it was a me day.

saturday was a me day. i needed it. ever since i moved into the house it's been a lot of giving. i'm not complaining. i love giving. but i needed to give to me. and spend time with me. i missed me. so i went out and did my errands and picked up some yellow kicks and got a mani and pedi that i ruined within the first twelve minutes. and then i baked. and i baked and i baked and i baked. for five hours straight. not even kidding. i love to bake. love love love love it.

my friend shonna turned me onto 101 cookbooks (a local san franciscan!) and i've been exploring her recipes non-stop. so this particular evening consisted of thin mints and brown sugar sandwich cookies. the end result: very happy roommates. check it.

thin mint cookie dough:


making it a thin mint (dipping the wafers in to the minty chocolate. i was supposed to use a fork.) ps. raise your hand if you like my owl covered apron!


brown sugar sandwich wafers:


mmmm. the end result. i ended up adding mint to these too. they reminded me of milano cookies a little bit:

it's been two years exactly.

since i moved to san francisco permanently. and on this two year anniversary, i say thank you to the city that has opened my eyes to the beauty which surrounds me and wakes me up everyday asking me to come out and play. and i say thank you for papalote and bay to breakers and kamala harris and the panhandle and bicycles and usf and three oh one lyon and martin's and poleng lounge and the mission and tartine and dolores park and dance parties and bernal hill and thirteen point one mile races and hills and muni and my dentist and my eyebrow waxer and new door ventures and city church and herbivore and dosa and panhandlers and christmas tree boys and the haight and farmers market and food boxes and nordstrom and scooters and stern's grove and bart and voting and gavin newsom and the twenty one hayes and the fog and faletti's and central coffee and community group and learning to run and stem and hot physical therapists and blue barn and momi toby's and the style and the protests and the activism and the safety and the community and and and. the people. you are the reason i'm here.

life in the fourth row. just on tuesday.

i got to see amos lee and patty griffin live with lori and julie and nathan. i could see her facial expressions and his spit fly. it was awesome to be that close. no cameras at all but my gigantic purse and the iPhone helped me get these... not so good at all. but just in case i forget.





both were incredible. it was such a nice feeling to watch them sing the lyrics that have comforted me so many times.

upcoming concert lineup: iron&wine, pinback and jason mraz. dbj.

today is THE day.

i'm live. i'm in. i'm going for the gold.

today is the first day that i'm official. as in, officially official.

just say no to diarrhea and nervousness. and say yes to rapport and hope and willingness to have a second session. oh God, please let there be a second session.

third graders should not be allowed to get perms. ever.

i'm not sure if it was because i was the good kid or the only girl but if i wanted it, i could have it- in regards to my hair. EXCEPT, my mother did put her foot down when i asked to have it shaved underneath (what the hell was i thinking?) and when i asked to dye it blue. we had long arguments about it and in the end i settled for dying a one inch strip underneath blue... where, thankfully, no one could see it. and i never shaved it underneath. apparently i wanted to be a punk-rock-special-kid at ten. anyway, in third grade i got a perm. looking back i gasp. oh well. i'm more grateful that my mom let me have hair freedom.

things i'm learning about living with [these particular] guys.

they LOVE video games, including anything wii (ie: rockband). seriously. before, i thought it was because we were over (at their old house) and they wanted to play rockband with us. but, no. they just wanted to play rockband. it's every night or every time they come home. i can't keep up.

they have a really good habit of cleaning up later. also known as leaving things out and about. yes, i am taking into consideration that i am (one) neurotic, (two) just came from a house with very strict kitchen rules and (three) could probably stand to lose some of my up-tight-ness. on the flip side, when they clean... they clean. i am a "cleaner-as-i-goer" so this is all new to me.

my house is your house. or our house is your house. to all of our friends. which is fine. and nice. and great. but, it's definitely an adjustment.

i think i am the most assertive person anyone in this house has ever lived with. and that's definitely something i'm learning, too.

more big girl purchases.

i think it's a problem when i get more excited about kitchen purchases than i do about guys. hmm. definitely something to bring up in therapy.

the cuisinart blender/food processor made me a delicious smoothie and some !hot damn! salsa. excellent.

and you can't go wrong with pyrex. seriously, i yelped when the package came.


thank you God that neither of these came in color options. this decision was hard enough.

for all of you who were worried.

this mostly applies to my family. but i got a job. as in, i won't have to move back home because i can now afford the rent in san francisco.

job = working at the college i currently attend.

yah!

dark chocolate peanut butter cupcakes.

i've been baking up a storm because this kitchen yells at me every morning "spend time with me. choose me. pick me. love me." it just needs my attention. so i give it.

this recipe was so easy, though it was meant to be made as a cake. but cupcakes are more fun, i think.



ingredients:
one box of devil's food cake.
three eggs.
one cup of buttermilk.
half a cup of vegetable oil.
three cups of chopped chocolate covered peanut butter cups.
twelve ounces of dark chocolate chips.
one cup of heavy cream.
half a cup of creamy peanut butter.
*makes about thirty.



cupcakes: mix the eggs, cake mix, and buttermilk together. fold in two cups of the peanut butter cups. taste the batter. mmmm. so good. put in the cupcake tins and bake at three hundred fifty degrees for nineteen minutes. let them cool. lick the bowl and the beaters.



frosting: boil the heavy cream and pour over the dark chocolate chips. whisk until melted. add in the peanut butter and stir until smooth. add a bit of sugar if it's too bitter for you (sissy). spoon frosting over cupcakes and let them set in the fridge for twenty minutes. add more chopped peanut butter cups to the tops for garnish. voila!



and in the mean time, i've also become a floral arranger (uhh.. florist?). not bad, eh? [thanks, urban, for the goodbye flowers.]

run, don't walk to... COSTCO!

i love costco. it's freaking fabulous. so fabulous that i found a twenty dollar DOWN vest that you all need to go out and buy right now: one because it's sooooo cute and two because it was TWENTY DOLLARS.

there is no shame here: i sometimes buy clothing from costco. i'm cool like that. (reference: target commercial anybody??)

ps. the picture of the lady who thinks she's sexy is what the vest looks like. it came in white, black, blue, green, pink, red, and maybe orange. i can't remember.

red is so... sexy.

and i am so... not. have you ever bought something because you wanted it so bad but the color wasn't as important as having the item? if you have, you might understand what i'm talking about and if you haven't, i warn you: color is important.

i walked in to get my six hundred mile service on my sexy-hot-look-at-me scooter and i saw something so dreamy. so perfect. so me. it was my little metro scooter in off white with brown seats and handle bars. i fell in love and had buyers remorse from my february purchase. i thought to myself, just like a product of my generation (Y or millennial), how can i get that scooter [now]?? so i did what any normal person trying to sell something does: craigslist. and off it sold. for one hundred dollars less than what i bought it for. shhhhhh, don't tell the nice guy who bought it from me, okay? and off i went to the scooter store and home i came with my new off white honda metro.

and when i was riding home i realized that i was just so... happy. this new one is much more me. so discrete and not so showy. it's not so hot and shiny and sexy. whatever i can do to continue on with my apple pie style, right?

thank you, God, for my ankle injury.

back story: sometime starting in february i rolled my left ankle three times within six weeks. when i started training for the half it was bothering me a bit. i did a lot of icing but one of my doctors suggested i see a physical therapist to prevent further injury. the particular pt she suggested is also a running coach so she thought it would be a good idea for me to go to him.

my imagination took over when i heard running coach. i automatically assumed he was young and hot. and that led to me realizing that with an ankle issue that means he'll probably be TOUCHING me. my feet/ankles/calves/knees, that is. and that led to me shaving, of course. and making sure my pedicure looked good. and i might have put on lipgloss, too.

i was reading the news about phelp's fifth gold / breaking the record for most golds EVER when i looked up to exactly what i imagined. young. hot. doctor. [stop it, emily! control yourself].

"hi, emily, how are you today?"

"[better now that you're my pt. I MEAN] i'm doing well." [hold yourself together!]

small talk small talk small talk and then the touching and prodding and pushing exercises went on for forty five minutes. i was trying not to think about how hot doctor was holding my ankles and giving them a rub down but i couldn't help myself.

"yep. you have a problem, but we can fix it. your peroneus brevis just needs some attention"

"[oh good. i was worried this was all a part of my imagination just like you very well could be] great! tell me what to do [so that we can spend more time together]?"

three exercises, one direct phone number, and an appointment to go to his chi running class in september... i am set. and now i have a major crush on my physical therapist.

side note: my best friend carissa is in pt school right now. and she's hot. not just cute-- HOT. and i just got a taste of what her patients are going to feel like when she's giving them a rub down. carissa: your patients are SO lucky. i mean, i know you're going to be a great pt, but seriously, lucky lucky patients.

the best relay race in history.

did you stay up for it? it was incredible. the us men just took the four by one hundred freestyle relay. it was worth it to see phelps' reaction:



phelps has two golds. six to go. this girl is totally yelling at the tv cheering him on. that's right. yelling at the tv. clapping. i get into it, alright?

it's only day three of ten.

dog walking is one thing. but owning a dog or at least, dog sitting, is another.

seven thirty he's licking my toes.
so much for sleeping in.
and then he needs to go out.
it's freeeeeeezing.
and then he needs to eat.
RAW food. like i have to touch raw meat. gross.
and then he needs a walk.
and then he needs to crap. and pee.
and then. and then. and then.

bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark.

i'm sharing a bathroom. with a double shower.

for the last two years (or approximately seven hundred and seventeen days) i have had my own bathroom. and it has been nothing but pure joy. undressing when i want to, leaving hair on the shower wall (only if i'm in a hurry, ok?), letting the trash almost overflow (no, not during the the twenty-sixth through the twenty-ninth), leaving the flat iron and blow dryer out (but not plugged in, of course), and allowing my toothpaste to overflow (because i can and i want a new brand anyway). all of those things help me be a little bit nicer and more pleasant and more fun. and really, who doesn't want me to be those things?! exactly. sharing a bathroom means you are constantly "on" which is totally great and healthy. in fact, i love being on. but sometimes you want to be off. or sometimes I want to be off. and right now i want to be off and i'm not allowed to be off. and i'm not really allowed to be off for the next three hundred and fifty nine days. and now i'm whining about it. but maybe it's not even about the bathroom. maybe i'm just scared out of my mind and frustrated with myself and hurt and afraid and it's being taken out on the bathroom. maybe?

i made a risky and big decision to move into a new place with friends. not a bad decision, just ehh... different. i certainly did not plan for this transition enough. and if you've never worked with me, you wouldn't know this but i am real good with other peoples' change (hence the career choice of therapist), just not my own. generally. so these next few months are definitely going to be ones of transition. we'll see how that goes.

in the end- at least i have a double shower. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH A DOUBLE SHOWER? i'm sure anna q will come up with something witty. let's hear it.

look close and you will see. two shower heads.

twelve hundred and eighty eight calories later.

(at least that's what my heart rate monitor says i burned...) this is how happy we were to be done:

finishers:
lis-me-julie-nathan-john-ty-dillon.
missing from this photo include mary flynn, meg, rachael, and nick.

this one i (clearly) took from the official photographers. seriously, who is this happy to be running a half marathon? apparently we were.


thanks for coming, mom! (and adam, jenn & riley)

notice julie's towering height.

it's partially official.

i started my internship today. which starts the first day of me being a therapist. a psychotherapist, actually. what does that even mean? [i have no idea] but i'm excited to get my client load- that's when it will be officially official. today it's just partially official. but this whole half marathon training slash moving slash starting my internship has given me a headache. i must rest. and take care of myself. and ziggy because i am house/dog sitting for the next ten days. party at ziggy's! (seriously, she said i could).

to all those who have called or emailed that i haven't responded to: i'm out of the office and won't be in until this house is in order. it might be a few days. grace, please.

i hate moving.

next time i'm going to hire movers or chop down the stairs with my own two hands. karate style.

i lost my half marathon virginity.

two am: body wakes up. time to go? nope.
three am: again. still not time to go.
four am: anxious. anxious. anxious.
four twenty five am: i'm up! ready to go.
six ten am: i can't believe my body wants to do that so early in the morning.
six twenty five am: step. step. step. step. wave eight. no stress.
six fifty two am: thank you, God, we can run up these hills.
seven fourteen am: i hate these hills. who planned this course? jerks.
eight ten am: what was i thinking when i signed up for this? idiot.
eight eighteen am: we think we can. we think we can. we think we can.
eight forty six am: julie! let's sprint. call me crazy.
eight forty seven am: julie and i cross the finish line. holy cow.

one blister, four bruises and the saltiest eyebrows i've ever seen: it's over. whoever told me there were only two hills totally lied. count: one- fort mason. two-gg bridge. three-presidio after bridge. four/five/six-the avenues.
hills = hell.

two twenty two was our time. the goal: make it in under three hours and don't walk. check and check.

photos to come when i find my photo cord at the new house.

ps. dodgers are one game ahead. boooyah!

to finish or not to finish.

one hundred and ninety-nine miles logged. thirteen point one to go. i NEVER thought i could achieve this. hands down, [one of] the hardest mental, physical, and i would argue spiritual thing[s] i've ever done. i'll let you know how it is when i'm finished. embrace the pace, right julie?

pop quiz.

this is for those of you who receive the westmont magazine... two questions:
1. what is the first thing you notice about the cover of the spring 2008 edition?
2. if you could do anything to change that photo, what would you do?