Top Ten Posts from 2010

Morning, fellow bloggers. I thought I'd copy a few blogs and list some of my favorite memories from 2010. It was a good year, wasn't it?

Going just from memory, I'd say one of my favorite posts was about the trip I took to Texas in August to visit my bestest friend, Elke, and to welcome the birth of her second child. That was such a ...What?

You say I didn't blog about that? Of course I did. I mean, Elke and I have known each other for years! Despite being states apart, we are still the best of friends. That week was one of the highlights of our friendship. Surely I blogged about it; let me check my archives, back in a minute.

...

So it seems I did NOT blog about that. Wow. I can't believe I didn't share that experience with you. That's a bit of a surprise to me.

Well, I'll continue to a different favorite memory from last year. Remember when my car, you know the one with electric tape over the 'fix engine' light, just died? And how I got that new car that was a stick shift? Except I didn't know how to drive stick shift? And remember when two friends went with me to help me learn how to drive and I yelled at them, middle names and all? Oh, man, that was intense; well, funny, now that it's over.

(leans in closer) What did you say? I didn't blog about that, either? Really?! I don't believe this. I could have sworn I did...

Alright, moving on. I know I blogged about that crazy Mud Run I did in September. Remember?! It's the race with just a bunch of mud? I had to have blogged about that. Maybe a picture will help jog your memory. We looked like this at the end, remember now?

No?! 

Okay, this is ridiculous. Tell me, do you remember the post about the snake on my front porch? My new glasses? My assistantship with the University of Georgia? My trip to Walt Disney World that coincided with the Stars Wars Convention held there? Johnny Cherie, my baby sister, graduating from High School (gulp)? Me shooting guns?

You don't remember any of those? I don't understand. I used to blog all the time. Surely, surely I blogged about one of those.

What's that you say? I haven't blogged since APRIL?! That's just absurd. That can't be the case.

...Oh, well, this is embarrassing. Turns out you were right. My account shows I only blogged three times this past year. Well, um, goodness. Looks like I'm behind on some blogging. 

I'll make you a deal: If you promise not to mention the fact that I'm a blog slacker to anyone, I'll at least double my posts from last year. Heh.

Happy New Year!

I Tri-ed

A few months ago, a friend mentioned she was training for a triathlon. Being the great friend that I am, I decided to invite myself. We trained on our own and shared a few concerns / tips / achievements when we saw each other. Then the week of the event came.

I couldn't sleep.

Every night was a dream about the event. I dreamt I forgot my socks. My shoes. My hat. One night I actually dreamt that someone stole the front tire from my bike. It was a long week.

And then Saturday came.

Four of us traveled to Hilton Head, SC the day before. We ate dinner, went for a leisurely swim at the hotel, and packed the car for the next day. 5:15 on a Saturday comes quickly!

We left the hotel and got to the beach at 6:15. This is my 'remind me why I'm here so early and why are you taking pictures of me' face. Cute. I know.

We registered. Got our race numbers. They put your registration number on your arm and your age on your leg. I'm telling you...there's nothing like nearly running out of energy during the running portion - you want to quit - and then you see some lady pass you and she has a '59' written on her calf to get you moving again!

It was my second sprint triathlon. I'm not brave enough to try longer distances yet.

And ladies, um, ladies...let me give you six reasons why you should compete in a triathlon.

Did you find all six abs? Um, hello!

Oh, hi mom. ahem.

As I was saying... what was I saying?!

Oh, right, 6 reasons why you should compete in a triathlon.

1. It's fun.

2. You get to swim in the ocean.

3. You get a tan.

4. You get a t-shirt.

5. You are done by 10 in the morning and can spend the rest of the day on the beach.

6. You can blog about it.

Try it!

Virginia is for Lovers. So I went to D.C. instead.

Question: When are broken hearts a good thing?
Answer: Why, on Valentine's Day, of course!

Two weeks ago I received a text from Scottie the Hottie: What are you doing for Valentines?
'I'm single... nothing special. Maybe a movie. You?'
"Going to D.C. Want to come?"
'Driving or flying?'
"Flying. You can use my buddy pass."
'SURE!'

And so the adventure began. Scottie the Hottie needed a break from the city, especially since his most recent ex-girlfriend lives in town. Valentine's Day is tough if you're single but especially rough when a place sparks so many memories - which can be avoided if you travel to a different state and do some sight seeing.

Mission: Get Out of Town
Destination: Washington, D.C.

We spent Saturday walking. The weather was perfect. While walking, a sculpture garden caught my attention.

First there was this guy. Or gal. I'm not really sure of the gender, just that s/he seems to be missing something.

This piece was at the intersection of Peel and Banana.

The Wizard from Emerald City was there.

So was this funky, uh, thing. I loved the curves.

Oh, more curves! I really like how the tree curves to the dirt symbolizing creation and strength...

Speaking of trees, this is the National Christmas Tree. It was planted a few months before I was born. Tell me, which one of us makes 30 look good?!

(Hint: there is one correct answer and it doesn't rhyme with Fashional Mistress Key.)

Oh, and Obama was there. He didn't say much though. I thought he was a bit flat and 2 dimensional, but that's just me. All in all, Mission Get-Out-of-Town was a success. Thank goodness for friends who work for airlines, for buddy passes, but mostly, thank goodness for ex girlfriends!

That Bites

While I was in New York, I spent several hours at the Museum of Natural History. I was there for at least five hours and I didn't even see everything. Be glad that my camera batteries died halfway through or this blog would just be one picture after another of documented history. That place was amazing. The reptile and snake room was very enjoyable.

In fact, I learned how to get bitten by a snake.

What!? Don't you want to know this kind of stuff?

It's very handy information.

Handy.

Because it's with your hand.

Get it?

Why would they make a display case with detailed models and instructions if they didn't want you to get bitten?

New York is friendly like that.

I mean, look, they even tell you how to lie after the snake bite. How informative is that?!

Speaking of bites...

I looked everywhere for this exhibit.

Anyone know how to get bitten by a vampire?

Weighty Issues

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love that we set aside a day to truly reflect on our blessings...while eating a delicious meal.

Gratitude and food - can't go wrong with those two ingredients!

This year I was lucky enough to spend my holiday with a former roommate who now lives in New York. I spent my week in Manhattan visiting all the tourist spots. In addition to a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner, I tried lots of pastries from various bakeries.

Lots of pastries.

I really like New York pastries.

Perhaps a little too much.

On Friday, I visited the Museum of Natural History. One floor had scales that calibrated a person's weight as if they were on galactic stars or planets. On Halley's Comet I don't even weigh a pound.

0.193?! Bring me a black and white cookie! I need to eat, eat, eat!

0.043??? I'm losing, not gaining! MORE FOOD! Give me a Chinese cookie!

Extra chocolate in the middle!

58 pounds - okay, that's a little better. I still need sugar though.

Bring me a tri-colored bar.

3626?! GACK! Too much, too much! Suddenly I need to undo my belt.

2.13?! I'm back to wasting away...

hey, wait a second...

2.13 TRILLION POUNDS?!

*thud*

I just fainted. All 2.13 trillion pounds of me just hit the floor.

Excuse me while I go cry.

And start a diet.

Is there such a thing as a pastry diet? I really think I'd be successful at that one.

Back to the Future

I found this list the other day.

Obviously it's a list of what some one wants for Christmas. Initially I assumed the list belonged to Little Boy Blue since he's the only one that would ask for Time Machine parts.

Then I read chocolate as the second item. I certainly understand why chocolate would be listed as top priority. Is chocolate also that important to Little Boy Blue or is this a list I wrote when I was younger? ...oh the mysteries.

And one more thought. The first item specifically asks for a Time Machine Clock. This indicates, to me, that the writer already owns a Time Machine but wants to accessorize with a new clock, similar to someone purchasing a new stereo for their car. If my theory is correct, time travel could be more than just a concept at my house. Which begs the question, is this list from the future? or the past?

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Saturday was a series of events.

Fortunately I saved fuel by biking to the grocery store.
Unfortunately I didn't bring enough water and suffered from dehydration all afternoon and evening.

Fortunately I carpooled with three friends to Atlanta. We had an enjoyable afternoon.
Unfortunately the car radiator cracked 15 minutes after we started our drive home to Athens.

Fortunately the split was near the surface and the driver had a tire repair kit in the trunk. The super glue, rubber strip, and duct tape seal held together for the remaining 2 hour drive.
Unfortunately we had to drive with the heater on high the entire ride to help cool the engine.

Fortunately I don't mind having the windows down.
Unfortunately we wouldn't arrive home till after midnight.

Fortunately my car was still at Lowes where I had parked it for the day.
Unfortunately Lowe's locks their parking lots when they close.

Fortunately my car radiator was fine.
Unfortunately my car was locked for the evening.

Fortunately Lowe's is open on Sunday.

What a weekend...fortunately it's over!

dic·tion·ar·y

pre·dict'a·ble -adjective capable of being foretold Charlotta's poses, taken over a year apart, were predictable.

re·la·ted -adjective associated; connected It was obvious the two sisters were related.

In Love

Julia-Gulia and I enjoyed a quick road trip to Charleston, South Carolina this weekend. I've been there before but wanted JG to visit at least once before she leaves again for school in January. We were able to enjoy some shopping, the coast, a break from home obligations, and even the cool, windy weather.

Oh, I forgot to tell you one major detail. I met the man of my dreams! He's tall - a must if I continue to wear boots, dark - bronze from the sun, and handsome. He very strong - his muscles are rock hard. He loves to travel - mostly by sea, and is very outdoorsy. He is fond of pets - especially parrots. He is rich and has a great eye for hoop earrings made of gold. Oh, speaking of great eyes, his are blue, though he has bad eyesight. I also have poor eyes so our future children are doomed but I'm fortunate my eyes aren't as bad as his - he usually requires an eye patch.

We just clicked. I can't explain it. Words weren't needed. I could tell by the way he looked at me that we were meant to be.

I found out he owns his own ship so I'm sure I'll document our vacations on this blog in the recent future.

Hey, hands off sista!

Work Stinks

I have stories about bathrooms, airports, and today, another involving both. Seems I'm unable to leave the airport's facilities without wet hands and a new story.

It all started innocently enough. I got off the plane and found the nearest bathroom. Apparently there was some attraction inside that everyone wanted to see because the line wrapped around the corner. I decided to continue my search in the further terminals. Although I had a 3 hour layover, I didn't want to spend all of it in line. I found a ladies room and walked in. That's when I saw the desk and bathroom attendant.

"Oh. Hi."

I walked - stunned - to one of the furthest stalls. I'd heard of bathroom attendants but never actually seen one. Plus, I somehow convinced myself that attendants only work at golf courses or casinos where the low table starts at $10,000 ~ you know, places I frequent, oh, never. But here she was - in the bathroom at the airport - with peppermints and a tip jar.

A thousand thoughts went through my mind. Well, at least a dozen anyway: People really do this for a living? Why would you want this job? What if someone, you know, "fluffs" or something? What if she were going to a class reunion - what would she say? "Oh, I listen to people go all day and hand them a paper towel." Do I tip? Is it based on the softness of the toilet paper? It is soft. How much do I tip? Do I even have any cash? Does she hear lots of interesting cell phone conversations? Has anyone ever turned a stall into their personal reading lounge? What skills would she list on her resume? Do the really skilled attendants get promoted to busier spots? What...wait...really?!

I decided I would quickly head to the sink, wash, then leave. I would give a nice "Thankyou" nod as I left. I got some soap but before I had a chance to count to 20 - or sing my ABC's - there she was next to me, handing me a folded paper towel.

"Um. Thanks."

I realized I had one penny on me. I debated which would offend less: to give my one cent or nothing at all. I glanced - she didn't have a credit card machine and I'm sure she wouldn't take personal checks. I opted not to tip.

I felt lame. I would hate to be in her shoes ~ having to help people that hardly acknowledged my service, confined to an "office" with no windows, no Internet, no real chance to interact with people.

... and I thought my job stunk!

Who's on First

Although I just got back from my 10 year high school reunion, the stories will have to wait. I'm not the only one 10 years older... I still use my camera from 1997 as well. Translation: I have to wait for film to be developed before I blog certain events and corresponding photos. I'm a bit, uh, slow in the technology department.

*ahem.

I started the adventure in Atlanta. I would fly to Charlotte, NC for a layover and end up in Dallas, TX. Mama Mia dropped me off at the terminal and I proceeded to the airline counter. I managed to check in using the do-it-yourself kiosk and joined two other men as we waited for our baggage labels. The attendant pulled a strip from the computer, looked at the last name, then addressed the three of us.

"Schultz?"
Both men raised their hands, paused, and looked at each other.
"Your last name is Schultz, too?
"Yeah. Ha...what are the chances?"

The attendant, realizing he couldn't use the last name only, called the destination.

"Charlotte?"
All three of us raised our hands, then looked at each other confused.

"I'm Schultz."
"I'm Schultz going to Charlotte."
"I'm Charlotte."

I'm no Statistics Major but I figure the chances of 3 people - two with the same last name and one with the name of the destination of the others - standing together at the same ticket counter waiting for luggage stickers is pretty rare. Rare is good. Rare is like an antique...reminds me of a camera I own.

The (wo)Man In Black

Okay, this is the last post from my Nashville adventure. I know. I know. It's about time! Let's begin.

Downtown Nashville is home to the infamous bar "Tootsies". Legend says that Johnny Cash, before he made it big, would come here for a beer each year ~ hey, that rhymes. Someone should make that into a country song. Something like... "There's a tear in my beer cause I'm crying for you, dear..." It's already been done? Oh, never mind then. Anyway, like I was saying, legend continues that each year on his birthday, Johnny Cash would wander over to Tootsies and get a beer. I have yet to verify this and all calls made to Mr. Cash have not been returned. What?! He died? Hmm...no wonder he never answered. Okay, quit interrupting and let me finish. Anyway, I wanted my picture taken outside the bar just to prove I'd walked the block Johnny Cash had. Since I was walking straight, I "walked the line". Get it? Ahhhahaha.

Again I digress.

I found a nice lady to take my picture.

* Click

"Do you want another one just in case?"

Yes, please.

I must have heard wrong.

Apparently she said, "Do you want another three just in case?"

Thanks Ma'am.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you very much.

I Beg to Differ

Mama Mia and P2 ~ you tried. You taught me to be safe, look both ways, never talk to strangers, and to call home if I ever needed to. A few times, my date with a Ted Bundy for instance, have indicated I need to listen to you more. In addition, seeing how my name rhymes with a particular biblical term meaning hoochie mama, you’d think I know the disadvantages associated with standing alone on a street corner in a city in which I’m a visitor. Incidentally, that is precisely where this story occurred.

After spending the majority of my first afternoon in Nashville shopping, I backtracked to a few photo spots. I was waiting at a corner for the light to change when a bum approached me and asked how I was. Wanting to be polite, I responded I was well and asked, what turned out to be, a twenty minute question.

“How are you doing?”
I’m sure am hungry.
Don’t take the bait. “I know! I haven’t eaten for hours and until I meet my sister later, I’m just going to have to deal with my stomach growling.”
I am thirsty too.
Don’t fall for this. “Me too! I’ve run out of water and can’t find a drinking fountain anywhere! It’s just so hot out.”
Um, I know. And when it’s hot, people get mean. I just got cussed out by some guy right in front of his young daughter.
He isn’t asking for money…this is different. “Sorry to hear that.”
Yea, all I did was ask for something to eat and he started yelling at me, like I’m a bum or something. When I ask people for money it’s because I’m hungry and I want some soup. I don’t do drugs anymore and drinking only makes you want more alcohol…
Hmm…you are wearing a hat indicating the time is 4:20. Back to the 'I don't do drugs'…what were you saying?
…I don’t even live here. I’m from Oregon.
Oregon?! “What brings you across the country? You a musician?”
No. I’m just a fool in love. I followed a woman out here and she broke my heart. Now I’m trying to get back home.
He actually sounds credible. Love makes people do stupid things. So I’m told anyway. “Home to Oregon?”
Uh huh. Except I’m stuck here. I got on the bus the other day but couldn’t afford a ticket. I got kicked off and thrown in jail. Then when I got released, I was told to quit begging for money. But I’ve got no money to get home so I’m stuck here.
We have walked two blocks now. Can I blog this without a picture? No one will believe this. I need his picture. Make up something. Think! “Sounds like a catch 22.”
I know! And then all I want is a meal and some water and I get cussed out. It’s just because I’ve got this backpack on and haven’t been able to shower every day.
Hence me not standing too close. “Sir, I have a favor to ask you. I’ve been inspired by your story and want a way to remember you. Would you mind taking a picture with me?”
Uh…sure.
Alright! I’m getting a picture! “Have you ever had someone want to take their picture with you?”
No. You are definitely a first.
“Well thank you for being willing. …now if we can just find someone... ‘Ma’am? Will you please take our picture?’”

*Click

Yes! Proof for the blog! “Thanks sir.”
You’re welcome. What’s your name?
“Charlotte.” …and here’s my blog address. “What’s your name?”
Charlie Brown.
*Smile
What? You don’t believe me?
No. “I’m just smiling because that’s a nickname I went by when I was little. See how much we have in common. Both hungry, thirsty, and similar names.”
Un huh. You sure you don’t have a couple bucks?
Nope. “Here, you can have the rest of my water though.” …well, now I have to find some more water!
God Bless.
"Same to you."

Are You From Tennessee...

...because you're the only Ten I see!

Julia-Gulia and I visited Nashville during the three day Labor Day weekend. Her intent was to visit a friend from college while mine was to tour the city and hopefully spot Elvis. I managed to do both.

Saturday, after lunch and some shopping, I decided to meander around downtown. It goes without saying but I'll say it anyway: Nashville is a fun place! This is me talking - the girl that hated country music so much while growing up that even listening seemed to cause cancer of the ear. But since I wanted a weekend away and my sister was already going, I thought I'd take a chance on the city.

Nashville is a place with something for everyone. Say you aren't really interested in cowboy hats or guitars - teen movies with predictable plot lines, lame acting, and big celebrity names are more your style. May I suggest you venture downstairs to this venue.

Or, if you are like me and no one knows about your mad break-dancing skillz, don't worry about dragging out the cardboard mat. These guys bring their own. Too bad I was wearing a cute little skirt or I would have shown this guy how to improve his flip stand. ...that's, um, the technical term for that move.

Of course, there also was this red-headed boy walking around downtown promoting Wendy's Burgers. I don't know if he's your thing but it is an option. He was very pleasant to talk to at least.

And The King - you will see the king. I thought he was only in Vegas. Actually I thought he was dead but no, he's in Nashville. In fact, I not only had him read my fortune but I shared a delicious ice cream shake with him.

AHHH! There's two of him...oh wait, that's just Julia-Gulia and her sidekick.

...to be continued...