be afraid...be very afraid

No, but actually. Let's get to Blogtember!

Day 4: A story about a time you were very afraid.

When I was about 8, my family and I took a summer trip to Coffee Creek Ranch, which is a "dude ranch" in Northern California. It is every bit as idyllic as you're thinking (or maybe not), but check out these pictures: 

The creek! Ice cold and beautiful, from here

Wooden rocking chairs, a "general store" where you could buy everything from bubble gum to candy cigarettes, from here

Completely stunning views, usually seen from horseback. Pic from here

It didn't get much better as a vacation spot - tons of families with kids my age, opportunities to ride horses, fish, swim in the creek, try my hand at archery...dream vacation. 

One morning, we took the Breakfast Ride - horseback rides up through a beautiful trail to a spot where they would serve up pancakes, bacon, sausage and more straight from a griddle. Being the youngest, I was at the very front of the line, led by a guy named Kiwi (to say I had a crush is an understatement) and riding a beloved horse named Cimmaron (my siblings called her fat and I cried. But that's besides the point). 

All of a sudden, the line jerked to a halt and there was a ton of commotion. They told us that there had been an accident and someone was hurt. It didn't occur to me that it could be one of my people until they took me off my horse and led me to the back. To this day, I remember the sight of Matt lying on the ground, covered in dirt and his face covered in blood. I have a vivid memory of pools of blood in his ears. Meanwhile, Jessie had fainted from all of the activity and I was in shock. 

One of the Coffee Creek employees took off on horseback to catch up to the parents and everyone else waiting for us at the breakfast site - we found out later she had been bucked off four times because of how hard she was driving the horse. My parents arrived what seemed like hours later in a truck, and my mom immediately started crying when she saw him on the ground...and all the blood. Matt was air-lifted out, with my mom in tow, and my dad tore off back to the ranch to get his car and meet them at the hospital. 

Jessie (once she came to) and I spent the rest of the day wondering where Matt was and if he was OK. I remember getting back to our cabin and finding a note that my dad had written to us on a Kleenex box in his rush. 

Matt came back a couple days later with his arm in a cast and bumps and bruises. So what happened? It was our first time riding horses, and we didn't know to wear heeled boots to stay in the stirrups. His horse was stung by a horse fly and it bolted, throwing Matt out of the saddle, but his foot slid right through and got caught so the horse dragged him. In the process, the horse kicked Matt in the liver (hence the extended hospital stay) and also stepped on his finger and severed the top of his middle finger. 

Now, I don't even think about that day - and somehow, I don't think Matt does either. But, I was terrified. There's also the time that Matt hit his head during a pick-up basketball game and was temporarily paralyzed for 8 hours...but that's a story for a different day.

To end on a positive note, here are me and my siblings at an Easter party a couple years ago, all happy & well (& drunk): 

words of wisdom

Day 3: Pass on some useful advice or information you learned and always remembered. 

I've learned an enormous amount from my mentor of 4 years, but one of the best bits of advice she ever gave me was 

"You never get what you don't ask for." 

I'm someone who hates confrontation and always favor email over phone just in case the conversation becomes awkward and I don't know what to say. The idea of hearing "no" creates all kinds of anxiety - as well as turning my face a peculiar shade of purple - but I've started to learn that sometimes, that really is the worst case scenario. The worst thing they could say is "no". And that's just two little letters. 

I still have a ways to go when it comes to asserting myself and pushing myself beyond my comfort zone...but this is my favorite advice that I often repeat to myself when the awkwardness threatens to overwhelm...

if you give a girl 3 months off...

...she just might go abroad and eat until she's stuffed and never come home. OK, day 2 of Blogtember! 

Day 2:
If you could take three months off from your current life and do anything in the world, what would you do? 

Traveling and exploring has always been a big part of my life - both of my parents are adventure enthusiasts who are always going somewhere new. Luckily, they have made every effort to give us the traveling bug too and we have been lucky enough to travel all over the world together. 

from here

So, if I had 3 months off (and I'm assuming Hogwarts isn't accepting 20-something applicants...), I would head abroad and spend 3 months traveling and eating everything in sight. Did I mention that part of this involves other people footing the bill? If I didn't...that part is critical. 

Where to? Some of my my must-sees: 

Riomaggiore, Italy from here - because...duh.

sunset in Iceland, from here

Algarve, Portugal from here

I think this is a good place to start. And after 3 months, if I have to come back to this...

Golden Gate bridge, SF from here

...I guess life could be worse.

 

hello, blog world

Well. This is it. For the past couple years, I've stalked read blogs and daydreamed about my own and what it would look like and what I would write and now, with Blogtember from a personal favorite, Story of My Life, it seemed like it was finally time to get off my ass and start this thing. What remains to be seen is if I will ever make it public. But, I digress. Blogtember!

Day 1: Describe where or what you come from. The people, the places, and/or the factors that make up who you are. 

I guess I should start with, here's me: 

Boyfriend has been cropped out as boyfriend has not yet consented to being on the interweb.

My name is Nicola Jane, but everyone calls me Nicky, except for my mom when she's mad at me. I am the youngest of three, with an older sister, Jessie, and an older brother, Matt. For the first 8 years of my life, we shared a lot of things, but most importantly was a haircut. Specifically, a bowl cut. But, seriously. I include this because it has irreversibly shaped my perception of haircuts, which I see as only slightly less frightening/traumatizing than needles.

 I was born in Connecticut and moved three weeks later to Northern California. I have an alarmingly intelligent and amazing and beautiful mom who is from England, and an absurdly bright, hilarious and caring dad who was born in Massachusetts, but has lived everywhere from Greece to Germany to England in his life. Here's the whole fam, in Portugal this past summer: 

There's a lot more to it, I promise - but I also think it's time for me to shut up. So, more will come in time. Let's be friends? If I ever make this thing public...