school, many of my friends and family members were surprised, but my mom just smiled. I think the traveler/adventurer runs in my blood. It's hard for me to imagine, but at my age, my mom had already been in Panama for more than a year, living in one-room structures, speaking Spanish, making friends with locals, teaching English, taking hikes, basically, being a rockstar.
Buenos nachos...I mean, noches. Man, this is going to be tough...

New Year's Pizza

2008-01-01T19:12:00.000-08:00

I was craving pizza and since Trader Joe's was out of pre-made dough, I made my own. The little bit of heat from the pepper jack cheese and Italian chicken sausage goes well with the earthiness of the mushrooms, red wine, olives, and the carmelized onions add a touch of sweetness.
Although one of my pizzas turned out well, I had some problems working with the dough of the other one. Plus, I realized I didn't have a rolling pin, so I used a juice glass which actually worked out well. Regardless, it was delicious!

Dough
2 1/2 cups flour
1 cup warm water
1 package yeast
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 teaspoon salt

To make dough, blend together 1 cup flour, water, yeast, oil, and salt. Make well with remaining flour on large, flat surface. Pour wet mixture into flour and slowly mix in flour. Knead 5-10 minutes, adding more flour if necessary, making a smooth, elastic dough. Divide in two, cover and let rest 30 minutes. Punch down dough, roll out onto two cookie sheets or pizza pans, forming crust on edges. Cover and let rest 30 minutes.

Toppings
1 tub TJ's pizza sauce
2 TJ's Italian Chicken Sausage, diced
1/4 cup red wine
7-8 mushrooms, sliced
1 red onions
1/2 can sliced black olives
2 cups shredded pepper jack cheese

Carmelize onions by slicing rings and sautéing in oil for about 15 minutes on low to medium heat, until brown, remove from pan. In same pan, add diced sausage until browned, add wine and scrape bottom of pan. When wine comes to simmer, add sliced mushrooms. Simmer until mushrooms are softened. Remove from heat.

Putting it together
When dough has finished rising, bake in an oven pre-heated to 375 degrees for 15 minutes. Add sauce and toppings. Bake for an additional 15-20 minutes, until cheese is melted and the crust is lightly browned. Enjoy!

2007 was a very good year

2008-01-01T15:12:00.000-08:00

It's time to reflect. Here's what 2007 brought me:

moving, which doubled my rent, but cut my commute by about 75%
getting a promotion/changing departments
playing Summer 7's Rugby despite my "I'm too old..." mantra
injuring my back while body surfing because of my "I'm still young..." mantra
attending two weddings and listening about three others causing a roller coaster of singleton bliss and lonely regret of 'what ifs?'
death of my grandfather which allowed for a bittersweet reunion with family
dressing as Jessie Spano for Halloween
surviving job cuts/restructuring after the sale of Thomson Learning
approximately $2500 in car repairs
a new(er) car because of aforementioned repairs

It's been quite a year, and 2008 already has the promise for some adventure. I'm especially looking forward to my trip to Panama.
I'm one of those people who always makes resolutions. Last year, it was to cut back on gossiping, and I think I stuck to it for a couple months, but it became too much when our company was sold and the rumor mill was out of control. But I think it's a good resolution to try again. I like Penelope Trunk's post about resolutions.
Here's to a great 2008. Happy New Year!

Taxi!

2007-12-27T22:54:00.000-08:00

Anyone who consumes alcohol on a regular basis has at one point in their life pondered "did I drink too much?" before they get into their car.
In fact, I find the public service announcement that says something like "You know when you've had way too many...do you know when you've had one to many?" thought provoking.
I'd like to think that the main reasons people are willing to risk a DUI instead of calling a taxi are cost and convenience.
But this can't be the case.
Mischa Barton could easily have afforded a taxi or even hired a limo for the evening if she didn't want to wait for a taxi. Now, however, she's stuck with thousands of dollars of fines and legal bills.

2007-12-26T17:20:00.000-08:00

Hehehe. Love punny humor.
Jonah Fisher is the new reporter for BBC's coverage of the highly controversial Japanese whaling practices.
On a related note, Hayden Panettiere (by the way, her last name means bread maker) has a warrant out for protesting dolphin hunting in Japan.
Looks like the Japanese need some good PR.

Pimp my ride

2007-12-24T13:14:00.000-08:00

BEFORE
AFTER

Apparently, Volkswagens are not, in fact, the people's car. Or, perhaps they're the rich people's car because I just spent $1200 in repairs, on top of the other $1000 plus I've spent in the past year on repairs to my 1996 VW Jetta. It was time to get a new(er) car. Well, it was probably time a year ago, but I just couldn't do it. I loved the Jet's zippy dive, the V-6 engine, the auto locks, windows and moon/sun roof. Plus, there's the memories: It was the car in which I learned to drive stick shift, the car I spent lots of times and miles in for 11 years.
But I decided I needed something:

reliable
reasonably priced and
still fun to drive.

Plus, I valued fuel efficiency and preferred a manual transmission.
So I looked at a few cars.
First stop: Toyota. The Corolla met my first two criteria, but it was unbelievably dull to drive. Next! The Toyota Scion (xA - now xD, xB, and xC - now tC). The xA was a great price with the reliable Toyota reputation, but while I found it much peppier than the Corolla, I felt like I was up too high, as was the finding in this review, too. I also wasn't confident with it's smaller engine: My commute includes a large hill and I didn't want to get stuck behind semi-trucks.
I heard great personal recommendations for the Mazda3, so took a test-drive, probably with unrealistically high expectations. It was fun to drive, but again I felt like I was sitting too high. I had to duck my head underneath the review mirror to look towards the right. I wouldn't recommend this car or anyone taller than about 5' 7".
In high school, my brother and I shared a 1987 Honda Accord hatchback. He used a white plastic hangar as a "remote control" for the radio; meaning he would lean back in the seat and use the hangar so he didn't have to reach forward and change the stations.
The irony is that I just bought a 2005 Honda Accord sedan and I almost let out a squeal of joy when I saw that the steering wheel included a channel and volume control for the radio.
It's a great car in great shape, but it will take some getting used to.
I never thought I'd drive a sedan; it feels a little like I should be a real-estate broker or one half of a retired couple, but it's solid, shifts well, and I'm confident that repairs will be few and far between (plus I've increased my mpg by 5-10).
I also pride myself on my parallel parking abilities and now I have to get used to it's longer length and smaller steering radius, but whoa is me, I can't complain. Thanks to the generousity of my family, I'm able to afford this way-nicer-than-I-thought-I-could-buy-car.
Merry Christmas!

A Halloween Fright

2007-11-01T18:43:00.001-07:00

There's nothing like celebrating Halloween in a divey Irish pub, throwing back a few pints of Guinness.
I like dive bars. Y'know - the bars where the moment you step foot inside, you feel pairs of eyes glued to you and half expect the bartender to say "You're not from these parts, are you?"
The kind where you're more likely to hear Creedence Clearwater than Justin Timberlake, where Jager shots are in abundance and Hypnotiq is never served. Where bags of chips hang from a clothes-line across the back splash of the bar and the token old drunk guy cackles when the token old drunk chick falls off her barstool. It's got atmosphere. And, I can get a drink really fast.
Well, not Guinness - it requires some settling time (if poured correctly), but it's always worth the wait.
And, I can have a conversation with a friend without getting interrupted, spilled on, drowned out by music, or hit on. The drinks are cheap and the bartender either remembers your drink, your name, your face, or in some extra special places, all three.
But on Halloween, this particular dive was an experience. The token old drunk guy was dressed as Gandolf the Grey (staff, robes, fake nose and all) and the token drunk girl was wearing a wig (or was that really a costume?).
After a couple pints, I decided to "break the seal," and trotted off to the toilet. Here's the time that sets apart the dives I like from the dives I don't. Just because a bar is divey doesn't mean you should have to risk your mental and physical health to go pee.
Phew. This one looked OK But someone was in the only female stall. OK just hold it. Calmly hold it. But they were talking forever (and in full-bladder time, that's a while). So I knocked again.
"Who is it?" The voice called from the other side of the door.
You know you're in a local's favorite when the patrons ask who's there and expect an answer from someone they know.
"I need to use the bathroom" I called, pleading a bit with my voice.
"I know...." She responded in a sing-songy voice. Was she trying to torture me?
Two minutes later, a flush and the sink faucet running, my heart skipped a beat.
The door swung open and the short token drunk girl beamed. Her brunette hair peeked out from under her long blonde wig as she tried, unsuccessfully, to adjust it.
"Sorry, I need quite a bit of maintenence," then her smoker's phlemy laugh filled my ears. Hahaha...I chuckled and entered the room and shut the door.
She stood at the mirror outside the stall and continued to talk to me.
"I'm just glad they don't put candles in there any more."
"Oh.." I said, a bit frightened by what was to come next.
"One time, I leaned back and my hair caught on fire!"
"Oh no..."
"Yeah, it was dyed so it went right up like a Christmas tree!" and she cackled again.
"That's no good" I said exiting the restroom.
"Wow. You're quick. Happy Halloween!"
I think I said thanks as I scurried away, back to my Guinness and friend.
What the hell was that?
Just my local pub, I guess.
Can't wait to go back.

P.S. In case you missed my Jessie Spano costume, check it out here and on my Flickr page.

I Heart Iowa

2007-10-20T13:24:00.000-07:00

When I was a freshman in college, my rugby team made it to the national playoffs in Iowa. We flew into Cedar Rapids and I found a shotglass at the airport with two black and white pigs kissing. Abve the pigs the words "I (heart) Iowa" is written. I love that shotglass and even though it's cracked from being dropped (no, not while I was using it!) I'll keep it forever.
But Iowa is more to me than that cool shotglass or even the great time my team had during the playoffs. My grandparents (on my mom's side) are from Ames, Iowa. It's a town rooted in family and supportive of the Iowa State University Cyclones. You can see the red and gold Cyclones on cars, signs and posters; everyone's a fan.
My parents, brother and I would come out every year or two when we were younger to visit with my grandparents in Ames. I'd explore their basement, watch the birds in their backyard and try guess for my grandpa how many students were in my class or the population of my hometown (he was always big on numbers).
Now he's lying in a bed at Northcrest, a retirement care facility a few miles from the house I remember exploring all those years. He doesn't look like the man I remember. In fact, he's too tired to even open his eyes anymore.
My brother, mom and I had planned on coming out here a couple months ago and my grandfather happened to fall severely ill about a week ago. Some comment that it's good luck that we were coming out here anyway; I think it was meant to be. I think my grandpa knew it was a good time to say goodbye. He was always really practical like that.
The family's flying in from everywhere: Mountain View, Sacramento, Tampa, San Francisco, Akron, and San Mateo, descending upon my Aunt, Uncle and cousin's house in Des Moines. I even get to meet one of my uncles for the first time.
I can't help but enjoy this time together with my family, despite the sad circumstances.
My grandma remains unshakably strong. Today while visiting her, my mom began to cry talking about how hard it was to see her father this way.
"I know, dear," my grandma soothed. "But he's comfortable and he's here with us, instead of that hospital. I think he's happy to have enyone around." My mom laughed and said, "Wait! I'm supposed to be comforting you!"
Then my grandma told the story from my mom's childhood about how the neighborhood boys got my mom to crawl up a tree, get stuck and then they boys ran away, leaving my (pregnant at the time) grandmother find a neighbor to help her down . "I think I was taking a shower when I heard all this screaming outside," my grandma chuckled at the memory.
I'm reading a book called Eat, Pray, Love. The author, Elizabeth Gilbert, explains that an Indian religious leader asks his students to make a list of three things that are most important to them. The list cannot include items that conflict with each other: If they do, you'll never attain happiness. If your actions in life reflect the importance of those three items, you can be satisfied.
My list? Family, friends and health. I think that if eveyday, I make sure I put all three of those things first, I won't live with regrets. Because I know that despite how often I get suckered into thinking money, my career and those tangible objects make me happy, when I'm looking back, the only thing I'll want to take with me are the memories I've made with my loved ones. Here's to the good times with all of you.

Fritters are fabulous

2007-09-25T13:38:00.000-07:00

Autumn is subtle; I start noticing it when the sun hangs lower in the sky, the light just a shade darker. The dew collects more readily on my car windows and I always feel the need to go shopping for new shoes, 3-ring binders and pencil sharpeners.
It takes a while here in California for the trees to turn colors, but I feel the change. And right when I feel the change of the season, I have the urge (even stronger than buying glue sticks and crayon boxes) to go to Apple Hill.
Besides the abundance of wineries like Jodar and Lava Cap that surround the Sierra Foothills, Apple Hill is the perfect day trip for Sacramentans and a nice weekend retreat for Bay Area-folks.
Full of arts and crafts booths that provide visitors with everything from fine, hand painted landscapes to embellished gourds, Abel's Apple Acres, Boa Vista, and Larsen Apple Barn are just a few of the growers that participate in the yearly seasonal event.
Of course, the star of the show is the apple. It's found in every form; fritters (excellent with a cup of hot coffee) cider, caramel-covered, and dried.
Who's down?

How very interesting!

2007-09-11T23:55:00.000-07:00

The best (or at least, most memorable) compliment I've ever received was more than four years ago. One of my rugby teammates was flipping through a scrapbook I had made of my study abroad years in Italy and England. "Wow Jean," she said. "You're really interesting."
What's more important than whether her statement was anywhere near accurate is the fact that I've remembered that comment after all this time. I had never thought about appearing interesting to others before that moment, but now, I think about it all the time.
Why is it that our society places so much emphasis on doing extraordinary things? Why can't we just live and be happy about the way we live?
Last night, I enjoyed sharing a few pitchers of beer with my friend and her husband at a local pub and thought to myself, This is it. This is the life: Talking, drinking, relaxing, making fun of the weirdos sitting near us. I don't need to be straighten my hair, put on a Wonderbra and hit the trendiest spots in the City to feel like I'm living (and those that like doing that, more power to you!).
Sometimes, I'm filled with jealousy for those that lead seemingly incredible lives: Becoming a CEO at 25, performing on stage in front of thousands, starting a business, traveling the world, running a marathon for fun, having the money to buy anything you can imagine. But really, interesting, is in the eye of the beholder. I find those my age living with a spouse, kids and a house fascinating - do they think the same about me?
I love that people are almost always surprised when I tell them I play rugby (and apparently, I also scream "I'm a f*$^ing rugby player!" when inebriated). Yep, I think, I'm not as one-dimensional as you think I am. That's why I try really hard to never presume I know someone well enough to make assumptions (but this is easier said than done...). I believe everyone is interesting and it evokes a great quote from Anthony J D'Angelo "Learn not only to find what you like, learn to like what you find." Happy hunting.

San Gregorio and Alice's

2007-09-02T21:27:00.000-07:00

I used to be anti-Bay Area. Maybe it's a Sacto thing, but I always secretly despised San Francisco and its surrounding communities. Other than visiting for the occasional play or my brother at Cal in that weird hippie-ridden Berkeley, I was sure the whole place was full of big-city folk; full of themselves and too busy and too hip to enjoy the simpler pleasures of life, like drinking a Bud Light while floating down the American River.
I'm now a local, having lived here for a (gasp!) five years, and I am still pleasantly surprised to find places that make me feel really lucky to live here.
San Gregorio Beach is beautiful in that Northern Californian, foggy, cool, breezy mysterious way. It sits along the intersection of the twisting Route 84 and Highway 1, opening up like a breath of fresh air from the valley heat.
After making our way slowly through Half Moon Bay, stuck behind a big-rig struggling up the coastal mountain range, my friend and I settled ourselves onto a well-worn log.
A group of boys began climbing on the driftwood structure that stood next to us. Instantly my motherly instincts raged. "Don't climb on that!" I screamed inside. "You could get hurt!" I suddenly pictured it collapsing and me jumping into the pile of wood to rescue the gangly tween.
But my friend brought me back to reality.
We talked about the typical twenty-something things and I got goosebumps. It's those moments when you least expect to be happy that are the most happy.
I felt lucky to be able to be having a great conversation in a beautiful place on a summer day on the beach, waves thundering and all. I don't know how those inland folk manage without the sound of waves.
We drove East on 84, stopping at Alice's restaurant. I had a Le Mans burger, which apparently, is French for f*#$&^@ awesome. It went really will with a pint of a locally brewed ale and some greasy onion rings. Other than the company I had, the best side dish was the view of the pine trees and blue sky.
It was hard to believe we were just a few miles from the always-expanding metropolis that is the Bay Area.
We both sat there, attempting to digest our meals, breathing in the air and secretly hoping we'd never have to leave.

LaLa Land

2007-08-29T19:32:00.000-07:00

Even though my back injury prevented me from some activities, I still enjoyed my trip to the Los Angeles area.
Being from Norcal, it's sometimes hard to admit I find L.A. fascinating. It's a strange place full of celebrities, smog, great museums, materialism, beautiful beaches, fake boobs, and, most importantly, some good friends and family.
I got caught in a wicked wave in Newport Beach, a great place to hang out for the day. Like most coastal areas, the fog doesn't burn off until about 11 a.m., right when the crowds start coming in. My dad always recommends driving past B alboa Pavilion and either vising the bay or finding an uncrowded patch on the ocean side.
Pasadena has small town charm with big city shops and promenades; plan a half or full day window shopping, eating or people watching.
One of the best views you can get in L.A. is just after the rain from the balconies the J. Paul Getty Center in Los Angles (the Getty Villa is located in the Malibu hills). I especially enjoyed the Luc Delahaye and Classical Connections exhibits.

I love lush mountainsides and ocean expanses, but I was pleasantly surprised to find the beauty in a desert-like landscape at the Vasquez Rocks Natural Area Park.

My last night in L.A. I spent with friends sipping on a beer at the Hard Rock Cafe in the popular Universal City Walk. A classic sedan rotates above the circular bar at the world-famous restaurant, and I felt strangely at peace (or maybe that was the pain killers kicking in...) surrounded by signed guitars and rock n' roll memorabilia.
I think you have to be strong to be happy in L.A. You're constantly surrounded with glitz, glamor and celebrity; everything's over-the-top. Some of it has to go to your head, maybe that's why those Socal-ites are a little crazy. Or maybe they're just living Shakespeare's quote: "the world is a stage." And we're enjoying the show. Or maybe it's just a cool city with something for everyone and lots of heat.

What's cookin' good lookin?

2007-08-29T19:04:00.000-07:00

So, I like food. And I especially love making up recipes, even though I own seven Italian cookbooks, one vegetarian (how'd I end up with that one?), one for chicken, one for pasta, and a binder full of recipe clippings from Sunset Magazine, Cooking Light, and others. I think Beth told be once that she comes up with the best dinners when she has nothing in the fridge. You kind of make due with what you have and in Emeril's words, "Bam!" you have a meal. Here's my weeknight no-cooking recipe that's delicious and healthy, too -- I hope you like it!

Jean's No-Fuss Hummus Wraps

Serves: 1 to 2; Prep time: 5 minutes
Ingredients:

2 whole wheat tortillas
4 tablespoons hummus (I suggest Trader Joe's Three-Layer Hummus)
Approx 10 pitted olives (I like Kalamata)
2 slices turkey
1 medium to large tomato

Directions:

Spread 2 tablespoons hummus on each tortilla
Cut olives in half and spread on both wraps
Lay turkey slices flat over wraps
Cut tomato into wedges, arrange in row in middle of wrap
Wrap it up and enjoy!

And, for those adventurous types, try some different toppings, such as red pepper, almond slices, carrot slivers, spinach, cheese slices--tell me what you tried!

The Old Gray Mare...

2007-08-20T22:05:00.000-07:00

Having written the entry on the ocean I feel quite stupid for what I did the other day. On Tuesday, during my trip to Southern California, my Dad and I decided to spend the day on the beach. We packed up our sandwiches, fruit, and water in a cooler and headed to Newport Beach, where my Dad used to spend countless summers growing up.
The air was unusually warm and balmy and I couldn’t wait to jump in. I sauntered down to the waves and took a deep breath when the first few cold foamy waves tickled my skin. I waded out further, bobbing with the incoming waves when suddenly I was struck by what occurred to me as a great idea.
I turned toward the beach on what I thought was the perfect wave, hoping to ride it and relive my own childhood memories of boogie boarding in Santa Maria. But the undertow sucked me under and I immediately panicked.
“Don’t worry,” I thought. “Just ride it out.” And I tried to relax my body as I felt the wave coming down. Then, BAM! My right hip was slammed into the sand and I felt my body dragged towards the coast.
“Get up!” I yelled at myself and I stumbled from the water, stunned.
I made it back to our outpost as my dad looked at me: “Are you ok?” I began moaning in pain. “I saw you, and then you disappeared, and then I saw you again. What happened?”
How could I be so stupid, thinking I could go body surfing? Now that song, "The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be..." keeps playing in my head. Perhaps, if I realized I'm not longer 10 years old, I would have thought twice about being so careless.
Now, sitting writing this, a dull throbbing holds my entire back captive, while my hip experiences fleeting moments of teeth-griding, breath-taking, eye-closing, butt-clenching, back-stabbing flashes of pain when in certain positions.
A true believer in “everything happens for a reason,” I hope that even “bad” or negative experiences like this help me see something I didn’t see before. I now have an enormous amount of empathy for those who live with pain. It’s just too bad I had to learn it the hard way...

Quote of the day

2007-08-07T22:26:00.000-07:00

We learned a lot about how what you keep in your small apartment is a statement about your values.

Penelope Trunk - Brazen Careerist
Wow - this really speaks to me after moving from sharing a large two bedroom, one and a half bathroom (and I had a walk-in closet) apartment with a roommate to a Jr. one-bedroom in-law unit.
I really had to evaluate what items I'd keep and I finally feel like I'm using almost everything. I've become especially good at throwing away or giving away one item when I accumulate another. This method works especially well for clothes - there never seems to be enough hangers in the closet ...

So, do you have anyone special? Yeah, me.

2007-08-07T21:32:00.000-07:00

I like being single. As I went for a run in my neighborhood today, it hit me. I sidestepped a mother, pulling her toddler out of the way and stared at me. She was wearing sweats, a baggy T-shirt, a frown, and a look that cried, "I want to go for a run!"
Her son let out a squeal and I smiled, turned up the volume to the Gods of Blitz on my iPod, and bounded ahead, a sudden spring coming up through my calves.
The thought of having a child, a husband, or even a boyfriend, scared me. Well, maybe not scared, but it definitely made me very happy with where I am right now. I want my own family eventually, but I'm focused on me right now. My career, my family, my friends and doing things I can't or won't be able to do as easily when I do start a family, like playing sports, taking an art class, traveling, dating, are all a part of my daily life.
This article really solidified my suspicions that it's O.K. to not be settled down, despite what I feel is sometimes like an overwhelming pressure to be in a relationship, and constantly moving towards marriage.
At my friend's wedding this weekend (which was absolutely beautiful!!!) I was asked several times whether there was "anyone special" in my life. Yes, I respond every time without hesitation, "Me."
Usually, the questioner chuckles, then looks to me with a quizzical expression so they can formulate their next reaction. They see my smirk and I think yeah, I've got a lot of special "someones" even besides me: My parents, my brother, my friends, my job, my softball and rugby teams. Secretly I hope they're jealous of my freedom because most certainly I have moments when I'm jealous of their companionship.
So for now, that toddler will be an obstacle on my run, but eventually, I hope, a child will be the reason I'll go out for a walk.

Brazen Remarks

2007-07-30T21:50:00.000-07:00

I don't consider myself particularly "out there" when it comes to opinions, so when my opinion is vastly different from the majority, I am quite surprised. When I was referred to an article on Yahoo Finance this morning, I read it, agreed that it was interesting and began discussing it with the friend that had sent me the link.
"Did you see all the comments?" she asked.
I took a peek: About 1700 people had commented, with about 90% commenting that the article was basically a load of crap.
I have found Penelope Trunk's blog, The Brazen Careerist to be often well-written on topics I find interesting. For example, she gives career advice for developing workplace skills and many times her advice is "counterintuitive" to the traditional business etiquette status quo. Apparently, her take on the changing workplace environment is ridiculous to some.
I think too often "advice" is taken all too seriously: Do people really believe that a single piece of advice can be applied to every possible situation?
Good advice, I think, is when you give share information with someone that they are able to use to their advantage in their situation. "Bad" advice, therefore, doesn't really exist--it's up to the person taking it to figure out whether it's right for them. Because Trunk is not a personal career consultant, she must generalize her advice to appeal to the masses, and perhaps it is here that the original intent of her advice somehow gets garbled in each individual's desire to shoot it down based on their specific instances.
Trunk's workplace etiquette says that it's O.K. to take time off without asking. I wouldn't take more than a day off without giving my manager advance warning, but it does seem childish if I were to ask permission from my manager if I could go to the dentist in the afternoon, or come in an hour late.
But most who commented on this point said they would be fired for taking this advice. Well guess what? It's not good advice for your situation! Isn't that what common sense is for? I think those who disagreed with her point missed the core of its meaning: Act like a responsible adult and you'll be treated like one. Act like a child and most likely, you will get walked on.
Blogging for your career? Great advice! One commenter thought she wrote that you should blog during work hours...umm...please READ the article before commenting!
Please read her article and let me know what you think!

It's like they want to rub it in my face

2007-07-29T23:14:00.000-07:00

I strode up my driveway after work on Friday afternoon, smiling in anticipation of the long, lazy weekend laced with friends and fun that lay outstretched before me. I reached into my mailbox, expecting Penny Saver and Safeway's produce sales and received something a bit more unexpected. Another wedding invitation.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all about marriage, ever-lasting love, family, blah, blah, blah. But why is it that wedding invitations seem to come in waves when my love life is less than exciting? It's like, as I profess in my title, they want to rub it in my face!
I've never really enjoyed weddings, which seems to surprise most that know me well. There's just something so rehearsed and public about them which completely contradicts the spontaneity and intimacy that defines true love. But marriage ceremonies in the end are more of a show to the audience comprised of family and friends that have witnessed the growth of the relationship. I don't like to be the "star" and I always feel so embarrassed and awkward looking on at a marriage ceremony.
Then there's the whole bridal party thing: Don't get me started on that trap to get your best friends to spend money on ugly dresses.
But what probably bothers me the most is that I'm so bothered by weddings. Obviously, I'm just jealous. Jealous that yet again, a friend has found happiness with another person they can spend the rest of their life with. That's incredible to me. I want that too, and even though I consider myself a happy person, I still feel that unfaltering pressure that true happiness is only found through marriage. Damn you, single-person hating society!

April 27th--what does it mean?

2007-07-29T15:29:00.000-07:00

It means Ashley's crazy.

Social Software

2007-06-18T23:32:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or is "social software" a bit of an oxymoron? Perhaps I'm just old-fashioned to think that typing away on one's computer, surfing the interweb is anything but social. I've been seeing the del.icio.us name and logo for a while (apparently, it's been around for about three years) but only just jumped on board. How do I use it? How is it differnt (better, worse the same) as my news aggregate, Bloglines? I'm starting to figure it out and maybe my friend, Kate (check out her cool quilting blog) can help; I think she does something similar on Stylehive with tagging fashion sites.

I Just Want to Forget

2007-06-17T20:42:00.000-07:00

We all have embarrassing moments. When I was in middle school, I thought I could show off in front of my friends by doing a high kick. The problem wasn't my skintight jeans, it turns out. It was the fact that it had rained the night before and I was standing over a puddle. As my right leg sailed gracefully in the air, my left foot slipped out from under me and my awkward frame came tumbling down to the ground, and to top it off, I had a wet spot on my rear for the rest of the rather long day.
Sometimes I wish I could forget how painfully embarrassing that moment was, but it was that very humbling experience that helped shape who I am today. And this is the exact argument many scientists are using against using the prescription drug, Propranolol.
The drug is undergoing studies to see whether it helps patients separate the strong emotions tied to specific memories byu undoing what adrenaline does to solidify particularly strong memories.
After watching an interesting segment on 60 Minutes about the drug, which is currently used to lower blood pressure, I am indecisive as to whether the drug should be used for the treatment of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Dr. Roger Pitman, a psychiatrist at Harvard Medical School was the first to start using the drug on patients who had experienced traumatic events. He argues that if a patient were in severe physical pain, a doctor wouldn't hesitate to use morphine on the patient. But in cases of severe emotional pain, it's not as accepted to induce the same sort of altering drugs. It's a clear case of how our society doesn't treat mental illness in the same way we treat physical illness.
The President’s Council on Bioethics released a series of transcripts that basically say that the drug undermines a person's identity by erasing emotional ties to memory.
It's scary to me either way; telling a soldier coming home from Iraq or a rape victim that yes, we have this drug, but no, you can't take it because your experiences build your character; or allowing the drug to hit the market where, no doubt pharmaceutical companies will encourage its use in a much less-discerning nature.

Summer 7s

2007-06-17T18:05:00.000-07:00

When I tell someone I play rugby (no, it's not the game with sticks; that's lacrosse) they raise their eyebrows, frown a bit and typically reply with "really?" I usually respond with "yep," then let them nod their head silently. I know they're trying to picture me tackling, mauling or in a scrum.
But rugby is so much more than the brutal sport most make it out to be; as the old saying goes, football is a gentleman's sport played by hooligans and rugby is a hooligan's sport played by gentlemen. Especially Summer sevens: Instead of 15 players on a side and 40 minute halves, seven players pass, switch, fake and break tackles in two intense seven minute halves. It's faster, with sprints, breakaways and fancy footwork replacing brute strength and stamina that fills a normal 15's game.
So now, I'm trying to get into shape; doing a lot of running and attending practice. Nothing helps a game better than knowing your teammates, whether their body language is saying go left, right or up the center.
The summer sun bears down on you rather than the cold rain that can sometimes occupy the entirety of a spring league and nothing ends a tourney better than a cold beer and a load rambunctious social with plenty of traditional rugby songs.

Power of the Ocean

2007-06-17T17:08:00.000-07:00

When I was little, I used to believe I had a power over the ocean and its waves. I thought somehow, I was connected with its power and strength.

I would stand on the beach, where the hot, dry sand meets the cool wet sand and concentrate, predicting whether the water, foaming and tainted with seaweed would tinkle my toes or rise up above my knees.
Then I’d look over at the others playing near the water’s edge and laugh when I made the water come up on the sand further than they ever expected.
Today, I went to Santa Cruz near Monarch Beach, and as my two friends hurried off to find a trail leading down to the sandy part of the beach, I elected to stay up on the rocky ledge, peering down at the water.
The sound of waves churning in the crevices below me made my heart swell; it was mesmerizing and powerful; once again, I was with my beloved ocean. I tried it again. My friends waved as they made their way to the water and I concentrated. The first wave came up about a foot away from their toes, but I tried again. This time, the water moved away from the shore gathering up power and force in a swelling mass several feet out. Then, a giant wave came crashing down and quickly came all the way up to my friends. They giggled and scurried backwards, shying away from the early summer’s cool water. Yep, I thought. I still got it.