So I'm walking home from my bus stop this evening, my footsteps falling to the beat of Taylor Swift's "Fearless." The sun is shining, and I'm happy for the heat, though I'm looking forward to a nice cold glass of water to cool me down a little when I get home.
Taylor starts to sing her chorus, and when she gets to "with you I'd dance in a storm in my best dress," it starts raining on me - while it's still SUNNY out! It's not raining hard, but it's raining big drops, hitting me on my arm, my cheek, my shoulder, my foot, each drop splashing a little on contact. What a great treat! First of all, because it fits my personal music video I'm living at the moment with my song. Secondly, because sunny day rain is one of the most fun things! Knowing you won't actually get/stay wet, you can enjoy walking around in the rain, while also still enjoying a beautiful sun.
I just love the magic of it. I looked up to a nearly cloudless sky, and then got hit near my eye by a giant raindrop. Where'd it come from?! I admit, I first wondered who's sprinkler broke and started spraying everywhere -which wouldn't have been very magical at all. More like a headache for the homeowner. But to my, and all the homeowners', relief (whether they realize or not), it was the sky's broken sprinkler! A quick rest from the hot sun without having to fix anything later!
It was a beautiful little walk I got to enjoy this evening. It was the perfect treat after a very long, tiring day inside.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Note to Self...
When at the gym, do NOT watch the Food Network while attempting a hard workout on the bike/treadmill/elliptical/stair climber. It just complicates things.
First off, I went to the gym at the wrong time - I made it there with roughly 10 minutes left in the 8pm shows. And apparently 9pm on a Monday night doesn't have much to distract me from my workout. So, I finished my warm-up jog on the treadmill about 10 minutes early, and moved on to a stationery bike, hoping I might get myself moving a little more. While the treadmill I was on had my own personal tv, the bikes just had the giant shared ones, which I couldn't locate remotes for (I didn't look hard though - I try not to look like an idiot at places I already feel awkward and stupid in). I ended up right between the History Channel (which was almost interesting, but came just short of engrossing me in any way), Comedy Central (which was not very comedic to me at the time), and the Food Network.
Now I love, love, love the Food Network. I watch it all the time. But I don't really love, love, love working out. I just kind of like it for the endorphins that stick around a good while after.
So I'm sitting on the bike - which I might admit is not the best position for me if I'm looking for an actual workout (I'm more of a social stationery biker) - watching the Food Network's show about how some of the great treats in America are made. And I'm suddenly in love with sno-balls from Hostess. I can think of nothing but really wanting anything Hostess, wishing I was power-walking through the grocery store instead of casually pedalling on a bike going nowhere (which still makes me sweat like a beast - this is why I will never be hit on at a gym). Then I remember there's an Arctic Circle just on the other side of the parking lot! Celebrating July with birthday cake shakes! I force myself to stay at the gym for another 20 minutes, giving up on the bike as soon as a commercial abets my escape from Food Network torture, opting to do some situps and cool myself down a little.
I walk home (the gym's right across the street - sweet, huh? Makes for a great warm-up and cool-down!), wondering who of my friends might be up for a little field trip back across the street for shakes. The birthday cake shake will not stop dancing in my mind. I allow a break from my obsession by finding the perfect song to walk home to on a beautiful, warm Summer evening, my footsteps falling to the 2/4 beat, lips quietly singing the song to the breeze.
As soon as I walk into my room, I kick off my shoes and start texting a friend a very casual note that I hope implies that I want a response of "let's go over to Arctic Circle and get shakes" or "I want a Hostess cupcake really badly as well, let's get some!" Instead, I don't even get halfway through my casual note before another friend calls with some casual question. Recognizing this as destiny for me and my shake, I quickly answer the question, then say, "I really need a birthday cake shake from Arctic Circle - do you want to walk...," cut short by, "I'm on my way, I'll meet you near your house."
Fate, it would seem, meant for me to have my shake last night.
We met right outside my neighborhood and made our way to Arctic Circle. The birthday cake shake did not disappoint.
My friend and I decided this might become the perfect 10pm on a Monday night trip. Celebrating making it through one more Monday with a new flavor every week.
On the downside, that's one more workout that will need to be made up for, since it was offset by a delicious, but grossly fattening treat.
On the plus side, that's one more grossly fattening treat that was negated by a tiring, but somewhat hard workout.
What flavor do I try next Monday?
First off, I went to the gym at the wrong time - I made it there with roughly 10 minutes left in the 8pm shows. And apparently 9pm on a Monday night doesn't have much to distract me from my workout. So, I finished my warm-up jog on the treadmill about 10 minutes early, and moved on to a stationery bike, hoping I might get myself moving a little more. While the treadmill I was on had my own personal tv, the bikes just had the giant shared ones, which I couldn't locate remotes for (I didn't look hard though - I try not to look like an idiot at places I already feel awkward and stupid in). I ended up right between the History Channel (which was almost interesting, but came just short of engrossing me in any way), Comedy Central (which was not very comedic to me at the time), and the Food Network.
Now I love, love, love the Food Network. I watch it all the time. But I don't really love, love, love working out. I just kind of like it for the endorphins that stick around a good while after.
So I'm sitting on the bike - which I might admit is not the best position for me if I'm looking for an actual workout (I'm more of a social stationery biker) - watching the Food Network's show about how some of the great treats in America are made. And I'm suddenly in love with sno-balls from Hostess. I can think of nothing but really wanting anything Hostess, wishing I was power-walking through the grocery store instead of casually pedalling on a bike going nowhere (which still makes me sweat like a beast - this is why I will never be hit on at a gym). Then I remember there's an Arctic Circle just on the other side of the parking lot! Celebrating July with birthday cake shakes! I force myself to stay at the gym for another 20 minutes, giving up on the bike as soon as a commercial abets my escape from Food Network torture, opting to do some situps and cool myself down a little.
I walk home (the gym's right across the street - sweet, huh? Makes for a great warm-up and cool-down!), wondering who of my friends might be up for a little field trip back across the street for shakes. The birthday cake shake will not stop dancing in my mind. I allow a break from my obsession by finding the perfect song to walk home to on a beautiful, warm Summer evening, my footsteps falling to the 2/4 beat, lips quietly singing the song to the breeze.
As soon as I walk into my room, I kick off my shoes and start texting a friend a very casual note that I hope implies that I want a response of "let's go over to Arctic Circle and get shakes" or "I want a Hostess cupcake really badly as well, let's get some!" Instead, I don't even get halfway through my casual note before another friend calls with some casual question. Recognizing this as destiny for me and my shake, I quickly answer the question, then say, "I really need a birthday cake shake from Arctic Circle - do you want to walk...," cut short by, "I'm on my way, I'll meet you near your house."
Fate, it would seem, meant for me to have my shake last night.
We met right outside my neighborhood and made our way to Arctic Circle. The birthday cake shake did not disappoint.
My friend and I decided this might become the perfect 10pm on a Monday night trip. Celebrating making it through one more Monday with a new flavor every week.
On the downside, that's one more workout that will need to be made up for, since it was offset by a delicious, but grossly fattening treat.
On the plus side, that's one more grossly fattening treat that was negated by a tiring, but somewhat hard workout.
What flavor do I try next Monday?
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Phantom Faxer
There are a lot of times that I really enjoy work. There are also a lot of times I really don't enjoy work. But the times that I enjoy work are always a lot more meaningful to me. And I know it's a really bad day when co-worker Elizabeth and I don't have at least one conversation that makes us laugh for 5 minutes at one or both of us.
Take today, for example. We have an online fax service for 'the Barlow offices' that we use, instead of a clunky piece of equipment (yeah, we're a forward-thinking office. We also have a bowl full of fruit on our desk, to make us look healthy as well. It's all about perception). This online service sends us an email when a fax we sent was "sent successfully" or when one comes in, blah, blah, blah. When I've sent a fax, Elizabeth puts the email in my folder from Jeremy's email (where the email is sent to). Then I can know it was successful in its sending. When she sends one, she saves it in her own spot. It's very advanced record-keeping.
Today, I looked at my folder around 9:45 this morning and saw that a fax was 'sent successfully' somewhere. Cue conversation:
Me (while staring at my email): Um...did I send a fax today?
E (while looking at her computer): Well, you must have. I haven't been in the fax system for a couple of days. So it's not mine.
Me: I can't for the life of me remember sending a fax today. I don't think I've been in there for a couple days either...
E: Go and check then. But I haven't faxed anything.
Cue me going into the fax website and looking at what was sent. Fax sent out roughly 9:05am on 7.12.2010. Cover letter is signed by E.
Me: So...E, this is what was sent. I don't think I sent this. Are you sure you didn't send a fax today?
E (comes over to see my screen, blushes): Uh...okay...so maybe that fax was sent by me. Wow.
Cue 5 minutes of laughter, followed by Elizabeth leaving and coming back, with a formal apology for telling me I had to have sent a fax I clearly didn't send. I giggle my acceptance.
It's the little - very little - things that often make my day enjoyable. And stupid conversations like that are sometimes the only thing that can bring a smile to my face at work.
Take today, for example. We have an online fax service for 'the Barlow offices' that we use, instead of a clunky piece of equipment (yeah, we're a forward-thinking office. We also have a bowl full of fruit on our desk, to make us look healthy as well. It's all about perception). This online service sends us an email when a fax we sent was "sent successfully" or when one comes in, blah, blah, blah. When I've sent a fax, Elizabeth puts the email in my folder from Jeremy's email (where the email is sent to). Then I can know it was successful in its sending. When she sends one, she saves it in her own spot. It's very advanced record-keeping.
Today, I looked at my folder around 9:45 this morning and saw that a fax was 'sent successfully' somewhere. Cue conversation:
Me (while staring at my email): Um...did I send a fax today?
E (while looking at her computer): Well, you must have. I haven't been in the fax system for a couple of days. So it's not mine.
Me: I can't for the life of me remember sending a fax today. I don't think I've been in there for a couple days either...
E: Go and check then. But I haven't faxed anything.
Cue me going into the fax website and looking at what was sent. Fax sent out roughly 9:05am on 7.12.2010. Cover letter is signed by E.
Me: So...E, this is what was sent. I don't think I sent this. Are you sure you didn't send a fax today?
E (comes over to see my screen, blushes): Uh...okay...so maybe that fax was sent by me. Wow.
Cue 5 minutes of laughter, followed by Elizabeth leaving and coming back, with a formal apology for telling me I had to have sent a fax I clearly didn't send. I giggle my acceptance.
It's the little - very little - things that often make my day enjoyable. And stupid conversations like that are sometimes the only thing that can bring a smile to my face at work.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Summer Tar
One of my favorite things about summer is walking around in the neighborhoods near my house and finding the lines of tar put down to cover big cracks in the road. I love to step on the tar with the ball or heel of my shoe, and twist so that the softened tar moves and stretches with the pressure of my foot, leaving an imprint of my step for a few seconds before returning to it's original smoothness.
It's best when I'm weaing a sneaker, or some type of shoe with a tread on its sole. The imprint of the tread lasts longer, like I'm leaving my signature, letting the next passerby know "I was here."
A thicker muck of tar is the best. My heel sinks lightly into the soft mush, like I'm checking the temperature of a pool of pudding. And when there is a whole group of goopy tar all spiraled together in a coiled pattern, so every step delves into another pool - I can't hide the silly grin that crosses my face. I giggled out loud yesterday when I got to my favorite cluster of tar snakes during an exceptionally warm day. I'm glad my neighbors don't seem to exist outside their homes these days. I don't know if they'd understand the joy I feel from smushing my foot into the gooey substances on their roads.
In all honesty, I don't really understand it either. I'm not sure why this tickles my fancy so much, but I think it has to do with the natural happiness I feel about Summer. It's hot and sometimes uncomfortable, but I can't deny the giddiness I feel everytime I walk outside to an inviting sun, beckoning me to play. I automatically close my eyes and smile whenever the warm breeze gently plays with my hair and tickles my neck. It's like flirting with that cute boy I finally got up the courage to talk to - I can't get to sleep because I'm so giddy, and I can't wait to find out what it will be like tomorrow. Will I be just as happy? Will he notice me again? Will my cheeks turn red just at the sight of him?
And it seems to turn out that, every next day, I am just as happy. He does notice me again. My cheeks do go red. Then they peel, and I feel like I have a disease as my skin flakes off on my face and arms. But even that brings a smile to my face. Because it means I've been spending the day playing in beautiful, sunny, warm weather! It's summer, and I'm going to go play with the tar on the streets!
It's best when I'm weaing a sneaker, or some type of shoe with a tread on its sole. The imprint of the tread lasts longer, like I'm leaving my signature, letting the next passerby know "I was here."
A thicker muck of tar is the best. My heel sinks lightly into the soft mush, like I'm checking the temperature of a pool of pudding. And when there is a whole group of goopy tar all spiraled together in a coiled pattern, so every step delves into another pool - I can't hide the silly grin that crosses my face. I giggled out loud yesterday when I got to my favorite cluster of tar snakes during an exceptionally warm day. I'm glad my neighbors don't seem to exist outside their homes these days. I don't know if they'd understand the joy I feel from smushing my foot into the gooey substances on their roads.
In all honesty, I don't really understand it either. I'm not sure why this tickles my fancy so much, but I think it has to do with the natural happiness I feel about Summer. It's hot and sometimes uncomfortable, but I can't deny the giddiness I feel everytime I walk outside to an inviting sun, beckoning me to play. I automatically close my eyes and smile whenever the warm breeze gently plays with my hair and tickles my neck. It's like flirting with that cute boy I finally got up the courage to talk to - I can't get to sleep because I'm so giddy, and I can't wait to find out what it will be like tomorrow. Will I be just as happy? Will he notice me again? Will my cheeks turn red just at the sight of him?
And it seems to turn out that, every next day, I am just as happy. He does notice me again. My cheeks do go red. Then they peel, and I feel like I have a disease as my skin flakes off on my face and arms. But even that brings a smile to my face. Because it means I've been spending the day playing in beautiful, sunny, warm weather! It's summer, and I'm going to go play with the tar on the streets!
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