For all you who live where I used to live (Sacramento and the San Fernando Valley), summer temps that rise above 100 degrees is expected. It’s the norm. My sister still goes running when it’s 104 degrees outside. Me? If I run in temperatures above 85 degrees, I get lightheaded. But here in Seattle, our current high temps are a BIG DEAL, especially since we’ve reached a record high of 102 today. Still doesn’t sound like a big deal? Well, think about how hot it gets in Sac - and then think about how it would be if you didn’t have A/C in your house. Not so nice. (For you class of ‘95ers, it might be time to try frying an egg on the street again!)

The other day, it was 93 degrees in our house. I knew it was bad when MATT suggested going to the mall. When we got back home around 8, it was STILL unbearable in the house, so I went out for a run. Yes, I went out for a run to cool off. Sounds absurd, doesn’t it? People were still out swimming in Lake Washington, and enjoying picnics late into the evening. At night, we have one fan blowing on each of us, and we sleep in the bare minimum, with the sheets completely off and the windows wide open. I’m considering camping out on our deck tonight if the mosquitoes leave me alone. It’s too hard for me to fall asleep and stay asleep when it’s this warm. Overcast, drizzly days, I miss you.

2009 already has been quite an exciting year. I played with dolphins in Mexico, ran my first half-marathon, and - on Sunday - finally went skydiving. Skydiving has been something I’ve wanted to do for many years now. Back in April, on our way up to Vancouver, Matt surprised me by stopping off at Skydive Snohomish for a jump for my birthday. Unfortunately, the clouds were too low, and we had to reschedule. About a month ago, we had to reschedule again because of low clouds. Finally, with no clouds in sight, and 85-degree weather in the forecast, we rescheduled yet again for this past Sunday. On Saturday night, the clouds rolled in and rained on a party in a co-worker’s backyard. I love rain and all, but this was one weekend when I wanted the clouds to stay far, far away.

As we drove up to Snohomish on Sunday, I was excited that it was finally going to happen! In the car, I had a LOT of gas, like I was letting out a fart every few minutes. I asked Matt if he remembered if he was already strapped to his instructor during the flight. My fear was that my instructor and I would be strapped together, and that he/she would feel me farting the entire way up. Or even worse, that all the passengers would smell me farting the whole way up. That would be horrible, but thankfully, a visit to the bathroom took care of that fear.

Once we arrived, I checked in and signed a multi-page contract that basically warned me that skydiving was dangerous, that I could get hurt or killed, that the employees were humans and could make errors, and that I wouldn’t sue should anything happen to me. As I was checking everything off, Matt walked in from parking the car, followed by my co-worker Paul (who lives near the airfield), his wife Rita, and another co-worker Jackie, who had eaten dinner with Paul and Rita. Together, we watched the “training video,” that walked us through the entire jump. When the video showed the jumpers hovering in the doorway of the plane, my palms got sweaty. After all, everyone who had skydived (skydove??) before had told me that that was the scariest part - being suspended outside of the plane, attached to your instructor, while waiting for them to let go.

Our class of six people went outside after watching the video to practice arching our backs (the position for freefall) and lifting up our legs (the position for landing). Some people got suited up with long-sleeved blue jumpers, and while I wanted to look like an official skydiver, I also heard that the temperature in the plane was 90 degrees (it really wasn’t). I was not about to sit in a plane for 20 minutes, completely covered, in 90-degree temps. No way. The air at 13,500 feet was supposedly 45 degrees, but I was willing to risk being a little cold. My philosophy is that it’s better to be cold than hot. So I decided to just jump in my tank top and pants that I had arrived in.

I met my instructor Luke, a young, enthusiastic guy who pumped me up even more. “I’m so glad you’re small,” he told me when we first met. “This is my last jump, and I’m tired.” The guy before me had been taller than he was and slightly larger, which took more effort on Luke’s part to maneuver. He checked my harness, adjusted a few things, and we got on the plane. I had chosen to go 2nd - I didn’t want to wait too long, but I also wanted to watch someone else go first.

We all filed into the plane, sitting between the legs of the person behind us. In my case, Luke sat behind me so that he could easily strap me onto his harness when the time came. The small plane had a transparent pull-down door that looked like a mini garage door. From where I sat, I could see the scenery get smaller and smaller below us. I saw a hazy view of Mt. Rainier, the Seattle skyline, the surrounding mountain ranges, and Lake Stevens.

As we climbed higher, Luke asked me several times how I was feeling. The plane was so loud so I mostly just yelled, “Great!” or “I’m excited!” and gave him the thumbs up. He told me that when we jumped out, I should hold onto my shoulder straps, with my back and head arched. When I felt him tap my arms, I would hold them out with a 90-degree bend in my elbows. Got it. It was almost time. Luke strapped me tightly to his harness. I could feel his chest expand every time he breathed, and I’m sure he could feel my attempts to inhale deeply through the secure straps.

It was weird to see the door to the airplane open. It just goes against everything I know to see the airplane door opening when we were not safely on the ground. The first jumper and his instructor edged forward to the door and were out without even pausing. Luke told me to scoot forward, and I must say, there is nothing like willingly moving yourself toward that open doorway. I said aloud, “Oh shnap,” which is a phrase I have never heard myself say until that moment. We had all been told to hook our legs over the doorway and touch the bottom of the plane with our feet. Yeah, right, like my legs are long enough to do that. I had barely gotten my legs over the doorway when I heard Luke yell, “Ready?!” and then we were off.

When we first jumped out, I felt that slight rollercoaster feeling, where your heart comes up to your throat, which I love. But a second later, I just felt like I was in a wind tunnel. We were falling at 120 miles per hour, so you can imagine the force of the wind. We had been told to scream, breathe through our teeth, or turn our head slightly to the side to help us breathe. I tried all three. Turning my head helped a little. Screaming was hard because the wind was so strong. All I could think was, “My mouth is REALLY dry!!” At one point, Luke grabbed my arms and sort of flailed them. Maybe I had been holding them too stiffly? Who knows. I had asked him to spin us around during the freefall, so I remember wondering when we were going to start spinning. My idea of spinning was that we’d be going at a dizzying speed that would really disorient me, but we never spun that fast. Turns out we were spinning the whole time, which explains why the scenery was changing every second. I felt so free - and not once did I feel scared or unsafe.

After about a minute, the rollercoaster feeling was back for a second or two as the parachute opened and we were yanked upward. And then the world slowed down around us. I swallowed hard a few times to unplug my ears. I kept repeating stuff like “This is SO MUCH FUN! This is amazing!!!” because I couldn’t think of any other words to describe my emotions, and because floating down on a parachute didn’t seem like the appropriate time to make small talk. There were fields of green below us, water off to the front, mountains to the side…but the view I remember the most was the sunset. I had deliberately scheduled myself for the last jump of the day because I wanted an unforgettable sunset. The sun was a perfectly round glowing orange ball, and its light was reflected off of a snaky body of water below it. Off in the distance were fluffy clouds that were tinted pinkish orange, you know, the color that clouds take on during sunset.

“So do you want to keep doing this, or do you want the crazy s—?” (censored for my young readers :)) Luke asked. “Let’s do the crazy stuff!!” I answered. He let me take control of the levers that were controlling the parachute and told me to pull down really hard on the right lever. That spun us around in tight circles to the right. When I pulled down on both levers, we stopped. I did the same on the left side. So much fun. Luke took the reins back and turned us back toward the sun. “One last look at the sunset…” he said, as we headed lower toward Harvey Airfield.

We were low enough where I could see Matt and the gang. They were standing up, waving and cheering, and I waved back. It was time to get my feet up for the landing, and before I knew it, we had landed smoothly. Luke unhooked me from him and I got up, watching as other skydivers landed around us. It was just an amazing sight to look up and see colorful specks in the sky.

When I got back to Matt and the gang, I said it was the most fun thing I’ve ever done. One of my co-worker’s first response was, “Even more fun than getting married?” I *knew* someone was going to say that as soon as the words were out of my mouth. For one thing, we’re talking about two completely different things. Marriage is a lifelong adventure and there are fun moments - but there are hard ones, too. But even then, the fun moments aren’t quite “skydiving-fun” moments. And the wedding day - well, having all our loved ones together was great, but being the center of attention and having to be “on” and social the entire day was more tiring than anything else. So my comment still stands - it was the most fun thing I’ve ever done!

I would love, love, love to do this again. When I left the skydiving place, I was given $10 off discount referral cards to give to friends. With each card that is turned in for a jump, $10 will also get credited toward my next jump. If there is no expiration date, I will continue to spread the word to try to get other people to jump - and hopefully one day, I can go again at no cost. :)

Click on the pic to see the rest of them!

I have posted pictures from our Mexico trip (in the Spring folder), as well as some summer adventures so far. I feel like I’m so behind, and it’s really nice to be able to finally feel caught up. It’s hard to believe July is almost over. Where did summer go? Aside from hiking in Montana at Glacier National Park, we haven’t gotten out for many hikes this summer. We have two camping trips planned in August (one at Olympic National Park and the other in our friends’ backyard), but usually, summer means more hiking and camping. This year, there seem to be many other things that we’ve been busy with, namely working in the backyard.

But the summer hasn’t been a complete loss. We spent the day out in the sun yesterday with our small group, riding the newly opened lightrail system, and just came back from a friends birthday BBQ and a walk around Greenlake. Today during our walk, Matt and I vowed to leave more time for getting out to do fun things we enjoy and exploring other neighborhoods in the city. It sort of feels like we get out a lot, but we’re not as deliberate about finding new things to do, it seems. We’d like to do more fun things on weeknights, too, while we still have long days. We seem to have a lot of meetings in the evenings, though, especially this month, but we’d like to figure out a way to pare down our schedule. Is it wishful thinking? I hope not.

We have had some great moments during the summer so far, though…and I’m not just talking about watching Harry Potter on Friday with my friend, Carolyn! I’ll save that for another post. :)

At the end of June, the same time we did the Rock N Roll, the Ips came to visit, and we had a good time with them. Usually when visitors come, our schedule becomes a whirlwind of visiting one place after another, and trying to figure out great restaurants to impress people with. But our family was really laid-back and low maintenance, having visited Seattle before. In fact, a large chunk of their time was spent in our house - and they didn’t seem to mind at all. Sarah had homework to do, Jon had movies to watch, and mom and dad kept themselves occupied. Mom and I even spent one evening plant shopping at Fred Meyer and later put together a hanging basket. They did get some sightseeing in, we went to the Museum of Flight, and we cooked a couple of meals at home together.

The weather was beautiful the whole time they were here, and at one point, I was amazed that they just wanted to stay inside on such a sunny day. Then I remembered that the weather is always like that where they’re from. In fact, mom was hoping for thunderstorms, which sadly, never showed. Overall, it was a treat to have them around, and I’m just incredibly appreciative that they were such easy-going guests to have.

The day after the Ips left, Matt and I headed out on a road trip to Montana. Our first stop was Missoula, where we stayed with my friend, Bobbie, and her parents. Bobbie and I met in the bathroom (”Are you one of the lunchtime knitters?” she asked me) at Canon, my first job in LA, and we’ve been friends ever since. The last time I saw her was Christmas 2007, when she celebrated the holiday with Matt’s family in LA. She moved up to Missoula a few months ago to live with her parents (who moved there a few years ago from Rancho Cucamonga, CA), and is looking for a job in Seattle.

We only had one night with Bobbie and her family, so as soon as we got there, the fun immediately began. Bobbie and her mom had spent all day preparing an amazing meal for us (probably enough to feed 10 people for several days). Bobbie’s dad whisked Matt away to check out his “man cave” downstairs, and to share stories of his outdoor adventures. Bobbie and her mom showed me their craft area(s), and I finally figured out where Bobbie gets all her creativity. Her mom is amazing…she has sketches of clothing patterns that she has created or plans to create, she has bags and bags of jewelry that she made, and she has folders full of caricatures that make her laugh.

Our visit with Bobbie’s family and with Missoula was short, but definitely left us excited about visiting them once again. Bobbie’s parents are avid outdoorspeople, so they promised us biking and hiking excursions if we visited again. Before we left Missoula, Matt and I tried out a homemade ice cream joint that was located in a cute area with a yarn shop, fabric shop and bookstore. I told Matt that if there was a boba place and a plant nursery nearby, I could live on that block and be happy.

We headed a few hours north to Whitefish where we met up with our friend/co-worker Emily, her husband Marc, and some of their friends who were all visiting Emily’s parents. They have a beautiful house on a large piece of open land. Missoula is more of a college town, where Whitefish has the small-town feel, especially as you go through the main street and everyone seems to know each other. Many of the residents have lived there all their lives, but you also get your seasonal residents who go up there to “get away” and enjoy the outdoor sports.

The trip was well-planned and organized, thanks to Emily’s meticulous planning efforts, and everyone was always up and ready before our designated departure time. I don’t think that has ever happened when I’ve been with a group of 20-somethings. And if they’re capoeiristas? Forget it! Anyway, our days were comfortably packed with activities that encompassed what Whitefish was all about. We took in a rodeo (because we needed to do “something redneck,” as Emily put it), did some short hikes in Glacier National Park (where a mountain goat almost charged at me), shot guns and fireworks in the backyard, went whitewater rafting (where we all screamed more from the cold water than the rapids), laughed over marshmallows expanding in the microwave, and played an intense guys vs. girls game of Catch Phrase. (Those last two probably aren’t characteristic of just Whitefish, but I had to include them.)

It’s 11:43 p.m. and I’m feeling incredibly tired from being outside nearly all weekend…and trip recaps already are difficult for me to write, so I’ll end this year. Hopefully the pictures will say it all.

Think Harry Potter is all about witchcraft? Think again…and come on, you criticizers of HP, have you actually even read any of the books?! Check out this article on CNN.

This morning I received an e-mail saying that GeoCities is closing. It makes me a little sad because back in the late ’90s, I created my first website: http://geocities.com/taffystay37/. I know it looks horrid, but I was excited that I built my own website by cutting and pasting html codes from other websites. haha…and that sentence about missing the heat and tank top weather of Sac - what was I thinking?! A lot of the links are broken, too. I updated it now and then (updating information and links) and never use it for anything now, but when GeoCities closes, that means my original site will be gone forever. My second website (http://geocities.com/ladyrant/) - my first venture into the blogging world - also will be closing. I wrote all those entries during a very transitional time in my life, so I’ve printed everything out. I think that website documents more of my life than my real journal does.

This kind of scares me when I think about *this* blog. I’ve always had more faith in paper and pen than in virtual communications, but having an online blog is more fun and easier than keeping only a paper journal (which I also still have, but don’t write in it nearly as much as I do here!). I think I like the fact that my life and my presence has been documented online all these years. But even with paper journals, one day, they will get moldy or destroyed - or tossed away - probably after I have left this earth. So really, whether online or on paper, my presence will end one way or another. Anyway, it’s a good reminder for me to not hold on so tightly to the past. Sometimes, it’s just time to move on…

So I know I have more meaningful things that I still need to write about, but I just wanted to say how EXCITED I am that “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” opens in one week. ONE WEEK! Since the movie got delayed last year, I have had the new date on all my calendars, and now it’s within reach. AAAHHHHH! My heart is beating faster just thinking about it. But, like Melanie and I have discussed, there’s some bittersweetness to it, too. As each movie opens, we are brought one step closer to the day when all the movies will be completed, and there will not be anything else Harry Potter-related for us to look forward to…unless 20 years down the line, someone decides to remake the movies. Then we’ll line up with all the kiddies (maybe even our own) in our Hogwarts costumes and grumble about how the new versions deviated from the true stories.

I’m bummed that I won’t be in LA around this time, which means I will not be able to celebrate the movie with Melanie and Abby, who are both going to an advanced screening on Saturday. We all have reread Book 6 and are ready for in-depth discussions. I will be hard-pressed to find a Harry Pothead here who would even think about watching the movie opening night or opening weekend.

OK, that’s it for now. Gotta save some of my thoughts for next week!

Oh Dumbledore… :(

It’s 11:22 p.m., Sunday evening after five days of being away from home, and I’m having a hard time getting back into real life. I realize in the past 10 days, there have been a lot of things to blog about. I need to get my butt into gear and start somewhere, so here I go…

The inaugural Rock ‘N’ Roll half-marathon and marathon in Seattle took place last Saturday - and, as I mentioned in another post, Matt and I challenged ourselves to do it. We woke up at 4:15 a.m. completely energized and ready to go. I’m glad people had told me that it’s more important to rest well TWO nights before a race (as opposed to the night before), because Matt and I were so preoccupied with getting ready for the race that we didn’t get to bed until about 11:30 the night before. I had my timer tag on my shoe and my bib pinned to my shirt by the time I went to bed. Otherwise, I probably would have nightmares of forgetting one of those vital pieces the next morning.

Makeba’s husband, Aaron, was so gracious to drop us (Matt, me, Keba, and Keba’s friend) off at the starting line when he could have been sleeping in. I’ll spare you the rest of the details leading up to the actual race because, in my idealistic world of everything going exactly as planned, I felt a little frazzled. With 25,000 registered participants, I should have expected that things would be a little crazy. But when the race started, I focused on breathing well and staying at a comfortable pace, and popped electrolyte-filled gummies like my life depended on them. I ran with Mel the whole time since Matt is too speedy for me to keep up with. I had hoped to run with Keba too but we didn’t find each other until about the 2nd mile. People had warned me about speeding off from the starting line and then burning out at the end, so Mel and I started slow from the start. I watched people pass us up, but I kept thinking to myself, “Slow and steady wins the race!”

Well, we were far from winning the race, but I didn’t care. The experience was absolutely amazing. My body felt really good, and the discomfort that I had been feeling in my knees during the longer runs was there, but bearable. The sun was shining, and people were out cheering. Matt’s family was in town, so they waited for us about 1.5 miles into the race, as well as at the finish line. It was definitely a special treat to have them there cheering us on. About a mile later, we saw a family from our small group who had come out to cheer on Matt, me, and another woman from our small group. Along the route, I saw a few other people - another family from our small group, as well as some World Vision people. Mel’s boyfriend rode his bike along the route, so he appeared every so often, cheering on “Team Mel” and snapping pics with my camera for me. But even perfect strangers were equally supportive and encouraging. Some even sprayed us with their hoses, cooling us down. Usually during runs, my mind is on how much farther I have to go. But that morning, I kept thinking about how much fun I was having. Around mile 10, I was even disappointed that the race would be ending shortly. We had been training for a few months, and soon, it was all about to end.

Mel and I finished the race in 2 hours and 43 minutes, keeping our pace between 12:06 and 12:31. I have to admit, I was a little disappointed when I found out our stats. We had been training at about an 11-minute mile. But we also both were wary of burning out, so we wanted to make sure we could run the entire course. My original goal was to finish the race, and my sub-goal was to run the whole thing. I did both that morning, and I know I should be extremely proud of myself - regardless of the time.

After the race, I called my parents, as well as Na, and my friend/former co-worker Jen (who both are avid runners and have been my coaches/moral support via e-mail and phone). Jen told me she still remembers when we worked together in LA six years ago and how adamant I was about not being a runner. (She and another co-worker used to run together.) So she was extremely proud of me for setting this goal and achieving it. And so was I.

I set a lot of goals for myself, but I usually set goals that I know I can achieve. If there’s a chance that I will fail, I probably won’t set that goal. But in this case, I set a goal that really did seem unattainable to me. When I first decided to do the half-marathon, I envisioned myself running with Keba around Seward Park last year - and barely being able to do that 2.4-mile loop. With her, I could do it, but I always ended up with shin splints. On my own, I was never able to do it. So to get from that point to where I am now - able to run 10 miles on my own - really blows my mind.

This experience has proven to me that nearly any goal that we want to achieve CAN be done if we really set our mind to it. And, more importantly, we can’t expect goals to be attained overnight. If I were to try to run 6 miles from the start, I would have failed miserably. But by starting off with 2-3 miles, and then adding one more mile each week, I was able to reach my goal.

At one point during the run, Mel and I recited Isaiah 40:31 (”But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.). Soon after we mentioned that verse, we saw some runners who had stopped along Lake Washington and were pointing their camera phones up at the trees overhead. A majestic bald eagle was perched on a branch, posing for everyone. I think everyone who saw the eagle was instantly inspired. In fact, the eagle was such a big part of the race that the discount code for next year’s race is “bald eagle.” Inspiration is everywhere.

Colleagues from work who are twice my age or have health challenges stepped up and committed to walking or running the half-marathon. One woman I know walked the course and came in fourth from last. The race volunteers were cleaning up as she was strolling in. She had to get permission from her doctor before doing the race, since she struggles with arthritis and knee problems - but she took on the challenge and completed the race. That was a huge encouragement to me, too, and it showed me that I can’t always make excuses not to do something just because I don’t think I can do it, or because I’m scared I’ll fail. I may not do everything well, but I can at least try.

I told myself I would hang up my running shoes once the race is over, but now I’m reconsidering. After all, I now have to prove to myself that I can complete a half-marathon in a shorter amount of time. :)

Now for some pics…

Team Mel at the starting line with our matching fanny packs (not planned).
We even got fitted for and bought the exact same running shoes.

The bald eagle that made its appearance during the race

The crowd comes through downtown toward Qwest field. Can you spot Matt?
(Picture taken by Keba’s husband Aaron, who didn’t even realize Matt was in the pic!)

Keba and me show off our medals after the race

Meeting up with Nicole (from our small group) who also ran the race

And now it’s 12:24, an hour after I started the post. Geez, I’m long-winded, although the last 15 minutes were spent trying to cut the post down. As you can see, it’s still pretty long. Oh well. :) BTW, I’ve had this blog for almost exactly three years now! My geocities blog before this one has some links missing, so I hope that doesn’t happen with WordPress. AND, I just celebrated my 9-year anniversary of having my Stynkbg. Hooray!