A whiff of Paris

The last time I was in Paris was more than 10 years ago, but I have such vivid memories of the sights, the smells, the sounds and the ambiance that will last with me forever. Today, in front of my favorite bagel shop in Philly, a man was playing his accordion for the passersby and the sidewalk cafe patrons. Immediately my mind flashed to Paris, where, amongst other amazingness, street performing is really an art.

In one of the metro stops that I often passed through late at night in Paris, there was a phenomenal violin player. I felt like I kept getting concert quality music for the euro or two I would give to him.

I do love Philly for the randomness of the street performing. One guy has a puppet whom he makes "dance" to his boom box music. Yet, the sounds of the Parisian musicians will forever ring in my ears.

Oh, Michael

Tonight this bar kept playing amazing Michael Jackson songs. One after the other. First, it was...

Then...

Even....

Getting any Michael Jackson to play at a bar is special, but when you have one after the other, you've hit the jackpot.  That's the dream! I texted my friend to try and make her jealous. She texted back that it was the anniversary of his birthday. Oh, Michael. His legacy absolutely lives on. The only thing to do at that moment was to honor Michael by dancing my heart out. 

The moment when you ask for help

It's always been extremely hard for me to ask for help. Yet the people who are closest to me know better and just jump in, regardless.

Some special people go out of their way to make my life easier and to make me always feel better. I'll never forget the person who helped me knock out some menial tasks that would have taken me four times as long in my office, long after acceptable working hours, just out of the goodness of his heart. 

Crazy cat lady?

I have always loved cats. I grew up with them and swore that the first thing I would do when I got my own place would be to get a cat of my own.

Somehow, seven years into having my own place...still no cat. Some of my friends who know me the best are kind of perplexed. I do have legitimate reasons. I often like to travel - sometimes at the last minute, and preferably internationally. I do have friends who are allergic to cats. I don't love the cat hair all over my clothes. 

In some sense, I think the term "crazy cat lady" has gotten to me a little over the years. I live alone, and friends have joked that all I need is a couple of cats to complete the picture. It's interesting that often women who live alone with cats get the "crazy" label. When did that happen, society?

I'm cat-sitting at the moment, and tonight, when I walked in, this particular cat ran downstairs and practically jumped into my arms. In that moment, being called a "crazy cat lady" somehow didn't seem so bad.

"You cannot eat a cluster of grapes at once, but it is very easy if you eat them one by one." - Jacques Roumain

I have always loved grapes. As a kid, my mom would wonder why I could literally devour a bushel in one sitting. As an adult, I realized how expensive grapes are, and instantly understood her dismay.

I've always gobbled up grapes like someone else was going to eat them if I didn't. I literally could not slow down. Hmm, sounds a bit like the rest of my life. Today, a co-worker of mine brought me a container of grapes from one of our community gardens.

Since each grape has small little seeds, it was necessary to eat slowly, savoring, with care. I took a moment out of my supremely busy day to just enjoy a couple of sweet grapes.

"We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting laundry." - E.B. White.

Motivational Mondays

Ahh, Mondays. What does everyone think of Mondays?

A couple weeks ago, my friend from college and I decided to beat the Monday blues and start doing "Motivational Monday" checks. We both have serious writing goals right now, and needed ways to keep each other on track.

Having a reason to check in on our progress and chat on the phone every week turns Mondays from this:

To this:

Rapunzel, let down your hair

Sometimes, I have to really search for a good blog topic. I'll think about my day and strain to think of one moment that stood out from the next. At other points, the topic just hits me over the head. Today was one of those days.

On my cab ride to the bus station, I caught sight of a woman with the longest hair I have ever seen.

No, it wasn't exactly like that. But it was pretty long. Instantly, I thought of my blog. This was one minute I wouldn't forget! My only dilemma was that I hadn't had time to take a picture. I was in a moving car, and she was walking along the sidewalk. I craned my neck, trying to see if she would catch up, since we were stuck in traffic. She didn't. The cab driver looked at me like I was crazy.

I was about ten feet from the the doors of the bus station, when I saw her appear as if from nowhere. Without thinking, instinctually, I immediately whipped my phone out, turned my camera on, and started speed walking after her. I didn't care that I looked like a total stalker. I ignored the funny looks. I had to have that picture!!

Well, I got the picture. See? Such long hair, right???

The moment that will now stand out to me from my day is not the moment when I saw the woman with the longest hair I have ever seen. It will be the moment when all of a sudden I became this crazy stalker woman while also remaining fairly calm, cool and collected (perhaps a career in the FBI is in my future?). What can I say? I had to have that picture!

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I realize I may be in the minority here, but I actually still hang out with my high school friends. It doesn't happen often enough, and I'm not always the best at staying in touch, but I made really, really great friends in high school - who are still really, really great friends 13 years later.

I value all my friends for different reasons, but there is nothing like the friends I've known since high school. These are the friends who knew me in the height of my awkward phase, the friends who know my family, the friends who still remember my first kiss and all my other embarrassing stories, and the first friends I called from my college dorm (on a landline...the stone ages.) They are friends I can pick right back up with, the friends who will forgive my flaws and mistakes, and friends who will always be there for me.

Today, I enjoyed being able to comfortably binge on crab cakes, blueberry pancakes and cheesecake (didn't realize until now that the entire meal consisted of cakes...), catch up, and reminisce about both our high school history teacher AND our driving instructor with one of my oldest friends. Even though we now talk about work, retirement plans and health insurance rather than exams, papers and the musical, it often seems like no time has passed at all.

Don't irritate the Megabus driver

As I've said countless times, there's always something with the Megabus. In fact, if I wanted to become a full-time writer, I should probably just ride buses all over America. I would have the craziest stories!

It's pretty typical for the bus driver to make some kind of speech at the beginning of the ride. Every bus driver seems to have their hot button issue, or non-negotiable that they like to rant about to their captive audience. For some, it's trash. For others, it's walking around. For this bus driver, it was long cell phone conversations.

"Be sure to not have extended phone conversations," he said in this deep smoky, radio type voice. "NONE of your fellow passengers care about your conversation with whomever in California!" If anyone was about to make a call, they certainly didn't dare at that moment. Well, for the moment.

About a half an hour later, we heard the PA system again. "Why is it always that the one person who wants to have a phone call sits directly above me?" the bus driver publicly groused. "If I am going to drive this bus without becoming irritated, please stop your conversation." The person on the cell phone kept talking. "I will drive this bus either way, irritated or not irritated. But if I get irritated, I will call the State Trooper and have you removed from this bus!"

At this point, although we were a bit too scared to talk to each other about it, I was almost sure that the entire bus was willing to delay their trip to see a State Trooper take out a passenger for talking on their cell phone. 

Luckily, he or she must have ended their conversation, because we all made it to DC in one piece. In fact, our bus driver even closed us out with a prayer. I swear, you can't make this stuff up.

I'm not a teacher anymore

Today 1,000 teachers in Philadelphia rallied for fair funding for schools.

I wasn't there. I was working.

I went almost straight from teaching to my new job, so the fact that I'm not a teacher anymore has been hitting me little by little all summer, in various ways.

As I looked at all the pictures, posts and news articles about the rally, I felt a moment of sadness. I wished I could be there, and I felt somehow left out of the teacher network. It was completely my choice to look for a new job, but I feel like I'm still trying to figure who I am without teaching. Part of me will always be a teacher, but I have yet to see where it fits into my new identity.

You had to be there

Today I went to a really dynamic panel discussing Philly's education crisis. I could go on for pages about it, but I wanted to focus on a smaller moment.

It seems as if every conference or panel nowadays has a Twitter component. In fact, a few years ago I reluctantly set up a Twitter account just so I could participate in the online conversation going on simultaneously along with the real life conversation. It's weird and uncanny, yet slightly addicting at the same time.

Listening to the panel and reading summaries of what people were tweeting concurrently was kind of an out of body experience. I was at the panel, but, then again, did I really even have to be at the panel? Couldn't I have just looked at the Twitter feed to surmise what the discussion was really about?

As I listened to a friend and colleague of mine speak about the amazing and talented teachers in Philadelphia, I got chills. At that moment, I put down my iPhone, closed out Twitter, and really tuned in. Yes, her comments were quoted on Twitter. But in order to get the full effect, you had to be there. 

Thicker skin

Developing a "thick skin" is, like most strategies, easier said than done. For me, this has been a life-long struggle.

I seem to have been born with the "people-pleaser" gene. Knowing someone is disappointed in me or frustrated with me can easily dominate my thoughts.

With the ability to text and email, it can be harder than every for me to gauge tone of voice. Sometimes, I wish that everyone would just use emoticons after each sentence they wrote - just so I would know that we were okay.

Today at work, I spent quite a few minutes obsessing over the brevity and perceived tone of an email. Finally, I had to make a choice. I could spend the entire day dwelling over this interaction. Or, I could take a deep breath, get back to my work, and move on.

I will always be sensitive. It's one of my core qualities, and I've come to appreciate it. In fact, I believe it makes my relationships better. I will always want people to be happy. I may never truly grow that elusive thick skin. But my sensitivity doesn't have to dominate my life.

I 

Newbie

Today at work, I was trying to schedule a space for our staff retreat - way too late, and without any inside scoop on the best spots. Things just weren't going my way. Everyone kept saying I was too late, or I didn't have the right codes, or we weren't the right type of organization to make that kind of reservation. Finally, I made my 7th phone call of the day. Without thinking, I blurted out that I was new to the university, and that I was just trying to make a reservation without really knowing what to do.

"Welcome!" the voice said on the other line. "I know what it's like being new here. I've had years to figure it out. I'm going to help you as much as I possibly can." 

I was so grateful that someone was willing to empathize with me for a second, remember what it was like to be in my shoes, and pitch in to use his power for good.

A touch of fall

The weather today was fairly gloomy, but just for a moment, there was a bit of chill in the air. Fall is coming!!!

The habits of geese

Today, my friend and I biked along the river and, after much debate, settled on a nice patch of grass to have a picnic, with a view of the water.

It was a perfectly tranquil, ideal little spot. Until...

...the geese came a'comin. Like a little army, it seemed like they were all called to the river at once.

Normally, I would not say I'm afraid of most wildlife, but I was a bit scared by the sheer amount of geese that were congregating quite near to us. It was fascinating how they all moved as a pack. Until...

...they started moving, one by one, closer to our spot. We were debating whether or not to pack up and run. Finally, they started backing off, again as a pack, as if called by some mythical leader. Then, suddenly, they were completely gone again.

Laughing until your sides hurt

My dear friend from college is visiting this weekend from New York. Without fail, when I first see her, it's like no time has passed at all. One of the greatest moments tonight was telling old stories from college, and laughing until I literally couldn't breathe. 

The small town of Philadelphia

Philadelphia is by no means a small town, yet I have found more often than not that it feels that way. Last night, I went to the Philadelphia Night Market.

Out of the hundreds of people who attended the event, I discovered I knew several. I bumped into people I see all the time, and people I haven't seen in months. I bumped into some people I really wanted to have conversations with, and some people I would prefer not to see. Yet one of the greatest moments of the night was hearing my name called, and seeing a group of my friends. I truly feel at home in this small town of a city.

Is it worth the risk?

Tonight, we held our book club at a playground, so of course we had to play before we chatted about the book. Smith Memorial Playground is famous for its big slide. It's pretty impressive.

Even though I was excited to try it out, I approached the slide with a good amount of trepidation. As kids, we all think we're invincible, and for the most part, we are. Kids can throw themselves around like there's no tomorrow and come out of most situations with merely scrapes and bruises. Until I was 28 I had never broken a bone. Now, my first thought to myself is always, "Is it worth the risk? Will I get injured?"

In this case, it turned out it was worth the risk. In that moment I reasoned that if little kids could do this slide, I certainly could too. I went down, head first, and enjoyed the ride.

Ah, the life of a cat

This morning, I woke up to a torrential downpour. Rain was coming down in sheets. All I wanted to do was to stay in bed. When I finally got up, I looked back at my bed.

At that moment, I would have given anything to have traded places with the cat. Wouldn't it be nice to have only one thing on my list - to sleep all day? Note that once again, she's taken over my pillow.

Dance like no one's watching...

There's a reason the quote, "Dance like no one's watching" is so popular. In fact, I'm not even sure where it originated. My research tells me it's been attributed to Mark Twain, Alfred D. Souza, and William Purkey, to name a few.

Here's my understanding of this quote. Well, technically, it's a quotation. When I was an associate teacher, my lead teacher hated the word "quote" because she said it wasn't accurate. I could write a whole blog just about her and her idiosyncrasies, but I digress.

I believe the idea of dancing like no one's watching is so enticing because it seems to grant you permission to literally and figuratively put yourself out there, 100 %, not caring about anyone else's opinion.

In my life, this has been a hard philosophy to adopt. I am always too painfully aware that others ARE watching, and it's hard for me not to worry about what they must be thinking.

Yet, surprisingly, on the dance floor, ever since high school, I have been able to truly dance like no one is watching. For some reason, during my freshman year of college I embraced my dorky dance moves, and I've never looked back.

That brings me to today. Lately, I've been obsessed with this song:

It was a bit after 5 pm, and I was sure no one was in the office. I'm sure you all remember that I sit on an exercise ball chair.

There I was, literally dancing like no one was watching to the aforementioned song, except it was more of a chair dance. I was seriously grooving while bouncing away on my ball chair...until I heard, "Uh...Julie?" I turned around, and my co-worker was standing there laughing at me. "Have a good night," he called as he walked out the door.

It's always a good idea to dance like no one is watching. However, it's slightly embarrassing to dance like no one is watching, and to then realize that someone has been watching. Yikes.

A moment in the sun

Lately I feel like I have been rushing around, trying to do everything all at once. You know how it goes. The longer your to do list gets, the more you try to do, and then...suddenly you can't do anything. This afternoon, I took some time to sit at a cafe with a friend that happens to be right next to a community garden.

It was a gorgeous day, and it was so nice to sit outside. As I sipped my Arnold Palmer, I caught myself thinking, "Oh right...it's summer."

Soaking in the sun, my head finally cleared. When I returned home, I felt like I could actually move forward with the things I had to do. Isn't it funny how that happens?

2:46 AM

It's not often that your friend moves to South Africa for 5 months. So when you know it's going to happen, sometimes you do crazy things like staying up until 2:46 AM to spend as much time together as possible before she's gone.

I know - I get yelled at all the time

I bought a new bike helmet, and now I'm safe to return to the open road! I just had to point out a particularly ironic moment that occurred during my bike helmet purchase.

I was looking at a helmet that had a visor attached, and I was debating whether or not I would want to keep it on the helmet. I asked the man selling me the helmet (who worked in the bike section of EMS) if he wore a helmet with a visor.

"Um...", he said. "I actually don't wear a helmet when I ride my bike."

My face must have transparently shown everything I was thinking, because he went on to say, "I know, I know...I get yelled at all time time. My mom yells at me, customers yell at me....how can I work selling bikes and bike helmets and not ride with one? I just can't bring myself to do it."

Hmm.

Little shop...little shop of horrors

I apparently have been living under a rock for the past, oh I don't know, 27 years. I guess I've heard the title "Little Shop of Horrors", but I didn't know it was a musical. And I LOVE musicals.

Tonight I saw this film on the banks of the Schuylkill River in one of Philly's awesome free outdoor movie nights. The music was awesome and the plot totally ridiculous. Yet the moment that stood out the most to me was when Ellen Greene started singing, "Suddenly Seymour." I bolted upright and practically yelled, "That song is from THIS movie???" Yup, pop culture has never exactly been my thing.

A wake up call

No, this is not another post about how I overslept. Thankfully (knocking on wood currently), that has only happened to me once during my tenure as an employed adult. This is about the other type of wake up call. 

This evening, I was raving to my friend about how much I was enjoying riding my bike. She then asked me if my helmet was fitting right. "What do you mean?" I asked. "When you were riding up to meet me," she said, "it looked pretty loose."

I put my helmet on my head. It felt pretty snug to me. It was tightened as much as possible. With one swift move, my friend knocked it off of my head. "It's gotta go," she insisted. She then pointed out the date inside my helmet (2008...who knew that helmets expired??) and said a new helmet was way past due. In that moment, I almost wanted to argue with her. After all, I don't want to spend money on a new helmet, and I don't want to miss a day of biking now that I've gotten back into it. But underneath my initial frustration, I heard her loud and clear. I'm lucky to have friends in my life that insist I don't sleep on the important stuff. 

Try it on

At work today the youth presented what they had learned this summer in their cooking, gardening and teaching programs. It was so inspiring and moving. I know that the type of work we are doing is making a difference.

One of our norms is to "Try it on." In practice, it means trying new things and being open to the possibility of being surprised by what you discover.

I found myself manning the sandwich table, since I didn't really have a hand in planning the event. Ironically, even though all summer our youth had been learning to "Eat a Rainbow" (different colors of fruits and veggies), when choosing sandwiches, several stayed away from the delicious grilled veggie sandwiches. A couple peered at them curiously.

"Try it on," I urged them. "You might be surprised."

I had been hearing over and over how much the youth had been affected by their summer. Yet the sweetest moment to me was when one young man bit into a grilled veggie sandwich. He looked at me, smiled widely, and said, "That's just veggies?? It's so good!"

Just go for it

Today I got a text from one of my best friends from childhood that read, "Woohoo, leaving next Friday."

To add some context, she's leaving Philly to produce a show filming chimps on a wildlife sanctuary in South Africa for the next five months. In a week. She went from yesterday, when this project was possibly in the works, to today, leaving in one week.

So many things ran through my head in that moment. I was so proud of her, and I thought about how much I am going to miss her. Yet the part that stood out the most about it for me is the fact that my friend never fails to take the metaphorical leap.

My friend is the type of person that just goes for it. She takes amazing, creative, daring risks, and I'm constantly in awe of her. I think I've been blown away by her courage since we were 10 years old.

It's just like riding a bike

When people say, "it's just like riding a bike", they usually mean that once you learn how to do something, you'll never forget it. You never forget how to ride a bike even if you haven't ridden in years, and that applies to several other areas of life.

Speaking of bike riding specifically, and not the greater meaning of this idiom, I rode a bike today for the first time in two years. As I've previously mentioned, I managed to break both of my wrists within a two year period, therefore, the closest I've come to getting back on the bike was a stationary gym bike - one that couldn't tip over.

I didn't break my wrists on a bike, but I have managed to get my bike stuck in those trolley tracks that Philadelphia just seems to keep around for old time's sakes. Of course the bike flipped over, landing me smack on my left side. The two elderly men who witnessed it were the spitting image of those two elderly gentlemen from the Muppets.

"You gotta avoid those tracks!"
"That's why you wear a helmet!" (I was, in fact, wearing a helmet.)
"Look out for those tracks!"

Clearly, they were a lot of help. So I guess you could say I'm a nervous bicyclist. It's hard to not feel like my accident-prone self should not be operating any kind of heavy machinery. Yet today, after getting my bike tuned up, I tried again. I was somewhat wobbily, and I was possibly the slowest bicyclist on the road, but I just kept biking, one foot after the other.

Heirloom tomato salad

What could be better than tomatoes in the summer, I ask of you??? Tonight, I made heirloom tomato salad with a dear friend and it tasted much, much better than the s'mores we had afterwards.

A Murder Mystery

I had to follow up the pineapple upside down cake post with a report on the actual party I was baking it for. By the way, it was DELICIOUS.

So my friend hosted a 1920's Murder Mystery party. We all had so much fun dressing up and acting out our roles. One friend even looked up 1920's lingo, so we spent the night saying "doll" and "giggle juice" and "on the level."

I realized at one moment during the night that I was trying to speak in a British accent. Why I thought British accents belonged in the American 1920's, I have no idea. Maybe I was "all in a lather" from trying to figure out who the perpetrator was. I, by the way, was innocent!

Baking my cake and eating it too

I don't have the best track record when it comes to baking, so this certainly won't ever become a baking blog. Honestly, I don't know why I have to make it so difficult for myself. I don't use mixes (usually), I rarely repeat recipes, and I usually try something that's, well, complicated. I'm going to a 20's themed Murder Mystery party tomorrow, so when googling "cakes from the 1920's", a Pineapple upside-down cake came up. Easy enough, right? Here's the cake from Smitten Kitchen I tried to emulate.

My main problem with baking comes with the specificity. I have a really big problem following directions to the T. I put in too many slices of pineapple and a bit too much butter because I didn't have the patience to measure it.

I had picked out organic cane sugar instead of conventional, so the cake didn't seem sweet enough to me. To compensate, I just added a bunch more plus some brown sugar. I didn't mix the dry and wet ingredients separately. I didn't mix part of this or part of that - I just added everything together. So, it didn't look that great at this point. Not to mention that I discovered while mixing the cake batter that I don't currently own a round baking pan, so I used the cast-iron skillet instead.

When I tried to transfer it from the skillet to the plate, some cake fell off. Rather than try to salvage it...I decided to see if the cake was any good. Turns out that the initial tasting yielded positive results.

It turns out that once I sprinkled some rum over top of the cake and put good use to the remaining pineapple slices, it didn't look half bad. Yes, you can probably find the part that looks like someone just took a big bite out of it. Still, a good effort from me, with the help of Smitten Kitchen of course.

One thing is for certain. Cooking with me is always an adventure.