Chubby Mommy Running Club

Running in the Rainforest

2010-04-26T07:38:00.001-07:00

My husband got a great job making Facebook games at Playdom . So we're leaving the Sage Brush and Juniper of Central Oregon's High Desert and moving back home to the ultra-fertile Willamette Valley and Eugene, Oregon.

Eugene is home to Nike, thousands of hippies who show up for the Oregon Country Fair, the late, great Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters, and more giant moss-covered oak trees and ferns than you can shake a stick at.

As a 5th generation Oregonian with roots in the valley, I do feel a certain happiness well up inside me when I smell the rain forest of my youth. It's a Pavlovian reaction, I think. I can't help it.

The earthy smell reminds me of camping and fishing along the McKenzie River as a kid, picnics in the woods and searching for fairies at Hendrick's Park with my kids when they were little, and running on Pre's Trail, one of the best running trails in the Northwest.

We're looking for a place to live, so I packed the kids up and left Bend on Friday night and drove to the grandparent's house in the McKenzie Valley, about 30 minutes from home. I got up Saturday morning and took myself out for a run along Deerhorn Road.

After months of looking at winter snow on the gray-brown rocks of Bend, my eyes had to adjust to the new emerald green palette of the valley.

It was easy to talk myself into 4.5 miles since I was rewarded with a spectacular tree at every bend in the road. The running was easier, too, since I've been at a higher altitude for so long. I wasn't expecting the difference, and my lungs were as surprised as I was.

I wonder how long it will take before these trees and colors become ho-hum again, as part of my every day landscape. Never, I hope.

Play Games with your Feet!

2010-04-23T07:17:00.000-07:00

And now, a word from two of my delightful sponsors: The FootZone and FootGaming - it's all about the feet here at Chubby Mommy Running Club!

Good people, good stuff.

We are thrilled to have Bend’s FootZone as the host site for our May 19 media event. If you know of anyone in the media who would like first scoop on all the great FootGaming Bejeweled news, send them to this blog! As runners flock to FootZone to collect their race bags and schwag, they can stop by next door at the Liberty Building for Footgaming fun.

Every step they take while playing the incredible Bejeweled Twist will count as one vote for a finalist ExerLearning school. Local school need the more than$5000 in grant awards for fitness and technology. We are extending the grant deadline to May 15 – so share the grant link with a local teacher.

"I'll Take 'Things I'm Good At' for 200, Alex"

2010-04-22T09:56:00.000-07:00

I haven't watched Jeopardy in a while, but I am a list maker, and a list giver. My kids are used to lists. Alex Trebek would not phase them.

The other night, as I was frantically working through my list before bed on my computer at the dining room table, the children complained - OK, whined - about needing some attention (they're old enough to just say, hey, give me some attention!)

The 16 year old said I needed to put "hang out with children" on my list. So I did.

I sat on the couch with them and we played that game where I tell them all the things they're good at, and all the things I like about them. It's a favorite game of theirs. Who wouldn't love this game?

Then I wanted a turn, so this is their list of things I'm good at:

Things Mom is good at:

You're good at giving hugs - you're warm.
Domesticated animals love you.
You're good at making clubs, like your Try Not Cry Club on Chubby Mommy Running Club.
You're good at listening.
You're good at teaching us good habits (Huh. Time to teach dish-doing and floor mopping?)
You're good at creative ideas and making things grow, like how you made up movies and stuff for Francine.
You're a good wife because you're mature enough to handle Dad and his jobs and negotiating things for his work.
You're good at telling Dad what to do and trading things for kisses.
You're good at bringing peace to the family.

I'm also good a raising nice kids, apparently, because these are the nicest things I've ever heard.

What's on your list?

Chubby Mommy Running Club at the Beach

2010-04-20T06:48:00.000-07:00

This is me and my friend Sissy. She just got a beach house. I liked her before she got the beach house, but now I'll love her forever.

Sissy has many friends who love her unconditionally. I've been on a couple of fun trips with this group in the past, including a jaunt to Cindy's Lake House last summer, which convinced me that everyone needs a house with a location noun in front of it, or at least a friend or two with extra houses.

What I didn't realize before we got to the beach, was how many of these lovely women are runners. Some of them run 3 miles at a leisurely pace, like me, and some of them are regular 10K racers. Some of them, like Sissy, do not run, but enjoy a nice walk and good conversation just the same.

Some of them did cartwheels with me.

All of them were good sports.

The best part about running on the beach with friends is the actual running on the beach. With friends.

Plus, when you're running on the beach there's always a valid excuse to stop running when you spot a beautiful rock in the sand. I stopped a lot. As usual.

The other great thing about running on the beach with friends is you earn a good excuse to enjoy a drink with a view. Also, the ocean air burns more calories, I heard. So you get to have an extra drink, if you want one.

Plus, when you run with a group, you feel like you're in a real club, even though you just made up the name Chubby Mommy Running Club on a whim, but everyone else thinks it's a real club and they want to join.

So if you work it right, you can turn this whole thing into a real club, where all Chubby and Not so Chubby mommies all over the world can meet in real life for their own real life running clubs and running weekends, and then you can write off the entire trip as a business expense, which is always an added bonus.

But mostly? Waking up to blue sky and friendly smiles on the Oregon Coast is priceless.

@juliejulie at the Beach!

2010-04-18T15:12:00.000-07:00

I'm at the beach, in Waldport, Oregon with my friends. Happy happy, joy, joy. More about the running tomorrow.

"Let Mom Run in Peace, if Possible"

2010-04-15T12:54:00.000-07:00

Just so there's no confusion.

Running With Babies

2010-04-14T14:55:00.000-07:00

These are not my babies. I don't even know them. I met these babies at The FootZone in Bend last week. They were there with their mother, I think. They went on our fun run with us, and they were much faster than me.

I remember running with babies. I have 3 kids, all 3 years apart (because I'm a good planner...) so I had a baby and a toddler in a double jog stroller like this for years. I remember that it was heavy and hard to push up hills. But hey, it got us out of the house.

Kudos to the babies, and the mommy who gave them cool sunglasses, and a free ride.

Get Into the Groove...

2010-04-13T13:59:00.000-07:00

Some days I feel like a break-dancer. Things move fast, I'm zipping around in circles and it feels like my head is spinning.

Except if I actually try to spin around on my head while kicking my legs up in the air to get the momentum going, I'd break something.

Like a lamp, or a vase. Or my neck.

Today my life felt like a big long break dance in my mind. I needed to clear out the spin, or tomorrow would feel the same way.

I knew I needed to go for a run, but I didn't want to. I wanted to crawl back into bed and stare at the ceiling. Then take a long hot shower and talk to myself as the water ran over my head so I can work out all the spinning puzzle pieces, and make them fit back into the smooth, easy picture I want.

But I'm smart. I know staring at ceilings and talking to myself only works for so long. Eventually, I have to let nature take it's course and force my body to move around and let some endorphins out of their hiding places. They fight the stress chemicals.

Running is my version of releasing the hounds.

So today I tricked myself into running. I reminded myself I have some good songs on my iPod Shuffle, and it was actually charged up and ready to go. I also said I could just run for a bit, and walk the rest of the way if I wanted.

I believed myself (why wouldn't I?) put n my headphones, turned the music up, and took off.

Mick Jagger, Beyonce, and Gwen Stefani got me going, and the Indigo Girls, Kate Bush and Madonna kept me pounding the pavement. I skipped Michael Jackson, I wasn't in the mood for him today.

It worked. I ran about 3.5 miles. I feel better and my brain is clear. I'll have to think of another trick tomorrow.

Chunking It Up with "Run Like a Mother's" Sarah Bowen Shea

2010-04-10T14:45:00.000-07:00

Last week I had tea with Sarah Bowen Shea, one of the authors of the fabulous "Run Like a Mother" blog and book. She stopped in Bend on her book tour at The FootZone.

Sarah's a full time freelance writer and contributing editor for Runner's World and Shape magazines. She also writes for Self, the New York Times and others.

She's also the mom of an 8 year old and 5 year old twins. And she also runs marathons. Lots and lots of marathons.

Oh, and she also wrote this book with her friend Dimity McDowell, another writer/runner. Oh, and also? She is traveling around the country promoting the book and running little 5K "Fun Runs" in each city with her fans, while also training for the Big Sur Marathon.

There are so many "alsos" in Sarah's life that I almost had to take a nap during tea, just from taking so many notes. Next time I talk to her, I'm bringing an audio recorder and I'm ordering coffee.

Here's a typical Saturday for Sarah, who admits she'd like to sleep more:

Up at 5:45 a.m. to run 22 miles, which took her 3.5 hours (a marathon training run, she doesn't do this every day, she assures me!)
Breakfast and entertain family/guests visiting from out of town.
Quick shower (seriously, I'd need a massage and hot tub at this point!)
Take oldest kid to soccer game.
Take twins to a play.
Take oldest daughter to church event.
Prepare Easter baskets for all three kids, working from the trunk of her car, outside in the rain, so they wouldn't see.
Dinner for family and guests.
(Skipped a scheduled ladies wine night with friends. Bummer, but really...)
Collapse into bed.
The next day was Easter, a busy day at their house with friends and family.

Work days are even trickier for Sarah, because she's often on tight deadlines for all the publications. She reminds me that her running schedule would not be possible without the buy-in from her husband, who helps her juggle all of this.

How does she keep up the pace day in and day out? I asked.

"I just gotta chunk it up," she says. "I think about things in chunks of time. When I'm running 22 miles, I think in terms of the first 8 miles, the second 8 miles, then the last 6 miles. I can't worry about those first 16 miles during the last 6 miles. I don't have fresh legs during that last chunk, so I have to have a fresh mind. I do this for work, too. I have to focus on the task at hand, for that chunk of time, not worry about the before or the after."

I like Sarah's "Chunk it Up" method of time management. I should start using it. I need to stop thinking about Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream every time I hear the word Chunk, though. Or I could eat the ice cream and just start running marathons on Saturdays. Right?

I also like Sarah, and I'm hoping I can get more chunks of her time in the future. She's smart, fun, and inspiring. I want to be more like her when I grow up. I'm not sure about that whole 22 miles at 5:45 a.m. on a Saturday thing though, Chunk or no Chunk.

Here are a few pictures from Sarah's FootZone tour stop in Bend, Oregon, for your viewing pleasure. There are more on their Facebook Fan Page, and if Sarah or Dimity came to your town, I'm sure we'd all love to see your pictures, so post 'em!

After a quick social mingle in the store where I met some adorable babies in strollers, and their mothers, we went outside for a picture before we started our fun run.

The sun was out, we were a relaxed group of runners, clumping together at first, then settling into comfortable pace where everyone went at their own speeds and found others who matched their pace.

For the record, I came in last place. It didn't bother me, and it was fun, because I ran with a friend and we chatted the whole time, which is one of my specialties. Also, trying to be first in a race stresses me out, so I let Sarah win.

The fact that Sarah often runs 18 miles for her marathon training runs at an average pace of 9 minutes and 49 seconds (or something) and I usually run 3 miles at an average of 11-12 minutes, really has nothing to do with it.

Later, after a leisurely day of work for me, an easy dinner and a long shower, I went back to the FootZone (and their famous "Wall of Shoes") and listened to Sarah read excerpts from Run Like A Mother.

My favorite chapter Sarah read from was about the fine art of discreet peeing during long training runs (behind bushes, parked cars, anywhere, really) and I truly appreciated the helpful hint about how convenient those fun little running skirts are for this little problem. I'd never thought of them as easy access potty skirts. I wondered why people thought they were such a good idea.

Here's the truth about Sarah's book: I have a confession to make. I got so busy talking after the book signing (big surprise, I know) that I totally forgot to buy a book, and now I have to go get one so I can have an excuse to spend a whole Chunk of time reading it.

And then, I'll do a book review!

"I Made You Jump and Down!"

2010-04-09T08:28:00.000-07:00

I went to Washington DC a couple of weeks ago, after my trip to the FitBloggin Conference. I was only there for a day, but managed to meet some old friends and some new friends. I'm lucky that way.

It was a chilly Tuesday morning in DC, and I was standing in front of the White House when I called my Twitter friend @NewMediaJim. I'd never met Jim, but I talk to him on Twitter which seems like real life, sometimes.

Jim's a very busy man, over at Verge New Media and I wasn't sure if I'd get to meet him on this trip or not, so I didn't want to get my hopes up. It turns out, he was just down the street in front of a Starbucks when I called, and through modern technology and excessive arm waving, we found each other.

Jim bought me some coffee and a hard boiled egg and we talked about Old Media and New Media and how everything changes and we have to change with it or we just end up stuck sitting around in the same old place wondering what to do next.

I get the feeling Jim isn't stuck. His life moves even faster than mine (amazing, but true) which is why I had to jump up and down in front of the White House just to get his attention. But it was worth it, just to meet Jim. Plus, I got some extra cardio in to boot, right?

Ah, the power of the internets...it's so great to meet other goof balls in real life. Makes me feel almost normal.

Running with Inga the Wolf Dog: he loves me, I swear it

2010-04-07T14:56:00.000-07:00

I went running around the Deschutes River Trail in Bend today with Roxanne (not her real name) and her dog Inga (not his real name.) Roxanne runs faster than me, so I usually bring my camera.

Roxanne is a professional photographer, so it's easy to make her stop every half mile and take a picture of me, which allows me to catch my breath.

I love Inga the dog, but he's shy. Roxanne says he perked up when he saw me today which means he likes me, but I saw him perk up near a bush, and then I didn't feel so special. She said he loves bushes, too.

Sometimes it takes a while for Inga to warm up to me, but eventually, if Roxanne allows it, he'll let me hold his leash.

"I think you are stifling him," I said to Roxanne. "Clearly he needs a change of pace. He wants to run with me, obviously." She gave me his leash when he was busy watching a duck. I thought he might not notice.

"Look, Roxanne," I said, "he's fine. No need to worry. Inga and I are friends now, see?"

"He is not embarrassed, Roxanne," I said. "Inga is thrilled to be with me. Thrilled! I've never seen him so happy. Can we run again tomorrow?"

"Maybe," says Roxanne. "I'll call you after his therapy session. He may need a little quiet time tomorrow to regroup. Nothing personal. It's not you, it's him."

Dogs are so fickle.

@juliejulie. Mannequin. Vegas. U2.

2010-04-06T16:23:00.000-07:00

This doesn't have anything to do with being chubby, a mommy, or running.

This is just me being weird, scoring some great tickets to U2 in Vegas, putting my mannequin on an airplane, and making my best friend come along for the ride. I wrote a story about the Francine goes to Vegas adventure a while ago, but there's just something about video...

I thought you'd want to watch.

Also, if you strolled over here from The Bloggess's blog, this one's for you people. I figure you're used to weird stuff, and you're funny. And really, a handless mannequin from the 1960's isn't nearly as weird as a line of Christmas cards based on a taxiderm-ied boar's head. Right?

Thanks for visiting Chubby Mommy Running Club, where you never know what I might come up with next, which is why you should keep coming back.

The Easter Bunny vs. Quaker Oats Guy

2010-04-04T09:18:00.000-07:00

They are fighting for my very soul, I think. Who will win today? I need the Quaker Oats Guy to go all Ninja on my secret boyfriend, Mr. Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Do you think he can win? Will the cashews step up and help him? If the jelly beans side with Mr. Reese's, I could be in trouble. Stay tuned.

The Long Run

2010-04-03T12:27:00.000-07:00

A funny thing happened today while I was running with a friend I haven't seen in a while. I ran 7 miles. In a row. That's the longest distance I've run in many, many years.

Sure, we walked a bit here and there on a few hills, and stopped for about 5 minutes to get some water, but the fact is, I ran 7 miles from start to finish.

It was the talking that did it. We had so much to catch up on, so many stories to tell, that we just kept going. I've been quite busy lately, and more than a bit lax about my running routine (I went twice last week, 2-3 miles a pop), so I was surprised that my body allowed this distance.

My legs and my lungs did start protesting at around 3 miles, like usual, but I was right in the middle of a good story about my recent adventures at the FitBloggin Conference, so I distracted my legs from themselves.

The protests were ignored. I hate to interrupt a good story.

I bet I can do a lot of stuff I don't think I can do, if I just keep distracting myself from the hard work by telling good stories and hanging out with fun people. It's worth a shot.

Is There a Chubby Mommy Inside?

2010-04-01T11:16:00.000-07:00

Welcome Footzone!

2010-04-01T10:03:00.000-07:00

Our newest sponsor here at Chubby Mommy Running Club is the Footzone store in Bend, Oregon.

Teague Hatfield, the owner, has a passion for running, but as the married father of two young kids, he wants women everywhere to know that there's no "typical" runner out there - you don't have to be a marathoner to enjoy running or join a local community of like-minded runners.

Footzone's Learn to Run classes have been a smashing success, and he's had to cap each session out at 150 people. But don't worry, new sessions start all the time.

I shot this short video of him telling me "There's a Chubby Mommy in all of us" yesterday, and I'm trying to figure out how to load it up here in the body of this post without crashing. For now, you'll have to click through to my YouTube channel. Ideas?

5K in Baltimore: In Which My New BFF Dumps Me for a Cute Guy at Fitbloggin

2010-03-29T19:13:00.000-07:00

So anyway, back to the total drama island of Fitbloggin-10 and my new best friend Fitarella, who's even cuter in person, actually. And taller.

When we left this story, I was in my hotel room in Baltimore alone at 10:00 p.m., eating flank steak and vegetables, watching CNN, texting my kids, and too exhausted to even order vodka from the bar downstairs.

So that tells you something right there.

It's a glamorous life, traveling to obscure conferences and writing about them, but someone's gotta live it. Thank god I have a Flip Video now, so I can record it for you, too.

Oh, and about the videos from Fitbloggin? There's been some sort of computer error here at my house and all the videos I downloaded from Baltimore disappeared. It's temporary I'm sure. But let me say, there were some lovely 20 second spots of cute women boxing, and even some nice ones of the adorable people from EA Games playing the new stuff from WiiFit. I'm serious.

So anyway, I finally went to sleep at about 11:00 p.m. and then got up at 5:30 a.m. which was actually 2:30 in Oregon, for the record, in order to run the Fitbloggin 5K race at 6:30 a.m.

You may remember that I sort of set myself up for this problem, by telling everyone I was going to run this thing. I even said this on the news, which aired about 6 times one day in Bend, Oregon. So I had to do it. My trainer Luann over at Training for Fun would have killed me if I'd skipped (or she would have made do wall sits for an hour -same thing.)

I Found Her

So I got to the lobby with the other 98 women and 4 men who got up early to run,, and lo and behold, there was Fitarella, right in the middle of everyone. She's hard to miss, despite her petiteness. Her energy filled the whole entire hallway of the Marriott.

It was friend at first sight.

We hugged and gabbed and flitted around and she said sure, sure, I'll run with you, don't worry, I'm not very fast either. And then we all listened to the cute New Balance Guy who was helping organize the race, who told us about some new shoes, and the route we were running, and then we went outside and started to run.

New Balance was smart to send that cute Guy, I think. We all followed him and I love my new shoes. Just sayin'.

The Race

The sun was just starting to rise as we ran along the Inner Harbor in Baltimore. It was actually quite lovely and I sort of felt like a "real" runner with all those people chatting and running and being social. I usually don't like races because I don't like pressure when I exercise, and the word race just seems so...pressure-filled.

Fitarella stayed with me, and we talked about stuff like where do you live? What do you do? Do you have kids? You know...stuff you should know about your BFF. Oh, and then she told me she was a marathoner. And was training for Boston.

Oh really? Huh. I'm not, I said. But she kept running with me anyway.

She Found The Guy

So we got to the halfway point, which was at the end of the dock at the harbor, and Cute New Balance Guy was there, and I asked him to take a picture of us. It wasn't just so we could stop, or say hello to him in person. I swear.

Fitarella started chatting with him about different shoe models. Because she's a serious runner. She even knew the numbers of the shoes. I didn't realize shoes had numbers, because I'm more of a hobbyist, I guess.

We all started running again, but sure enough, soon enough, Fitarella and New Balance Guy were sort of, you know, speeding up. Without thinking about it, probably. They were just engrossed in conversation, about different shoe numbers, that's all.

I kept up for a while, and she did come back to check on me when I stopped to tie my shoe (again, I was not stopping on purpose or anything...really, it's not like I was tired. It was a safety issue.) But then we all started running again and well...you know how it goes.

It's so easy to get distracted by beauty. And conversation. And numbers. I decided to just let them go.

I could have sped up. I could have stayed with them. I wasn't too tired, for real. Despite appearances to the contrary, I'm actually very comfortable running a 5K. Just so you know. I usually run between 3-5 miles several times a week. You know, if the weather's good. And I'm not too busy. And I can go slowly. And tie my shoes a lot. As needed.

The Other Women

But then a funny thing happened when I decided not to catch up to Fitarella and Cute New Balance Guy. I met a lovely young woman (much younger than me!) who was running up behind me. I waited for her a bit and introduced myself. This was her first 5K, she said. She was tired, but she really wanted to finish.

My heart melted a bit because I remembered my first 5K. It was at Alton Baker Park in Eugene, Oregon a long time ago, and I was much younger and thinner then, but I was just starting to get back into running after a long break, and I was running all alone. It was labeled a "Fun Run" but it didn't seem so fun to me.

Eugene is the home of Nike. And Bowerman. And Steve Prefontaine. And Hayward Field and the Olympic Trials for Track and Field. I mean, seriously, these people are hardcore runners. Little kids wearing coordinating Nike running ensembles were passing me on the bike path as I lumbered along.

I finished close to last that day, all alone, and I felt rather discouraged. I didn't do another 5K or a long, long time.

So I ran with this woman who kept saying quietly to herself every once in a while "You can do this. You can do this..." as I chatted enough to distract her, to keep her going. I told her it was fine to walk, she shouldn't feel pressured to run the whole way...but she didn't want to walk. She wanted to run it all the way. It was a goal she'd set.

I reminded her to use her arms a bit, if her legs got tired, it always helped me for some reason. Oh, she said, that's a good idea. And she did.

So I kept talking, which I'm good at, and she kept running, and pretty soon we were almost there, almost there, just around the corner, I promise. Despite being left in the dust by my new BFF and Cute Boy, I still knew the way back to the hotel.

We even picked up another first time 5K runner about 3 blocks from the hotel, and she was also talking to herself quietly, so thrilled to be so close, so proud of herself for actually doing it, wanting to make it all the way...she was so happy to run with us. She told us her story in two quick blocks.

The End

And then, amazingly, we made it. And everyone cheered, and these women I had been running with were so proud of themselves. They high-fived all around. They were beaming. And I was too. I was so thrilled for them.

Fitarella was there, waving at us from the finish line. We all felt good, like you usually do after you exercise, which is the real reason you exercise (at least that's why I do it.) The during never feels as good as the end, in my opinion.

It hit me then, when I was hugging my new running partners and congratulating them on a job well done, that maybe this is why I should run 5K's. Not because I like the actual race, but because I like to hang out with people who are working hard to achieve personal goals.

I'm glad I got up and went to the race that day. I enjoyed the journey. I think I'll do it again.

Just Peachy -Eating and Cooking with @juliejulie

2010-03-28T13:07:00.001-07:00

Don't worry, we'll get back to Fitarella and the New Balance boy in a bit, but first I want to tell you what I did with my frozen peaches.

I usually don't talk about what I eat and how far I did or did not run here on this blog, but the fact is, I have lost weight through careful diet and exercise this past year, and some of you are asking for ideas about food.

I do like good food, and I get tired of eating the same 15 things that help me stay on track with my health and fitness goals. So, welcome to my weird little food section here at Chubby Mommy Running Club. Please send me your ideas, and I'll share some of mine.

I also started @twitrecipes over on Twitter and I need to start updating again. I'm happy to link to your recipes! You can send me links in comments or via email or my Facebook Fan Page if you aren't on Twitter.

Some of you may remember when I worked with Cathy Sassin of Intrafit, a well respected sports nutritionist who is also an ultra marathoner and was on American Gladiator once. Her food plan really works and I saw results right away.

I still follow it loosely and continue to lose slowly but surely, if I work out and measure everything. But I'm also a big fan of real life and balance and I'm in this healthy lifestyle thing for the long run. So, I'm about 80% careful about food, and enjoy my other 20%.

Here's how I eat, in general:

I try to eat a small, balanced 400 calorie meal every 3-4 hours. Balanced means some carbs, protein and a little fat. The combo keeps my blood sugar even. Nuts, egg yolks, olive oil, etc. are all fats. Hint: if I cut out fat, I get really, really hungry within 2 hours and tend to crash. Other hint: it's all about portion control. Read the label. 1/4 cup of nuts isn't much, people.
I've had good luck with natural products like Cliff's Builder's protein bars, which offer 270 calories of decent, balanced carbs, protein and fat with natural ingredients, when I'm busy, traveling, etc. I eat one in the morning for breakfast, 1.5 to 2 hours before I exercise.
I don't eat much refined sugar, although I always choose real sugar over artificial sweeteners. I don't like how aspartame tastes, and I don't like how I feel when I eat it.
I don't drink soda, diet or otherwise. I do like Dry Soda and buy it for parties, but in general, we don't drink soda very often. We do buy the kids regular soda (they like 7Up and Dr. Pepper!) for special occasions and let them drink it at restaurants. I think of it like dessert.
I drink lots of water. I don't drink much juice. I'm not anti-juice, I'd just rather have fiber with my fruit and not waste calories. Water is my main beverage.
Right now I'm avoiding wheat and dairy. I've gone on and off both of these for years. I have a bit of an immune system reaction to them which flares up every 5 or 6 years when my hormones change for the next round of life. For me this means I get a sore throat, swollen glands and feel over the top exhausted within 20 minutes of eating the offending foods. My 44 year old perimenopausal brain was feeling especially foggy a few months ago, so I cut these foods out again and within 2 weeks I felt back to normal. A little bit here and there is fine now, but I don't eat a bowl of cereal every morning any more.
I'm usually not a big vitamin taker, but since I cut out wheat and dairy I started a multi vitamin and a calcium supplement.
I eat a lot of lean meat and vegetables. It's just what works for me. I do cook vegetarian because I have a kid who's veggie, so I'm cool with it. I respect vegetarians, but I'm a carnivore, so please don't try to convert me.

Ok, on to the recipe. I made this up this morning. I improvised with what we had lying around, and I don't really measure. And yes, I used some sugar and some flour, but not much. Also, I just ate a very small portion, but my kids chowed down and even my picky husband liked this.

Use protein powder or soy flour to add more protein if needed to make this a meal, or serve it with some Morningstar Farms Veggie sausages, a good source of lower fat protein, and one of my kid's favorites.

@juliejulie's Baked Peach Thingy

Ingredients:

Cream cheese (you could also use extra firm tofu or Tofutti cream cheese)

Brown Sugar

Oatmeal

Peaches

Flour

Eggs or Egg White Product

Coconut

Mix 1/2 cup of cream cheese with a little brown sugar and enough oatmeal to bind it together (1/2 cup?) I used lowfat cream cheese this time, I'd probably use less if it were regular strength.
Sprinkle some brown sugar and oatmeal in bottom of a glass baking dish
Lay some sliced peaches on top
Use half the cream cheese mixture and drop it in little blobs on top of peaches
Sprinkle more sugar and oatmeal on top
Lay some more peaches on top of that
Sprinkle flour on top of that layer (rice flour, soy flour, whatever) this will make everything hold together as it cooks. It's science.
Pour some liquid egg mixture on top of all of it and let it sink in (I use Trader Joe's "Just Whites" or Costco's "Real Egg" Product, but you could use real eggs mixed with a bit of milk, too.)
Top off with the rest of the cream cheese mixture, more brown sugar and oatmeal and some coconut. Yum. We like coconut.
Bake at 350' for 45 minutes, or until hot and not too runny in the middle. I covered it in foil for a while, then took it off at the end to get the top crispy.
Let it cool, maybe a half hour if you can wait that long.

I was going to take a picture but I forgot, and this thing disappeared in about 6 minutes.

Yay for peaches!

FitBloggin Conference #1

2010-03-26T05:57:00.000-07:00

I went to Baltimore for the Fitbloggin Conference last weekend, and then on to Washington DC. It was a whirlwind trip, and my head is still spinning a bit. I've decided to break the journey down for you in small steps and small posts because I've never been a big marathoner. I'm more of a 5k-er.

If I tell you several small stories, maybe eventually you'll see the big picture. And you won't be so tired at the end. And then you can tell me what the big picture is. Hopefully. There may or may not be a quiz. Also, there will be video, as soon as I figure out how to load my flip videos onto my laptop without crashing it.

First of all, let me just say this: I started this blog as a hobby back in 2007 to learn about blogging. I never really intended for it to be a "fitness blog," it was just a place to write little stories about my life. But it turns out fitness is a big part of my life, even though I treat it like a hobby, too.

Now, three years later, I'm used to my blog, I know what it's about (me, me, me of course, and my journey through middle aged angst with humor and a bit of running) and other people are noticing it, like book agents, and asking me to think bigger. And I like to think bigger. Big thinking is my specialty.

So I went to the conference to meet other fitness writers like Mizfit Online and a few sponsors like New Balance who gave us shoes and POM (POM gave us martinis!) and authors like Jennette Fulda of Half-Assed fame and food gurus like David Grotto who think big.

First, I spent a few weeks working with my friend Luann at Training for Fun getting my knee in shape for the Fitbloggin 5k run and I even let everyone watch me do sit ups on TV Which was embarrassing, by the way, because of the tummy bulging thing. But I'll do almost anything to be on TV. Almost.

The core strength training thing with Luann really worked though. My knee stopped hurting and I even lost some inches in the process, mainly around my bust, which is typical, but irritating. But at least I had a good excuse to buy cute new bras. Bonus.

So last Thursday I drove my kids 7 hours to Seattle to stay with a host of aunts and uncles while I was gone. I ran around Green Lake, hung out with relatives, ate marvelous food, slept for 5 hours, then got up at 4:30 a.m. Friday to fly across the country.

I finally landed in Baltimore at 6:00 p.m. Friday, just in time for the cocktail party where I immediately met some online buddies like Deb Roby of Weight for Deb and brand new friends: Kara of Fat Woman on the Mountain and Mandi of Trainer Momma and Lisa Johnson . I'm good at that meeting people stuff. It's one of my not-so-secret talents.

But the whole night, I kept searching for my new best friend, Fitarella. I had met her briefly at The Audience Conference in New York in November, but didn't realize she was a fitness blogger. Which is weird, since her name is Fitarella. But it's also Jacqueline, which I kept forgetting during this trip because I know everyone by their twitter or blog names.

And back in New York I didn't realize how funny Fitarella is because our meeting was so brief. We were introduced, she smiled, said hello, and then she left. So elusive. I'm surprised she didn't leave a perfect glass slipper at the bar in New York.

So I asked several people at the Fitbloggin cocktail party if they'd seen Fitarella, and many said yes, she had been there, but then had disappeared. Mysteriously.

I checked Twitter and saw she was looking for me (she claimed, in several well timed posts) but it was all a bit wild goose-chase-ish. And then her phone died. And then mine did.

Again with the elusive.

So finally, I gave up, went to my room, ordered room service, and went to bed.

Next post: finding Fitarella and the cute New Balance Boy.

Running with a View

2010-03-21T16:17:00.000-07:00

I ran around Green Lake when I was in Seattle last Thursday evening. It's a great community gathering spot, in the middle of the city, where all kinds of people, babies and dogs cruise along a wide path that circles the lake in pursuit of exercise and conversation.

I'm impressed with myself for making it all the way around, as you can see by the expression on my face. I think the ducks are impressed with me too. You can't see their expressions, but I did, and they were smiling. One of them may have winked, which is duck language for "good job." They can't really high five (they'd fall over) so they wink. I read it in a book once.

Now that my knee doesn't hurt any more (thanks to my trainer Luann at Training for Fun) I'm actually enjoying running a bit more. Hard to believe, I know. I especially enjoy running in nice weather, with a view.

Actively seeking new views. Where's your favorite place to run?

Running with Inga

2010-03-11T13:02:00.000-08:00

Dear Roxanne: Can Inga come running with me today? I think he likes me.

Dear Julie: No. Inga and I are lost in the woods right now. I need him to find our way home. He is sniffing the air, he can't talk to you.

Dear Roxanne: Well, how about tomorrow? You don't have to come with us, if you're busy, I could just take him.

Dear Julie: No. He is a shy dog, and only likes me. Sorry.

Dear Roxanne: But, I miss him.

Dear Julie: I didn't want to tell you this, but Inga hates you.

Dear Roxanne: That' not true, Roxanne. Clearly you are jealous of Inga and me. We are just friends, I swear.

Dear Julie: I am happy to continue running with you, but please stop calling Inga. He has moved away. To a nice cabin in the woods, actually, which we are trying to find right now. Do not try to contact him. I'm taking his tracking collar off now.

Dear Roxanne: Fine.

Dear Julie: Fine.

Dear Roxanne: Can you still run Friday?

Dear Julie: Maybe. I'll call you. But don't call me, Inga gets agitated when he hears your voice.

Dear Roxanne: He does not. You're being dramatic.

Dear Julie: I have to go now. You should go running with Luann. She seems nice.

Astrid's skirt

2010-03-10T20:27:00.000-08:00

Chubby Mommy and Perky Mommy, the Movie

2010-03-08T15:33:00.000-08:00

Here is Luann over at Training for Fun and me, in all our glory. We are being featured on KBNZ's Media Minute today (KOIN, channel 6 in Portland and Bend, airs 7 times today!) which profiles interesting people and businesses in Bend, Oregon. This is quite flattering, if you think about it, because at least someone thinks we're interesting.

Here's the video: Chubby Mommy and Perky Mommy - Look! We're working out in this video - for real! It's not even staged! We're super natural and fun! Just like usual!

Here's what's not flattering: my stomach, doing sit ups. I'd like to blame Brandon, the camera man, but he's not the one who made my chubby tummy. I guess I am the one who made it. I guess I have to keep doing sit ups.

Thanks for watching.

The Dark Side of Crunches: Wendy Has a Knife

2010-03-06T09:59:00.000-08:00

Today's post brought to you by the delightfully dark, hilarious writer of the blog "There Once Was a Girl" Wendy started running, and should be an inspiration to 40 year old moms everywhere. She even does crunches on balls. And she makes her cat work out on the treadmill.

I’m new to this whole fitness thing. Six months before my 40^th birthday, my body decided it was time to fail me and one day I woke up lumpy. I finally got boobs, but I also got thighs, a belly, and I those flappy skin parts under my upper arms when I raise my hands. The ultimate horror was buying a mom swimsuit that provides modest coverage. ‘Modest coverage’ is code for ‘too round for an adorable bikini,’ but they don’t put that on the tags. I decided I have to get in shape.

I started by turning the $800 coat rack into a treadmill. Crazy, I know. I started walking and it was deceptively easy. If I can walk, then I should be able to run, right? Yes, I can run. I can also lick my armpits, but that doesn’t mean I will. I hate running. I have a series of words mostly starting with ‘f’ that I say each time I slam my foot on the treadmill. It doesn’t make running easier, but it makes me feel better. Try it – “eff this, eff that.” Repeat. I’m trying to eventually run a 5k with my kid that actually likes running. I’m pretty sure he’s not mine. He’s only 13, so I need to find him a fake ID, because I’ve decided that the Beer Run in June is for me. Beer after every mile? Probably the best idea ever.

Running alone won’t get rid of the belly, so I do crunches and other bad things. I bought an exercise ball, because I was told they’re great for ab work. I flopped myself on my back across the ball and did a couple of test crunches and I didn’t roll off. Yay! Someone invented an easy way to do crunches! I crunched and crunched and crunched.

Unused muscles started screaming an hour later. I wasn’t going to let that ball get the best of me, so I did it again the next day. At the time I was watching Netflix Instant with a kid, so I couldn’t bring out the “eff this, eff that.” I’d have cried, but it would have hurt my tender ripped abs too much. I thought about crying instead. Natural childbirth might not have been as painful as trying to lift the upper half of my body. Exercise balls should come with percocet or vicodin or tequila.

Through trial and error and excruciating pain, I’m figuring out a way to make this exercise stuff work. While on the ball, I plot its hideous death. Today it might be gutted with a fork, and tomorrow I could hold it over a flame or snip it with rusty nail clippers soaked in lemon juice and salt. As for the treadmill, I have a chubby cat that will do anything for a treat. He’s learning to take over my treadmill duties. I hope he works hard so I’ll be ready for the Beer Run. I’ll need that beer to conquer weight lifting.

A Guy Wearing Uggs?

2010-03-05T15:11:00.000-08:00

Dear Julie,

I cannot possibly run today as I saw a guy wearing Ugg boots
at a coffee shop this morning.

XXOO,

Roxanne

Dear Roxanne,

Good lord, I'm so sorry you had to see that. I hope you are in bed with a cold compress. Call me tomorrow when the image leaves your head. We can run as soon as you are able.

Love,

@juliejulie

P.S. This is a picture of me and Brandon, the Reporter from KOPV/KOIN who did a story on me and my new trainer, Luann. Don't worry, Roxanne, he was not wearing Uggs, I just wanted to remind you to watch TV on Monday, channel 6, to see how cute Luann is. I'm afraid I will look chubby on TV, so I posted this picture as proof that with good lighting and proper angles, I can look 20 pounds thinner.

How I Got Hot and Bothered in Snow Shoes

2010-03-03T12:52:00.000-08:00

So I went snowshoeing. And it was easy, and it was fun. It was also a major workout, which frankly, I wasn't really expecting. But it's more fun than being on a treadmill.

Also, there's incentive to keep going when you're snow shoeing, because if you stop half way through, you'll freeze to death if you don't walk back to the car again. Winter sports are extreme like that.

When I went down to the snow shoe rental place last night, I told the guy I was a novice and he should give me "beginner" snow shoes.

"No such thing," he said. "Can you walk?"

"Well, yes," I stammered, "didn't you see me walk in here?"

"If you can walk, you can snow shoe. You'll be fine."

So I trusted him. And gave him $12. And then he gave me some lovely powder blue snow shoes.

My friend Patrice picked me up this morning at 8:30 on the dot. She's my bookkeeper, and tends to be exact. Which is a good thing for bookkeepers. We picked up Renee next (who has a cute pink coat and photographs well) and drove to the snow park, just 10 minutes away from my house, to miles and miles of well marked trails.

You'd think I'd go snow shoeing every day, since I live so close and I like the snow and I'm good at walking, but there's a first time for everything, even for people who live in a winter wonderland like Bend, OR.

We put on our snowshoes in the parking lot, looked at the map to make sure we wouldn't get lost, and then started hiking over the hills and through the woods, following the little blue snow shoe guy signs.

In no time at all, we were huffing and puffing and saying "Why am I so tired? This seems like it should be so easy, we're just walking!"

So then I thought up some scientific answers that had to do with the width of the snow shoe making our legs do physics they weren't used to doing, which made the muscles we didn't know we had work on obscure things, like picking up a snow shoe and putting it down again. As we were walking.

Everyone believed me, and then we got to the shelter and sat down in the recliner that someone must have hauled in, probably on skis, or with a snow mobile, to rest. It seems like it'd be too hard to carry something this heavy while walking in snow shoes. But that's just me being lazy, I guess.

We had lunch, then we hiked back to the parking lot.

That's it. The whole thing took less than 3 hours from door to door, including lunch and dropping the shoes back at the rental place. The best news? I felt sufficiently worked out enough to eat a piece of bacon for lunch as a reward.

Let this be a lesson to you. If you go snowshoeing, you get to eat bacon.

The end.

P.S. I posted more pictures on Facebook, since for some reason Blogger only wants me to post one picture per post these days, which means I may have to switch this whole entire operation over to WordPress. That'll show it. Sheesh.

Train for Fun #2: Look, I'm Flying!

2010-03-02T19:32:00.000-08:00

So I had my second day of "fun" with Luann Abrams at Training for Fun. Actually, I should take the quotes off the word fun, because it was fun. I mean, look - I even learned to fly on this Bosu ball.

I swear to god that ball will be the death of me.

Anyway, this morning, almost every muscle in my body was saying "Oh, hi, we hurt. You should take a nap instead of going back to that cute perky girl who talks you into doing 'plank' on that squishy ball over and over."

But I ignored them. Because if left to their own devices, my muscles would deteriorate into nothing and I would be like warm Jello with bones in the middle, instead of shredded carrots.

It's true.

Train for Fun

2010-02-28T17:26:00.000-08:00

As you may know, my knee's been bugging me again, and as much as I hate to admit it, I know that running a bit less and strengthening my "core" will help me avoid this little overuse problem I deal with over and over again.

Because apparently, I just need to calm down and admit that I'm not built like a runner, and not everyone has to run a marathon and I should just enjoy exercising as a hobby.

As if. The idea of running 26 miles in.a.row. makes me throw up in my mouth a little. Just sayin'.

So anyway, I'm doing a little trade with my friend Luann Abrams, a personal trainer who just started her new blog: Training for Fun. She swore to me that I could get a good workout with her, that I'd see some real results in a few weeks, and that it would be fun.

It was like a dare, really, so I had to say yes.

So this morning I went to her lovely training studio, which is in a room in her lovely house, featuring cheerful lemon yellow walls, a few hand weights, a treadmill, a yoga mat and some big rubber balls. I saw a Kettlebell in the closet and I almost had an anxiety attack, but thank goodness, she didn't make me use it. She probably will next time, now that I said that.

Dang it.

She did make me use one of those Bosu Balance ball trainer thingys, which is like a big rubber ball cut in half that you have to balance on. She's demonstrating how to use it in this picture. I tried it, and my legs shook like Jello and I almost fell over. That thing is evil. Just sayin'. More on that later.

So we did our first workout. And it was actually fun. And I'm not just saying that.

The thing about Luann is, she's funny and cheerful and all positive and stuff, but she's also smart. In fact, she's so smart that she was actually an aeronautical engineer for a long time before she took some time off to have her little boy, who's a toddler now.

This means she knows about physics and things, which makes it very difficult for me to cheat on exercises. Trust me on this. She'll say stuff, when you're on your side, balancing on your elbow like, "Okay, now raise your arm up like this," and then I'll say "But, that's impossible!" and she'll say, "No, actually, it's not." And you can't really argue with her, because she's right.

Sheesh.

I have to admit I went in to the session thinking it would probably be fun but, you know...light. As in, I'll do a few sit ups and stuff but I should go running afterwards. Turns out it was a full body workout, despite the lack of obvious jumping jacks or running in place, or those other obvious cardio things I've been known to dread at bootcamp type workouts.

Luann's all into "functional fitness" which means you do cardio while you're working on muscles. Translation? I was sweaty and tired at the end. But I laughed a lot.

And it was fun. I'm not kidding. And now I have to go back on Tuesday. Which is a good thing. Because I like Luann. But I'm going to pretend I'm allergic to the Kettlebell.

Please Pray for My Knee

2010-02-27T15:26:00.000-08:00

Dear Roxanne,

Thank you for yet another delightful excuse that I will eventually work into my blogging efforts in order to generate more popularity, for myself, in order to further brand myself as a person who is clever enough to surround herself with smart, funny people who, like herself, can find 6 reasons not to run, even before breakfast (which is a lazy literary reference to the White Queen talking to Alice about doing 6 impossible things before breakfast, which I inserted to show you, and the world that my degree in English has not been wasted, but instead has made me a better writer. Although, to be truthful, I did not learn that quote in college, but instead actually delivered the line on stage my Jr. year in high school when I was, in fact cast as the White Queen in the school play. Also, that was the same year I won the outstanding "newcomer" award for the drama department, since it was the first play I'd auditioned for in high school, and the drama teacher thought I was brilliant. Unfortunately, he had a nervous breakdown the next year and was replaced by the English teacher who chose to cast me in smaller roles from then on, perhaps as a way to prove that he was not crazy, or that I should stick to writing, and maybe grow up to be like him. Also, I am not bitter.)

As you know, surrounding myself with clever people is my job, even though it's not a real job in the real world sense of "jobs" but it is, in fact, a made up job which I hope to some day to monetize, if only to justify it as a reason to get up in the morning.

And also, the actual funny people I hang out with are nice, and I like to have coffee with them, which is another reason to get up in the morning. Not that I have to look for reasons to get up, that's not what I'm saying. Because I am not now currently, nor have I ever had a real nervous breakdown even though I was a drama teacher a very long time ago. I haven't had a nervous breakdown yet, anyway. I did try once, but my husband wouldn't let me. He said I had to get out of bed since there was so much that had to be done that day.

Meanwhile, about the running: I did, truly, have to take 3 days off from all activities involving my knee, including running, walking, swimming, and of course, cleaning the house. Much too taxing, all. I mean, seriously, I was limping my way through loading the dishwasher, and laundry was just out of the question.

But today I woke up and my knee didn't hurt. At all. It's the weirdest thing. The pain was just gone. I don't know why, it's sort magic, actually, and the only thing I can think of is that somebody must have prayed for me while I was sleeping and then God, or maybe Jesus, just healed my knee. Which is just such a cool thing, if you think about it. So I walked about 5 miles to celebrate, and now, well my knee does hurt a bit, but I'm not worried, because I think Jesus will heal it again. I mean, why wouldn't he?

So, even though I forgot to ask you about your religious affiliation before, that one time when we ran, I was wondering if you could pray for my knee. Even if you're not into Jesus, I don't think it really matters. I think he's pretty good about taking all prayers, as long as you say his name first. Otherwise he won't know you're praying to him. It's like a metatag, I think. He probably has an RSS feed. Or something.

If my knee is healed again by Monday, would you like to run then? Please let me know.

Love,

@juliejulie

I'm Going to FitBloggin!

2010-02-24T16:26:00.000-08:00

As strange as it may sound to some of my friends, I'm excited to get on a plane and fly to Baltimore next month. I'm going to FitBloggin-10, a conference by, for and about fitness bloggers. I'm going to meet my people.

I've been blogging about life, exercise and middle-aged angst since 2007 here at Chubby Mommy Running Club. In fact, here's my first post.

This has been a delightful place to share stories about all sorts of things. Turns out there are hundreds of other people doing the same thing, and now I get to meet them and swap ideas and stories, meet sponsors and talk to other writers and book publishers. It's all good.

There's a 5K "Fun Run" on Sunday, after the conference, which I suppose I should try. For fun. And I won't cry. I haven't done any sort of race in ages, so I will spend the next few weeks trying to see if I can run consistently without overdoing it and hurting myself. Trickier than it sounds for this type A over-achiever. I'll keep you posted.

Also there is a yoga party at this conference, apparently, but I might have to skip it since I'm a yoga dropout.

I'm going to spend the next few weeks reading a bunch of new fitness blogs, so I'll pass on some fun ones to you, dear readers. And please feel free to send me any links to other stuff you think I should read.

Love,

@juliejulie

I Can't Go Running If I Have to Go Skiing

2010-02-24T13:23:00.000-08:00

This Picture of Mt. Bachelor in Bend, Oregon from Lodging4Vacations.com

Dear Roxanne,

Can you run tomorrow, as we planned? You sort of promised, remember? I have a meeting at 7:30 in the morning, but we could go at 10:00. Except I might have coffee with my other running partner (instead of running with her, which happens a lot) so maybe we should say 11:30 or 12:00. I hope it isn't going to rain because I really hate that.

Love,

@juliejulie

Dear Julie,

I would say MY day is all about the weather. Because I have sacrificed my LIFE for the school auction these past few weeks, with that DEMANDING Lori boss I had, and I'm afraid my ski pass is screaming for attention, and I simply MUST reply if the weather is good. If it is not so good, yes, Inga and I run in all wether, so a 'nooner' would be great. But I am afraid MY schedule in the next few weeks will be ALL ABOUT the weather and my 12 day SKI PASS. Do you like how I am using capital letters emphasize certain thoughts, as simple as they are?.

You are my funniest running partner as well. We cannot stop - ever. Untill we both move away of course!

YOUR PAL

Roxanne

Dear Roxanne,

First of all - I wish I had a ski pass but I haven't skied in forever and a day and up until 2 weeks ago I didn't want to spend the money. But now that some checks have come through maybe I can, but maybe it's too late in the season and I'm so bad at skiing since I haven't done it in so long that it could be a terrible, terrible waste of money.

Second - I'm going snow shoeing with my bookkeeper next Wednesday (the one featured in the blog post about the running vest that looks a bit like a suicide bomber vest, which isn't funny at all and I was not trying to make a joke about that, I was just trying to make a joke about how vain I am, but I fear perhaps just saying the word suicide bomber is not so good) and you're cordially invited. To the snow shoeing. And maybe Lori should come too since we still adore her despite her ability to organize us and raise money for good causes.

In fact, maybe I should get a Flip Video and we could film the snowshoeing adventure, because Lori's so adorable, she'd get us more hits to the blog. Oops, if I buy a flip camera, I’d use up the money for my non-existent ski pass. But still, you get the sacrifice I'm making, right? Good. Thought so. It's all about the blog, really.

So call me if you don't go skiing so we can run. Call, don't Facebook me, because I won't get it in time, since I'll be out and about at my meeting and my coffee, with only my phone, and the email doesn't always work on my phone and the Facebook doesn't hook up to the email, which doesn't work...even though I started a woman in tech group, that should not fool you into believing I can figure out these kinds of things. I could try but then I might cry or throw the phone on the ground.

So anyway just call me if you want to run at 12:00. Okay? Please?

Alrighty then. Thanks. See you tomorrow. Assuming you're not on the mountain.

Also, it will probably be really cold and windy and stuff if you ski, but don't let that stop you, since you love to ski. Super. Love it. For real. And it's good to do things you love.

Love,

@juliejulie

Dear Roxanne,

Also, I wish you'd hurry up and stop sleeping already. It's 4:53 a.m. now on Wednesday and I'm eagerly awaiting your response so I can figure out my life today, for heavens sakes. I have stuff to do here, like write my blog post with your words and your pictures while you're wasting your life s.l.e.e.p.i.n.g.

Sheesh.

Love,

@juliejulie

Dear Roxanne,

Also do you have a picture of you and or Inga skiing? If so please send it so I can post to the blog. And I swear I will link to your site. Also please send me your link.

Love,

@juliejulie

Dear Roxanne,

Also I would like to use parts of this conversation for today's post because I'm having breakfast with the guy from Mt. Bachelor today and he should know that he needs to get me a free ski pass so I can make a movie about the mountain, which we mentioned last time we saw each, and if I finish this post before breakfast I can show him and remind him. So this is all about me. As usual.

Love,

@juliejulie

Dear Julie,

It turns out I've got a ton of 'too-real-life' stuff to deal with today. I've got to get Inga out this morning to free up my afternoon so I can’t go running at noon. And no, I don't have ANY shots of me skiing with him! Darn't! I'm never in any pictures, ‘cause I'm the one with the camera! I'm afraid you’re on your own with your blog today. Although now that I just said that, how about this for today's excuse, "I can't possibly run today as I have to pick up my 'bowel prep kit' for my upcoming colonoscopy" cocktails and reception following.....

Also Julie, I am busy next Wednesday, so no snowshoeing for me! I have to tell you, I don't snowshoe either, because I think to myself, why not put on skies and go faster! Let's run tomorrow, okay? I promise.

Love,

Roxanne

Dear Roxanne,

Fine. I went swimming instead.

Love,

@juliejulie

Does This Weight Make Me Look Fat?

2010-02-23T10:25:00.000-08:00

Today I went walking with my bookkeeper. That's like going to coffee with your running partner instead of running. I like my bookkeeper, I just don't really like sitting at a table going through stacks of bank statements and receipts. Which is why I hired her. But apparently I still have to make the stacks for her. Whatever.

So anyway, she wanted to come early today and I said fine, but I have to go running, so you can come with me. She said fine, except she doesn't like to run. So I said we could walk hills instead, and I'd wear my weight vest. Because the extra weight helps me get stronger and it keeps my heart rate up.

The only problem is, the vest looks weird. I hate to say this, but it sorta looks like a terrorist vest to me. Those little pockets are filled with sand, not explosives, but still, I do tend to get strange looks sometimes. I've thought about putting a sign on my vest that says "This is a weight vest. I'm not a suicide bomber" but I haven't done it yet.

I'd be in better shape if I wore this vest around all the time. But I think it makes me look fat.

I'd be in better shape if I weren't so vain.

Excuse #2

2010-02-22T13:14:00.000-08:00

I cannot POSSIBLY go running until I finish this plate of donut holes. Will call later....

Roxanne

The Advantages of Having Multiple Partners

2010-02-19T10:13:00.000-08:00

Hi – I’m excited to run with you! I need more than one running partner in case one of you bails out. Also, your dog is a big plus, and your bad running pants make me feel superior. Can I use your real name in the blog? Send me a picture of your dog.

Dear Julie - I prefer to go by Roxanne for unknown reasons even to myself, and I absolutely think you should write about 'superior running pants'! You've gotta write the truth, you know? Here is my dog Inga (not his real name) waiting to go running. We measured his nose - it is 7 inches long! I went for a short 2 mile run today, because I know we are gonna be balls-to-the-walls, uber runners tomorrow, Julie. Since I am nearly 50, it is easy for me to use my age as an excuse not to run as far.

Dear Roxanne - Oh, he is a beauuuuuutiful dog. Wait, don't you have a bunch of things to do for the school auction tomorrow? Or is that Lori? Also, my knee hurts, since I am close to 50 too, and I had to walk during my run today, so I might have to put off uber running until next time.

Dear Julie - Sounds good, except you are 44, and that’s not close to 50. But as you know, I LOVE excuses either to run shorter distances, walk during runs, or not run at all. So the fact we are really going is a big plus.Lori has some things for me to do but my morning is free. She is not the boss of me.

Dear Roxanne - Let's run at 9:00, along the dirt path behind Lori’s house so we can spy on her. We'll need binoculars. Do you have some? It's only fair, since she has that huge telescope she uses to spy on people. See you tomorrow.

Dear Julie - Listen I am up at 4am, having anxiety about my new dilemma: Lori says I have to go to Staples at 9:00. Can you run after school? And yes, I want to go the spy route and watch Lori. She will probably be getting her auction wardrobe out - I would think.

Dear Roxanne – Staples seems like a good excuse. Please send a picture of you stapling something, for the blog. I am sorry to say I am booked after school with some pretty good excuses like working, ice skating, chaperoning a 5th grade dance, and taking my mannequin to a rock concert.

Dear Julie – No worries about excuses, especially mannequin excuses. I won’t ask, you don’t have to tell.

Dear Roxanne – Also, the concert thing will end up on YouTube, so I should wash my hair, and wear something besides crotchless underwear and baggy running pants, right? They are crotchless due to the naughty puppy chewing them up, not because I bought naughty undies, by the way. Can you run tomorrow?

Dear Julie – Let’s talk about tomorrow and underwear later. I’ve gotta run. To Staples, I mean. I swear we’ll go running soon, maybe, okay?

The One About Swimming

2010-02-12T11:06:00.000-08:00

I'm in a rut with my running routine. Same old routes, same old songs on the playlist, same old gray, cold rain daring me to come outside and run in it, same old ankle getting twisted from stepping off the curb and acting like I should take it easy...so I started swimming again. That'll show my running. It will miss me, I bet.

I've been swimming off and on since I was 4. I'd like to blame my mother. She signed me up for lessons at Jefferson Pool in Eugene, Oregon, which was one block from our house, at the end of our bike path, in the middle of a big field. We could see it from our driveway.

The lifeguard/swim teacher was my babysitter from two doors down, and the story is, she had to peel me off my mom for the first lesson, but once I got in the pool, I was hooked. I was a chubby girl, and a good floater. Day after day, I happily dove for pennies the teachers threw into the bottom of the pool.

So technically, I got paid to swim. Which is a good deal, and I think the lifegaurds at Juniper Pool in Bend, Oregon, should throw some pennies in the lap pool everyday for motivation.

Also, you need to know that I was, and still remain, a swimming pool handstand champion. I hereby challenge anyone, anywhere to a competition in the 3-4 feet. Be warned. I have excellent toe-pointing form, and above average lung capacity.

So swimming laps for exercise is pretty easy for me, and I'll get into it for a while, but it's not like I love it. Just like I don't really love running, but I appreciate it. Mostly, I appreciate my body for being able to run without falling and swim without drowning.It's the little things I don't want to take for granted.

Here's my new orange cap and my new orange goggles I got to keep me motivated. Also, they match my suit. And, I figure I'm easy to spot in the water, so if I start drowning while trying to get the pennies, the lifeguard can find me quickly easily and save me.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Shoes in the Snow

2010-02-09T15:12:00.000-08:00

My son's 5th grade class had a field trip today. We walked through the woods at the end to talk about healthy forests. I loved the way everyone's shoes looked in the snow:

Back in the Groove. Sort of.

2010-02-06T11:42:00.000-08:00

After a lazy month of sporadic running due to "I can't go running today" excuses involving the snow and ice, the sun came out and I finally got back in the groove, and went four times last week.

Four days of running in a week is enough to make me feel like a runner again, because my body gets over the initial complaining, and internal yelling "Torture! I hate this! I was supposed to take a nap! Can't we just go out for coffee instead?"

After four days of running, my body starts giving in, and saying "This is a good song, turn it up. Sure, I can make that hill. No promises on the next one, but this one's fine. Nice view. Nice day. Damn, I feel good."

But today it snowed. And it's not the white, fluffy, fun snow that makes you wanna frolic and sled. It's the icky, icy, slushy miserable kind of snow. The kind that makes you worry about falling, and wondering if you should buy new YakTraxs or just sit on the couch and drink tea until spring.

I should probably join a gym. It'd be nice if someone would build a gym that looks like Maui. Like a biosphere, with running trails. Or at least a hologram-ish room where it just seems like you're running along the beach at sunrise.

How hard could it be?

The New Video

2010-02-02T15:41:00.000-08:00

Just in case you didn't see this in all the usual places, here's Francine the Mannequin's newest video at Twist Pop Media. thanks for all your support!

Comments

2010-02-02T15:35:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone,

Sorry to say I've had so much spam lately that I've switched to moderated comments for now. Feel free to email me directly at julieanderson at hotmail dot com if you're a real person.

Thanks for reading!

Love,

@juliejulie

*photo credit, www.Crunchgear.com - some days it seems like spam wins. But we won't let it!

Technical Difficulties

2010-01-28T07:47:00.001-08:00

"Why.the.hell.isn't this working?" I growled.

"Do you want me to look at your computer?" he sighed.

"No. I just want it to work. It should just work." Like cars. When you put the key in, they should start.

"I wonder if there's some kind of cash award for the person who has the most ridiculous computer problems," he said calmly without looking up from his keyboard.

I glared at him.

"Mom would win," said the 13 year old, which made everyone laugh, except me.

Posted via web from Julie's posterous

Francine Twist Video Screening

2010-01-23T18:58:00.000-08:00

Francine Twist, the renown model/mannequin/ actress from Twist Pop Media will be making her film debut this Tuesday night at Velvet in downtown Bend, Oregon. She'll be available in the lobby for pictures. She can't sign autographs, since she doesn't have hands, sorry.

The films are short (1-2 minutes each) and we'll show them throughout the night. Francine will be there!

Feel free to RSVP over on the Facebook Event page, or just show up! If you'd like to join the Twist Pop Fan Page, we'd love it!

@juliejulie's Bad Hair

2010-01-20T14:19:00.000-08:00

Last week I took pictures of my hair every morning, and posted them on Twitter and Facebook.

Some people said I was brave.

Some people said I was crazy.

Turns out maybe I was smart.

Because I haven't seen Rachel Ebarb, my stylist over at Plethora Salon for quite a while, but she saw me on Facebook and told me to get myself and my bad hair over to her chair, stat.

When I got there, I looked like this:

When I left, I looked like this:

If you want Rachel to fix your hair, call her at (541) 788-6601

Yes, for the record, Rachel is one of my blog sponsors, you betcha!

My Dirty Laundry

2010-01-19T15:49:00.000-08:00

"Wait! What day is it?" I blurted out in a panic.

"Tuesday," he said calmly, without rolling his eyes.

"There's something I'm supposed to do," I quickly pulled up the calendar on the computer.

"Laundry?" he said hopefully.

"No, no...ah, here it is! Belly dancing."

Bras Bras Bras

2010-01-17T15:39:00.000-08:00

Here's the truth: I have too many bras. I'm embarrassed to tell you the exact number. There are so many that I can actually group them into little groups.

If I were the organized type, I'd have custom, labeled dividers in my dresser drawers for each group.

I wonder if Martha Stewart does.

Here are my bra categories, so far:

Jog bras (I wrote a post about them once)
Sweater bras
Professional bras (for work clothes, that's what I mean)
Cotton bras
Special occasion bras
Sex bras

20 years ago, I think I had 3 bras. I'm not quite sure what happened that led me to bra overload, but I'd like to blame a beautiful woman named Nicki, Victoria's Secret, my husband and TJ Maxx.

Nicki: I met her in my 20's when we were both single. She fixed me up with a friend of her boyfriend's, and we'd get ready for dates together at her apartment. I could not help but notice her lovely, fancy matching bras and panties. I'd never spent much money on that stuff. I was far too practical and frugal. "Do guys really care about it?" I asked. "Yes," she said. "I don't even know where to shop for it." "Victoria's Secret," she said.

Victoria's Secret: I went to the mall to check out the store, but couldn't bring myself to spend that much money on undergarments. Seriously, if you get a hot pink bra, you have to get a bunch of hot pink expensive underwear to match, to make it worth it, otherwise you have to wash your one matching pair every day, right? If you stick to reasonably priced black and beige at Macy's? Non issue. I was saving for a trip to Europe. I was not going to blow my savings at Victoria's Secret, especially since I didn't even have a serious boyfriend.

My husband: So I met him, we got married, and he quickly convinced me that money spent on lingerie was money well spent. I bought a few sex bras at Victoria's Secret. I also learned that he complained less about my shoe shopping habits if I bought high heeled boots, especially black leather ones. I was still careful though. I got an orange bra, and a few other colors, but just a few matching panties. Also, the longer you're married and the more children you have, the less the matching thing seems to matter. Not sure why.

TJ Maxx: Here's where the real trouble began. I discovered the bra section after the first kid was born, and I realized my size was going to keep changing for a while. That place has oodles and oodles of very cute bras, very cheap. $4.99 for black silk polka dots and $1.99 for the undies? Uh. Sure. That's cheaper than dinner and a movie.

And so it began. Three kids, 17 years of marriage, and an undisclosed number of bras later, I need a label maker and a professional organizer for my undergarments.

I know this bra problem is also a sign of exuberant consumerism somehow gone awry, and I'd probably have more money in my IRA now if I had less lingerie. I get a sick feeling in my stomach sometimes when I see how much stuff I have and know there are people less fortunate than me and I feel spoiled.

But, here's the thing: a couple years ago, a friend sent me a link to Nicki's blog. I'd lost touch with her, and here she was, married with young children writing a touching diary chronicling her battle with breast cancer, from the horrible beginning and the choice to undergo a double mastectomy, to her triumphant victory back to health, including returning to running and completing her first Race for the Cure.

I read her blog from beginning to end and cried for days. "I remember her breasts," I said to my husband. "They were lovely, she was proud of them, and she had the best bras. I'm so glad she appreciated them while she could."

When I first heard that women were posting their bra color on Facebook, I thought it was silly, a bit voyeuristic, and too much information. Then I read Johanna Turner's article about it in the Washington Post and learned it was a Breast Cancer awareness project, I changed my mind. I posted "Red" that day.

I know my bra's real job is to hold up my boobs. I'm glad mine are healthy, and I'm happy I get to dress them up. So I'll be keeping all my bras, thank you very much, and there's a good chance I'll buy some more in the years ahead.

Pink lace.

Impractical? Yes. But still cheaper than dinner and a movie.

Being Weird

2010-01-12T09:30:00.000-08:00

Ideas are pictures. They flash through my brain, in color, instantly.

Sometimes they're a single frame, and sometimes they're more like a quirky, saturated short film shot in Super 8.

A good idea makes me tingle. And then I have to talk about it so I can figure it out all the way.

Some ideas don't work on their own, or they're too early for their own good. But I keep them around anyway, because they worm their way right into another idea later.

I hang out with good listeners so I can bounce the pictures I see in my head up and down and sideways like a super ball in a small room with a hardwood floor. The ideas hit walls and lamps sometimes, but nothing ever breaks. Usually.

And then I just start trying stuff. If people say "how did you come up with this crazy idea?" I try to tell them the story of how 20 years ago I had this one idea that worked it's way into this other idea, and eventually this idea right here became an obvious next thing to try.

But they look at me with glazed eyes and half a smile and say "Oh." Which actually means "You're weird."

As if I didn't know.

Karaoke with The Mannequin

2010-01-08T08:04:00.000-08:00

(Downtown Bend, OR) Bo Restobar, in association with A Fine Note Karaoke Too! and Twist Pop Media announces the guest appearance of renowned mannequin, actress, and chanteuse, Francine Twist at Bo Restobar on Saturday, January 9th at 8:00 p.m..

Francine will be performing some of her favorite karaoke songs, accompanied by Jackie Johnson of A Fine Note Karaoke Too!

According to Johnson, the culmination of this event is the result of a lot of research, legwork, begging, and more than a few glasses of wine.

“Francine and I have spoken at length about her love of karaoke and she has finally agreed to grace the popular night spot with her songs and anecdotes about her long and successful acting career.”

Julie Anderson, of Bend’s Twist Pop Media further added, “Francine and I will be at Bo Restobar on Saturday night at 8:00 p.m. for the purpose of filming for Bend’s Where To Eat Guide. We would love to include Bo’s audience in this segment which will be featured on the guide’s web site at www.theeatguide.com/CentralOregon/ and also at www.youtube.com/user/TwistPopMedia.”

Francine will pose with patrons and can even be persuaded to sing a duet or two if you twist her arm. The Where To Eat Guide will provide door prizes such as free Bend restaurant certificates. Admission is free and regular karaoke will follow.

*Follow us live Saturday evening on Twitter at @juliejulie or @FrancineTwist

Where: Bo Restobar (Downtown Bend) on Franklin Ave.

When: Saturday, January 9, 2010 @ 8:00 p.m.

*A Fine Note Karaoke Too!, Bo Restobar, Where to Eat Guide, and Julie Anderson can also be found on Facebook.

More Art for @juliejulie

2010-01-07T07:24:00.000-08:00

I'm not a big New Year's Resolution type. Big promises to myself are easily broken. I'd rather take a series of small steps to make big changes in the long run.

I used to make art, and I want to start making it again. It stirs up little threads of happy inside me, which weave their way into everything else I do.

In fact, when my kids were little, I had an art studio set up in the basement along with a potter's wheel and a small kiln. I taught kid's classes 3 days a week and hosted Thursday night wine and clay nights for moms. Joy.

I also painted dots on vintage suitcases and sold them to sophisticated ladies who had style and good taste. Julia Roberts bought the first one I made, so I got instant cred. and galleries and stores around the country took them in on consignment, and I did custom orders.

Life got busy, I gave away my wheel and kiln when we moved, I stopped dabbling in colors and textures, and jumped into words for a while. Now I have a garage full of blank suitcases that aren't sure what their purpose is. They are lonely and unadorned. It's sad for them.

I'm ready to start playing with art again. I want to explore more mixed media, so I called my friend Sondra Holtzman, a local artist who teaches and travels around in her fun, vintage trailer, which we named "Artstream" so she can take her art classes on the road.

Sondra and I are partnering up to help each other. I'll write about her Traveling Studio, and show her how to use digital media (including Twitter, where she's @ArtSondra) to push her business, and she'll teach me how to get the images that swirl around in my head onto surfaces.

Happy, happy. Joy, joy.

My Best Kiss Ever

2010-01-03T18:48:00.000-08:00

Let's talk about the fine art of kissing. You know, a good, old fashioned lip lock.

Wikipedia: A kiss is the touching of one's lips to another person or object, used to express love, passion, affection, respect, greeting, and good luck. The word comes from Old English cyssan "to kiss", in turn from coss "a kiss". The act of kissing has become a common expression of affection among people, but, until modern times, however, kissing was unknown to certain cultures, such as aborigines, Tahitians, and many tribes in Africa.

No kissing in Tahiti? Even with those beautiful beaches, glorious sunsets and fruity drinks with the little umbrellas? How sad for them.

Ok, here's the best romantic kiss I ever had (you know, before I met my husband, who's the love of my life and a great kisser etc. etc.) and it involves a stranger.

I don't remember the guy's last name, and I can't remember exactly what he looked like, but I'm pretty sure I looked like the lady in this picture, except I was not naked. And he wasn't either. And also, we weren't sitting on a rock, and he didn't actually kiss me on the lips, but I'd like to think I looked like this lady. I'm sure I felt the way she looks, does that count?

So anyway. I was 24. I was on a solo trip through Europe with my backpack and Rick Steve's Europe Through the Back Door book. I had some lovely moments during that trip, including a near religious experience with the colors pink and gold which I wrote about here before, but the truth is, I was lonely.

I would arrive in a new town, find the youth hostel, bravely look around for a friendly face, then start seeing the sites, either with some new friends if I was lucky enough to meet some, or alone. When my bravery wore out, I would sit somewhere and write in my journal, pretending I was in a movie I was writing about myself.

Somehow, somewhere, maybe in Denmark, I met a nice young woman who said I should visit her home town in Bruge, Beligum. So a few weeks later, I did. I called her when I got there, right after I met some American college kids in the hostel.

My friend said I could meet her at her parents house in town for "lunchments" (hey, her English was way better than my dutch!) which was very generous, and it would have been a fantastic opportunity to get to know some locals, just like Rick Steves said I should do.

But after breifly hemming and hawing, I said no thanks, because two of the college kids were male, and both of them were cute, and they had just met another girl in the lobby while we were all checking in, and they wanted me to ride bikes down to the seaside with them. So of course I did.

One thing I did learn on this 3 month solo journey was if you're traveling in and out of new cities and new friendships every day, you have to make split decisions that you might regret later, but you can't waste too much time worrying about them, or you'll miss all the fun.

And I had what I felt was an instant connection with the regular looking red-headed boy in the lobby, so I was going to pursue it, lunchments or no lunchments.

The tall dark and handsome boy should have been a natural choice, especially since he was paying attention to me. But my split second radar knew Handsome was a boring dud, and Red was the one for me. Unfortunately, the other girl liked Red too, which really steamed me. Obviously, her radar was just as good as mine.

Since I'm the writer here, I'm tempted to say the other girl was an irritating floozy with sawdust for brains who lured young men in with her Sorority Girl charm and good looks, then dumped them by the side of the road on the way home from the sea, after she got her fill of attention and free drinks.

But I can't say that. Because that'd be lying. Because actually she was smart and funny she was nice to me. And I knew my lonely self needed to hang out with her just as much as I needed to flirt with the boys.

So we got on our bikes and rode to the sea.

It took 45 minutes to get there, and Sorority Girl and Red were much faster than Handsome and me, so they were way ahead the whole time, chatting and giggling. I was hot and sweaty and irritated, and not in the mood to make small talk with Handsome, who didn't have much to say anyway.

I don't remember much of the sea in Belgium, except that it looked like all the other beaches I'd seen in Northern Europe. Sorority girl and Red were clearly flirting with each other, I was hungry, and the restaurant food was expensive, and I thought "Damn. I should have gone to the local's house for the lunchments."

We decided to ride back to the Hostel in time for happy hour which featured cheap food and cheap beer. 45 minutes later I was still tired and hungry, but now were all sitting together at a table, so I thought I had a chance with Red, since I'm good at talking to a captive audience.

Alas, Sorority girl continued to match my wit and charm long into the night. She had a better story than I did. She was a computer science girl and just finished her MBA. She was going back home to Colorado (of course, Colorado, she was cute, althletic, outdoorsy, and she's probably a tech start up millionaire by now) leaving her boyfriend in France after spending the summer with him. She needed to figure out her life. She wasn't sure she wanted to stay with him. She missed America.

Poor.little.thing.

I was from Oregon, with degrees in Fine Arts and English, had just finished a two year stint as a nanny, and was going back to Palo Alto to teach drama at a private school. I know, I know. Not much to work with.

Handsome was an engineer, just starting out somewhere. Of course. He probably works for Sorority girl now, at Google, after she sold her first 3 startups during the tech bubble years.

Red? Well, he had finished grad school on the east coast and this trip was his graduation present from his parents. There was something about history and economics thrown in. He's probably a senator now. Too bad I can't remember his last name. I might be tempted to ask him if he'd like to go hiking on the Appalachian Trail.

I was trying to flirt and made some lame joke about history, but he didn't really get it. Or he did and it wasn't funny. And then their was an awkward silence. His radar must have confirmed that I liked him (duh!) but so did she, and she was so much smoother than me, in many, many ways.

And then he tried to be nice to me, as charity, which made it worse. Because I knew I'd lost.

We all went to our bunkbeds at the same time in the co-ed dorms, so I knew no one slept together, which I hadn't really expected, since we were all just nice kids traveling around, not really looking to hook up, but still. Lonely girls do hope for things, sometimes. Things that might turn into good scenes in the movies in their journals.

Sorority Girl and Red realized they were both leaving for the same ferry early in the morning (or sure, of course she would be on the same ferry...) so they set an alarm so they'd get up at the crack of dawn.

I heard their alarm go off and listened to them rustle around and hurry in the early morning light.

"We're late!" she gasped, as she grabbed her pack off her bunk, "We'll have to run!"

"Go!" he whispered from the bed below me as he threw things in his bag and quickly put on his shoes, "I'll catch up." And so she did.

I sat up then, to watch her go. I wanted to say goodbye, but it was too late.

He stood up then and faced me, as my feet dangled off the edge of the top bunk, nearly kicking him. The top bunks were low, he was tall, and my knees landed near his stomach.

He stood still, as I looked at him, and he looked at me. He didn't say a word, and neither did I, but he reached up, and put his arms around my neck. I put my hands on his shoulders, without really thinking.

And then he leaned in slowly and deliberately, and kissed my neck. Twice. Right in that spot below my chin and to the right, that makes me melt. As if he knew me. He looked at me again, all the way, and touched my cheek with his finger. And I realized I had stopped breathing.

And then he quickly picked up his bag, and ran out the door to catch the ferry. And I never regretted missing the lunchments again.

“Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.”

My Costco, My Life

2009-12-29T17:55:00.000-08:00

Today I went to Costco. Usually, I get a secret rush of happy when I think of shopping at Costco, even though it wears me out.

There's just so much stuff there. Stuff I don't even know I want until I see it. And even if I don't buy it, I just like to be aware of it, and to think about it. You know, to wish for it a little, for next time, when I probably won't buy it either.

Hey, a girl's gotta have dreams. I'm just being honest about my consumerism fantasies, here. Don't be judgey or throw rocks at me.

The truth is, I don't really buy that much stuff I don't need any more, since I'm always on a budget and my house is full of way.too.much.stuff. as it is. The other truth is, my usual Costco purchases are boring, and 90% the same every time.

So I'll spare you the list of what I usually buy (like fruits and vegetables, toilet paper, laundry soap, yawn) and tell you about the things I thought about buying, but didn't. Because that list changes with the seasons, the inventory and the phases of the moon.

Things I didn't Buy at Costco on December 29, 2009:

Dear FTC spies: none of these companies pay me in cash or prizes for what I'm about to say.

Dear companies: call me if you want to.

1. Dark chocolate covered pomegranate seeds from Brookside. I thought the flavors might be interesting, but couldn't figure out how you'd spit the seed out. When I realized there wasn't a seed, it was just pomegranate flavor inside chocolate, it dawned on me that the whole thing was candy, and I was not going to spend $9.99 on candy that I didn't need to eat. Walked away. Phew. Close call on that one.

2. InvertAlign Inversion Table which is a contraption (that looks all fitness/home gym-ish) you strap yourself into so you can flip yourself upside down. I have to admit, the whole thing is a tiny bit scary, and sexy at the same time. I mean...well. It's like standing on your head without the balancing part. Just look at the phraseology on the box: Adjustable nylon tether stops the bed at any desired angle of inversion. Features the NEW Flexion Bed Design and Easy-reach support handles with built in Traction Bars. And the best part: Medical Grade quality, tested to 400% safety factor.

See? Seriously safe. And Sexy. But it was $400, so I walked away.

3. Orange Roses for $14.99. I do like flowers. Especially orange ones and especially if other people buy them for me. I didn't NEED them. So I smelled them, appreciated them, then walked away.

4. Instant Facial Sculpting Cream from StriVetcin. Huh? This product stopped me in my tracks. Sounds very Twilight Zone if you ask me. Think about it. Costco sells a cream that sculpts your face? So if you put this stuff on your face, you can reshape it? Your face I mean? Does it dissolve your skin and your bones a little so you can push them around into a more pleasing arrangement? Wow. And look, there's more: It even reduces the appearance of “ear wrinkles”... those nasty little lines in front of your ears (you know, the wrinkles you ignore but everyone else gets to see).

I think she is having her face sculpted by a face artist

Again with the WOW. I didn't even know I had ear wrinkles. Should I spend $78 to reshape ear wrinkles? Totally walked away.

5. Silk Infusion Cationic Hydration Interlink Some of you may recall that I'm never quite satisfied with my hair, although I did like it when Rachel made me look like Sarah Palin once:

So I seriously considered purchasing this stuff to add to my overflowing drawer of other stuff I buy to try to trick nature out of the inevitable, natural 44 year old hair change I'm going through this year. But the word Cationic sounded too much like Catatonic, and even though my hair is old, dead hair isn't appealing. Walked away.

6. A baby. I saw the cutest 5 month old baby girl wearing a lovely pink argyle knitted hat stare at me from her mother's arms. I knew she wasn't for sale, but I felt a strong tug of maternal instinct and longing to touch her soft little cheek and talk her into a smile, and maybe ask around to see if she needed to be adopted or I should find another one to adpot, or maybe talk my husband into reversing his vasectomy, or something.

I squashed those feelings right back down where they belong, and bought a bag of dog chewies instead to remind myself that I bought a puppy last year instead so I wouldn't think of having any more babies.

And then, it was time to walk away from the baby and go home. So I did.

The One About the Book Deal

2009-12-16T07:11:00.000-08:00

So a couple of months ago a brilliantly smart literary agent from New York emailed me out of the blue. She said she'd been reading my blog, she enjoyed my writing, and would I be interested in writing a book?

Yes, I said. Yes, yes, yes. I am interested. I was born interested in writing a book.

Me in front of the house I'll buy with the never-ending royalties I'll earn from my book of hilarious chubby sports stories

In fact, back in 1974 when I was deep into my "Little House on the Prairie" phase I told people I was going to be a writer when I grew up. My mom said writers didn't make a lot of money, and maybe I should think of a back up plan, just in case.

So I eventually went to college and got degrees in Fine Arts and English. Then I taught drama for a while, and then through a series of unrelated events I've ended up being a self-proclaimed Twitter Maven who makes weird videos with her mannequin.

I fail at backup plans, apparently.

My mom also told me that Laura Ingalls Wilder was dead, when I said I needed her address so I could write her a fan letter. Hey, before you get all huffy, my mom isn't a dream killer, she's just practical.

So when the pixie dust wore off that first email the agent sent (I should really print it out and frame it...maybe send it to my mom for Christmas?) I sent her an email back that said "I want to write a book, but I can't figure out what to write about. Can you help me?"

Yes, she said. I'll help you, which made me so happy that I decided I need to go out and buy her a present. Which I will do. Soon.

And so began a series of emails flowing with ideas and sample stories sent off for her review, and honest answers and enduring patience (on her part.) After a few tangents and round-abouts, we came back to this blog and the funny little fitness stories, which aren't always about the actual thing I'm writing about, but about the bigger things I'm thinking about.

Finally, I came up with an idea she thought might fly, and she said I needed to write my first three chapters so she has something to start pitching to a publisher. She's sold a few best sellers and she seems to know what she's doing (of course I Googled her.)

This will be a piece of cake, I thought. I'll have those chapters done in a week, and then she can sell the book by Christmas, and then I'll plow through the rest of the chapters in a month or so, and then I'll see my finished paperback at Costco this Spring. No sense dragging this whole thing out.

And wouldn't it be funny if I don't tell my family about the publication date, but I just casually say to the kids when we're at Coscto buying huge bags of broccoli, "Let's go look at the new books...oh my goodness! Look at this, it's MY book!" and then I'll buy 100 copies and hand them out at Thanksgiving and as door prizes at Tweetups.

Well, it turns out this whole writing a book thing is harder than it looks. I worked on one chapter for days and days and it's still not right. It's just not that funny.

I gave it to a friend to read and she said she liked it, and that it was kind of David Sedaris like. I'm going to buy her a present just for saying that, but the truth is, it's NOT Sedaris-like. At all. Because it's not funny. And it's sort of boring. And it's driving me crazy, trying to fix it.

So then, another friend who's published a few books of his own said "Stop writing that chapter! Move on to the next one. Maybe it will be funny." Which was very smart advice, so now I have to buy him a present too. And I also have to start writing that chapter. Which I will. Soon. Maybe after I finish this post, even. Or tonight.

I realize all these presents I have to buy are eating into my future advance that I may or may not get, for a book I have not written, that may or may not get sold. But they're worth it, I think, because if I don't get feedback from people, this book will just sit in the back of my brain forever.

And one thing I've learned so far is there's no way anyone, even a brilliant agent, can sell a book that is just a series of nice little ideas in my head. I have to write them down. So I have to keep trying, not crying. It's like saying I'm a runner, but not actually running. Eventually, someone calls me on it, and I put on my shoes and go. And voila - more blog fodder.

Also, I've learned that David Sedaris is doing the rest of us writers a disservice by making it look so easy. I mean, sure, he has much better material to work with than I do (if I were a gifted, Greek, angsty gay man living in New York City and Paris with a lovely partner named Hugh, this book would be much easier to write, believe me) but when you read his stuff, you think "Hey, he just sat down and started talking into his typewriter and now he's selling millions of books, how hard could it be?"

Thanks Mr. Sedaris. Thanks a lot. You're so not helping me and my fragile writer ego, here. But if you can give me some pointers I will definitely buy you a present, too.

Ready to Ride: Francine's First Snow Storm

2009-12-06T13:51:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, Francine grew up in Los Angeles, and then spent many years stuck in a back room in Springfield, Oregon.

Today, we are having a blizzard in Bend, and it occurred to me that she's never seen snow.

I figured I'd better let her experience it, since there is talk of her going snowboarding soon, for a video shoot. She's a great model, a fine actress, and a good sport, but it's important that she doesn't go in to a new situation "cold," as they say. She needs to understand her surroundings in order to find her motivation.

As her agent and her friend, I needed to see how snow would affect her skin, since she's not really water proof (no synchronized swimming films for her, sorry). I also wanted to make sure she can actually wear boots. She can.

Francine was quite interested in the snow, and thanks to this fabulous Betty Rides coat of my daughter's (from several years ago, these coats never wear out!) she stayed warm and dry.

Except for her face, where the snow hit it. It melted the word of the day on her cheek. So she may wear goggles next time, and perhaps a ski mask, depending on the weather.

Guess what the word was?

International Hopscotch Society

2009-12-04T17:26:00.000-08:00

In my ongoing quest for fun fitness options, I decided we should all play hopscotch.

Sometimes my brilliant ideas just hit me all at once, for no logical reason. This is one of those ideas. Probably.

Although maybe reading the word hopscotch (randomly) on the Internet today caused my synapses to fire up and think: "Hey, hopscotch is fun. It's aerobic. There is hopping involved, and Scotch, maybe."

So I said "Who's in?"online, and my cousin Amy, who was super busy at work, apparently, answered back "I am!" so the deal was sealed. She's heading up the Portland, Oregon chapter. And then someone from Florida said yes, then some guy from Idaho, and, well, you know...

Amy is a good sport

One thing lead to another, and within 45 minutes, I had managed to talk my husband into driving me downtown because I had a strong memory of hopscotch courts (are they called courts?) being down there by the City Hall swing sets, but when we got there, lo and behold, there were none.

In fact, there wasn't even much pavement, just grass and some sand. And swings. But I'm not starting a swinger's club. Trust me on this.

"I distinctly remember hopscotch, near an old brick building...I swear it!" I said.

"Maybe that was in a different city?" He offered helpfully, but I knew he was exasperated already. "And why are we doing this again? And how long will this take? I have some programming to finish. I'm almost done. I want to finish my project today..." blah blah blah.

"Shh," I said. "There's gotta be a school around here somewhere. We just need a few pictures...for my new blog. And Twitter. And Facebook. I'll be quick, promise."

"I'm not going to a school playground with a camera to take pictures while kids are at recess," he growled, "I don't think we're allowed."

"But we can just tell them this is for the International Hopscotch Society! It will be fine!"

And then he started driving home. Which made me sigh with exasperation, and think of phrases like "You never help me. Every thing's always about you. You're no fun. You never let me do what I want..." but of course none of these things are true. At all. And I know it, and he knows it.

Because I actually have a vintage mannequin with customized steel rods in her legs and a rolling stand that weighs 50 pounds, which he has personally loaded in and out of the car and driven to the airport so I could take her to Las Vegas to see a concert, standing in our living room right this second, and she happens to be dressed in the Star Trek shirt he got when he was a kid in the 1970's, the beloved shirt his mom saved for him all these years, and when she found it in a box after she moved, and brought it over, he handed it to me and said "Francine should wear this."

Because, you know, he thought it'd be funny. Because it is.

I think he heard my unspoken thoughts right there in the car, because he said "can't you just go to our kid's school after school? They have hopscotch there, and then, you know, you wouldn't embarrass him...he'd be home."

"No." I pouted. "I have a meeting this afternoon and the light will be all wrong by 4:00 for pictures. Just take me home, I'll try to come back, somewhere, and take pictures of myself doing hopscotch. Somehow."

So then he did roll his eyes and turned the car around, and we drove slowly by two of the closest school playgrounds to see if they had hopscotch, but they didn't. And luckily, all the kids were safely back in their rooms, so we did not attract any playground stalker attention. Because that would be bad PR for the newly formed International Hopscotch Society.

"Wait!" I said with a burst of inspiration. "We have chalk at home. I'll just draw my own hopscotch on the sidewalk! Sheesh, why didn't I think of that before?"

And so we did drive home, and I found some lavender chalk, which doesn't show up on light gray very well, but beggars can't be choosers.

So, now there is a blog and all kinds of social media promoting this new International Hopscotch Society, which means it's real, and all of you should join.

And if you don't have a court, draw one. And if you don't have chalk, or it's too cold outside, get some masking tape and make one inside. Invite your friends and neighbors, and hop around together. And then send me the pictures and videos at julie anderson at hotmail dot com or post them on the Facebook page, and we will appreciate each other and celebrate hopping and scotching.

It is sort of sexy, really, if you think about it, all that hopping around and drinking scotch...but please don't send naked Hopscotch photos or videos. I don't think they're allowed. I'll check the rules.

My Amazing Finger

2009-12-01T12:34:00.000-08:00

I'm so proud of the middle finger on my right hand. I burned it on a hot pan last week, and it hurt so much, I thought I might faint.

It was one of those deep burns, several degrees burned, I'm sure. I'm not sure how many degrees though. A doctor would know, or a nurse, but I never asked one. I just looked at my finger 20 times a day and said ow, ow, ow.

And I never once told it I was sorry.

My finger just quietly did its job, though, without complaining. It didn't pretend it couldn't function. It didn't call in sick. It kept working, typing, doing dishes, and helping all the other fingers do their jobs.

Then it just started regrowing skin. It looked horrible for a while, turned a bit yellow and oozy, and it scared a few children, but that didn't stop it from growing a little bit of new skin every day.

Now there's just a small, red mark where the gaping, painful wound used to be. I'd say by Friday, I won't even be able to see where the burn was. And soon I'll forget the memory of the pain. And I know my finger will never mention it.

So I'd like to publicly thank my finger, for doing such a miraculous thing so humbly and graciously, without complaining or reminding me how stupid I was to touch a hot pan.

I wish I could be more like my finger.

***By the way, this is a picture of hand soap! I found it here.

I Have a Kudasama Flower Girl Entrepreneur

2009-11-29T20:49:00.001-08:00

My 16 year old daughter is an artist.

She'd rather draw than do homework. She'd rather design a big, mascot-type fox head out of plastic screens and faux fur than clean her room. She'd rather make me an original, animated widget for my blog for mother's day than go buy something. She'd rather make a YouTube video on how to draw eyes than watch a movie with her family on Saturday night.

So when she brought down one of these lovely Kudasama paper flowers she made yesterday, I was not surprised at all, but I was very happy, and very excited. I love these things.

I told her I want a several of them, to put around the room, and that we could hang up a bunch of small ones on a curtain rod in front of our sliding glass doors to make a paper curtain. I could envision 30 or 40 flower spheres hanging on strings, moving slightly as people walked by, looking all modern and contemporary and elegant and art installation-y.

So my daughter invited a friend over, and together they made several of these lovely flowers, in various sizes. Her friend's mom arrived, and we began to fight over how many were going home with the other girl, and how many were staying home.

Not fighting, really, just, you know...trying to be fair and all...to the girls.

So then the girls, being smart and business minded, and tired of the negotiations, said we could buy them. And in fact, if we wanted them to make any more, they'd be happy to sell some to us.

So of course, the other mom and I looked at each other, looked at the girls, looked at the flowers, and said, at the very same time:

How much?

How the neighbors see me...

2009-11-29T10:06:00.001-08:00

One bad thing about living in a high density neighborhood is not having a yard. So we have to let the pesky little dog outside whenever he asks. Which is a bummer when it's 20' outside. Of course I just throw on whatever warm clothes are closest to the door.

My family laughs, sometimes. But I figure the neighbors already know I'm quirky, so they probably don't even notice my get-ups any more.

For the record: no 13 year old fashionistas were physically harmed by taking this picture. Emotionally? Maybe. She'll get over it, some day.

Apple Pie.

2009-11-28T20:29:00.000-08:00

If you came here thinking I'd talk you out of eating lovely holiday food, you're in the wrong place.

I do like pie. Especially this amazing pie from Grandma Opal, that we found on All Recipes.com last year.

You make a sort of Carmel sauce out of butter and brown sugar, then you pour it over a mound of thinly sliced apples, then you criss-cross some dough on the top, bake it for a while at 350' and - -

Voila. Delicious.

So, who's running tomorrow? Besides me, obviously...

Snow Running - Breathable Underwear

2009-11-22T10:41:00.000-08:00

It's a glorious day in Bend, Oregon. The sun is shining on the fresh, white blanket of snow, and the blue sky says "no excuses, get outside."

Now I'm hunting up the Yak Traks to put on my running shoes so I won't slip, and appreciating my warm, first layer of "microfleece" Paradox running pants and shirt I got at Costco a couple of weeks ago.

I do like my Paradox long underwear. Because it's breathable. Which makes it seem alive. Which is really, really cool, the more I think about it.

Living, breathing underwear? If your underwear could breathe, would it have a nose? Would you want it to? How far will biotechnology evolve? Will your underwear grow a mouth and talk some day? What would it say?

Maybe I'll have another cup of tea and think about the answers to these questions before I go snow running.

Pipe down, blue sky, I'll be out there in a minute.

Birthday Wishes

2009-11-22T10:31:00.000-08:00

I had my birthday. I'm 44 now. Here's me with my cake, making a wish. What's your birthday wish, dear readers?

Running in the Dark

2009-11-15T20:46:00.000-08:00

My running partner, Joanna, likes to run in the dark. I'm usually busy with dinner and kids and Twitter and stuff by the time dusk rolls around, but sometimes she convinces me to go with her.

She says it's easier to run at night, because you forget about the distance up ahead, and concentrate on where your feet are going to land next, so you don't trip. And if you're a self-conscious runner, your shape blends in with the shadows of the night, so you can jiggle all you want and no one sees it, or cares.

Tonight we ran through the trails in the woods at dusk, and watched the sky turn pink, then purple as the cold winter sun slipped behind the hills. We made it back to the road before the sky turned pitch black, but just barely.

If you need a little adventure this week, go run in the dark.

Missing Sissy: No Hoop Running Tonight

2009-11-12T18:36:00.000-08:00

I'm supposed to go to dinner with my friend Sissy tonight but I'm in bed, instead, because I was feeling a little fainty. Last time I felt this way, I got the flu. But I won't get it again, I'm not the type. Once is enough for me. This is a fluke, I swear.

Sure wish I had a fainting couch, though. I love those things. I'd prefer a red velvet one, as long as we're asking for presents. Except you aren't.

Anyway, Sissy's the friend who's even goofier than I am. Except she'd say I was lying. Sissy's just her nickname, because she's the youngest of 9 children. I'm the youngest of 4, so I can't even hold a candle to her. I could hold one for her though, and I would, if she ever needs a candle held for any reason.

The last time I was with Sissy, I did some hula hoop running, and she took this picture to prove it. It's good exercise. I'm not sure how many calories hoop running burns, but it seems like it should be 1,000 per minute, because you have to keep bending down to pick up the hoop every 10 feet or so.

Alas, if I tried hoop running tonight, I might fall over in a faint, and the hoop might break. That would be sad. Funny, but sad. No one likes a broken hula hoop.

Poor me. No Sissy craziness tonight. I only have hula hoop memories to sustain me until I stop fainting.

Cold Weather Running - 1980's Style

2009-11-11T12:09:00.000-08:00

I went skating yesterday. I meant to go running, but the thin sheet of ice on all the paved trails near my house forced me to tread carefully until I got to the dirt trails a mile away.

I need advice for ice running, so please send ideas. I do have some of those nifty thingys you slip on the soles of your shoes for snow, but they seem a bit spiky for bare pavement. I'm afraid I'll screw up my knees if I run 4 or 5 miles in them without the cushion of the snow.

Meanwhile, look what I found at the bottom of my snow gear box! It's my wool North Face headband from 1989. Stylish, and upside down to boot. Hey, it works.

I don't really want to run in the gym, so I will attempt to stay outside this winter as much as I can. Who's in?

The One About New York

2009-11-08T14:27:00.000-08:00

I went to Manhattan. I loved it. I didn't want to leave. I want to go back.

For the record, I did go to Manhattan once, when I was 11. It was in 1976, when we went to Washington DC to visit my cousins for the bicentennial. We went to NYC for one day. It was a hot, sticky, miserably muggy gray day in August, I think, and the crazy people in the subways scared me.

So, from 1976-2009, I didn't really want to go back to Manhattan. It seemed nice in movies and books, if you're very rich and very thin, and obviously brave enough to live there. I figured I wasn't any of those things.

But then, these people named Loren and Michelle Feldman, who I met a year or two ago on Twitter, decided to put on a conference, and I decided I needed to go. I wrote about them last December in my post "What a Croc: @1938Media's Shoes and How I wish I Could be Jewish."

I wanted to attend The Audience Conference, something fierce, because I wanted to meet them, and the conference was all about this:

"Audience is a conference aimed at those who recognise the need to reach engage and influence audiences of all kinds, an investigation into how this is changing, and a look at how technology has in the past and is now, through new media tools and the social web, changing audience participation and interaction."

And this is the exact kind of thing I'm into, especially since my new company Twist Pop Media is all about telling stories for clients and pushing the stories out to the world. Plus I was a drama girl, you know. And I write for many different audiences. And I want to meet people and get some work, to boot.

So I figured I'd need to be brave, take a red eye flight to Newark, take a bus into the city, find my way through the crowded, dirty, mean and crazy streets of Manhattan to the hotel, and then try hard to be social and outgoing and professional with a bunch of strangers I'd never actually met in real life. All by myself. Without having an anxiety attack.

Turns out I am very brave. And Manhattan is clean and friendly and easy. And the hotel was lovely and I met Ezra Butler (who works with 1938 Media) in the lobby when I was checking in, and he walked me right down to 5th Avenue to look at new phones and get a real bagel.

And then I went to MOMA and The Folk Art Museum and The Museum of Arts and Design and Central Park and around and around and around all the streets (which are on a grid, by the way,easy peasy) and then I took the subway back.

I did get a little lost down there in that ridiculous underground maze, but attractive men in suits and friendly women with shopping bags kept pointing me in the right directions until I found Grand Central Station, and a wonderful guy in a bike cab who got me back to my street and said I didn't even have to pay him, but I gave him $10 bucks and let him kiss me on the cheek at the end.

And then I met Erin Bury in the lobby, who was also traveling alone, and made her come to the parties with me, because my theory is if you walk into a party with a beautiful blond woman who is also smart and plays the piano and sings like an angel, strangers become instant friends, and they are always happy to see you.

The party was fun and I met a bunch of nice people. They didn't think I was shy at all. I completely fooled them, I think. Because I'm such a good actress.

And then, the next day I went to the conference and met more twitter friends in real life and

several more new best friends, and listened to the speakers, who were quite impressive, and the poet and the singers, and ate good food, and talked to smart people, and felt so lucky to be there.

I sure wish they'd have an Audience Conference every 1st Thursday of the month. Now that I know my way around, I could be a Manhattan Ambassador for other scared tourists. Manhattan should hire me, I think. I could tweet the whole entire thing, every month. Goodness, what a great idea!

The whole thing was wonderful. It was all just like a Woody Allen movie, but faster, and with much less angst.

Twist Pop Media Goes to Vegas

2009-10-28T13:09:00.000-07:00

So. We went to Vegas. We took Francine the Mannequin to the U2 concert, we worked with one of our Twist Pop Media clients, and we goofed off.

(photo by Dave Russell)

We're now working on the second "Twist Pop Media Goes to Vegas" video (here's the link to the "before" video) and we'll post it to You Tube soon.

(Dave took a lot of good pictures!)

It should be a hoot.

Francine had a great trip, she even had to go through the TSA airport scanner (we bought her a plane ticket.)

The security people loved her, and captain of the airplane was thrilled to meet her and be in the video. On the flight home, the flight attendants announced "we have 130 souls and one mannequin on board, sir," at take off.

The funniest thing about the concert for me was wheeling Francine around and watching everyone else's reactions to her.

(another photo by Dave)

We got everything from "huh?" to laughter, to "can you take a picture of us with her?" to, believe it or not, men groping her as she wheeled by. That was a surprise, but actually very hilarious. Turns out she can move pretty quickly if needed, and at 6 feet tall and 70 pounds, she was sturdy enough to hold her own.

Francine brought joy to everyone she encountered, from the baristas at Starbucks to the pool attendants and tourists at the Luxor hotel. It was enlightening for me to see how much people enjoyed our efforts, and how they all wanted to talk to her.

I feel a story brewing inside her, waiting to be written, about how she's happy to listen to the world and share their stories.

I think Francine is a bright light in a weary world. What do you think?

Francine Twist Goes to Vegas

2009-10-22T11:12:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, this whole mannequin thing is weird.

Who is Francine? Why is she going to Vegas? What does U2 have to do with it? Will there be video?

So many questions from so many people. I'm working on the answers, and I'll write you the whole story soon, and fire up the Francine Twist blog, too. I promise. In the mean time, tell me what you think Francine means. I bet you have some ideas.

Right now. I'm scurrying around like a crazy person who has to retro-fit a vintage mannequin and figure out how to get her to Vegas for a major rock concert, along with a client of mine who's helping us with the video, and my best friend, Marcia, who just seems to be available for these kinds of adventures, whenever I happen to call, for the past 32 years.

Thanks for joining us. It means the world to me. And to Francine.

Oh, and here's a little video about what I'm going to wear, because I know you care.

My Gay Story: Dear Craig...

2009-10-11T10:26:00.000-07:00

Today is National Coming Out Day, an internationally-observed civil awareness day for coming out and discussion about gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) issues. I think it's a good day to talk about civil rights, religion, prejudice, truth and stupidity.

I'll never forget the first person who came out to me publicly in the mid-1980's. I was a young student at a Lutheran University, and most of my peers came from conservative families and congregations.

I handled it badly. Very badly.

I started being Lutheran when I was 13 and a friend of mine asked me to come with her to a youth group meeting. I found a group of nice people who welcomed me into their community and nurtured my interest in music, drama, and philosophical discussion.

By the time I was in high school, our youth leaders (who were only a few years older than us) traveled with us to perform plays and music we'd written at regional and national youth conferences. We had fun and I learned that there are many kinds of Lutherans. Some are quite conservative, some are liberal. I thought I was in the middle.

One of my favorite youth leaders was Craig who joined our church as the Director of Christian Education my senior year of high school. He was married to a wonderful woman and they both came from loving familes of Lutheran pastors and teachers. He was smart and funny, a great counselor when I needed one, and he introduced me to real coffee (shots of espresso with milk, as opposed to the horrible church coffee I tried to drink on Sunday mornings after church.)

When I went off to college in Craig's home town, I became friends with his younger brother and spent time hanging out at their parent's house. I was quite surprised when I heard that Craig and his wife were getting a divorce, but I couldn't get many details when I asked why.

Soon after, Craig called and asked me to join him for coffee, he wanted to talk to me. He told me he was gay and both he and his wife knew it when they got married, but due to their religious views, and because they really did love each other as best friends, they wanted to get married anyway and make it work. It didn't. After several years and no children, they made the painful decision to end the marriage.

Craig knew his family loved him, but this was a completely new world to them. His father was a well-respected conservative Lutheran Pastor in the region, and they were all figuring out how talk about this, at the height of the AIDS epidemic. It had been tough year for everyone and I saw the pain etched deep behind his eyes.

Craig finished talking and waited for me to respond.

I was 18 and very naive. I'd just had my first kiss (and nothing more) a few months before. I was not comfortable talking about sex, or anything related to it, including pre-marital sex or adultery. Being gay was about sex, right? All I could think of was that the Bible lumped the homosexuals in with the bad guys. I had been taught it was a sin. I had never thought about it from a personal perspective.

I was speechless. Craig had been a dear friend to me, and I looked up to him. I wasn't sure how to answer him.

When I finally spoke my response was lame and included phrases like "I respected him and valued him as a person, I'd always be his friend, but I didn't agree with his choices." Because the dogma I'd internalized up to that point taught that he had a choice.

I saw my words hit him like a brick thrown in his face from across the little bistro table. He had expected more from me. He saw more in me than I was willing to let out at the time. He thought I was bigger than the dogma of my church. He thought I knew him well enough to know this wasn't a moral issue, it didn't have anything to do with sex. He thought I'd understand he had no choice. He thought I was a grown up.

He didn't say any of these thoughts out loud. I read them all instantly in the flash of sadness that clouded his eyes. I had to look away then. I was ashamed of myself for not having the insight or vocabulary to figure out how to talk to someone I cared for about being gay. I didn't even know how to try.

I realized I didn't have the guts to let him help me figure out what it all meant, even though he'd helped me deal with all kinds of other tough issues in high school. It was a huge disappointment for both of us. He regained his composure, asked if I could be a good friend to his little brother during this difficult time, gave me a hug and left.

I only saw Craig a couple of times after that. Once at his parents house for a family dinner, once on the bus where he introduced me to his partner. Each time very awkward. We were polite, to each other, but the friendship was clearly broken.

When his brother confided in me about trying to come to grips with Craig's new lifestyle, I sternly told him he should love Craig unconditionally, nothing had really changed in him, he was still the same as he'd always been, he was his brother, and none of the rest mattered. I heard the irony in my words, but saying what I should have said to Craig out loud made me feel better, even though I still couldn't tell him myself.

A few years later, I graduated, and Craig's brother moved away. I lost touch with the family. My mom called me and told me that Craig had AIDS and he was dying.

My mom was a home health nurse who had worked with a few AIDS patients and their families and was often on hospice calls when they were dying at home. She knew the struggles the families faced, often telling everyone their sons had cancer, to avoid the stigma and fear that came with the AIDS ordeal.

She drove up to see Craig and his partner a few times, and sent them letters and photos to cheer them up and let them know she was thinking of him. He asked about me. She told him where I was, what I was up to, weaving all my wild little adventures into funny Julie stories that they could laugh about.

I was in California by then, and had joined a liberal Lutheran church, complete with an openly gay choir director. I hung out with a tightly-knit group of friends, including Christians, Jews, Atheists, Muslims and yes, even a few openly gay people.

The veil of the immaturity I had hid behind at 18 had been lifted swiftly and thrown away by the time I was 22, and living and working in the real world. I had finally grown up a little, as Craig must have known I would.

My mom called again. Craig was really sick now. She had his address, I should send him a card, maybe make a trip up to visit him if I could work it in. I said maybe I would, and I wrote down the address. I composed a few letters in my head, but I knew I wasn't brave enough to send them. I knew he'd forgiven me by then, but I hadn't forgiven myself.

I cried hard the day my mom called and told me Craig died. I cried for myself, for being so stupid.

I guess this is the letter I would have written to Craig, if I'd been able to, 22 years ago.

First and Last Lies

2009-10-10T07:30:00.000-07:00

The first time I lied to my mother (at least the first time I can remember) I was about 8 years old. I made a mess in the kitchen right after she cleaned it. She marched all four of us kids in there and asked who did it. I'm the youngest.

I pointed to my brother and said "Mitch did it." His mouth dropped open at the blatant lie. He's five years older than me, and we all usually told the truth at our house. It's an unwritten rule that we still abide by.

"I didn't do it mom, Julie did." He was appalled.

"No, I didn't," I said calmly, "he's lying. He did it."

My mom looked at both of us, slightly confused. I knew she was trying to figure out what to do. I held her eyes in my firm, determined gaze.

"Clean it up, Mitch," she said and walked out of the room, defeated, knowing one of her children was lying but too tired and disappointed to fight with us.

After he cleaned up the mess, I went looking for my mom.

"I really did it mom," I said matter of factly.

"Why did you lie?" she said.

"I just wanted to see if you'd still believe whatever I said. And now that I know you do, I don't need to lie any more."

The last time I lied to my mother was a few months ago.

She asked me if I'd prayed to Jesus to help my husband find a job. I said yes. Of course.

She knew I was lying, but she pretended she didn't.

Now Starring @juliejulie as Mary Tyler Twist Pop

2009-09-06T22:09:00.000-07:00

I started a new company called Twist Pop Media. Smart, Sticky, Funny. That's my tag line. The rest is being written. Plus a website is being made. We are flying by the seat of our pants.

"How do you sell yourself when you don't have anything to show?" a friend asked. "I don't know," I said, "I just start talking about what we want to do and how we'll do it and people believe me. And then they give me money And then we do it. And then everyone is happy."

So far, so good.

Some days I just want to be like Mary Tyler Moore and take my mannequin Francine to Vegas with Malibu Stacey to get seaweed wraps and spray tans at all the great five star spas before we head off to see U2 in concert. Because Mary probably had a mannequin in her closet, too. Probably.

So the other day I found this industrial designer guy who will make Francine a polarized magnetic rolling stand (with an on/off switch!) so she'll be mobile. Because mobile innovation is my new catch phrase for the year. And I seem to have a knack for finding smart guys. And gals, too.

We decided we'll make some funny videos of our adventures, and get Francine to listen to all kinds of people tell the world cool stories about their cool companies, and make them laugh in the process, just because we can.

But it's not just about Francine. There will be all kinds of important business going on, because I keep finding a bunch of super smart people to help me. I've got people who like to tell stories, and who know how to be real, and smart, and funny:

People with MBA's who used to work at Apple and make MC Hammer videos in former careers;
People who know people, and how to get those people to help us do whatever we want;
People who can make mobile phone apps, but only if you need one, because maybe you just need your website to look good on everyone's phones;
People who used to manage hi-tech fabrication plants, and people who routinely file patents for creating fancy software algorithms, and for new ways to manufacture thumb drives, and other smartish things.
People who teach Lego robotics and Ham radio classes, and how to deal with social media in your office, and can take a bunch of kids to the jungle with a water bottle and a GPS and actually make them find their way home; because it's all related, really;
People who think about making art on the plexiglas leftover from building their passive solar house, and the best way to photograph sanded acrylic paint on aluminum sheets so the colors work on your screen;
People who can make stuff out of metal and vegetable-dyed horse hair that can be a nob on your kitchen drawer or a belt buckle, or a part of something much bigger you may not have thought of yet;
People who know how to open up all kinds of distribution channels in the new sustainable world of "let's make a difference."
People who can draw.
People who know how to deal with people, so they don't get all whacked out and cry or cuss (too much) when they're having a bad day;
People who've worked for Presidents and Kings, and have CNN, Vogue and everyone in between on speed dial, just in case we need them.
People who can talk to Fortune 500's about brand development strategy, and to start up entrepreneurs who need help refining ideas and finding VC's, or help newbies who just need the direct number of the guy at the IRS who gives you your tax ID number for your new business so you don't have to go through voicemail hell. Which might make you cry, or cuss.

In a nutshell, I found people who can speak and write and think creatively, and come up with amazing new ideas every 2 hours, as if they're just sitting around eating peaches on a warm summer day. They'll create, define and push the words, the pictures and the music to tell your stories, so people will listen, and buy stuff from you.

People, who need people, are the luckiest people...

I got lucky, and I'm happy.

Now I just have to find a lovely powder blue pantsuit like Mary's, and maybe do some more wall sits and stuff with Stacey so I can look like Mary, too.

Although I do love Rhoda's orange dress, big time.

Francine's New Life: Meeting Moonalice and Malibu Stacey

2009-08-27T15:39:00.000-07:00

I just hired Francine to work for my new business, @TwistPopMedia. I'll tell you about the business later. Now, I want to tell you about Francine's compelling personal journey, part one:

Francine is re-entering mainstream life after being stuck in a back room wearing a horridly ugly housecoat for many years at her old job as a model for a second-hand store. It's especially ironic that she was working at a second-hand store because she doesn't have any hands.

She took the modeling job after an unfortunate accident at her last place of unemployment resulted in the loss of her hands, her hair, and all but one of her eyelashes. There's a gag order on the case, and she's not allowed to talk about it. Rest assured, it was awful.

When I found her last week, her life was rather grim, and I felt sorry for her. A nice man named Mike agreed to let me take her home, and he helped her out to my car:

Francine's life has been full of glitz and glamor ever since. I bought her some new clothes and I took her to meet some rock stars at the Moonalice concert in Bend:

Francine Meets Roger McNamee, aka Chubby Wombat of Moonalice fame. He welcomes her to the tribe.

Francine's heart skips a beat when she meets her idol, Pete Sears. She's enamored with his hands - the way they float over keyboards and guitar strings in a well-calculated frenzy make her sigh.

Unfortunately, the excitement of this new life has caused Francine some stress, and she isn't sleeping well. She's lost her appetite, too. I was concerned about her health, so I took her to see my personal trainer, Malibu Stacey at Snap Fitness.

Stacey welcomed Francine with open arms and started her fitness consultation.

Stacey takes Francine's measurements

and weighs her, to get a base line starting point.

They start the workout on the pull-up machine, and move to bicep curls:

"Francine's body fat is low, but she is a bit underweight," says Stacey. "I'd like to help her build some muscle tone."

They move on to the leg press machine.

"Francine seems motivated," Stacey tells me later, "But she's awfully quiet. Also, I'm a bit worried that she's not getting enough to eat. I talked about the importance of a healthy diet to combat stress, and I hope she's not a heavy drinker?"

"Oh," I said, "I don't think so, I've never seen her drink anything, actually."

"Well," said Stacey, "She's very sweet, and I'm happy to help her reach her fitness goals. I think she's going to come to Johnnie's Bootcamp next week, it may be a great place for her to meet some new friends."

I think Francine has already made a new friend in Malibu Stacey. All of us are looking forward to helping Francine get in shape and enjoy her journey.