My dream:
I am sitting high atop a mountain, though the mountain itself is only 5-10 storeys high. It's made exclusively of rock and is very ragged with sharp protrusions. It appears to be in a semi-circular shape (like some of the volcanic craters in the Hawaiian islands), as I can see others perched all around me at various elevations and across from where I sit. There were a number of people perched on the rocky formations - perhaps 40 or more.
Suddenly I became aware that a woman wearing a large navy blue, wide-brimmed straw hat (across from my field of vision) is standing. Her hat was so large I could not see her face. And then she was falling. Down, down, down. I didn't allow my eyes to follow the trip down, nor did I peer over to see where or how she had landed. I didn't want to see. I then noticed that the man who had been sitting next to her had stood up, and in the blink of an eye, he dove off - presumably to join her. Down, down, down he went. Again, I averted my gaze.
I sat in shock, afraid to move, feeling the sharpness of the rock against my back and under my legs and bottom. I realized that people all around me were beginning to fall. They were as lemmings, jumping off a cliff, one by one.
At this point I became aware that my children were seated near me, and I covered their eyes and held them tightly against me, lest they see and also follow suit.
I must have awakened after this point, for I don't remember anything further.
Weird.....
I supposed I can take from this that at least I don't feel that I'm a follower. That, in my opinion, is a good thing.
Where are you, Dr. Freud, when I need your dream analysis skills?
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Thank god it's [almost] Friday!
Thoughts of Friday push me along. As I arrive at work each morning I look toward Friday to get me through the week. Friday is my goal, the golden ring I reach for. I wish for Friday every day. I'm wishing my life away....
This weekend is a big one - the beginning of Spring Break. I have to say goodbye to the fruits of my womb for a week. My man cub is leaving to go to his dad's in another state for a week, and my woman-child is headed to Florida with a friend.
This means I get a full week without kids. I can eat at 10:00 p.m. if I so choose, and it doesn't have to be nutritious. I can eat dessert and nothing else. I can watch rated R movies late at night on surround sound (loud). I can listen to music as loud as I like at any time of the night. I can drink too much wine and get tipsy or drink even more and get drunk.
My heart aches as they drive away, but my head is excited. I cannot completely relax - ever - unless I know for certain that I will not be needed by either of my children. I get this mini vacation every spring break and 6 weeks each summer, as well as every other holiday.
And so while I am forced to deal with an arrogant, manipulative, drama queen of an ex husband, there IS a silver lining to the dark cloud that is the ex - Mini vacations for mom.
Lucky me.
This weekend is a big one - the beginning of Spring Break. I have to say goodbye to the fruits of my womb for a week. My man cub is leaving to go to his dad's in another state for a week, and my woman-child is headed to Florida with a friend.
This means I get a full week without kids. I can eat at 10:00 p.m. if I so choose, and it doesn't have to be nutritious. I can eat dessert and nothing else. I can watch rated R movies late at night on surround sound (loud). I can listen to music as loud as I like at any time of the night. I can drink too much wine and get tipsy or drink even more and get drunk.
My heart aches as they drive away, but my head is excited. I cannot completely relax - ever - unless I know for certain that I will not be needed by either of my children. I get this mini vacation every spring break and 6 weeks each summer, as well as every other holiday.
And so while I am forced to deal with an arrogant, manipulative, drama queen of an ex husband, there IS a silver lining to the dark cloud that is the ex - Mini vacations for mom.
Lucky me.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Freezing weather in hotlanta
argh!
It was 26 degrees this morning and the ground was covered in sparkling white ice. It's rained on and off for a couple of days too. I can't complain about precipitation because we've been experiencing a drought of historical magnitude in Georgia, but it really screws with my running.
As does man cub's baseball practices! Practice is right after work two days during the week, and on Saturday and Sunday too. Once games begin, though, practice will be reduced to three times weekly.
But not to worry. I've remained true to my mission of daily workouts.
I've been squeaking away on the hamster wheel, and after using it for three straight weeks during lunch (except on weekends), I must shamefully admit that I've become obsessed with the elliptical. I look forward to lunch so I can rush down there, get dressed and hop on - before anyone else can.
I've begun to look at the machine as though it were my own, too. I've daydreamed about carving my name into its lovely steps, or scrawling my initials in Sharpie marker on the metal arms, but I figured that might piss people off, so I haven't yet succumbed to the urge. In any case, I expect MY elliptical to be free and waiting for me any time I am ready to use it. The two times I got there to find that it was being used by someone else I almost lost my shit. I paced back and forth. I walked into the dressing rooms and sat and pouted. I stomped my feet. I paced some more. I walked back out. I busied myself with my phone. Finally I sat in a chair facing the machine and waited. I had to wait! Horrors!
Changing the subject, I've slept on the couch for a few nights after a tiff and those nights have actually been quite beneficial to me. I have slept soundly through the night and have been able to awaken early enough to get dressed and ready at a leisurely pace. You see, Husband snores - loud enough to wake the dead. It's a truly awful sound, and it's quite frustrating to be awakened all night every night by the gutteral and very loud sounds of his snoring. I hate snoring, to be honest. I always have. My beloved grandfather snored and I hated it even then. I don't sleep through the night EVER when we share a bed. In fact, I'm eternally exhausted. Every day. No matter what I do. It's from lack of sleep. And on the nights when I've been awakened so many times that I'm really upset and/or angry, I end up stomping off in the dark to go sleep elsewhere (the couch). Why does HE get to remain in the comfortable bed when HE is the one who keeps me up all night? Good question.
It was 26 degrees this morning and the ground was covered in sparkling white ice. It's rained on and off for a couple of days too. I can't complain about precipitation because we've been experiencing a drought of historical magnitude in Georgia, but it really screws with my running.
As does man cub's baseball practices! Practice is right after work two days during the week, and on Saturday and Sunday too. Once games begin, though, practice will be reduced to three times weekly.
But not to worry. I've remained true to my mission of daily workouts.
I've been squeaking away on the hamster wheel, and after using it for three straight weeks during lunch (except on weekends), I must shamefully admit that I've become obsessed with the elliptical. I look forward to lunch so I can rush down there, get dressed and hop on - before anyone else can.
I've begun to look at the machine as though it were my own, too. I've daydreamed about carving my name into its lovely steps, or scrawling my initials in Sharpie marker on the metal arms, but I figured that might piss people off, so I haven't yet succumbed to the urge. In any case, I expect MY elliptical to be free and waiting for me any time I am ready to use it. The two times I got there to find that it was being used by someone else I almost lost my shit. I paced back and forth. I walked into the dressing rooms and sat and pouted. I stomped my feet. I paced some more. I walked back out. I busied myself with my phone. Finally I sat in a chair facing the machine and waited. I had to wait! Horrors!
Changing the subject, I've slept on the couch for a few nights after a tiff and those nights have actually been quite beneficial to me. I have slept soundly through the night and have been able to awaken early enough to get dressed and ready at a leisurely pace. You see, Husband snores - loud enough to wake the dead. It's a truly awful sound, and it's quite frustrating to be awakened all night every night by the gutteral and very loud sounds of his snoring. I hate snoring, to be honest. I always have. My beloved grandfather snored and I hated it even then. I don't sleep through the night EVER when we share a bed. In fact, I'm eternally exhausted. Every day. No matter what I do. It's from lack of sleep. And on the nights when I've been awakened so many times that I'm really upset and/or angry, I end up stomping off in the dark to go sleep elsewhere (the couch). Why does HE get to remain in the comfortable bed when HE is the one who keeps me up all night? Good question.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
WINNERS
Yessiree, this mom and son team know what they're doing! We won 1st pace in his den and 2nd place in the pack (overall). Not bad at all! Two more trophies to add to our collection. :-)
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
I'm certifiable!
Yep, yer lookin' at a freshly-certified CPR expert. I'm also the proud owner of a "CPR Microshield." This handy dandy rubber/plastic contraption stores in a little 3"x2" flap attached to your keychain, which one is to rip open in the event of an emergency. It fits over a stranger's mouth and nose, allowing you to perform mouth-to-mouth on even the creepiest of characters. It even has a pair of rubber gloves inside! Well worth the $8 it cost me.
I would have welcomed one of those on some of the dates I had in college!
And Atlanta is enjoying day 2 of rain. Because most of Georgia has suffered from a drought the rain is welcomed. Being on water restriction really sucks. The problem with rain in Atlanta is the traffic. Most of the drivers in this city can't drive in perfect conditions. When you add water to Atlanta drivers you get INSTANT IDIOTS.
The photo was taken with my phone last night as I was leaving work (after the CPR class). It was raining and traffic was bumper-to-bumper. It took me an hour to get home, 8 miles away!
Which, of course, brings to mind a much-loved song....
When lonely days turn to lonely nights,
you take a trip to the city lights
and take the long way home,
take the long way home.
You never see what you wanna see,
forever playin’ to the gallery,
you take the long way home,
take the long way home.
Take The Long Way Home - Supertramp
And for those who recall my towel snafu of yesterday, I made damn sure to pack one today. :-)
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Cardiopulmonary resuscitation
Today I'm taking a 4 hour class to get certified in CPR and First Aid. This will be at least the 3rd time that I've been certified; I never renew it, and it lapses.
Da job is paying for it, as it was felt that a number of persons should be capable of the life-saving skills the certification affords. I signed up immediately.
It gets away from this buttcramping desk and my gagsnort neighbor early, but it also keeps me here longer. I leave at 4:30, but the class is from 2-6pm. By the time I get home it will be too dark to run. But I planned for this and slipped in a good 45 minutes of workout on the elliptical today.
Unfortunately, I forgot my towel. Because I was dripping with sweat and had to get back into a nice suit, and because I knew I would be attending this class later, I had to take a shower anyway. So I did. And then I had to stand in the shower stall waiting for whomever was in there changing to leave so I could streak across the room to the dressing stall. I pulled a dog move and tried to shake off most of the moisture, but mostly I just stood there and dripped dry. Nice, huh? Yes, I am quite the moron some days, but at least I'm not alone.
Alison - Elvis Costello
Da job is paying for it, as it was felt that a number of persons should be capable of the life-saving skills the certification affords. I signed up immediately.
It gets away from this buttcramping desk and my gagsnort neighbor early, but it also keeps me here longer. I leave at 4:30, but the class is from 2-6pm. By the time I get home it will be too dark to run. But I planned for this and slipped in a good 45 minutes of workout on the elliptical today.
Unfortunately, I forgot my towel. Because I was dripping with sweat and had to get back into a nice suit, and because I knew I would be attending this class later, I had to take a shower anyway. So I did. And then I had to stand in the shower stall waiting for whomever was in there changing to leave so I could streak across the room to the dressing stall. I pulled a dog move and tried to shake off most of the moisture, but mostly I just stood there and dripped dry. Nice, huh? Yes, I am quite the moron some days, but at least I'm not alone.
Alison,
I know this world is killin' you
oh, Alison,
my aim is true....
Alison - Elvis Costello
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
I've been tagged!
Found this on Shanna's space and she tagged me as one to take part, so here goes....
Two Names You Go By: Just two? Because I've been called lotsa stuff and I've answered to most! For simplicity's sake, though, I'll play along. "Mom" and "Hon."
Things You Are Wearing Right Now: A long gray skirt; a black top with a long black camisole under; black heels.
Two things you want (or have) in a relationship: Honesty & Humor
Two of Your Favorite Things to do: Crank the good tunes really loud and dance around and take photographs of my kids and macros of beautiful flowers.
Two things you did last night: Watched American Idol with the family and helped kids with homework (between dinner, cleanup and laundry, but that's way more than two things).
Two people you Last Talked To: The Boss and my coughgagsnort coworker (to let her know that our client had arrived).
Two Things You're doing tomorrow: work, and then I'm getting certified in CPR and First Aid after.
Two Longest Car Rides: My family drove from Mississippi to California one summer when I was 16. That's THE longest. The second longest must have been a drive from Phoenix to California two years ago with my own family.
Two Favorite Drinks: Unsweetened iced tea and Diet Dr. Pepper (though an ice cold Coors Light is always good, or a good wine)
Two Things About Me you may not have known: (1) I lived in Hawaii for three years on the island of Maui; (2) I was trained in classical ballet from the time I was 3 until I was 17; I was in a ballet company for many of those years.
Two jobs I have had in my life: I worked in an art gallery as an "art consultant" when I lived in Hawaii and I was a substance abuse counselor for a few years.
Two Movies I would watch over and over: The Sound of Music and Breakfast at Tiffany's
Two of my favorite foods: sushi and ravioli
Two places I'd rather be right now: skiing in Colorado or snorkling near a tropical island
I won't tag anyone, but the three of you who read my blog now and then (other than Shanna), please consider yourselves tagged.... :-)
Two Names You Go By: Just two? Because I've been called lotsa stuff and I've answered to most! For simplicity's sake, though, I'll play along. "Mom" and "Hon."
Things You Are Wearing Right Now: A long gray skirt; a black top with a long black camisole under; black heels.
Two things you want (or have) in a relationship: Honesty & Humor
Two of Your Favorite Things to do: Crank the good tunes really loud and dance around and take photographs of my kids and macros of beautiful flowers.
Two things you did last night: Watched American Idol with the family and helped kids with homework (between dinner, cleanup and laundry, but that's way more than two things).
Two people you Last Talked To: The Boss and my coughgagsnort coworker (to let her know that our client had arrived).
Two Things You're doing tomorrow: work, and then I'm getting certified in CPR and First Aid after.
Two Longest Car Rides: My family drove from Mississippi to California one summer when I was 16. That's THE longest. The second longest must have been a drive from Phoenix to California two years ago with my own family.
Two Favorite Drinks: Unsweetened iced tea and Diet Dr. Pepper (though an ice cold Coors Light is always good, or a good wine)
Two Things About Me you may not have known: (1) I lived in Hawaii for three years on the island of Maui; (2) I was trained in classical ballet from the time I was 3 until I was 17; I was in a ballet company for many of those years.
Two jobs I have had in my life: I worked in an art gallery as an "art consultant" when I lived in Hawaii and I was a substance abuse counselor for a few years.
Two Movies I would watch over and over: The Sound of Music and Breakfast at Tiffany's
Two of my favorite foods: sushi and ravioli
Two places I'd rather be right now: skiing in Colorado or snorkling near a tropical island
I won't tag anyone, but the three of you who read my blog now and then (other than Shanna), please consider yourselves tagged.... :-)
Cleanse my what?
"Cleanse your colon"
I've been getting these weird emails every day for two weeks!
What the eff? Is this a drug, some sort of heavy duty, super duper enema? (I delete them immediately without opening them, so I really don't even know what they're touting.) Secondly, how the hell do these people know that my colon needs cleansing?? Creepy.
And now for some "Whiney Wednesday:"
I have just learned that tuition at my kids' ridiculously expensive school has gone up AGAIN. This time it went up about $2,400 EACH, AND we are required to purchase Apple laptops to the school's specification. Grrrrr! I'm pissed off. Actually, I feel more sick than pissed. I just don't know how I can keep this up.
I was already paying about $30K per year for the two of them to go to school. Now it's going to be about $35k. And this is for tuition only; this doesn't count the summer-spring uniforms or the winter uniforms (which are different), nor the school supplies which they supply (for uniformity), but which we are billed for, nor many other charges throughout the year. I'm being taken advantage of (translation: FUCKED IN THE ASS) because I have intelligent kids and I live in a big city whose public school system is SHIT. I really have no choice. 4 more years for my woman-child and *gulp* 9 more years for my man cub.
Suck it up, AtlantaMom.
My always kind and thoughtful Dad would say "Buck up," to which I always retorted (in my mind only, of course!) "shut the fuck up." It rhymed and it made me feel better.
Ok Wednesday Whine over.
The man cub got his first "shiner" yesterday at baseball practice. The ONE practice I missed! I felt so guilty learning that he had been hurt and I wasn't there to comfort him...The fact that I couldn't have done anything means nothing, of course. I had to pick up the dog from daycare, which made me late, so I decided to skip that practice and instead work on a yummy dinner. I was shocked and dismayed when he walked in with a big red lump just under his right eye. The ice pack came far too late; it will be purple by tonight or tomorrow morning.
Later I realized it was a sort of right of passage and told him the story about my first shiner, also from a baseball. As I recalled, I was playing with the neighborhood kids and my dad was pitching (the father unit actually being there was the real shocker). I was up to hit and he threw a wild one that beaned me in the eye. I also recall that my mom was pissed that I had to walk around with a black eye for a week. Ah, well.
I took a picture for the boy's scrapbook. :-)
Sunglasses At Night - Corey Hart
(remember that one?)
I've been getting these weird emails every day for two weeks!
What the eff? Is this a drug, some sort of heavy duty, super duper enema? (I delete them immediately without opening them, so I really don't even know what they're touting.) Secondly, how the hell do these people know that my colon needs cleansing?? Creepy.
And now for some "Whiney Wednesday:"
I have just learned that tuition at my kids' ridiculously expensive school has gone up AGAIN. This time it went up about $2,400 EACH, AND we are required to purchase Apple laptops to the school's specification. Grrrrr! I'm pissed off. Actually, I feel more sick than pissed. I just don't know how I can keep this up.
I was already paying about $30K per year for the two of them to go to school. Now it's going to be about $35k. And this is for tuition only; this doesn't count the summer-spring uniforms or the winter uniforms (which are different), nor the school supplies which they supply (for uniformity), but which we are billed for, nor many other charges throughout the year. I'm being taken advantage of (translation: FUCKED IN THE ASS) because I have intelligent kids and I live in a big city whose public school system is SHIT. I really have no choice. 4 more years for my woman-child and *gulp* 9 more years for my man cub.
Suck it up, AtlantaMom.
My always kind and thoughtful Dad would say "Buck up," to which I always retorted (in my mind only, of course!) "shut the fuck up." It rhymed and it made me feel better.
Ok Wednesday Whine over.
The man cub got his first "shiner" yesterday at baseball practice. The ONE practice I missed! I felt so guilty learning that he had been hurt and I wasn't there to comfort him...The fact that I couldn't have done anything means nothing, of course. I had to pick up the dog from daycare, which made me late, so I decided to skip that practice and instead work on a yummy dinner. I was shocked and dismayed when he walked in with a big red lump just under his right eye. The ice pack came far too late; it will be purple by tonight or tomorrow morning.
Later I realized it was a sort of right of passage and told him the story about my first shiner, also from a baseball. As I recalled, I was playing with the neighborhood kids and my dad was pitching (the father unit actually being there was the real shocker). I was up to hit and he threw a wild one that beaned me in the eye. I also recall that my mom was pissed that I had to walk around with a black eye for a week. Ah, well.
I took a picture for the boy's scrapbook. :-)
And I wear my sunglasses at night
so I can,
so I can
forget my name while you collect your claim.
And I wear my sunglasses at night
so I can,
so I can
see the light that’s right before my eyes.
Sunglasses At Night - Corey Hart
(remember that one?)
Monday, February 18, 2008
Happy as a hamster on a workout wheel
I think I've finally hammered out a pattern of workouts.
Much as I hate to admit it, the blasted elliptical is quite the machine. In fact, I've become obsessed with it, and I want one for myself! I'm loathe to use the machine at work, but until I can scrape up $4,500 to get the same model I can use for free at work, I'll just have to suck it up.
I've decided that I am willing to be a hamster for a little while each day if it gives me the results I'm seeing (and feeling)! In fact, I've incorporated the machine into my fitness life and plan to continue to use it at least 4 times per week - always on my lunch break - and keep my running schedule after work on the days that I'm able.
It's a nice change from only running, and the change is beneficial in other ways - different muscles are worked and it keeps my metabolism and cardiovascular fitness "on its toes," so to speak.
*Bowed head* So there it is. I must admit defeat and shamefully also admit that I am in fact a hamster. ("I am hamster. Hear me squeak.")
My body has missed daily, strenuous exercise. I suppose that because I worked out so vigorously and almost daily from the time I was a child with dance, aerobics, then martial arts, that my body just NEEDS that to function normally. Since I added daily workouts back into my life I feel different. Better. More like myself - the younger me. I feel like a veil has lifted.
Is this "happy?" or is this just not stressed? Because I'm pretty sure I've been happy. But I'm not positive. How does one know when one is happy? There are no happiness measures that I'm aware of. I would venture to guess that in order to truly understand and feel happiness, one must truly understand and have felt sadness, hopelessness, despair. And if that is indeed the case, then I am certainly qualified to state if and when I am happy.
At any rate, my athletic rebirth (or is it a regression?) has been as effective as shooting up any of today's popular SSRIs. Who needs synthetic antidepressants when we are all equipped with endorphins?!
Baker Street – Gerry Rafferty
Much as I hate to admit it, the blasted elliptical is quite the machine. In fact, I've become obsessed with it, and I want one for myself! I'm loathe to use the machine at work, but until I can scrape up $4,500 to get the same model I can use for free at work, I'll just have to suck it up.
I've decided that I am willing to be a hamster for a little while each day if it gives me the results I'm seeing (and feeling)! In fact, I've incorporated the machine into my fitness life and plan to continue to use it at least 4 times per week - always on my lunch break - and keep my running schedule after work on the days that I'm able.
It's a nice change from only running, and the change is beneficial in other ways - different muscles are worked and it keeps my metabolism and cardiovascular fitness "on its toes," so to speak.
*Bowed head* So there it is. I must admit defeat and shamefully also admit that I am in fact a hamster. ("I am hamster. Hear me squeak.")
My body has missed daily, strenuous exercise. I suppose that because I worked out so vigorously and almost daily from the time I was a child with dance, aerobics, then martial arts, that my body just NEEDS that to function normally. Since I added daily workouts back into my life I feel different. Better. More like myself - the younger me. I feel like a veil has lifted.
Is this "happy?" or is this just not stressed? Because I'm pretty sure I've been happy. But I'm not positive. How does one know when one is happy? There are no happiness measures that I'm aware of. I would venture to guess that in order to truly understand and feel happiness, one must truly understand and have felt sadness, hopelessness, despair. And if that is indeed the case, then I am certainly qualified to state if and when I am happy.
At any rate, my athletic rebirth (or is it a regression?) has been as effective as shooting up any of today's popular SSRIs. Who needs synthetic antidepressants when we are all equipped with endorphins?!
You used to think that it was so easy.
You used to say that it was so easy,
but you’re tryin’,
you’re tryin’ now.
Another year and then you’ll be happy.
Just one more year and then you’ll be happy.
But you’re cryin’,
you’re cryin’ now.
Baker Street – Gerry Rafferty
Saturday, February 16, 2008
For the love of a pet
At 8:30 a.m. on this lovely, lazy Saturday morning I received a call from my mother. Sobbing uncontrollably, she managed to let me know that her baby (the dog) had just passed away in her arms. Apparently they learned yesterday that she was bleeding internally and must be let go. Their veterinarian came to the house this morning to quietly allow her to pass away. My mother called while my father was burying her.
While I'm not close to my parents, hearing my mother's pain through the telephone line touched something in me and I began to cry.
I remembered going through the same pain not long ago with my own favorite dog. It was the single most gut-wrenching event I've experienced. She died with her head in my lap, my tears falling on her nose as I softly stroked her head and told over and over what a good girl she was. I'll never forget that day.
November 16, 2006. It was "the day the sky cried." I made that drive to the veterinary office, trying to watch the road through my tears. My long-time friend and protector was in the back seat, taking her last ride in the car. As I drove, the sky opened up. It rained and rained that day, matching my own torrent of tears.
It took my children and me quite a long time to get over the death of our beloved dog. Her absence left a gaping hole in our lives that wasn't filled until we picked out a new puppy together. This new puppy love gave us the ability to finally let go of the pain and loss....
Time really does heal wounds. I know that in time my mother will be ready for a new wriggling, warm bundle of playfullness.
And so today I will think fondly of the very loved and spoiled Rottweiler - the dog who captured all the love and affection from my mother that I only dreamed of. Rest well, sweet girl.
While I'm not close to my parents, hearing my mother's pain through the telephone line touched something in me and I began to cry.
I remembered going through the same pain not long ago with my own favorite dog. It was the single most gut-wrenching event I've experienced. She died with her head in my lap, my tears falling on her nose as I softly stroked her head and told over and over what a good girl she was. I'll never forget that day.
November 16, 2006. It was "the day the sky cried." I made that drive to the veterinary office, trying to watch the road through my tears. My long-time friend and protector was in the back seat, taking her last ride in the car. As I drove, the sky opened up. It rained and rained that day, matching my own torrent of tears.
It took my children and me quite a long time to get over the death of our beloved dog. Her absence left a gaping hole in our lives that wasn't filled until we picked out a new puppy together. This new puppy love gave us the ability to finally let go of the pain and loss....
Time really does heal wounds. I know that in time my mother will be ready for a new wriggling, warm bundle of playfullness.
And so today I will think fondly of the very loved and spoiled Rottweiler - the dog who captured all the love and affection from my mother that I only dreamed of. Rest well, sweet girl.
Friday, February 15, 2008
The homeless gal appeared again today (I snapped a picture with my phone as she walked back up the street). She stood right by my car holding up her sign. She looked at me. I couldn't look at her and not give her anything, but I don't have any money. I didn't even have a dollar! I rolled my window down and dumped out what change I had in my wallet - all .63 of it - and handed it to her, apologizing for having no cash. I won't be visiting the vending machine today for lunch, but that's ok - my missing lunch surely doesn't mean I'm going to starve. I'm the idiot who can't seem to remember to BRING LUNCH to work.
After the dinner I had last night, I could do with skipping a whole DAY of eating - if not two days! It was a gluttonous feast. And besides, I'll be working out during my lunch break, so I won't even miss not eating today. I've had to resort to hamster life this week due to rain a few times and after-work baseball practices.
I worked for two days on a special dinner for my Valentine (I made the dessert and appetizers ahead of time). I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. Our menu was as follows:
Appetizer: seafood (crab and shrimp) stuffed avacados
Salad: bleu cheese salad (romaine hearts, toasted almonds, egg, bleu cheese)
Entree: filet mignon with balsalmic and red wine glaze, rosemary red potatoes and asparagus with an onion-wine glaze and sprinkling of parmesan cheese.
Dessert: chocolate truffle cheesecake
Hubby supplied the champagne and red wine.
After the kids went to bed hubby and I had our dessert (he had 2 pieces of cheesecake) and watched 3 episodes of I Love Lucy.
I have a very good life.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Stop and smell the roses!
It was a busy morning in my household.
I awoke at 4:00 a.m. to the sound of snoring. Unable to get back to sleep, despite repeated poking and prodding and moaning and groaning and shaking of the bed, I grabbed my pillows in a huff and stomped downstairs to the couch, where I fitfully slept until 6:30. Too late!
I rushed upstairs to get ready for the day, get Valentine's Day candies separated by family member, cards signed, workout clothes and clean towel stashed.
I rushed downstairs to the kitchen, a bag in each hand, doled out goodies to kiddies and hubby, sent the man cub to the basement to feed the cats and the fish, and was ready to rush out to the car (so much rushing!!). I grabbed my vitamins and coffee and was about to run out the door when I suddenly realized that I was being stared at. My husband and daughter were standing there with a "well?" look on their faces. "What?" I kept repeating. He and the woman-child only grinned. "What?" And finally, FINALLY, I saw. Right in front of me, and I mean right in front of my face, was an absolutely beautiful bouquet of a dozen roses - pink and lavendar, and another dozen stood in the middle of the kitchen table!
I dropped the bags and stopped - to smell the roses....
I awoke at 4:00 a.m. to the sound of snoring. Unable to get back to sleep, despite repeated poking and prodding and moaning and groaning and shaking of the bed, I grabbed my pillows in a huff and stomped downstairs to the couch, where I fitfully slept until 6:30. Too late!
I rushed upstairs to get ready for the day, get Valentine's Day candies separated by family member, cards signed, workout clothes and clean towel stashed.
I rushed downstairs to the kitchen, a bag in each hand, doled out goodies to kiddies and hubby, sent the man cub to the basement to feed the cats and the fish, and was ready to rush out to the car (so much rushing!!). I grabbed my vitamins and coffee and was about to run out the door when I suddenly realized that I was being stared at. My husband and daughter were standing there with a "well?" look on their faces. "What?" I kept repeating. He and the woman-child only grinned. "What?" And finally, FINALLY, I saw. Right in front of me, and I mean right in front of my face, was an absolutely beautiful bouquet of a dozen roses - pink and lavendar, and another dozen stood in the middle of the kitchen table!
I dropped the bags and stopped - to smell the roses....
Yer it!
I got tagged or meme-d by mini.
The topic is 7 random or weird things about yourself.
Since pretty much everything about me is weird, it might take me some time for me to narrow it down to only 7!
1. I have 2 tattoos; only one of which is visible, and I hide that one every day because I have to play the part of a professional in a professional setting. (I sit on the other one, which is a yellow smiley face).
2. I once had my navel pierced (I took it out when I was pregnant) and my nose pierced. The nose piercing almost got me disinherited. but the parents never knew about the navel piercing. Such things are expected from people “on the other side of the tracks,” not from someone from “a good family.” Both piercings are long gone. No scar was left on my nose, but I can see one on my navel – a reminder of my feeble attempt at rebelling.
3. I’ve battled with disordered eating since I was in college because my entire family is obsessed with being thin. I learned it from my mother, who at 60 is a size 2.
4. I have all 55 Nancy Drew books in the original series. I’ve read them all multiple times. Nancy Drew was my heroine because she was the only smart, pretty, cool female who had the same un-cool color of hair as I did.
5. I hide my naked body from my husband because I’m so modest and ashamed of my body. I don't know why I'm this modest, but it's painful. I even get dressed in the closet in our bathroom sometimes.
6. I can’t go an hour without Carmex on my lips. I call it “lip crack,” and I’ve been known to wander the house for hours searching for it. I can’t sleep without it slathered on my lips. I have stashes all over – in my car, my purse, at work, in my bedside table and in my bathroom. I won’t let my kids use it because I’m scared they too will become a slave to lip crack.
7. I am mostly ambidextrous; while I can’t write very neatly with my left hand, I can do just about everything else with it.
I don’t really know 7 bloggers, but I can tag the ones I do trade stories with. And since I can’t re-tag the blogger who tagged me, that’s one less now... and so I tag only 4. While there are other blogs I read, I don’t necessarily trade comments with them yet.
Shanna
IronMary
Crumbs
Jessica
The rules are as follows:
# Link to the person who tagged you
# Post the rules on your blog.
# Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
# Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
# Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged.
The topic is 7 random or weird things about yourself.
Since pretty much everything about me is weird, it might take me some time for me to narrow it down to only 7!
1. I have 2 tattoos; only one of which is visible, and I hide that one every day because I have to play the part of a professional in a professional setting. (I sit on the other one, which is a yellow smiley face).
2. I once had my navel pierced (I took it out when I was pregnant) and my nose pierced. The nose piercing almost got me disinherited. but the parents never knew about the navel piercing. Such things are expected from people “on the other side of the tracks,” not from someone from “a good family.” Both piercings are long gone. No scar was left on my nose, but I can see one on my navel – a reminder of my feeble attempt at rebelling.
3. I’ve battled with disordered eating since I was in college because my entire family is obsessed with being thin. I learned it from my mother, who at 60 is a size 2.
4. I have all 55 Nancy Drew books in the original series. I’ve read them all multiple times. Nancy Drew was my heroine because she was the only smart, pretty, cool female who had the same un-cool color of hair as I did.
5. I hide my naked body from my husband because I’m so modest and ashamed of my body. I don't know why I'm this modest, but it's painful. I even get dressed in the closet in our bathroom sometimes.
6. I can’t go an hour without Carmex on my lips. I call it “lip crack,” and I’ve been known to wander the house for hours searching for it. I can’t sleep without it slathered on my lips. I have stashes all over – in my car, my purse, at work, in my bedside table and in my bathroom. I won’t let my kids use it because I’m scared they too will become a slave to lip crack.
7. I am mostly ambidextrous; while I can’t write very neatly with my left hand, I can do just about everything else with it.
I don’t really know 7 bloggers, but I can tag the ones I do trade stories with. And since I can’t re-tag the blogger who tagged me, that’s one less now... and so I tag only 4. While there are other blogs I read, I don’t necessarily trade comments with them yet.
Shanna
IronMary
Crumbs
Jessica
The rules are as follows:
# Link to the person who tagged you
# Post the rules on your blog.
# Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
# Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
# Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Just the facts, ma'am
How do you tell your husband, best friend, lover that his ever-increasing stomach worries you - and not hurt his feelings?
Does one say it matter-of-factly? Nonchalantly? Does one hint around? Casually leave health reports about weight and diabetes, heart disease, hypertension, etc. lying about?
When I met my husband he had been jogging several times weekly for a time. He was slim and taut and had no love handles. I don't know what happened. Five years later, he NEVER exercises, he smokes too much, drinks heavily, and can stuff more food into his mouth in one sitting than I ever thought humanly possible.
I don't know what to do to help him, inspire him, push him. If I casually bring up his lack of exercise, or ask about when HE plans to run/walk/exercise, his response is "We'll get there." Whah? He says the same thing about quitting smoking.... "We'll get there." All that really means is "I'm too lazy and I don't care enough to change anything."
I love this man more than I have ever loved another person (other than my children), but I'm afraid of what he is doing to his body, what he is letting himself become.
In the meantime, I will keep on keepin' on. I am on a mission from which I cannot be deterred. Not for anything. Not for anyone. This one is for me.
Twenty-five years ago
they spoke out
and they broke out
of recession and oppression
and together they toked
and they folked out
with guitars around a bonfire
just singin' and clappin'
Man, what the hell happened?
Guess some were spell bound,
some were hell bound,
Some they fell down,
and some got back up
and fought back 'gainst the melt down.
And their kids were hippie chicks
or hypocrites
because fashion is smashin'
the true meaning of it.
So don't delay, act now!
Supplies are running out!
Allow, if you're still alive,
six to eight years to arrive.
And if you follow, there may be a tomorrow.
But if the offer's shun,
you might as well be walking on the sun.
Walkin' on the Sun - Smash Mouth
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Squeak squeak squeak
Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. I have transgressed against my own rules of exercise.
Yes, that's right. The hamster wheel. *Bowed head*
I will be unable to run today after work - my man cub has baseball practice as soon as I get home from work....then it's homework, dinner, laundry, etc. And so I accepted defeat and became a hamster in the office gym. I cranked up the tunes in my ears and went for it. I squeaked around the ellipticalhamsterwheel for 3 miles and then switched to the treadmillhamsterwheel for 1 mile.
So here I sit at my desk red-faced and hot, but immensely proud that my workout is done.
Life is good.
Yes, that's right. The hamster wheel. *Bowed head*
I will be unable to run today after work - my man cub has baseball practice as soon as I get home from work....then it's homework, dinner, laundry, etc. And so I accepted defeat and became a hamster in the office gym. I cranked up the tunes in my ears and went for it. I squeaked around the ellipticalhamsterwheel for 3 miles and then switched to the treadmillhamsterwheel for 1 mile.
So here I sit at my desk red-faced and hot, but immensely proud that my workout is done.
Life is good.
Word Up – CameoWave your hands in the air
like you don’t care.
Ride by the people as
they stop to look and stare.
Do your dance.
Do your dance.
Do your dance quick, mama.
Come on, baby, tell me what’s the word?
Word up!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Stranger
Sometimes I forget who I am.
I don't mean my name - but my person, my personality, my reason for being. Today is one of those days.
I've worn so many hats, so many masks, for so many people, for so long, I sometimes forget which one is really me. Or are they all parts of me? And if they are all pieces of me, then where is the whole? Who is the whole? And who gets all of me?
The Stranger – Billy Joel
Bitch - Meredith Brooks
I never give money to panhandlers - we have so many in the city, and it's illegal. But this morning a young woman was panhandling on busy Peachtree Street. She looked dirty and tired and she held a piece of cardboard that had child-like letters scrawled on it, "Homeless and hungry." She walked slowly down the line of cars at the stoplight holding that sign. And there I sat in a Mercedes. I felt guilty. No matter that it's my husband's car, or that I only have $7 to my name until payday. I knew how I must appear driving that car, and I knew that I was on my way to a job, then to a warm and comfortable home where I would put dinner on the table. And so I rolled down the window and handed her one of my seven dollars. It felt good.
My mom used to say that I got a checkmark by my name when I was good and an X by my name when I was bad, presumably from god. I got a lot of Xs back then, according to her. Well, I no longer believe in any one single being called God, but I do believe in karma.
Anyway, maybe I got a checkmark today.
I don't mean my name - but my person, my personality, my reason for being. Today is one of those days.
I've worn so many hats, so many masks, for so many people, for so long, I sometimes forget which one is really me. Or are they all parts of me? And if they are all pieces of me, then where is the whole? Who is the whole? And who gets all of me?
Well, we all have a face
that we hide away forever.
And we take them out
and show ourselves
when everyone has gone.
Some are satin,
some are steel.
Some are silk
and some are leather.
They’re the faces of the stranger,
but we love
to try them on.
The Stranger – Billy Joel
I’m a little bit of everything
all rolled into one.
I’m a bitch,
I’m a lover,
I’m a child,
I’m a mother,
I’m a sinner,
I’m a saint,
I do not feel ashamed.
I’m your hell,
I’m your dream,
I’m nothing in between.
You know you wouldn’t want it
any other way.
Bitch - Meredith Brooks
I never give money to panhandlers - we have so many in the city, and it's illegal. But this morning a young woman was panhandling on busy Peachtree Street. She looked dirty and tired and she held a piece of cardboard that had child-like letters scrawled on it, "Homeless and hungry." She walked slowly down the line of cars at the stoplight holding that sign. And there I sat in a Mercedes. I felt guilty. No matter that it's my husband's car, or that I only have $7 to my name until payday. I knew how I must appear driving that car, and I knew that I was on my way to a job, then to a warm and comfortable home where I would put dinner on the table. And so I rolled down the window and handed her one of my seven dollars. It felt good.
My mom used to say that I got a checkmark by my name when I was good and an X by my name when I was bad, presumably from god. I got a lot of Xs back then, according to her. Well, I no longer believe in any one single being called God, but I do believe in karma.
Anyway, maybe I got a checkmark today.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Mimosas!
Notice - new juicer
To me, there is nothing quite like starting a weekend morning with mimosas. These are not your average run-of-the-mill mimosas, either. I personally juiced 3lbs of fresh tangelos for these mimosas. You can't buy tangelo juice, but I have to say that if there is a heaven, it will be offered there. Along with an endless supply of champagne, of course.
And hey - after my third (or is it fourth?) of these I can barely remember the phone call from my parents last night.
It's always the same. The phone rings and the caller i.d. reads "PARENTS." I either groan and don't answer it, or I groan and answer it. I never actually want to pick up the phone when they call.
For the last year or so the only thing we seem to discuss is their dog. Or rather, my mom's dog. Her baby. And god, how she dotes on that dog, relaying every cute trick or event to anyone who will listen. What proud parents they are - of the dog. And what a lucky dog she has been!
I sometimes think that if my mother had paid half as much attention to me when I was a little girl as she has paid to that dog........ Well, who knows, but most likely I would be only half as fucked up as I am. No, huh uh, I have no resentment.
As life sometimes goes, the 7-yr-old dog was diagnosed with bone cancer in her leg last year. The dog was given 3-6 months to live. Thousands and thousands of dollars (for radiation treatment, medications, trips to multiple veterinarians for second and third opinions, a trip to a vet surgeon hundreds of miles away to see if the leg could be partially amputated and the dog fitted with a prosthesis) and 10 months later, the dog is still dying.
That's no surprise, of course. What is a surprise is all the money they've dumped into trying to save her when they've been told it was impossible. There seems to be an endless supply of money available for them to throw to the dog, but there wasn't enough to help out their daughter who was a single mother and in danger of starving. Yes, I did make my own bed, and yes I must lie in it. It's OK. I understand.
Oh no, don't be silly! I'm not jealous of a dog!
And "Well, how are you and the kids?" comes at the end of the conversation. The usual quick "oh, fine, great, blahblah" and "Well, I need to get back to dinner." Oh yeah, we'll talk again soon. Uh huh. Yeah, I know we need to come visit. Uh huh. Love you too. Buh bye.
My parents were sort of paradoxial role models for me. While I could never (would never) call them to ask parenting advice - for anything - ever, I most certainly learned from them. I learned what NOT to do and say to my children. I learned that everything you do and everything you say to your children affects them. I learned that words hurt more than beatings. I learned that words can never be unsaid, and that they can leave deep scars.
Well that's something. Thanks, y'all.
Damn these mimosas are good.
Running amok
I was watching TV last night and caught part of an ad for some sort of exercise equipment, and I had an epiphany - about treadmills, ellipticals and stationary bikes. My dislike for them. My inability to use them, that is.
The word bouncing around my brain was HAMSTERS!
I'm convinced that treadmills, ellipticals, stairmasters and stationary bikes are hamster wheels. Every time I get on one of them I feel like a rodent on a squeaky effing wheel! No thanks.
Of course, my stubbornness about this costs me days of running; if it's raining, I'm pretty much screwed.
And speaking of running, I have just added to my monstrous itunes collection. With the excuse of needing more running tunes I lazily browsed the online music store (candy store for me), nonchalantly buying everything that took my fancy. About $42 later I had a brand new ipod folder. On today's run I will definitely be dancing to the beat of some different drums, babyee.
(Note to self: Teengirlchild must never learn how many songs I purchased in that one sitting!)
Mmmmm chocolate flavored coffee (favorite) and only myself and the dogs up. Of course, that won't last because monsterdog has found her favorite toy - a huge orange rubber thing with a very LOUD squeaker. It squeaks when bitten, chewed, thrown, stomped on and shaken. Apparently.
update later - just as I typed the above, I hear hubby up. Damn dog!
The word bouncing around my brain was HAMSTERS!
I'm convinced that treadmills, ellipticals, stairmasters and stationary bikes are hamster wheels. Every time I get on one of them I feel like a rodent on a squeaky effing wheel! No thanks.
Of course, my stubbornness about this costs me days of running; if it's raining, I'm pretty much screwed.
And speaking of running, I have just added to my monstrous itunes collection. With the excuse of needing more running tunes I lazily browsed the online music store (candy store for me), nonchalantly buying everything that took my fancy. About $42 later I had a brand new ipod folder. On today's run I will definitely be dancing to the beat of some different drums, babyee.
(Note to self: Teengirlchild must never learn how many songs I purchased in that one sitting!)
Mmmmm chocolate flavored coffee (favorite) and only myself and the dogs up. Of course, that won't last because monsterdog has found her favorite toy - a huge orange rubber thing with a very LOUD squeaker. It squeaks when bitten, chewed, thrown, stomped on and shaken. Apparently.
update later - just as I typed the above, I hear hubby up. Damn dog!
Friday, February 8, 2008
Mind over body
Yesterday's run was hard.
It was the very same run as the day before, but for some reason I was dragging. I had to REALLY push myself. I wanted to stop and walk several times. The problem with that was that I was in a bit of a rush, needing to get home and get showered and ready for a 7 p.m. meeting.
But I made it. Again. And to make up for my shitty time I sprinted the last leg (my street), which I now know was a mere .1122 miles, according to gmap-pedometer. Damn! I thought it was a bit longer. Sigh.
I seem to have those days about once a week. I don't know why. I wish I did. I hate feeling weak.
I need to be strong. Always. Tough-as-nails. Nothing breaks me. I am [strong] woman. See me survive.
Ahhh, but these baby steps are getting me there. Closer to my goal. I'm slowly letting go of the old, the bad and the ugly. Pfffffffffffffftttttttt
Yes, I'm going to be fine - just fine.
Everyday Is A Winding Road - Sheryl Crow
It was the very same run as the day before, but for some reason I was dragging. I had to REALLY push myself. I wanted to stop and walk several times. The problem with that was that I was in a bit of a rush, needing to get home and get showered and ready for a 7 p.m. meeting.
But I made it. Again. And to make up for my shitty time I sprinted the last leg (my street), which I now know was a mere .1122 miles, according to gmap-pedometer. Damn! I thought it was a bit longer. Sigh.
I seem to have those days about once a week. I don't know why. I wish I did. I hate feeling weak.
I need to be strong. Always. Tough-as-nails. Nothing breaks me. I am [strong] woman. See me survive.
Ahhh, but these baby steps are getting me there. Closer to my goal. I'm slowly letting go of the old, the bad and the ugly. Pfffffffffffffftttttttt
Yes, I'm going to be fine - just fine.
I used to ride with a vending machine repairman.
He said he’s been down this road
more than twice.
He was high on intellectualism.
I’ve never been there,
but the brochure looks nice.
Jump in, let’s go.
Lay back, enjoy the show.
Everybody gets high,
everybody gets low.
These are the days when anything goes.
Every day is a winding road.
I get a little bit closer.....
Every day is a faded sign.
I get a little bit closer
to feelin’ fine.....
Everyday Is A Winding Road - Sheryl Crow
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Blogger's Cramp
I figure if there's a "writer's cramp" there must be a "blogger's cramp" too, right?
I feel like I have nothing uplifting to discuss today - even to myself.
I realize that I've been bitching far too much lately, and I intend to be more mindful of that as I blog. I'll try to be more pleasant and happy and keep future bitching to a minimum.
Coughbullshitcough.
Maybe once a month I'll dedicate a blog to bitching. But gosh, where will I jot down all my daily bitches while I wait for "bitch day?" I wouldn't want to forget one! By George, I think I've got it! I'll have "bitch day" once a week instead of once a month. That will keep it more managable and will keep me from exploding. We wouldn't want an explosion.... So what day do I bitch, and from where do I begin counting? Hmmmmm
I'll just keep nursing my slow leak for now: Ppffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
Baby steps, AtlantaMom, baby steps.
My running self is already getting anxious about the March 22 5K. I am scared shitless of running in A RACE - in front of PEOPLE - and of being OFFICIALLY TIMED.
I'm especially anxious now that I'm now doubting my own clocking of miles. Someone seemed shocked/impressed in a comment on a previous blog. That told me something was off! Please know that I'm not using a stopwatch, nor am I having a third party time me. (I should!) I've simply been checking the digital clock in my kitchen before I run out the front door, and then checking it again when I come in.
The 7-minute miles I "clocked" myself at were after a mere 3 mile run. Does that make it sound less good? Believe me when I say that I'm not fast. I never was a sprinter and, in fact, have always sucked at it. Endurance was always my mantra.
I found a 5k a full 20 days prior to the one I've already signed up for. It's in Athens, Georgia, which is about an hour from here (translate: I won't know anyone). Sneaky, obsessive me looked up last year's race results and found the top 3 times in my age group to be: (1) age 38 - 19:17.2; (2) age 36 - 25:00.0; (3) age 38 - 25:56.6
Something inside of me is screaming YOU CAN DO THIS! And by "do this" I really just mean place in the top three in my age group. I just don't want to embarrass myself...
Vienna – Billy Joel
I feel like I have nothing uplifting to discuss today - even to myself.
I realize that I've been bitching far too much lately, and I intend to be more mindful of that as I blog. I'll try to be more pleasant and happy and keep future bitching to a minimum.
Coughbullshitcough.
Maybe once a month I'll dedicate a blog to bitching. But gosh, where will I jot down all my daily bitches while I wait for "bitch day?" I wouldn't want to forget one! By George, I think I've got it! I'll have "bitch day" once a week instead of once a month. That will keep it more managable and will keep me from exploding. We wouldn't want an explosion.... So what day do I bitch, and from where do I begin counting? Hmmmmm
I'll just keep nursing my slow leak for now: Ppffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
Baby steps, AtlantaMom, baby steps.
My running self is already getting anxious about the March 22 5K. I am scared shitless of running in A RACE - in front of PEOPLE - and of being OFFICIALLY TIMED.
I'm especially anxious now that I'm now doubting my own clocking of miles. Someone seemed shocked/impressed in a comment on a previous blog. That told me something was off! Please know that I'm not using a stopwatch, nor am I having a third party time me. (I should!) I've simply been checking the digital clock in my kitchen before I run out the front door, and then checking it again when I come in.
The 7-minute miles I "clocked" myself at were after a mere 3 mile run. Does that make it sound less good? Believe me when I say that I'm not fast. I never was a sprinter and, in fact, have always sucked at it. Endurance was always my mantra.
I found a 5k a full 20 days prior to the one I've already signed up for. It's in Athens, Georgia, which is about an hour from here (translate: I won't know anyone). Sneaky, obsessive me looked up last year's race results and found the top 3 times in my age group to be: (1) age 38 - 19:17.2; (2) age 36 - 25:00.0; (3) age 38 - 25:56.6
Something inside of me is screaming YOU CAN DO THIS! And by "do this" I really just mean place in the top three in my age group. I just don't want to embarrass myself...
Where’s the fire,
what’s the hurry about?
You better cool it off
before you burn it out.
You got so much to do
and only so many hours in a day...
hey hey hey
But you know that when the truth is told
that you can get what you want
or you can just get old.
You’re gonna kick off
before you even get halfway through...
oooh when will you realize
Vienna waits for you....
Slow down, you’re doin’ fine.
You can’t be everything you wanna be
before your time.
Although it’s so romantic
on the borderline tonight...tonight
Too bad, but it’s the laugh you lead;
you’re so ahead of yourself
that you forgot what you need.
Though you can see when you’re wrong,
you know you can’t always see when you’re right.
You’re right.
You got your passion,
you got your pride,
but don’t you know that only fools are satisfied
dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true.
oooh when will you realize
Vienna waits for you....
Vienna – Billy Joel
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
No pain, no gain
"If little labour, little are our gains;
Man’s fortunes are according to his pains."
Robert Herrick (1591-1674)
As is usual, and perhaps inevitable, the original has been butchered, but our popular version amounts to the same thing, really. That said, I'm gaining, baybee, I'm gaining. Everything hurts. Ahhh, well at least I can be certain that I'm alive, right?
Yesterday's route du jour was 3 miles. I really pushed that 3 miles such that my pace was about 7 minute miles. Not too shabby, but it won't win me any medals either. That's ok; I'm getting there. Very slowly, but getting there all the same. I suppose I could detour into the slow-but-steady-wins-the-race "Hare vs. the Tortoise" fable, but we all know it, so I'll skip it.
*We are interrupting today's blog to let said blogger bitch*
Ahem
Co-workers.
I have a co-worker whose office is directly next to mine. In fact, we share a wall. She's been here for approximately three years. I loved her to death for the first year or so, but at some point I began to feel some resentment toward her work ethic. That resentment has grown into resentment toward her person for some hideous and completely annoying habits.
First, her timesheet reads "Arrive: 8:30 a.m., Depart: 5:00 p.m." nearly every day. Interestingly, she rarely arrives before 9:30 and almost always leaves at around 4:00. She evidently feels above the laws that be, for whatever reason. She's salaried, so she gets paid for full-time work. That pisses me off. I'm not sure why it's even my business, but I resent it.
Second, she smokes all day every day. "Where's D?" I'm asked constantly. She's always in the smoking area. The woman gets paid to smoke. And that pisses me off too.
Now, to be completely frank and open to myself (for a blog is really a diary, right?), I was a smoker. In fact, I smoked for years. And I have D to thank for my quitting. Let me explain.
About a year or so ago, D reported that she had been diagnosed with lung cancer. She was promptly scheduled for surgery to remove the cancer, which was a success. She then took extended leave to rehabilitate. All was a success. She had dodged a bullet! It was miraculous! And what do you think happened to her smoking habit? Why nothing. She continued as if nothing had happened. That fact made me so sick that I quit right then and there. In the moments after learning that she had resumed smoking after BEATING DEATH I lost all respect for this woman. Suddenly she sickened me. But thanks to her I'm a non-smoker for over a year....
[Yes, all the years of martial arts, aerobics, etc. were done while smoking. And yes, I do know how stupid that was. As my Dad so eloquently put it, "That's like pissing in the wind."]
Further, this woman coughs, gags and snorts all day long. Every day. I don't mean sniffing, either, like with a runny nose. I mean she SNORTS. As in from-the-diaphram snorting. It's the most disgusting sound any one person could make, in my opinion. I'd rather hear the fat guy across the hall fart all day than hear her snorting. Over the last year or so the snorting has increased, such that it's evidently a habit. I liken it to a chinese torture. Just as the little drop of water between the eyes is fairly benign and unpainful at first, but grows and grows until it can kill.....her constant snorting has made me, quite frankly, insane.
- Thanks to Wikipedia for the following on Chinese water torture-
She frequently calls an hour or more after she is scheduled to have come in, only to say she won't be in. WTF? Who the hell does she think she is, anyway?
Now, the question that begs asking is this: Do I tattle? Is it my business to tell someone? Or do I assume that one day, at some point, her transgressions will come to light without any help from me? If I take the latter route my nose will stay clean and I will not be associated with anything having to do with her demise. On the other hand, If I know about her lies but say nothing, does that make me guilty? Certainly there are many instances where failure to come forth with knowledge makes one guilty.
What to do, what to do....
All You Zombies – The Hooters
Man’s fortunes are according to his pains."
Robert Herrick (1591-1674)
As is usual, and perhaps inevitable, the original has been butchered, but our popular version amounts to the same thing, really. That said, I'm gaining, baybee, I'm gaining. Everything hurts. Ahhh, well at least I can be certain that I'm alive, right?
Yesterday's route du jour was 3 miles. I really pushed that 3 miles such that my pace was about 7 minute miles. Not too shabby, but it won't win me any medals either. That's ok; I'm getting there. Very slowly, but getting there all the same. I suppose I could detour into the slow-but-steady-wins-the-race "Hare vs. the Tortoise" fable, but we all know it, so I'll skip it.
*We are interrupting today's blog to let said blogger bitch*
Ahem
Co-workers.
I have a co-worker whose office is directly next to mine. In fact, we share a wall. She's been here for approximately three years. I loved her to death for the first year or so, but at some point I began to feel some resentment toward her work ethic. That resentment has grown into resentment toward her person for some hideous and completely annoying habits.
First, her timesheet reads "Arrive: 8:30 a.m., Depart: 5:00 p.m." nearly every day. Interestingly, she rarely arrives before 9:30 and almost always leaves at around 4:00. She evidently feels above the laws that be, for whatever reason. She's salaried, so she gets paid for full-time work. That pisses me off. I'm not sure why it's even my business, but I resent it.
Second, she smokes all day every day. "Where's D?" I'm asked constantly. She's always in the smoking area. The woman gets paid to smoke. And that pisses me off too.
Now, to be completely frank and open to myself (for a blog is really a diary, right?), I was a smoker. In fact, I smoked for years. And I have D to thank for my quitting. Let me explain.
About a year or so ago, D reported that she had been diagnosed with lung cancer. She was promptly scheduled for surgery to remove the cancer, which was a success. She then took extended leave to rehabilitate. All was a success. She had dodged a bullet! It was miraculous! And what do you think happened to her smoking habit? Why nothing. She continued as if nothing had happened. That fact made me so sick that I quit right then and there. In the moments after learning that she had resumed smoking after BEATING DEATH I lost all respect for this woman. Suddenly she sickened me. But thanks to her I'm a non-smoker for over a year....
[Yes, all the years of martial arts, aerobics, etc. were done while smoking. And yes, I do know how stupid that was. As my Dad so eloquently put it, "That's like pissing in the wind."]
Further, this woman coughs, gags and snorts all day long. Every day. I don't mean sniffing, either, like with a runny nose. I mean she SNORTS. As in from-the-diaphram snorting. It's the most disgusting sound any one person could make, in my opinion. I'd rather hear the fat guy across the hall fart all day than hear her snorting. Over the last year or so the snorting has increased, such that it's evidently a habit. I liken it to a chinese torture. Just as the little drop of water between the eyes is fairly benign and unpainful at first, but grows and grows until it can kill.....her constant snorting has made me, quite frankly, insane.
- Thanks to Wikipedia for the following on Chinese water torture-
What is called the "Chinese water torture" was a torture described by [the Italian] Hippolytus de Marsiliis in the 16th century that was supposed to drive its victim insane with the stress of water dripping on a part of the forehead for a very long time. It may also be characterized by the inconsistent pattern of water drips. The desire for the human brain to make a pattern of the timing between the drops will also cause eventual insanity to set in.
She frequently calls an hour or more after she is scheduled to have come in, only to say she won't be in. WTF? Who the hell does she think she is, anyway?
Now, the question that begs asking is this: Do I tattle? Is it my business to tell someone? Or do I assume that one day, at some point, her transgressions will come to light without any help from me? If I take the latter route my nose will stay clean and I will not be associated with anything having to do with her demise. On the other hand, If I know about her lies but say nothing, does that make me guilty? Certainly there are many instances where failure to come forth with knowledge makes one guilty.
What to do, what to do....
All you zombies hide your faces
all you people in the street
all you sittin’ in high places
the piece is gonna fall on you
All You Zombies – The Hooters
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
The masochistic me
Another day and another new route. Yep, I'm the queen of new routes lately. Can't seem to get enough of them. I suppose in a way I'm trying to trick my body into running better, longer, faster. And why? Why am I even running? I give myself that old familiar shrugIdunnoshrug I used to give my parents when I was a teen.
Why indeed.
I didn't miss the bus or the train (and the fact that I don't take either has no bearing on this soapbox).
No one, other than the three people in my immediate family, really knows I'm running, so I'm not impressing anyone. I haven't run any races (yet), so I'm certainly not winning any medals or money.
So why?
I'm being chased! I'm running for my life - from age, a slowing metabolism, weight gain, poor circulation, loss of muscle mass, stress, sleeplessness and excuses.
And I'm chasing - strength, endurance, cardiovascular fitness (omigod did I just use the word "cardiovascular in a sentence?"), increased metabolism, weight loss, muscle tone and restful nights. It's a race against time, and oh yes, I will win this race.
And since it's just us friends, I should admit that I want the slim, sleek, fit machine of a body I used to have, but took for granted. "A Hot Mama" - that's what I wanna be. I'll buy the tee shirt. And I'll proudly prance around wearing it - all through the house.
*We apologize for that interruption and we now return to the previously scheduled show*
The new route is nice, and I'll repeat that one today. The worst part about this route for me is the face time on a VERY busy road. Most of the route meanders around a beautiful golf course neighborhood, but it ends on a traffic-laden road with a 4-way stop light.
To know me is to know that I'm very private - especially with my pain. Having to run FACING the traffic (and by "traffic" I mean a good 50+ cars) on the way back home was hard. I was horribly, frighteningly exposed. I felt like I was running down the road naked [read: nekkid]. I wondered if my arms were flailing about, or if my legs looked unstable, or if I was running like a geek. I wondered if the people in their cars could see my butt cheeks flapping with each stride, because god knows I could feel them. I wondered, because I notice runners when I'm in the car. I notice when someone is running so slow that the McDonald's-parking-lot-beggar-lady with one crutch passes easily. I notice when someone has a silly-looking gait, or if their knees hit with each step. And I laugh. Not aloud, of course, but inside. Deep inside, in my secret "neener neener" place.
I had to talk myself through my stage fright. "Look straight ahead. Don't look at them. Look straight ahead. Turn up the music. Look straight ahead. 1, 2 running shoe. 3, 4 this hurts more. 5, 6 don't get sick. 7, 8 doing great. 9, 10 home again. Almost there. Look straight ahead. Fat ass fat ass fat ass..."
And finally I could see the road from which my street branches. Home free. I did it. I DID IT!
I knew I could I knew I could I knew I could.
Lose Yourself - Eminem
Why indeed.
I didn't miss the bus or the train (and the fact that I don't take either has no bearing on this soapbox).
No one, other than the three people in my immediate family, really knows I'm running, so I'm not impressing anyone. I haven't run any races (yet), so I'm certainly not winning any medals or money.
So why?
I'm being chased! I'm running for my life - from age, a slowing metabolism, weight gain, poor circulation, loss of muscle mass, stress, sleeplessness and excuses.
And I'm chasing - strength, endurance, cardiovascular fitness (omigod did I just use the word "cardiovascular in a sentence?"), increased metabolism, weight loss, muscle tone and restful nights. It's a race against time, and oh yes, I will win this race.
And since it's just us friends, I should admit that I want the slim, sleek, fit machine of a body I used to have, but took for granted. "A Hot Mama" - that's what I wanna be. I'll buy the tee shirt. And I'll proudly prance around wearing it - all through the house.
*We apologize for that interruption and we now return to the previously scheduled show*
The new route is nice, and I'll repeat that one today. The worst part about this route for me is the face time on a VERY busy road. Most of the route meanders around a beautiful golf course neighborhood, but it ends on a traffic-laden road with a 4-way stop light.
To know me is to know that I'm very private - especially with my pain. Having to run FACING the traffic (and by "traffic" I mean a good 50+ cars) on the way back home was hard. I was horribly, frighteningly exposed. I felt like I was running down the road naked [read: nekkid]. I wondered if my arms were flailing about, or if my legs looked unstable, or if I was running like a geek. I wondered if the people in their cars could see my butt cheeks flapping with each stride, because god knows I could feel them. I wondered, because I notice runners when I'm in the car. I notice when someone is running so slow that the McDonald's-parking-lot-beggar-lady with one crutch passes easily. I notice when someone has a silly-looking gait, or if their knees hit with each step. And I laugh. Not aloud, of course, but inside. Deep inside, in my secret "neener neener" place.
I had to talk myself through my stage fright. "Look straight ahead. Don't look at them. Look straight ahead. Turn up the music. Look straight ahead. 1, 2 running shoe. 3, 4 this hurts more. 5, 6 don't get sick. 7, 8 doing great. 9, 10 home again. Almost there. Look straight ahead. Fat ass fat ass fat ass..."
And finally I could see the road from which my street branches. Home free. I did it. I DID IT!
I knew I could I knew I could I knew I could.
Look, if you had one shot
or one opportunity
to seize everything you ever wanted
in one moment
would you capture it,
or just let it slip?
.....You better lose yourself in the music,
the moment, you own it,
you better never let it go
You only get one shot
do not miss your chance
don’t blow
this opportunity comes once in a lifetime..
Lose Yourself - Eminem
Monday, February 4, 2008
Keepin' it real
Saturday's run kicked my ass. Period.
I had mapped out a new route that was 4.5 miles. I kept it very close to home, which was my goal, and felt like it would be a pretty simple route.
The idea was that I'd run up (or is it down?) the long road running perpendicular to my own street. I would take each and every neighborhood road on the left side of that street, since all these were dead ends or horseshoe roads, I would run down each and back out again to the main road, which would exponentially increase the distance between my house and the end of that main road. The route would continue up the main road in this way until I reached the end, and then I'd turn around and run back home. Simple, right?
Turns out that almost every single one of those "little side roads" was a fairly steep hill. It was great running INTO them, as they were downhill, but of course I had to run back out, meaning I was running up a fairly steep incline. After the 4th or 5th "little side road" I thought I might die. I was having more than second thoughts about my great new route and I was having more than second thoughts about my running. I angrily told myself that I was nothing but a "poser," and I had no business pretending to be a runner.
In that weird, dazed state I daydreamed about having a heart attack and never making it back home. I passed a single black shoe (which looked remarkably like one of a pair I had donated to the American Kidney Fund last month) on the side of the road and imagined pieces of me being picked apart by scavengers; my running shoes, my ipod, my wedding rings, etc. The paper would have a write up about it, "Local mom dies of heart attack while on new running route." There would be some long-winded deal about how important it is to "stop when your body tells you," and how shocking that someone younger than the age of 40 would die of a heart attack....
Just then I noticed a woman walking her big and very hairy black dog. The dog must have been some sort of sheepdog, because its eyes were covered with long shaggy bangs. As I got closer I noticed that the dog saw me and stopped in its tracks. The lady tried and tried to get the dog to follow her (down one of the side roads), but instead the dog sat, allowing her to choke it with its leash. As I neared and the dog continued staring at me I said, "Gosh, do I look that bad?" And the lady replied, without missing a beat, "No, she thinks you look that good!" I laughed, thankful for the distraction. And ran past. I knew I looked like hell. I could feel it. And I'm sure the dog could sense it as well. It's been well documented that dogs can sense impending seizures, death, panic attacks, etc. Even this strange dog knew I was about to keel over.
My face was beet red; my hair had partly come free of the half ass pony tail I had thrown it into; I was wearing old, dirty cut off sweat pants and a shirt. I had just been daydreaming about my own death, caused by running. Mm hm I was looking good for sure.
But I did not stop. I was the Little Engine That Could, chugging "I think I can I think I can I think I can...."
When I finally made it back to my street I could only repeat, "thank god, thank god...." over and over. I had made it. I was done. It was over. Until the next time........
"I thought I could I thought I could I thought I could....."
What I am - Edie Brickell & The New Bohemians
I had mapped out a new route that was 4.5 miles. I kept it very close to home, which was my goal, and felt like it would be a pretty simple route.
The idea was that I'd run up (or is it down?) the long road running perpendicular to my own street. I would take each and every neighborhood road on the left side of that street, since all these were dead ends or horseshoe roads, I would run down each and back out again to the main road, which would exponentially increase the distance between my house and the end of that main road. The route would continue up the main road in this way until I reached the end, and then I'd turn around and run back home. Simple, right?
Turns out that almost every single one of those "little side roads" was a fairly steep hill. It was great running INTO them, as they were downhill, but of course I had to run back out, meaning I was running up a fairly steep incline. After the 4th or 5th "little side road" I thought I might die. I was having more than second thoughts about my great new route and I was having more than second thoughts about my running. I angrily told myself that I was nothing but a "poser," and I had no business pretending to be a runner.
In that weird, dazed state I daydreamed about having a heart attack and never making it back home. I passed a single black shoe (which looked remarkably like one of a pair I had donated to the American Kidney Fund last month) on the side of the road and imagined pieces of me being picked apart by scavengers; my running shoes, my ipod, my wedding rings, etc. The paper would have a write up about it, "Local mom dies of heart attack while on new running route." There would be some long-winded deal about how important it is to "stop when your body tells you," and how shocking that someone younger than the age of 40 would die of a heart attack....
Just then I noticed a woman walking her big and very hairy black dog. The dog must have been some sort of sheepdog, because its eyes were covered with long shaggy bangs. As I got closer I noticed that the dog saw me and stopped in its tracks. The lady tried and tried to get the dog to follow her (down one of the side roads), but instead the dog sat, allowing her to choke it with its leash. As I neared and the dog continued staring at me I said, "Gosh, do I look that bad?" And the lady replied, without missing a beat, "No, she thinks you look that good!" I laughed, thankful for the distraction. And ran past. I knew I looked like hell. I could feel it. And I'm sure the dog could sense it as well. It's been well documented that dogs can sense impending seizures, death, panic attacks, etc. Even this strange dog knew I was about to keel over.
My face was beet red; my hair had partly come free of the half ass pony tail I had thrown it into; I was wearing old, dirty cut off sweat pants and a shirt. I had just been daydreaming about my own death, caused by running. Mm hm I was looking good for sure.
But I did not stop. I was the Little Engine That Could, chugging "I think I can I think I can I think I can...."
When I finally made it back to my street I could only repeat, "thank god, thank god...." over and over. I had made it. I was done. It was over. Until the next time........
"I thought I could I thought I could I thought I could....."
I'm not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean
Philosophy is talk on the cereal box
religion is a smile on a doll
I'm not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean
Do ya?
Shove me in the shallow water
before I get too deep
What I am is what I am
are you what you are, or what?
What I am - Edie Brickell & The New Bohemians
Friday, February 1, 2008
Training for the impossible
Today I've braved work without cold medicine. I do declare (said in my most Scaret O'Hara-esque voice) that I have turned the corner on this thing (read: "thang"). In fact, I felt well enough for an easy run yesterday, but the weather didn't cooperate. It was so cold, dark and rainy that I decided against it. I'm sure the extra day off only helped to get me back on my feet. Today seems bleak as well, but so far it's only drizzling, and according to my handy dandy home page today will be "partly cloudy," with no precipitation mentioned.
On my lunch break yesterday I spent some time mapping out new running routes. Thanks to a fellow blogger-pal I now have a new tool: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/ This thing (once you figure out how to get to your actual address) can be used to map out routes all around your city and calculates the distance(s) for you - distance between legs and total distance. I love it! I've worked out about 5 new routes now. Thanks again for this tip, Mary.
AND I let impulsivity get the better of me and I signed up for a 5k race on March 22. Something took over me and I just did it (thanks, Nike, for the idea to "just do it.") without much forethought. I've not run a race since I was on the track team in 9th grade! I figured that if I actually paid REAL money and had to put my REAL name on the paperwork, that I would go through with it. Of course I'm in NO shape to actually win a race like this, having had no official training for it. I've just been running on my own with no real goals, other than to run 3-5 miles at least 5 days per week.
To be honest, I'm scared shitless of running in an actual race. In fact, I'm not telling my family about it. I'll simply leave when I need to and tell them I'm going for a run - which is true - and then I'll return afterward. Of course, I'll probably finish last in my age group, but at least I will have proven to myself that I can run - and finish - a 5k race.
How many people actually place in their very first race? My main problem is that I'm so damned competitive. I expect far too much out of myself, really with everything, and I'm very hard on myself when I fail to live up to my own expectations. I'm scared that I'll go off like a shot, determined to be in the front of the pack, only to wimp out on the last leg. I have bad memories of doing just that in high school.
I just don't want to embarrass myself. That's all. I want to do better than I expect myself to. Is it so ridiculous to want to at least place in the top 10 in my age group? I know that's impossible, really, because I've just checked the 2007 5K rankings of my age group in Georgia. There is no way in hell I can compete with these people! The top ranking female in my age group ran a 17:21. That's so outrageous it makes me giggle! The 10th ranking female ran a 20:01; 20th ranked - 21:58.
Yep. I'm in trouble. It's time to train and train hard. I have 7 weeks.
Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is - Chicago
On my lunch break yesterday I spent some time mapping out new running routes. Thanks to a fellow blogger-pal I now have a new tool: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/ This thing (once you figure out how to get to your actual address) can be used to map out routes all around your city and calculates the distance(s) for you - distance between legs and total distance. I love it! I've worked out about 5 new routes now. Thanks again for this tip, Mary.
AND I let impulsivity get the better of me and I signed up for a 5k race on March 22. Something took over me and I just did it (thanks, Nike, for the idea to "just do it.") without much forethought. I've not run a race since I was on the track team in 9th grade! I figured that if I actually paid REAL money and had to put my REAL name on the paperwork, that I would go through with it. Of course I'm in NO shape to actually win a race like this, having had no official training for it. I've just been running on my own with no real goals, other than to run 3-5 miles at least 5 days per week.
To be honest, I'm scared shitless of running in an actual race. In fact, I'm not telling my family about it. I'll simply leave when I need to and tell them I'm going for a run - which is true - and then I'll return afterward. Of course, I'll probably finish last in my age group, but at least I will have proven to myself that I can run - and finish - a 5k race.
How many people actually place in their very first race? My main problem is that I'm so damned competitive. I expect far too much out of myself, really with everything, and I'm very hard on myself when I fail to live up to my own expectations. I'm scared that I'll go off like a shot, determined to be in the front of the pack, only to wimp out on the last leg. I have bad memories of doing just that in high school.
I just don't want to embarrass myself. That's all. I want to do better than I expect myself to. Is it so ridiculous to want to at least place in the top 10 in my age group? I know that's impossible, really, because I've just checked the 2007 5K rankings of my age group in Georgia. There is no way in hell I can compete with these people! The top ranking female in my age group ran a 17:21. That's so outrageous it makes me giggle! The 10th ranking female ran a 20:01; 20th ranked - 21:58.
Yep. I'm in trouble. It's time to train and train hard. I have 7 weeks.
Does anybody really know what time it is
Does anybody really care (about time)
If so I can't imagine why
We've all got time enough to cry
Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is - Chicago
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