I spent quite a bit of time selecting what I thought was the perfect apartment in my apartment complex. I wanted Southern exposure, I wanted to face the pretty open field and see the old tobacco factory. What I did not factor in was the streetlight outside of my room which makes my whole apartment GLOW all night. It's horrible. I got so frustrated not being able to sleep that I took my boxes from moving, and blankets and towels and anything I could find to make a fort using my bed frame.

The ONE day of the year when I can arrive later at work and say "I was stuck in traffic in Durham" and someone, just someone, might believe me.

They're back. Welcome Doooooooookies. I can't even keep track of the new incoming class, Class of 2020 or something futuristic like that.

The heat is making me sick.
That's not an expression
I really have not felt well am I'm losing both sleep and work-time over this.
It's so hot, most of my time is spent indoors lately.
I tried to get fresh air tonight so I opened my window and turned up the A/C.
Given that I am feverish - already hot and cold interally - this A/C window open method didn't really work.
So now I've got Pepto Bismol and Ginger Ale.
I'm going to pop the Pepto in the fridge, chill it down, have it on the rocks.
Yummy yummy pink drink.
Who wants to hold my hair?

This really isn't pleasant.

Ewwwwww.

Someone did an MSN search for "TerrIfI( SHeM@1es" and someone ended up at my blog.

And it was at 7:46 in the morning.

That's spooky.

Funniest Quote from Dinner

"My lasagna was cold but I'm OK with it"
-SH

No Crazy Cat Lady Comments Allowed.

This is from my pal Todd's blog. He is on my blogroll.

One last cat note: my friend Jamie Foehl now lives in North Carolina, basically happy but occasionally bored, and she decided to cope with the slow times through volunteerism on behalf of animals but was surprised when local authorities told her that what they really needed was someone to go out at night in the woods laying traps for feral cats so they could be spayed and neutered (speaking of which: congrats to libertarian Drew Carey for getting Bob Barker's old Price Is Right gig – there has to be some way to turn that show into a free-market economics lesson). So Jamie found herself putting cages with sardines in them out in the woods, assisted by an elderly cat-lady, late on a Saturday night. She says that in the morning, they’d caught exactly one cat. “Those feral cats are wily,” comments my friend Scott Nybakken

Birthday in a Box #6. Newall, my boss. He is a Group Account Director. I aspire to be a Group Acccount Director. Or not.

#5
Bob just had to upstage Barb balancing on his side like this.

Jim and the Snooky's Gang at Two Boots.

Yummy Cake.

Yes, quite yummy.

Party in a Box on a Blog #4

Princess, my sister, in Seattle.

Lena, friend of Princess with cat.

David Lewis. He has 50 girlfriends. I am one of them.

Party in A Box (Party on a Blog!) #3. Deb, Paul and Thea.

Party in a Box #2

Cliff and Wendy who were running around getting ready for a European adventure the day before my birthday. Where did they go? See the next picture.


Ellen and Trudy

Grumpy Rod. Always Grumpy. The Grinch who stole my birthday.

Lisa works in Finance. The auditors are in town. And she is still smiling. If you look closely you can see classified information on her spreadsheet on the monitor.

"Party in a Box" Installment #1.

My best birthday present this year: My friends. My friends and family took pictures of themselves celebrating my birthday. All the pics were printed and sent to me in a box that arrived on my birthday. Partay! In a box.

Barb, my super-dupe acrobatic pal. Doing a one handed-handstand and holding three candles in her hand. Photograph by B. Ranew.

All my pooches in Seattle. Photograph by Princess.

The creatures who emerged from my sink at The Farm (here's the link to the story).

Sandra, Minneapolis pal.

True True True Trudy. Mama Goatie. Scary Goatie.

This post ends with one of my favorite poems. It was shared with me on my birthday at summer camp by friend Kristen Case. It's the perfect poem for August 9th. It's around this time you realize there's only one more week of camp. You realize that school starts again in this month. The last verse is my favorite. This is the time we have.

This summer was the most summeriest summer I've had since camp. I didn't wear socks. Ever. I went to the beach. Twice (NC, SC). No, three times if you count the Illinois State Beach (which was frigid and buggy). I spent two hours just floating on my noodle talking to a friend at the Eno Quarry. I went swimming at the Eno Quarry in the middle of the day. Twice. Skinny-dipped (sort of). Swam in another quarry that was overlooked by a castlelike hotel. Hiked Devil's Lake in WI, Ice Caves in Ellenville, the American Tobacco Trail in another Ellenville. I saw snow. Twice. Temperatures were in the hundreds. I rode my bike every weekend. Got freaked out by violent thunderstorms. I fell asleep in a hammock with a book. Twice. I piled onto a hammock with four other friends and didn't spill my wine. The Farm provided several encounters with nature that reminded me of living in a little cabin in the woods. Friendships with pals like Ellen and Barb reminded me of the sisterhood I have with my dear, dear lifelong camp friends.

Those who know me know that my camp years (1986-1999)are among the most special years I have. This summer felt a little bit like camp and for that I am lucky.

So, with that, here's the poem. Enjoy. This is the time we have.

this high summer we love will pour its light
the fields grown rich and ragged in one strong moment
then before we're ready will crash into autumn
with a violence we can't accept
a bounty we can't forgive
night frost will strike when noons are warm
the pumpkins wildly glowing
the green tomatoes straining huge on vines
queen anne and blackeyed susan will struggle rusty
as the milkweed stakes her claim
she who will stand at last dark sticks barely rising
up through snow her testament of continuation

we'll dream of a longer summer
but this is the one we have
i lay my sunburnt hand on your table:
this is the time we have.

-Adrienne Rich

"30 x 30"

So, this post is a little more personal than I might get otherwise. Part of the reason I'm sharing this is because I'm proud, but I've also gotten lots of questions about "How did you do it?" and this is the long answer.

Here goes.

I was always a bit of a pudgy teen. I got to Carleton and gained even more weight eating Lucky Charms for breakfast, snack, lunch, snack again, you get the point. Then, sometime around my Junior year I said "This is insane. Jamie, you tend to be able to accomplish anything you put your mind to. Put your mind to getting rid of this chub."

And I did.

I exersized twice a day at the gym and following healthy meal recipes to a T. I never ever cheated. I made myself forget things like cookies and ice cream.

Completely eliminating sweets is not a method recommended by some because the risk is it drives you nuts and suddenly you're at Ben & Jerry's eating a Vermontster.

It wasn't quite that extreme, but, more or less, that's what happened to me. What I was doing was working, but it was unsustainable, even for someone with my self-control. Eating and exersizing were getting very very boring.

And then came the complications of the "real" world.

I graduated Carleton and moved to New York City at 125 pounds (relax, I'm 5'7). One stressful day at work I ate a cookie. And I was like. "Oh my. This is good. No wonder people like this."

And slowly but surely, the demands and stress of my entry level advertising job wiped out my efforts to eat well and exersize and I had to put all my lovely smaller clothes in a box.

I did reach weights that were not good for my height, age, etc. I worked on a pitch for a casual dining restaurant and found myself above 160. And not feeling well. Winded, tired. I had one pair of black pants that I wore, well, often. I actually brought myself down to 145 after that pitch.

But then I started at McKinney and I was back into the 155+ range. And not looking or feeling well. And I knew that it would only get harder because I was only getting older.

Around Thanksgiving of 2006 I said "This is insane. I am 29 and I need to kick this. Now."

I considered using my bonus to go to fat camp for a week.

My goals was to lose 30 pounds by my 30th birthday, which was eight months away.

"30 x 30." It sounded snappy. It sounded good. Appealed to my sense of order.

I didn't go to fat camp.

This is what I did:

I stopped eating the McKinney snack. Every day, we get snack. Healthy snacks in the beginning of the week like apples on Monday but on by Friday, we have candy. And there's always food around. I just stopped eating it. That helped.

I don't cook. I don't know much about nutrition. I have a hard time making good choices when I'm travelling, tired, or feeling too lazy to care. So, I ordered food from a service for a month. I was getting a good amount of calories but the meals were balanced, varied and healthy. I know that I do need to solve that one on my own, but the service was a jumpstart that made food something I just didn't have to think about.

Cardio. I like to ride my bike. It's North Carolina - easy to ride year round. Pretty to ride year round. I rode. And rode. And rode.

I never abandoned the trusty elliptical at the gym though. That machine is still part of "the trick" as far as I'm concerned. But, I needed to mix it up.

I'm not going for the waif look. I want to be able to kick some ass. I wanted some tone. You know, those women who have arms and you can tell they're strong like Sheryl Crow. As much as I wanted to lose weight, I wanted to have strength. Luckily, the two go hand in hand.

Gawon. My trainer. Found a trainer and committed to meeting with him three times a week. For the most part, kept to three times a week (travel made it a bit complicated).

I stuck with this. My food choices having gotten better in part because I've had good resources for questions, and living with Ellen really really helped. She kept on me to be balanced and healthy. And she shared her good food with me.

Some pounds fell off. Others were slow as hell. My clothes felt better. Then they were too big. Then people started to notice. The compliments did help. Then I remember looking at my stomach and realizing I had the tiniest bit of definition. The lines.

I weighed myself way more than I should. I just can't help that. The loss was gradual and many weeks were just about maintaining.

So, on the day I turned 30 (yesterday) I stepped on the scale.

26 pounds.

A small part of me was like "Damnit! I want 30 x 30."

But you know what, 26 pounds is damn close.

And I didn't plan on obtaining the strength and muscle that I do have. I'll give myself 4 pounds of muscle.

I'm going on to my trainer's before and after section of the website. I feel strong, able-bodied, and I know that my future self is going to thank my 29 year old safe for getting back into a healthy lifestyle

So I did do it.
And I feel awesome.
And, ok, I look awesome!

Go me.

I'm 30,

I'm mature, actualized and confident.

Having a good birthday so far.

Lots of phone calls and e-mails.

I got a chocolate chip mint ice cream cake, mimosas, flowers, and a party in a box. Party in a box will be explained later. Look out for pics.

Even the roaming gnome wished me well.

I was born on August 9th at 11:34 am in the morning.
It's 9:30 pm on August 8th.
I have 14 more hours of being a twenty-something.

Hmmmm.
I'm going to have a jelly donut, wear a miniskirt, wreck my car and seduce a Duke Freshman. I'm gonna do a decade in a night.

My Birthday Dinner Invite, authored by Ellen.

your presence is requested this Thursday night, to usher out the stale, boring decade we call 20s (sorry, Talya) and induct the riveting, sexier one known as 30s.
That’s right, our dear Ms. Jamie Foehl will be becoming one of us (sorry, Talya)--one of the wiser, riper, infinitely more herself people as she says “Hello 30, fuck off 29.”
Please join this new tigress for dinner this Thursday evening at Piedmont.
I have a reservation for 7:15.
Please let Mama here know if we can expect you and all your ripened glory (you too, Talya).

- 38, and proud of it.

The Goaties are Gone!

The two little ones were sold. Mama Trudy is at the landlord's farm, um, making more goats. But in the meantime, we're without animales. Trudy will return once she's pregnant and we'll have baby goaties in time for the holidays.

darn.