Merry Christmas!

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . December 25, 2009 . 12:30PM

In the last year, I have been fortunate in so many ways. I have added more people to my life that have given me enrichment and love and support and I am lucky, blessed, loved and thankful. This is the first Blueshelled.com Christmas and I want to thank you for sharing yours with me.

Merry Christmas. And if you don’t celebrate, thanks for coming here anyway. You are important to me.

Merry Christmas from Mr. and Mrs. Blueshelled

A good customer experience

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . December 23, 2009 . 4:42AM

Because we are all burned out with holiday shopping, and don’t you dare Betty Lou Who me and be all “Oh, I just LOVE this” because I will be sore with you, at the very least, I wanted to share a good shopping experience with you.

Some of you follow my twitter feed and some of you know better than to rock the image of the good wife and mom you think I am. Those that follow understand that the reason my posts have been scarce is that, immediately following my finals, AJ got incredibly sick. Within 48 hours, I, too, got sick and Leon followed. Then, yesterday, AJ had to go to the hospital for chest pains. He got the all clear after an x-ray and CT-scan. None of us are completely healed from the stomach virus of last week and we are about to travel for the holidays.

We haven’t really had time to shop for the holidays.

Tonight, I took an hour to go get Leon his presents, as it is the one duty I cannot schluff off onto him. Part of that trip led me to Best Buy (who is not paying me, nor do they know about this post–I’m irritated with the need for disclosure, but there it is). Best Buy was packed, even at 9pm at night. I expected to leave irritated and wanting to sleep.

Instead, I walked in, found exactly what I wanted, talked to an uber cheerful cashier and, when I beeped when walking out, I slowly turned around to face the music. No, I didn’t steal anything. What do you people think of me?

I turned to hand my bag to the man at the door and he laughed at waved me out. I heard, from behind me, “You really oughtta quit stealing stuff! Run! Run for the car!” I laughed and went back to my car where Molly was waiting for me to drive home with the windows down. She wants to freeze to death.

Why bother writing this? Well, mainly because I spend a lot of time talking, thinking and taking in energy about what is wrong in my world. I had expectations that my experience was going to bite and it was the exact opposite. It was a great experience. I got what I needed and everyone was friendly and I was home within an hour. It was time to share a positive experience and increase the positive energy that is out there.

Take some time to appreciate those out in the retail world right now. I worked it for four years during this time of year and it is a hard job for little pay around the holidays. If someone is particularly nice, please return the kindness.

Oh, and bring cookies. Those are good, too.

Facebook friends

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . December 18, 2009 . 9:43AM

I’ve never done well with keeping friends for long periods of time. I think much of this has to do with several integral factors in my life. I grew up on a farm and, most of that time, I played on my own. I’m also highly introverted, by nature, and I often prefer my own thoughts to the thoughts of others. It’s not that I don’t care what you think, it’s just that the noise in my own head is so strong that your noise would be overwhelming. I like quiet and solitude and small groups of people. I like to go out, but infrequently. My profession is one-on-one and that connection is important to me in so many ways. It fits me.

It never occurred to me that the people I’d left along the way weren’t really gone. For the longest time I was such a black and white thinker that I’d written those relationships off as lost to me.

And then I found Facebook. Because I’m an introvert, social networking draws me like flies to honey. I can speak to people quickly and efficiently, which also hits my firstborn tendencies, and feel like I’m connecting without losing the energy that I lose in face-to-face interaction.

And then I started exploring.

And found the little girl from down the farm road that I used to play with often. I road my green bike with the banana seat to her house frequently. And not only did she remember me, but she was delighted to hear from me. We still had the connection that we had even then.

And I found the first friends I had when I finally started elementary school. And then those when I moved to a new town.

I found my first group of friends from middle school. We were so close for those four years. It was like we picked up where we left off. The best friendships are always like that, aren’t they?

I found my high school best friends and my college best friends. I found people who weren’t best friends, but that I like more as adults than I did as children. They have grown into amazing people that I love.

Through other social networking sites I have found people that I love more and more each day.

For me, I think it was just a reminder that, though there are times I feel alone and have certainly felt alone in the past, I never was. They were with me. They missed me. They were there.

And they still are.

Hard to find the words

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . December 12, 2009 . 2:13PM

Last night, I lay in bed for a long time and tried to think about writing this post and all the things that I wanted to say. It rarely happens, but the words aren’t there. 13 years ago I lost someone that was special on many levels to me. I thought I was ready to talk about it, but clearly it’s not the case because I’m generally quite open on here and this is something that I feel the need to hide and protect.

So, instead of telling you how I feel, I’m going to show you the pin he gave me a long, long time ago. It was important to him and through over 10 moves, it’s one of the few things I haven’t lost. Sometimes the heart has trouble letting go. I held the pin for hours last night trying to decide what to say to all of you. Instead, I said it to him.

Your Lucy still misses you so much. I'm still not able to let go.

Stairmaster, you elusive mistress

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . December 9, 2009 . 8:33PM

For a while now, I’ve been working on my fitness and thus far, it’s been a productive measure. I feel things toning and fat is burning and unpleasant things are happening to my body that I’ve been reassured are GREAT! Those unpleasant things mean that what I’m doing is working! Woot!

Last week, I was on the phone with my trainer and he scolded me. This is becoming commonplace. I need a little scolding now and then because, quite frankly, I’m bad. I have horns. Don’t be surprised when I do bad things. I’m not good. So, yes, sometimes I get scolded.

The reason for the scolding this time was that I’d become comfortable with the evil, wretched treadmill and the *heavens open up and light shines down* amazing, wonderful, beautiful elliptical machine. I was alternating them and frankly, my dear, it wasn’t enough. I needed variety. [insert scolding and I told you's here]

My response was “Yeah, yeah, yeah but stairs scare me! When I climb the stairs at school I end them in the fetal position and rocking.”

My trainer, Mike, was not impressed, yelled some more, and told me to get my butt on the stairmaster.

Whatever.

So I have thrown in it the mix.

It’s going to kill me yet.

When I’m on the stairmaster, I don’t get the nice feelings or the high that I get on the elliptical or the numbing, dulling zone out of the treadmill. I get the tired legs and the “you’re going to die mwahahahahah” of the stairmaster. I admit: I want to give up. Here’s how I don’t: I make up elaborate fantasies and schemes as to what will happen if I can complete my 25 minute stairmaster rotation.

“If I can just get through the next 10 minutes I can have that condo in downtown Nashville that I want! Floor to ceiling windows, baby. Decorate it any way I want it and my drive to both work and school is down to 10 minutes. Boo-yah!”

“If I can just get through the next 20 minutes, the minute I step off this stairmaster, a swarthy pirate named Hugh Jackman is going to come out the bathroom, growl, “MMM, I always liked ‘em chubby” and throw me over his shoulder while I meekly say, “Help. I’m being abducted.” Then he will buy me my condo in Nashville.”

Wait. What were we talking about? Oh, the stairmaster. See? That’s how I get through it. Man, I love me a pirate.

You haven’t conquered me yet, stairmaster. Hugh and I are going to get through this. We always do.