What's in a Name?

I am woman of many names. Okay, not many but a few.

My given name is: Jessica Marie Schulte.

I think it's lovely. I share my middle with my mom and all of my dad's sisters. It's a "plain jane" kind of name, but it has some history and I like that. My fist name is not an original 1980's name. In fact, it was the most popular name for a girl born in 1980. But my parents didn't know that. My mom just knew she couldn't name her baby after the office hootchie she worked with (or so I am told.) Which makes me laugh. And let's be honest- Schulte is kind of a fun two syllable name. So, in short-- I like my name.

While my given name is great, I come from a family of nicknamers. (Read: my dad has a funny name for anyone he loves...always has). So, from the day of my birth, I was henceforth known to most anyone who loved me as Beaner. At the age of three, I told people that was my name- Beaner Schulte. (That was quickly corrected before I started pre-school!). That nickname has stuck with me ever since. It has morphed into Bean and Beanie as the years went on. My mom says I was "the orginal Beanie baby. (Insert giggle and an eye roll here.) I always knew I was in serious trouble or there was a problem when my parents actually called me Jessica. God forbid--Jessica Marie. If that came out of a mouth, I was really in BIG trouble.

In high school, I started to encounter other Jessicas. And it got confusing. And because I was an athlete (not sure why that has anything to do with it, but it seems to make sense to me), people called me Schulte. Even a boyfriend did and I had to tell him--No. I have a first name and if you want to kiss, that will need to be the name you use. (I have some sass, sometimes.). Anyway, throughout high school, my last name was the name that was used. A few people call me Jess, but most called me Jessica or Schulte. And Jess was reserved for really good friends, not the masses.

Then I became a professional. I work for a fairly casual company where we all get along really well, so easy friendships are formed. Some of those work friends started to call me Jess. That was okay and I embraced it. After all-- Jessica is three syllables and 7 letters to type versus 1 syllable and 4 letters. But then other people started...and it became my name at work. No longer reserved for close pals. People introduced me to business contacts that way, even the client we work for refers to me as Jess. The "ica" portion of my name just disappeaered. And it kind of annoys me.

Yesterday, I was working with some of our volunteers and they just started to call me Jess. I know it shouldn't bug me that much, but it made me crazy. In all my years before now, Jess was reserved for those that know me well. These people don't know me at all. In fact, I don't even really like them all that much and here they were using the name that has always been reserved for closeness. Jessica is how I introduce myself, how I sign an email, and it is actually my name.

I want my "ica" back!

**Note- likely if you read this blog, you are close enough to call me Jess, don't worry.

City Love- part 2

I had to venture into downtown Seattle today to pick up some permits for my upcoming event. A trip that can be both a joy and a pain.
Per usual, today it was both.
I drove around the same block 6 times while trying to find the building I was going to and then trying to find parking in the same area. The ladies waiting at the bus stop waved at me the 3rd, 4th, and 5th times I circled. By the 6th, I felt like I should say stop and say hello. Perhaps make some new friends! But I found the spot and got down to business.
After I picked stuff up, I headed for home. Due to a wrong turn (whoops! sometimes I am still "new"), I ended up driving near the Pike's Place Market. And there was parking right near the entrance. Soooo, of course I stopped! (How could I not? It was as though it was meant to be.)
I popped into the market and partook in all of the loveliness that Seattle has to offer---

$5 boquets of flowers, fresh local strawberries and of course, a Starbucks iced passion tea (my latest addiction!).
Best detour ever!

And yet one more reason why I love where I live.
I mean, where else could I pick up that kind of loveliness for less than $20?

Fun with water!

Water is theraputic for my mind, body and soul. Especially being in the water. I am a water-bug and always have been. I loved the pool and Lake Michigan from the start.
As I have aged, the pool has become a tool to keep my joints moving and grooving. The water (or lack thereof) was a huge factor in why I always knew Arizona couldn't be a permanant home for me. I crave it.
I love Seattle for many things, but love it most for the closeness of water and the pure joy it brings to my heart.
On Sunday, I was lucky and I got to play in the Sound with my friends Emily and Kaisa. I love being in the water. I also love watching little kids play in the water. They make it so much more fun!
Here's a little video of our time---

Just listen to her squeals and it's hard not to join in the fun!

City love!

Today was an excellent reminder about just one of the 999 reasons why I love where I live. :)

I spent the day on the beach, playing in the ocean and laughing with friends. It was a gorgeous day to be outside and in the water (albeit in freezing water).

And then tonight, I can wear a sweatshirt!

I love it.

It's like an awesome day Up North, everyday.

Hooray.

Cheers to new adventures!

Today (well, this weekend) is the start to new adventures.

Before you start to think I am on the move again, the adventure is not mine. It is for a few loves of my life.

My cousin and her family are embarking on a journey eastward.

Her lovely hubby got a job in their old hood and they are making the move.

They met in Maryland and started their life together there. Then an unexpected change happened and my brave and selfless cousin moved home to support her family. Her love soon followed and they began their life together in the mitten state. They got engaged on Lake Michigan, hosted a winter wedding in the snow and cold in a fmialiar place, and started a family in the home she grew up in. The house was filled with happy (and probably some sad) memories, but they started to freshen things up with their own family traditions.

The house they made their home was already filled with great traditions, stories and more love than anyone could ask for. That house came with built-in memories (which can be good and bad, I am sure), it came with a built-in support system. It came with traditions. But this brave couple, made it their own. They encorporated the old with the new. They welcomed the old, but embraced the new and exciting. That house filled with all her childhood memories became her home for 6 years (!). Life had changed and continues to change and will never be the same. That home where they started their own family is now up for sale. And they are headed east to a different home. Leaving behind the house, but bringing the memories and traditions with them to only to continue to build the loving home that will always surround them.

As they embark on this new adventure, I know there will be tears. But they will bring with them all that love and support that surrounded them. They will make new memories and create a home in a new place.

No matter what I know it will be a happy place.

I can't wait to see where this adventure takes them. And can't wait to go for a visit!

I do not like it.

(should have been posted 9/1/11)

Today I woke up after a fitful night of sleep and felt as bad as I have felt in 6 years. I swear I was back to before I even knew what was wrong with me. Ugh.
I hurt everywhere- my back, my bones. I swear even my hair hurt.
Normally, I am achy on a daily basis, but I don't hurt. I can tolerate achy.
Hurt is hard to tolerate. Hurt I don't like. Hurt makes me crabby. Hurt interrupts my normal life. I DON'T LIKE IT!

Hurt reminds me that I have a disease that no one understands.
That likely I will need assistance of some kind earlier than most as I age.
That my diseases(s) are always there, even if I don't want to believe it or acknowledge it.
That my disease continues to evolve and affect different parts of my being.
Hurt reminds me that I am sick.
Admitting this is something I also do not like.

I want to believe I am normal. And do, most of the time.
The last six months have been testing this mindset like I have never been tested before. I am much more aware of the changes and challenges of having this disease (and if I'm being honest, a disability.)
Whether people admit it or not, I know they make accomodations for me. And while I appreciate their thoughfulness, I hate that it has to happen. I hate that someone might need to think about trusting me to help with a project. That they can't just call and make the ask. (I mean, I guess it gets me out of the heavy lifing, but I'd gladly make that trade!)
I hate that I have to think about whether or not I have a place to sit on the beach or in the park. I can make jokes to ease the situation, but it still sucks that I even have to think about it.
That has just become part of the routine of life. Life is life and it moves along. You make accomodations to make it work. So it does.
But unlike other times, ths time the hurt really hurts. It affected my ability to do my job. It affected my ability to be an indepentdent adult. I considered calling my dad to come and just be around because I got scared that I wouldn't be able to live a normal life if I hurt this much. I don't like it. Actually, I hate it.
But on the flipside, I am ever-more grateful to work at a place that can allow me to take a day and take some rest (I have never done that before). I am ever-more grateful for the support and love from friends, family, and co-workers.
And I am especially grateful for my (though sometimes annoying) perpetual optimism.
The silver-lining default mode makes even a bad day tolerable. And that I like.

This is for the birds.

(should have been posted 8/31/11)

Today, my boss came to town to take a tour of the Seattle 3-Day route. A day to familiarize himself with the route and the sites before the actual event weekend. I have a million things on my plate and this was just one more, but I guess it never hurts to check out the route and sites.

We started the day with a meeting with all my big-wigs. Nothing like going to a meeting with all the important people in the vicinity and your boss. (Oh and referring to a Chief of Police as Dude in front of them all--yeah, that really happened.). But I would mark both the meeting and the drive a success. Hooray.

Mid-way through the day, the boss-man had a call, so we stopped for a long lunch. He started to eat and had to take the call, so left me at the table with his half-eaten lucnh and to finish my lunch . No big deal. I am lady who dines alone while working a lot. It was a nice afternoon, so we opted to dine outside. There are no bugs, so dining outdoors is an exceptional option. I mean there are birds, but typically they aren't aggressive. Typically, is the key word there.

As I was saying, boss-man took a call away from the table and I finished eating and was then trying to keep email in check by using my phone and was not paying attention to his half-eaten lunch. All of a sudden there was a loud rustling, so I looked up. A crow was stealing his sandwich off his plate! I squealed, of course. The bird dropped the sandwich on the table. The other patrons were as shocked as me. I just there, shocked and laughing a little. I mean, seriously, how was I going to explain why he couldn't eat the half of sandwich? And how it got moved? I mean, who would believe a crow could do that?! (Another example of why birds hate me. See here for my previous one.)

So, I let the sandwich sit there and I continued to email and debate about how I was going to explain why his sandwich was on the table and not on his plate where he left it. After a little bit longer, I needed to visit the ladies room, so I got up and went inside.

I came back out, and a table of businessmen were laughing. One yelled over to let me know that the crow had stolen the rest of the sandwich almost immediately after I got up. I got to the table and in fact the sandwich and all the fries were gone! The crows were enjoying them in the birdbath over the fance. (And I think laughing at me....). The waiter came over and explained that he put in a to-go order. And reminded me that I need to be vigilent around those birds. For real.

When the boss-man returned, I explained and he just laughed along with me. And then put together my dislike of birds and laughed a little harder.

Damn birds.

(and really who else does this happen to???)