Just Another Reason to Eat Chocolate

he might be out to get me

2012-01-25T19:08:00.009-06:00

So, you remember the Ancient Chinese Torture Sandals that were a "gift" from Hubby? The ones that hurt when I wear them? Well, Hubby went and got me a new gift. This one? A Bed of Nails.

The technical name is "Lotus Bed" which makes it sound all nice and pretty and relaxing. It even looks pretty and relaxing. Except that when any part of your exposed skin (or, let's face it, your clothed skin) happens to even barely graze one of those pretty little lotus blossoms, it feels like a hypodermic needle being plunged into said skin by some sadistic untrained nurse.

Much like the Torture Sandals, the Bed of Nails is meant to stimulate reflexology points and the flow of energy through the body and heal what ails you and all that. But really, it just hurts like hell. I'm slowly, carefully, painfully figuring out how, exactly, to use it without white-hot searing pain.

His intentions were good, I'm sure. Or at least that's what I'm choosing to believe. Because just when I think he might be trying to kill me, he'll turn around and make some sweet pea soup for dinner.

Maybe I should check the recipe. Just in case.

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and you shall receive

2012-01-22T20:49:00.007-06:00

I called it The Fudge Containment Plan. It was simple enough. Register for a race that's shortly after the holidays. I figured if I did that, I would have to keep my mileage somewhat up throughout the holidays season, which I thought could work to counteract the fudge and peanut butter balls and cookies and peppermint bark that I would be living on in the month of December. (Okay, so maybe "counteract" isn't the right word. Break even? Okay, probably not even that. If I kept the mileage higher, the fudge couldn't completely take over. At least, that was the hope.)

And I found a half in January. This appealed to me on many levels. The Fudge Containment level and the I Love to Play in the Snow level. So I signed up.

I didn't actually train. There was no speed work, no hill repeats, nothing that said "I have a race coming up." I just made sure I could cover the miles. And ate fudge. And peanut butter balls. And didn't even care. The race just sounded like fun. Go run! In the snow! Why ruin it with all the hard work and self-discipline required to train? (There will be time for that later, after all...) I hoped and prayed that race day would be cold and snowy and winter wonderland-y.

And ohmygosh it was!

It was something like 19 degrees when we started running. With about 6 inches of snow. And snow falling at that moment. It was awesome. And a few thousand hardy souls made their way along the course, laughing and chatting, warning each other about ice and puddles, encouraging each other, defying the odds and the elements, and being thankful to be out there to see just how beautiful the whole spectacle was.

And I was totally under-trained, and I pushed to hard, and my knees rebelled, and it hurt, and I was wet and cold. But it just didn't matter. It was so. much. fun.

Hubby was filling in for UB, and he was waiting at the finish with a bag of clothes and a working knowledge of the path to the nearest Starbucks, where we promptly went. I changed into something dry and ordered something warm, and we took to the snowy streets to make our way back to the car.

It was more than wonderful.

It was Winter Wonderland-ful.

Stride on!

getting there...

2012-01-18T19:18:00.009-06:00

It was finally cold enough for the snow to last more than 12 hours.

It was finally cold enough to put the flannel sheets on the bed.

It was finally cold enough that, when you looked outside, it looked cold.

It was finally cold enough to take the Sock Monkey Hat out for a run. (The poor thing had been languishing in the hat basket since Christmas....)

It was finally cold enough for frost to form on me as I ran.

Bill Bowerman once said "there is no such thing as bad weather, only soft people." If that's true, I must be rock solid. Because I hope for this, wait for this, dream of this all year long.

There are still thick, warm, cozy sweaters in my closet that I haven't been able to wear yet this year. Boots begging to fulfill their God-given purpose. Hats (so many hats!) that must think I hate them, they've been so neglected.

Come on, Winter. Show me what you've got...

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blow me down

2012-01-15T18:06:00.006-06:00

So, it snowed. For real. Snowed like the weather just got the memo that it's January.

{It's pretty awesome.}

Which means snow needed to be removed from driveways and sidewalks and such.

I headed out to the garage, grabbed the snow shovel, and decided to start with the driveway. Now, let it be known that our driveway is small. Like, small. It's not terribly wide; just barely fits two cars side by side. It's not terribly long; one regular size vehicle won't be hit by passing traffic, but that's about it. We do have a fair amount of sidewalk that needs to be cleared. And a really small patio area. But really, it's not much to shovel.

Our neighbor has an even smaller driveway than we do. And absolutely no sidewalk/patio/other area that needs to have snow cleared away. And he has a snow blower. Not just a snow blower, but a superdeluxe snow blower, with a little plastic enclosure that attaches to the handle to stop the blowing snow from hitting him. It looks kind of like the Pope-mobile. But a snow blower.

So me and my silly, old-fashioned shovel take to the driveway, at the exact same time that Neighbor tries to start up his snow blower. And it makes a tremendous racket, and expels more than a few fumes, and it stops.

And I keep shoveling.

And Neighbor tries again. And there's more racket and fumes, and it runs for a few second and stops.

And I keep shoveling.

And we play this game for a bit until he finally gets the thing going. So I'm now half way done clearing my driveway (with a shovel) and he's making a racket and spewing exhaust and blowing snow. (Without any snow actually touching him, because of the Pope-mobile option.) And I move on to the sidewalks. Then the patio. Then the sidewalks in the front of the house. And then I'm all done.

And Neighbor is still trying to clear the snow from his tiny little driveway with his big ol' snow blower.

And the next day, as I was leaving to get grocery, I couldn't help but notice that my driveway looked better. Clearer. More even (I guess that's the word).

And I'm not altogether sure what my actual point is, here. Maybe just, um, when you have the world's smallest driveway and nothing else, do you really even need a snow blower? Or is it just a "guy thing?"

Because, well Neighbor (guy), your snow blown driveway was out-cleared by a girl using a shovel.

So there.

good morning. sometimes.

2012-01-11T18:45:00.018-06:00

I'm a morning person.

Really. I am.

I love to wake up early and greet the day. Perhaps 5:30? 6:00? Sip some green tea, do meditation, yoga. You know, ease into the day. See the sun come up, then head out into the fresh morning air for a run or a ride or a hike.

It's lovely. Near perfect, really.

I never get to do it, but it's lovely, nonetheless.

What I generally get is battered into semi consciousness in what is, essentially, the middle of the night by a screaming demon of an alarm (which is not to be confused by being awakened in the middle of the night by the Demon of Screamin'. That's another post entirely.). Making every effort to not wake Hubby, I stumble through the darkness, crying out silently as I inevitably stub my toe, and make my way to the bathroom. Once there, I down a glass of water and pray for all to go smoothly (ohplease, Idon'thavetimetowait, howisitalready4:17?). I fumble my way to the kitchen to slam a cup of tea and choke down my herbs so I can unroll my yoga mat and hurry up and relax already so that I'm not late for work. Again. That whole run/bike/hike thing will have to wait until after work. And will most likely take place on a piece of stationary machinery in the basement. Where we keep the cat's liter box.

But.

Some days hand me a gift.

Some days, I get to not only greet the day with tea and meditation and yoga and running. Some days I get to luxuriate through the whole morning.

Some days I get to curl up in my chair, burrowed under a fleece blanket, with a book in my lap and a cup of tea at my side.

Some days there are warm scones, fresh out of the oven, with butter melting over the sides, a cup of chai, and a Hubby that I haven't seen all week with whom to share it.

Those mornings really are lovely. And way beyond perfect.

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throwing ropes

2012-01-08T17:34:00.004-06:00

I had 10 days off of work. Ten. Whole. Days. And it was like I was a different person.

I woke up calm. Even though the days were as busy as any work day, I was calm. I didn't feel like I needed to hurry or rush or moveasfastasishumanlypossible in order to get out the door on time and go do things that other people wanted me to do. I was able to actually enjoy my breakfast instead of shoving it down my throat without tasting a thing, while simultaneously putting on shoes and a coat.

I was happy. And I smiled. Sometimes for no discernible reason. Just because the sun was shining. Or I had time to do the dishes. Or Hubby and I ate dinner together, like a real family, for seven nights in a row. Or Hubby and I had a real, actual converstion, not just a venting session in the 10 minutes of the day that we saw each other. Or I actually had time to watch a movie. Or I actually went to the movies, like at the actual movie theater.

I went to bed relaxed, laying there comfortably, without having to remind myself to un-scrunch my shoulders and un-clench my jaw. And I got in bed at, like, 9:30 instead of trying to force myself into sleeping at 8:00 by counting the minutes until the alarm would be buzzing me awake (that would be 450 minutes if I fall asleep at this exact second, which never actually happens). And I slept until 6:30 in the morning. Or I slept until 7:00 in the morning. Or I just woke up when my body was ready to wake up, never having turned the alarm on at all.

Somehow, there was time to do things I needed to do and things I wanted to do.

I walked though the day without a constant headache, without tensionandstress turning my shoulders into coils of knotted wire, without having to feign happiness or keep up appearances so that no one will know that inside I am sobbing.

Because most days, I have a constant headache, and my shoulders are knotted coils of wire, and I have to feign happiness and keep up appearances so that no one will know that I am sobbing inside. And on more days than I care to think about, I wind up sobbing on the outside, too.

And sometimes it takes ten days away from what life is normally filled with to see just how much you don't like what life is normally filled with; to see just how unhappy your "normal life" is making you.

And that makes me sad, because it wasn't always this way. But I think I'm well past the point that it can ever be any other way.

So.

I find myself in a place I never expected to be, and trying to figure out what is next, and how I get there. Is it even possible to take things that you love to do and turn them into a way to pay the bills? I don't know.

I feel like I've tossed a rope out into the universe. And I'm holding on to one end for dear life. But I don't think it's the end of my rope. More like it's the beginning; and if I can be strong enough, and patient enough, and wise enough to hold on to it and follow it along, I'll wind up where I'm supposed to be.

presently

2012-01-01T11:49:00.006-06:00

Change.

Change is a good thing.

Often necessary, often exciting, absolutely unavoidable.

But still, it makes me nervous.

So new years, they make me nervous, too.

There is the excitement, of course, of the possibilities, the what are you going to do with this big, blank slate before you.

But there is also the unknown, the uncontrollable, the unavoidable.

This year, in particular, makes me a worry a little more than most. There's just so much out there that could go so wrong.

And I try not to see the part of the glass that's half empty. Really, I do try. But it can be hard. For me, especially.

So.

This year.

It seems more important than ever for me to continue my efforts to live in the present moment. And only the present moment. To pay attention, to do my part, to do what I can with what I have, to work to change what I can, to accept (fear-free) what I cannot change.

I can choose my actions, my reactions, my thoughts. That's a lot, really.

I can spend each moment looking and seeing, feeling and being. That's a lot, too.

So.

This year.

Let's hope it's a good one. (Without any fear.)

The sun is shining. Right now, this moment.

That's a good start.

525,600 minutes

2011-12-31T17:01:00.020-06:00

36 to 37

2011-12-26T10:38:00.007-06:00

lots of snow days
so much snow
crawling under the sink in the Christmas Story house because Daddy's gonna kill Ralphie
attending a private Sting concert for free
onion rings at the drive-in with my goddaughters
nieces who get in the car for a "day of fun" and say "I'm so excited!"
lots of hiking
that month when it was freaking hot
the best U2 show ever
saying "hi Edge" and having Edge wave back
the "impossible" marathon
the Hubby who let life be turned upside down for four months to make the impossible marathon possible
countless iron pills and protein shakes
running start snuggle hugs from my nephew
new glasses
a vehicle that hit 100,000 miles
legs that have roughly the same amount of miles on them
dance recitals
birthday parties
cookies
hot cocoa
trips to the orchard
being part of a live link up to the International Space Station
Hubby's poetry reading
sitting with a cup of tea and a book
actually getting flowers to grow
so many green tea lattes I lost count
Thanksgiving dinner
a month of living on fudge and peanut butter balls
watching my grandpa's eyes light up when I presented him with a container of pfeffernuss
goddaughters who made me the coolest owl blanket ever
receiving a recording of my dad reading 'Twas the Night Before Christmas
hugs and kisses
laughter
hope
faith
love

36, you'll be a tough act to follow.
But I think I'm up for it.
37? Let's start today.

yesterday and today and tomorrow

2011-12-22T16:47:00.016-06:00

Yesterday I was so excited to go over to my Grandma's house to make Christmas cookies. The kind that have frosting and sprinkles, and are shaped like Christmas trees and stars and Santa.

I spent so much time, hours maybe, sitting by the Christmas tree, just looking at it because it was so beautiful.

I could not wait for Christmas Eve. My mom made cocoa, and I curled up next to my dad so that he could read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas to me. Then I picked out the absolutely perfect cookies (the ones I made with Grandma) to leave for Santa, and set them out on the coffee table, right next to the cocoa.

On Christmas morning, the first order of business was to check on the cocoa and cookies. And they were gone!

Today I am so excited for my nieces to come over to my house and make Christmas cookies with frosting and sprinkles. And I am so excited that they will take them home to leave out for Santa on Christmas Eve. (Although I save a few to leave at Grandma's grave. I know she likes them, too.)

And I spend as much time as I can, just sitting by the Christmas tree, looking at it because it is just so beautiful.

And I would love to sit down next to my dad and hear him read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas to me. Even though I'm 36, and would probably be sharing the space with his grandkids.

And I'm so tempted to leave some cocoa and cookies out for Santa on Christmas Eve, because I do believe that when I check on Christmas morning, they'll be gone.

And it really seems that the more things change, the more they really just don't. And there's really no reason to wish for what's past, or miss it, or remember when. Because really, it's all here with you, right now, today. Everyone and everything that you've known and done and believed and been has gone into making this moment, right now.

I guess that's a little piece of the magic. And, really, the best present of all.

Merry Christmas.

it was supposed to be about the lights...

2011-12-21T21:03:00.008-06:00

Hubby and I went to see one of those big, drive-through holiday light displays; the kind that have Santa and snowmen and knights fighting a dragon and aliens all made out of lights. You know, in order to better understand the true meaning of the holiday season. With knights fighting a dragon. And aliens.

And most people were perfectly happy to drive through and look at the glowing koala and the red-eyed kangaroo (exchanging gifts, of course). But I felt this compulsion to park the car and get out. I'm not sure why. It was really cold. And it was that one day that we had snow. But still, out I got. And I'm so glad I did, because I found the Christmas trees.

They were small. From the car,they just looked like trees with lights. And probably not many people really saw them. Especially if they just drove on through. But each one was decorated differently, and was just so beautiful. And they made the numb fingers and toes totally worth it.

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snow time

2011-12-18T18:43:00.005-06:00

Yesterday the weather cooperated.

I woke up to snow. Covering the ground. And I smiled, non-stop, because of it.

And I put on my hat and scarf. And I pulled up my Christmas playlist. And I went out and played (ran) in the snow. And I smiled non-stop because of it.

Today the snow is gone. Of course. It was sunny and just warm enough to melt it all away.

But I'm choosing to optimistic that it will be back soon.

I smile just thinking about it.

Do you ever get the feeling that you've just walked into a James Taylor song?

2011-12-14T18:49:00.007-06:00

Or is it just me?

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Do you ever get the feeling....

2011-12-14T18:46:00.003-06:00

that you're being followed by a yellow submarine?

Or is it just me?

snap, crackle, pop...

2011-12-13T18:49:00.011-06:00

Do you ever just want to scream? Long and loud?

Why can't we?

Seriously.

Why can't we?

Why is it that it is okay for other people to treat us with meanness and spite, with rudeness and disrespect, like we are no better than trash under their feet, when they have absolutely no clue?

And are we really supposed to be kind and civil and take it?

And why is the person designated to have our back in these situations completely invisible?

And why are we not allowed to have our own backs, and stand up for ourselves?

And how long am I reasonably expected to keep this up before I fully and completely snap?

I think the answer might be 12 years....

But I'm trying. Really. I'm trying.

I am eternally cold.

2011-12-07T19:33:00.008-06:00

Hubby and I went one town over to see how they kick off Christmas.

It was kind of lovely. It was cold; finally feeling like December. Really very Christmas-y.

Until I could no longer feel my fingers. Which took about 2 minutes. Which might be a record for me. Because I am always cold. Always.

So we had to go warm them up. Luckily there was a finger warming up place right nearby.

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I guess "happy holidays" means different things to different people

2011-12-05T20:11:00.016-06:00

So, I asked my lovely co-workers to help me out by bringing in their old catalogs and sale advertisements. I'm working on an activity in which we'll compare how much various items cost in 1932 and how much the same type of items cost now.

I received lots of Menards, Kohls, and Target ads from the Sunday paper. But a few catalogs caught my eye.

This one, in particular, looked interesting...

The Vermont Country Store catalog was like a little treasure chest of yester year. So many things that I remember my Grandma owning, or that I played with as a child could be found within it's pages.

Things like this Christmas candle chime thing that used to fascinate me when I was small. I could watch it for hours!

And ohmygosh, it's a Slush Mug! These were so awesome!

And don't think we didn't consider ordering our very own Muumuu!

This brought back memories of making our own radio shows when we were kids.

You can order Necco Wafers, rotary phones, that pot holder loom thing (that I would spend hours weaving but could never figure out how to remove from the loom...)... All kinds of wonderful treasures!

But then, as I continued to skim through the catalog, this picture caught my eye...

It was on a page with things like Smith Brothers Cough Drops and medicine to stop shingles from itching. And I thought "Oh how funny! Didn't they realize what that looks like?"

And then I looked a little closer, and... Wait. What!?!

I guess they did realize what that looks like.

All right then!!

So. If you've not yet finished your holiday shopping, The Vermont Country Store might just be your one stop shopping gold mine.

Take it from this testimonial:

(Thank God I looked through all of the catalogs before I moved forward with the project.....)

these people are awesome

2011-11-30T19:24:00.004-06:00

It must be kind of hard to be these people. They stand outside for hours on end, in all kinds of weather. People who pass their field of vision are often annoyed with them (for what reason, I'm not sure). Many people try very hard to not even look at them, let alone make eye contact. And really, none of that seems like it would make for a very fun day.

But these people? They do it. They stand out for hours on end, in all kinds of weather, as not very nice people pass by. And they smile at those people. And they wish those people well. It seems that they are the ones who get it, what this season is really all about. It's about giving of yourself. It's about helping those less fortunate. It's about smiling at strangers and wishing them well. It's about sending some positive energy out into the universe.

And me? I try to follow their lead. I smile back, thank them for their well wishes, and wish them well in return. If I have some spare change in my pocketbook, I toss it in the pail. And I try to send some love and light out into the world. Just like they do.

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they don't call it magic for nothing

2011-11-27T17:48:00.004-06:00

On the weekends, I run around all. day. long.

Everything that there is no time to do during the week must be done on the weekends. And it seems that it takes every second of the weekend to get it done.

Then the week starts and there's all the endless stuff that takes up every second of the week. And then it's the weekend again. And on it goes, moving and turning and swirling until I'm just dizzy and tired and want to crawl into bed and stay there. Maybe forever.

I can't remember the last time I sat down on the couch for more than the amount of time it takes to pull on a pair of socks.

But....

Somehow, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, all of that changes. Somehow, time appears.

I realize this is counter to basic common sense, and maybe even popular opinion. I don't understand what kind of strange quirk in the time/space continuum exists that allows me to find extra time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but I quit trying to understand it or figure it out some time ago.

Because...

In the next month, I will magically find time to watch approximately 14 movies, even though I haven't found time to watch even one in the past four months.

I will find time to read four novels.

I will find time to sit and sip tea and/or cocoa and listen to music and look at pretty lights (seriously! just sit! without doing anything else!).

I will find time to bake endless amounts of cookies, and then decorate them, frost them, dip them in chocolate and otherwise fancy them up.

I will find time to do and see and go and lots of other things that I don't even know about yet.

And some how....

All of the endless stuff that always needs to be done will still get done.

I guess it's all part of the holiday magic...

so we went to see the holiday windows....

2011-11-23T16:08:00.010-06:00

Off into the Big City we went. Two small town folk. On a big adventure. All to see the grand, glorious storefront holiday window displays. (You know, before all the large, pushy holiday crowds show up.)

And this is what we got.

Okay then!

Anyone care to explain? Guess? Conjecture?

Magicians? Fairies? Alchemists? Snow people? Phyllis Diller impersonators?

And what is with the guy "riding" the rather large telescope/sextant/rocket thingy?

Because I still just don't get it.

I guess nothing says "holidays" like magical fairy Phyllis Diller impersonators astride large quasi-phallic mystery instruments....

Right?

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something fun (in air quotes)

2011-11-20T19:35:00.005-06:00

It was recently suggesting that I be part of a large group of people who all get together to do "something fun."

Everyone in the group is someone I love dearly. (Do you feel the "but" coming here?)

But...

When I think of doing "something fun," I think of one of these scenarios:

Going running
Going hiking
Going biking
Going somewhere that serves warm beverages and good food, and people talk in quiet voices
Sitting on the couch to watch a movie (although I'm super picky about what movies I'll watch)
Going to the movies (although I'm super picky about what movies I'll watch. oh, wait....)
Sitting in my chair with a book and a cup of tea and no one bothering me
Sleeping

The time frame on all of these things is the same:

morning
afternoon
gets me home before 7:30
(except sleeping... I'll do that whenever.)

This does not put me in the majority, I know.

And it does not mean that I don't like to see my friends and family and such. I do.

And it does not mean that I'm not open to doing other things. I am.

But sometimes I feel like people think that I'm supposed to just think that their version of fun is fun for me, too. That I'm supposed to just say "yes" because that's what the majority wants to do.

But I've come to a place in life where I'd rather say "no" than do something I don't want to do. So that's what I do. I say no.

I think this annoys/angers/baffles some people.

I'm not opposed to doing things outside of my limited list of preferences. Really. But I'd like a little give and take, you know? I'd like the people who want me to have their fun to meet me in the middle once in awhile, you know? I don't think I should be the only one to step out of my comfort/happy zone. I'm sure we could figure out something.

But it doesn't generally work that way. I mean, my friends (all five of them) understand my quirks and the reasons for them. Plus they're pretty like-minded. And willing to work with me. But I often get the feeling that the general population is not open to suggestions (even on my birthday).

Sigh...

I take this stuff seriously.

2011-11-16T20:51:00.008-06:00

Maybe too seriously. But, you know, Breaking Dawn (part one) comes out Friday. We had to, you know, be reminded of what was happening.

And really, it was for Hubby's benefit. Not mine. He wasn't sure he remembered what had happened last. Because he's gone along with me for each of the first three movies (for my third time seeing them in the theater) and the writer in him is very interested in how the plot is developing. (Or the hot chicks on the screen. Whatever.)

But, I mean, I didn't go so far as to re-read the books. Since I just re-read them (again) over the summer. So it seemed like re-watching the movies would be sufficient. And a good way to avoid any kind of real responsibility for a few nights. And be really tired for work the next day. For a few days.

But sometimes, you've just got to do what you've got to do.

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un-holidays

2011-11-13T19:16:00.005-06:00

Yesterday I made a warm, creamy, casserole for dinner. One with veggies and croutons and tofu. There was a sugared pumpkin candle burning and some Mozart playing in the background. The lights stayed low, because bright lights are dumb.

And Hubby said I am very good at making it feel like a holiday, even though it isn't.

******

Today I was making chocolate chip cookies and Hubby was making curried carrot soup; both of us in the kitchen that isn't really large enough for one person to be cooking in. But for maybe the first time ever, everything flowed. We weren't bumping into each other. Each was able to move for the other when it was needed without sighing loudly or grumbling quietly. Nothing was spilled or dropped or burned or scalded.

The sugared pumpkin candle was burning again, and (my boyfriend)Josh Groban was singing quietly in the background.

And we had curried carrot soup with pistachio cream on top for dinner. And chocolate chip cookies for dessert. (And as an appetizer. Whatever.)

And Hubby said I am good at making it feel like a holiday, even though it isn't.

******

It isn't a holiday. Not yet. But I think the magic is settling in anyway.

so the conversation went like this....

2011-11-09T20:51:00.008-06:00

Hubby: Remember when went hiking this past summer?

Me: Yeah.

Hubby: And it was so hot the backpacks slid off our shoulders, and the water bottle slid out of our hands. Because we were so sweaty. And you started to cry one time. Because you were so hot. And the one time I was starting to get dehydrated. Because I was so hot. And sweaty.

Me: Yeah.

Hubby: This is better.

Definitely.

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chai drinking spot

2011-11-02T17:59:00.008-05:00

I'd never bought pumpkins or mums before. I've always thought they looked so lovely at other peoples' homes. But I somehow decided it would be a waste of money to buy things that I was just going to throw away in a month.

Then it occurred to me that I buy lots of things that are a much bigger waste of money.

Plus mums were on mega sale at the local feed and garden store. And pumpkins were cheap at the orchard. And I wanted to sit out on the recently created patio on a cool evening, surrounded by pumpkins and mums, and drink some chai.

So I bought a mum and some pumpkins.

I'm glad I did.

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first (joy)

2011-11-01T18:28:00.006-05:00

Today is November first.

In my mind, this is the official start of The Holidays.

It is no secret that The Holidays is my favorite time of the year. I look forward to it from the minute it's all over until the minute it arrives again. And yet, I'm never one to rush it. I'm happy to go through the whole cycle of the year, enjoying all that comes with it, and then just be a little extra happy when we hit November first again. I don't like to force it. (Except for the whole having my Christmas shopping done by Thanksgiving, but that's just practical.) I like to anticipate, then revel.

This year? I've been kind of a gun jumper.

I've already purchased holiday themed Gladware, under the pretense that it will all sell out so fast, I should just get it now before it's gone. Because, you know, there was some serious threat of that happening in October.

I may have "accidentally" let a few holiday songs slip into a long run playlist.

I am struggling to not watch holiday movies. Because I could so go for some Elf.

Why? Why can I just not wait this year?

Hubby has a theory. He thinks that because this year has been one of struggle, and a measure of unhappiness, that I'm overly anxious for something that will bring me joy. So I am trying to hurry up the holidays to get a little joy fix.

When he first said it, I wanted to scoff.

But then I realized that it might not be too far off.

Actually, it might be right on.

And then I further realized that was fine with me.

Because The Holidays do bring me joy. And I do want to feel a bit of joy right about now. For more than just a day or an hour or a moment.

For a whole season.

And maybe even more.

So, let me be the first wish you a happy holidays.

And more than a little joy.

her first....

2011-10-26T20:14:00.003-05:00

(after all, what's an aunt for?)

*****
you capture

now what...

2011-10-24T18:50:00.005-05:00

I remember this space of time, after every major race I've run, where I slump a little. I've just spent a significant amount of time working toward one day, one event, and now it has passed. And there is this feeling of "Now what?"

What do I do without a goal? What do I do now that I don't have to supermonitor what I'm eating? Now that I don't have to structure every run toward one specific purpose? Now that I don't have to plan weekends around run time(and run recovery time)?

This time has always been a little hard, a little sad, a little lost.

But this time?

Not so much.

I'm not sure I can really say why, either.

I think I went into this knowing that it was the last one. And I felt like I got to end on my terms, not someone else's. And I think knowing that from the beginning really changed the game for me.

It was almost like a last dance. A chance to say good-bye.

And we did, the marathon and me. We had a lovely last dance.

And now? Now what?

I still have two more races lined up in the next month. There's no laurel resting time. And that's nice.

After months of quietly, patiently accepting that life kind of revolved around my training and how my body was reacting to that training, after months of doing very little of what he'd like to do, or going where he'd like to go, and not complaining about it, Hubby gets to make some plans for us for the weekends. And that's nice.

I don't have to completely micromanage my food intake anymore. And that's nice. Dangerous, but nice.

I don't have a giant, all-consuming goal on the horizon. And (for now) that's nice.

Now I can turn some attention to other areas of life that are sorely in need of attention (and not just my clutter-strewn house). And that's nice.

Now I feel a little stronger. A little lighter. A little bit ready for what comes next. Whatever that may be.

And that's nice.

worth a thousand miles

2011-10-20T17:30:00.007-05:00

There is this stretch of road that I run most weekends, and every time, I'm kind of bewildered at how lovely it is. And I always think that someday I should bring along the little point-and-shoot and document the journey.

One Saturday morning, I did...

And that is why I'll get up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning to go running.

*******
you capture

on impossible things

2011-10-17T19:28:00.005-05:00

It started innocently enough. Just a question posed by Chiropractor.

"So, do you want to try for one more marathon? Just to prove you can still do it?"

Yes.

Then he laid out the rules. Really there was just one rule - if at any time, he said stop, I had to stop.

And that was that.

I went home from his office, walked in the door, to the computer, and registered for a marathon.

That was May 10.

What followed was the hardest work I have ever done.

Everything about training was long. Run time. Recovery time. Ice time. Brace time. Physical therapy time.

Everything about training was hard. Physically pushing myself past the limits that had been placed there. Mentally working though the doubt and the fear and the nerves.

Everything about training was secret. I've never been one to really talk about my running, but this had an added dimension of secrecy. At any moment, the plug could have been pulled. It seemed silly to tell even my staunchest supporters that I was planning to run a marathon when there was the very real possibility that the very next day I would have to say oh, um, nevermind.

So it was just me (with Hubby's unwavering support), hunkered down, trying to make this happen. Day in and day out. Running, working, hoping.

Until finally, there was just one week to go.

There had been some bumps along the way; a few little setbacks. A few runs that I really though were going to be deal breakers.

But I still hadn't been told No.

Two days before race day, I went to see Chiropractor one last time. There was still every chance he could say no. But he didn't. He said go.

And I finally let myself believe that it was really going to happen.

So I packed my bags, and off I went. I had a marathon to run on October 16.

Race day dawned rainy. And my knees were aching before I even left the hotel.

Hubby drove me to the start, and we joined the masses, finding a quiet corner of the YMCA to rest and stretch and calm nerves. Because I was nervous. And scared. And worried. So much could go wrong if I didn't do everything just right.

With about 30 minutes to race time, I was making my way to the bathroom line(just one more time). As I was working through the crowds of people moving in out of the still falling rain, I noticed one face in the masses. One very familiar face. UB, who has been with me through absolutely every step of my running, had come to see me off. Big hugs and a few tears and a sigh of relief later, I looked over and saw Hubby smiling at us.

With 15 minutes to go, the three of us made our way toward the start. When we had to part ways, UB said to me "Run with your head!"

I found my place on the line, the gun went off, and I started to run. The rain was still falling, as it would for the first few miles. And I could tell right away that my knees were going to have some problems. But I just kept repeating UB's words - run with your head.

And that's what I did. I thought about why I had worked all summer and all fall and about what I really wanted to do with the day. It all came down to one word. Run. It was that simple.

So I ran. I settled in and ran. I ran and did not stop. I waved at UB and Hubby. I thanked volunteers handing out water and Gatorade and orange slices. I thanked strangers along the course who yelled out "good job!" I looked around at just how beautiful the course was, all dressed up for fall, with the sun finally peeking through the clouds. I smiled. And I smiled. And I smiled.

And in a flash, it was over. Twenty-six point two miles. Done.

I never even looked at the clock. Not once during the whole run. I still haven't looked at the official results. I really don't plan to. I accomplished everything I went there to accomplish. And I don't need any numbers to tell me that.

Three years ago, I was told I'd never run another marathon; that it was now impossible for me. But my dad once told me that "impossible" just means that it takes a little longer.

I was so happy to prove my dad right.

Stride on.

20 good things (a list)

2011-10-09T19:17:00.016-05:00

1. Starbucks hot cocoa with pumpkin spice

2. My local Target is once again stocking Archer Farms organic oatmeal. I cannot fully express my joy. The blueberry almond tastes just like a blueberry muffin, fresh out of the oven.

3. peanut butter and jelly

4. The fourth book in the Tiger's Curse series comes out on November 1. I. can. not. wait. I think I like them more than Twilight. Yes, I said it. And I so want Ren to be my hot cursed Indian tiger prince boyfriend. Or Kishan. Either one. I'm not picky.

5. My new art.

6. Sometimes when you are running, Rod Stewart's Do Ya Think I'm Sexy shuffles in. And you start to laugh so hard that you have to stop running for a second because you can't breathe from the laughing. But then when you start running again, there's a little extra swagger in there. Probably from the utter cheeseyness of the song. (Seriously. If you click the link, have crackers handy for all the cheese. It's awesome.)

7. Chocolate. In any form. At any time.

8. The movie Labyrinth. I am forever in love with The Goblin King. You know, David Bowie. Yes, I heart him. I always dreamed it was me in the big, poofy dress dancing with him. Sigh.

9. Four dollars in the Halloween section

10. Coffee Friend came home for a visit, and we got to sit for hours drinking warm beverages and talking/venting/catching up/laughing. Just like we used to.

11. Just in time for fall, I finally perfected my recipe for peanut butter pumpkin pie cookies. With chocolate chips, for extra yummy-ness.

12. I was very skeptical of the salted caramel hot cocoa, but I gave it a try anyway. Turns out I am actually addicted to the salted caramel hot cocoa. Who knew?

13. It's a picture frame. Can you even stand it?

14. Hubby does approximately 90% of the dishes in our house. Not even kidding.

15. I've discovered that hibiscus tea is the most flavorful tea on earth.

16. Sometimes you don't have to set the alarm clock and can just wake up whenever your body decides that it's rested enough. At least, I've heard this is true.

17. Not $4.00, or in the Halloween section. But still very necessary. After all, it does rain here.

18. Just when you think that you can not take one more second of work, the weekend comes.

19. ventisoyunsweetenedgreentealatte

20. Oh yes, I had to. No one can resist Schweddy Balls.

homecoming

2011-10-08T18:53:00.005-05:00

Our small town was all done up in red, white, and blue today to welcome home a hero.

I stood in front of my house to watch the procession pass by. The streets were lined with people, holding flags, wearing patriotic colors.

And when the hearse finally drove by, you could have heard a pin drop.

I stood along side family, crying, grateful to be holding my two year old niece, to hear her whisper "it's like a parade."

And it was. But it wasn't.

Everyone came out to honor a young man, just 20 years old, who was stationed in Afghanistan, who was an Army medic, who was rushing in to try and save two fellow servicemen, when some tool of war exploded, and all three were killed.

This morning a family went to an airport to receive the remains of their son, their brother, their loved one. Can you even imagine their pain and their pride?

This morning I stood in front of my house to honor a boy who was my student 10 years ago, who couldn't believe that I liked The Ramones too, who had a smile for everyone, who listened as I explained that there had been an attack in New York City.

This morning everyone stopped. Everyone wondered why.

No one had an answer.

surfing. kind of.

2011-10-06T13:31:00.002-05:00

I’ve been having a hard time expressing myself lately. Everything just takes so. much. effort.

I’m just so tired. All the time. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. Tired.

I’ve dealt with depression, real depression, before, and I know this isn’t it. But it’s something. It’s tangible. It’s there. It’s here. Sadness? Discontent? Restlessness? Something.

Some of the reasons are obvious to me. But I know there have to be others, hidden away, that I can’t quite identify. Or maybe I can identify them, but I just can’t quite name them? Does that even make sense?

I’m not good company right now. To anyone. So I’ve been kind of locked away in this sort of self-imposed hermit state, sticking my head out of my hole only when I have to. Or for the occasional Starbucks run.

I’ve not attended a few functions recently. Functions I probably should have attended. But I just couldn’t do it. Just the thought of it made me sink to the floor in exhaustion. Having to get fixed up, and go sit with people, and make small talk, and smile, and make up an answer to the question “How are you doing?” Just the thought was more than I could handle. I actually thought of my absence as a community service. I didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s good time.

Recently Hubby and I planned to go to the orchard. We’d actually had it planned for a few weeks. But when the day came, life wasn’t going smoothly, and the morning took longer than it should have, and we were leaving later than we’d hoped… And as it got later and later, I started to get more and more frustrated, and Hubby said “If you’re not going to enjoy yourself, we might as well not go.” The reply that came out of my mouth before I could even think about what I was saying was “When was the last time I actually enjoyed myself?”

“That’s a good question,” was Hubby’s reply.

It’s a question I’m still pondering.

Because I really do want to enjoy myself. I want to be happy. Consistently happy. And I’m not. I have moments. And I can fake it, if I have to, for short periods of time. But I’m not really happy. Not right now.

I don’t feel like it’s impossible; like I’ll never be happy again.

It just seems really hard right now.

So I’m just kind of taking the fleeting moments that do come, and hunkering down between those moments.

Riding the waves, but hoping for the tide to turn.

(I've written this post before, haven't I? Sigh...)

(I'll be more upbeat next time. Really.)

because it seemed like a fall-ish thing to do....

2011-10-04T19:13:00.004-05:00

..... we went to the orchard.

We were right. It was a fall-ish thing to do.

no regrets...

2011-10-02T19:13:00.005-05:00

So, I decide to do things.

And I just kind of plan for them and prepare for them. And I act like I'm going to do them. And I keep telling myself I'm going to do them.

And, really, in my head, I figure I can decide later if I'm really going to do them or not.

And now it's time to decide.

And it turns out my plans are going to be much harder to accomplish than I anticipated.

But I think I'm going to forge ahead anyway.

Because I think that difficulty and frustration are temporary.

But regret? That's forever.

it's time....

2011-09-28T19:46:00.005-05:00

.... for the sunflowers to be replaced by the mums.

Yay!!

*******
see more at Beth's

where I'm from

2011-09-25T17:42:00.004-05:00

I am from women who are not afraid to be strong, and men who know it's okay to cry sometimes.

I am from sitting a tree to watch the farmer plow the corn field behind our house.

I am from sand dunes and lakefronts and woods.

I am from swing sets and monkey bars and bikes with pedal brakes and banana seats.

I am from laughing with cousins for hours about nothing in particular.

I am from sitting outside and reading, and books and books and books.

I'm from Superfudge and Are You There God, It's Me Margaret and Charlotte's Web and A Summer to Die.

I'm from Sesame Street and The Muppet Show, and oh my gosh everything I learned from them both.

I am from baking cookies with Grandma, and baking cookies for Grandma (and everyone else, too).

I am from toast with butter and honey, and peanut butter and jelly every day in my lunch box.

I am from Kool-Aid and chocolate milk to hot chocolate and hot tea.

I am from running ten miles before breakfast and another ten before dinner. From intervals and hills and track and stride on.

I am from a best friend you can call at three in the morning, even if you can't really explain why you needed to call in the first place.

I am from the altar to the meditation cushion, the rosary to the mala, hallelujah and hare krishna.

I am from the truth of Henry, the path of George, the light of Bono and Stipe, who all showed me that I can be an active participant, I can do something.

I am from working hard and doing your best (even if no one is watching).

I am from knowing when it's right and not wasting time if it's not.

I am from finding love when I wasn't even looking.

I am from wanting to see people I love smile.

I am from saying what you mean and meaning what you say.

I am from not walking away when it gets tough, but knowing when it's time to walk away.

I am here, now.

industrial strength

2011-09-21T18:09:00.006-05:00

Some time ago, I saw a pair of acupuncture sandals in a catalog. And I fell in love with the idea.

Every time I leave the acupuncture clinic, I practically float out the door; I feel so relaxed, so calm. And I though, oh my gosh I bet acupuncture sandals could provide at least a glimpse of that feeling right in my very own home.

But they were expensive. So I looked longingly, but did not buy. And I've been lamenting (whining) about it ever since.

However, Hubby picked up the ball on this one. He found those sandals and ordered them and presented them to me with a grin on his face like he deserved a medal. Which he did. And I was so excited to put them on and walk around with these soft little trigger point activators gently massaging my feet.

Except that ohmygosh they hurt like hell. Those soft little trigger point activators feel like tiny daggers digging into the soles of my feet. These are some industrial strength sandals (or torture devices... whatever). And I stumbled around the house near tears for two hours (or two minutes... whatever) until I couldn't take any more.

Hubby did not believe that they could possible cause so much pain, so he tried them on, too. The did not hurt him, excepting one tiny little spot on his right heel.

Whatever.

(Oh yes, I will keep wearing them. Anything that hurts that bad has to be good for me. Or something like that. Right?)

********
see more at Beth's

coriander stem and rows of hay

2011-09-21T17:47:00.004-05:00

Lyndsay was the one who told me. Somehow that is fitting.

REM decided to quit being a band.

And I just wanted to say that I really, truly wouldn't be Me if there was no REM. Not the Me that exists today. And I'm really glad, and eternally grateful, that they were there, so that I can be here.

Me, my thoughts are flower strewn
Ocean storm, bayberry moon
I have got to leave to find my way
Watch the road and memorize
This life that pass before my eyes

Berry, Buck, Mills, Stipe

fall spotting

2011-09-18T16:14:00.005-05:00

It started last weekend, really. Just a feeling. A little tingle that started in my toes and spread upward. I started packing away tank tops and fold-over cotton skirts and endless pairs of flip-flops. I was compelled to indulge in warm beverages involving the words "pumpkin spice." I really wanted to hear James Taylor sing about how the frost is on the pumpkin and the hay is in the barn.

Then this weekend...

Saturday morning's hike was full of little signs.

And the feeling spread from something inside of me to something visible and tangible.

The evening turned (even) cooler and Hubby (who is really not a warm beverage kind of person) thought that hot cocoa was a good idea. How could I argue with that?

And today, a cool, rainy day and a crock pot filled with vegetable soup.

Oh, Fall... I've missed you. I'm so glad you're back.

how about them apples....

2011-09-14T18:02:00.004-05:00

My brain can get so cluttered with thoughts and feelings and emotions and things I want to say and things I can't say and thing I should say and things I might say and things I need to do and things I have to do and things I want to do and things I should do and places I need to be and places I want to be and places I have to be and places I should be and people I want to see and people I need to see and people I have to see and people I should see that sometimes it's all I can do to make sure that, on the outside, everything looks fine.

Because sometimes, on the inside, it can feel like one slight misstep or one too-deep breath will cause everything to topple.

So I step carefully. And I breathe carefully. And I keep moving forward. And maybe go to Starbucks for some cocoa.

*********
see more at Beth's

the flip side

2011-09-07T16:33:00.004-05:00

Sure, there's the excitement of an as-yet-unopened crayon box and pencils waiting to be sharpened and choosing the just perfect new binder and decorating your locker and, of course, the new school clothes.

But there's also..

the dishes that will get washed eventually....

the dining room table that doesn't get cleared off because no one will be sitting there to eat... at least not in the foreseeable future...

the reading chair that sits lonely and abandoned (with the ottoman on top so the cat can't climb up and potentially snag the cushions)....

the clutter that just piles and piles and piles up because there is no time to un-pile it....

the laundry that is, miraculously, clean and folded, but will most likely sit there until it gets worn again, rather than be put away at all....

It must be back-to-school time.

Sigh...

********
see more at Beth's

sometimes I remember

2011-09-05T17:04:00.004-05:00

Sometimes I am able to remember, in the moment, all of the things I told myself I would remember next time.

Sometimes I remember to ease in to things.

Sometimes I remember to smile.

Sometimes I remember that the sun is shining and the breeze is blowing and I am breathing and I am alive right here, right now.

Sometimes I remember that I don't have to worry about the last mile marker. Or the next mile marker.

Sometimes I remember that it's okay to push a little harder.

Sometimes I remember that other people have no idea.

Sometimes I remember that I can forget about everything else for awhile.

Sometimes I remember that it is fun.

Sometimes I even remember to have fun.

peace, via guys named Anthony

2011-08-31T18:17:00.005-05:00

These days peace is not a constant in my life. I have to hunt it down, fight to wrangle a few moments here and there, and be on constant lookout for moments to present themselves. And on rare, special occasions, moments are gifted to me.

Such was the case this week. And not just solitary moments, but moments that can be returned to as necessary. (And aren't those the best kind?)

Both moments of peace were given to me by men named Anthony, neither of whom will ever know just how much their gifts meant to me, or just how much I needed them.

Exhibit A:

I tend to forget for stretches of time just how much I love the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But I was reminded in the most lovely of ways with the release of their (fabulous) new album. It's gotten a lot of play since release day...

(Of course, every time I think of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, in my head I see Anthony Kiedis on the cover of Rolling Stone in 1994 and I get kind of teenage-girl-giggly, and maybe start to palpitate a little bit... sigh...)

Exhibit B:

Ohmygosh I almost cried when this was handed to me. From the first note I was transported back to that perfect July night, spent with 30,000 friends, and Bono, and Edge, and Adam, and Larry. And this odd wave of calmness came over me. And I just couldn't stop smiling for a long, long time after the CD stopped playing.

It's been played a lot in the past week, too.

(Of course big props go to Hubby who both made sure the new RHCP album was waiting for me after work, and who plotted and planned with my cousin to procure the U2 show for me.)

Unconventional paths to peace? Yes.

But right now, they work for me. And that's what counts.

Peace out.

*********
see more at Beth's.

being green

2011-08-27T21:06:00.005-05:00

I can remember being smallish (although I don't remember just how smallish) and seeing Kermit the Frog singing Being Green. And I remember crying. Really crying.

"It's not that easy being green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves
When I think it could be nicer being red, or yellow, or gold
Or something much more colorful like that"

I was sad, because Kermit was sad. And I didn't want Kermit to be said.

That was not the only time I cried as I listened to Being Green. It was merely the first time.

And eventually, when I wasn't so smallish anymore, I started to realize that maybe I was crying for myself, too.

"It's not easy being green
It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things
And people tend to pass you over
'Cause you're not standing out
Like flashy sparkles in the water
Or stars in the sky"

I felt that. I was ordinary, plain. I blended in. I was easy to overlook. Not that I was looking to stand out or receive accolades, or anything even remotely like that. But at the same time, I wanted someone to notice me, to acknowledge me, just to see me.

And so I cried.

I haven't heard Being Green in years. Eight years? Ten years? It's been a long time. But last night, driving home, I heard Andrew Bird sing Being Green.

And I cried. I cried for the smallish girl, and the not so smallish girl, who just wanted someone to see her.

But then...

"But green's the color of spring
And green can be cool and friendly-like
And green can be big like a mountain
Or important like a river
Or tall like a tree"

I realized that somewhere in the past few years something shifted in me. Some time, some way, at some point, something in me settled in. Somewhere along the line, I've become kind of comfortable. Somewhere along the line, it became far less important for someone to see me. Because somewhere along the line, I saw myself.

"When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why
But why wonder why wonder
I am green, and it'll do fine
It's beautiful, and I think it's what I want to be"

And driving home last night, I smiled through the tears.

ordinary everyday moments

2011-08-24T18:01:00.006-05:00

It's funny.

They're only ordinary moments until they aren't there every day.

Then, somehow, they become more like...

...treasures.

*****
see more at Beth's

balance beam

2011-08-21T19:18:00.008-05:00

So, a new year starts this week. And I still find myself right in the same spot I was. Right in the spot that I almost desperately need to move from. But I'm still here. I haven't moved. I've tried. And tried. But... I'm still here.

I am a person of extremes. Meaning I go to the extreme in everything I do. I can get so angry that it lasts for days, so nervous I have panic attacks, so frustrated it causes me debilitating physical pain. My body has trouble processing certain foods? Then I will only eat the five things I know cause it no trouble at all. That sounds like an exaggeration, but it's not.

I have done myself no favors. Living in extremes has made a mess of me in more ways than I care to count, more ways than I care to admit (sometimes,usually, even to myself). And I know, I have known, that this must change, and that only I can change it. And I've tried. In my own extreme way. I've read the books and I do the yoga and the mediation and the acupuncture and the herbs and and and... And here I am, still struggling, still stuck, still here.

But I read this article on Friday. I know, right? After Thich Nhat Hanh, Buddhist scripture, Hindu scripture, countless books on Zen.... This article made an awful lot fall into place in my mind.

I have no balance. None. I run to the extremes without stopping, pausing, thinking, noticing, breathing... And that is why I'm stuck. I cannot move on, move past, go forward, until I can find some balance. It's hard to go forward when you keep running from side to side.

I know in my heart that all of the insane physical/emotional issues I've been dealing with for the past 4 or 5 years are all connected in a great big circle, and they just build on each other and feed on each other and keep circling around. And I just keep letting them.

Because I have no balance. I might have once upon a time, but I lost it a long time ago. So I'm stuck.

I have not learned (maybe I've even refused to learn) the lessons that this space in time is trying to teach me. And until I can learn them, I'm stuck.

And I think it might be about balance.

I think I need to {finally} find the Middle Way.

******

On my run this morning, I tried a different approach. I tried to stay in the moment.

I am running. The sun is shining. I am breathing fresh air.

Yeah, my mind wandered, and I'd start to think about things that have happened, or things that might happen. And I'd start to get angry, or nervous, or whatever. But I'd catch myself. And I'd go back.

I am running. The sun is shining. I am breathing fresh air.

It wasn't perfect.

It was a start.

And I feel like maybe I'm {finally} ready to learn.

*****

So, yeah.

Thanks, Flea.

house moments

2011-08-16T20:49:00.004-05:00

So, you live in your house. And everything that is in your house is there because you brought it there. And everything is placed exactly where you wanted it to be. And you see everything in your house every day. And you go about your life and it's busy and there comes a point where your house kind of fades into the background. You almost don't even notice it anymore.

But sometimes your house will catch you off guard. You'll reach down to get something off the floor, or the light will be shining through the window just so, or the cat will have flung his squirrel toy into some strange spot...

And, all of a sudden, you see your house like you're seeing it for the first time.

I like those moments.

enjoy the silence

2011-08-13T19:40:00.004-05:00

So, I haven't been doing much lately.

Actually, I've been trying to do as absolutely little as possible.

I've been spending as much time as I could manage at home. Sitting. Reading. Drinking tea. In the quiet. And the calm.

Sure, there's been the occasional Target run. Or Starbucks run. Or an hour or so at work attempting to get things ready. (Or at least look ready.) But I find I'm really just hurrying home.

Because really, that's all I've wanted to do lately. Just sit at home, trying to have as much calm, as much quiet, as I can.

It's almost like I'm trying to stockpile it, bottle it, save it up for a later date.

Because in far too short of a time, calm and quiet and sitting will be nothing but faint, distant memories.

But perhaps... just maybe... if I can take in these last few days of summer, really truly fully take them in, and store them firmly in my mind... maybe I'll be able to conjure up a few brief moments of calm or quiet in the midst of the coming madness (when I really really need them).

you capture - happiness

2011-08-11T16:23:00.003-05:00

Happiness has been a bit elusive lately.... As the summer quickly fades away, I find myself trying to clutch every last little bit of joy I can find in it. But the melancholy is slowly seeping in anyway. So.... Hubby and I took an impromptu trip into the Big City to eat at The Best Restaurant Ever.

This was dessert.

Happiness restored.

******
see more at Beth's

you capture - white

2011-08-03T22:34:00.004-05:00

It's no secret that I have the Starbucks love. And it's no secret that it's been HOT. You'd think, if you put those two together, that I'd be throwing back those frothy, frozen, frappuccino things. Right?

But here's the thing. They're really cold. Really. As in make-my-throat-hurt-cause-instant-brain-freeze cold. Oh, they taste lovely. They might even be on the menu in Heaven. But I just can't handle the cold.

So instead, I just keep ordering my ventisoyunsweetenedgreentealatte or my hot chocolate (with coconut, for a little summer kick). And then the baristas make fun of me. And then I ask them if they give a hard time to everyone who orders coffee, or if they save up all of their scarcasm just for me. That pretty much makes them look at the floor or otherwise avert their eyes in shame.

And I just take my hot beverage, sit down in the air conditioned cafe, and sip away.

(Okay, so I'm usually also eating a cookie. Who are we kidding. Whatever.)

******
see more at Beth's

(and I'm generally a pretty nervous test taker)

2011-07-31T19:41:00.007-05:00

The one thing I was fully committed to doing this summer was training. Really for real training.

I wanted to push myself. To see what I was still able to do.

And I've been pushing.

Still just three runs a week (cross training on the non-run days), but focused, planned, following-a-training-schedule runs.

And here's what I've learned...

I can't really follow a training schedule anymore.

The training schedule wants me to run at a certain pace on certain days; to hit specific times on specific days.

And my knees just look at that schedule and laugh.

Because some days I head out the door and feel fantastic and I can run like the wind (okay, maybe the breeze... or someone blowing a pinwheel to make it spin around... but you get the idea). And the next run, I just have to hunker down and put in the miles because speed just isn't going to happen.

And I never know what kind of day it is until I actually start to run.

So that's how I've taken my training. Do what the schedule says, in whatever way I can, and cover the distance for the day.

And I've kind of felt like it's been sort of working. Maybe doing some good. But there's been no real way to know for sure. No real test of the training plan.

I haven't run a race since the first Saturday in June.

That's a long time ago.

But on Saturday, I got up very early. And I gathered up my race bag and a cooler full of ice packs, laced up, and headed north for the original road and trail race.

This was going to be my test.

I eased into the race. Let my knees loosen up. I stayed relaxed. I watched my form. I pushed just enough. When there wasn't much distance left, I pushed more.

And that was that.

I passed this test.

Stride on.

waiting for the fall

2011-07-31T19:22:00.002-05:00

I knew when this summer started that there wasn't going to be much summer in my summer.

I thought I was okay with that.

But now, here I am, staring down the barrel of August.

And I feel like I'm standing on the edge of cliff.

And I know it's a long, long way down.

And I know there's nothing but rocks at the bottom.

And I know I don't have a parachute.

And I know that, at any moment, someone is going to come up behind me.

And push.

you capture - fruit

2011-07-27T19:44:00.005-05:00

When I opened my refrigerator and saw that I had all of these items, I laughed out loud and started singing.

I am so from the 80s.

*******
see more at Beth's

the hot list

2011-07-25T11:06:00.006-05:00

1. So, the heat, right? It's dumb. And it reminds me why I like fall and winter so much. I think it's not supposed to be so hot this week. Right?

2. Thank Heavens that Kirsten mentioned in one of her blog posts that she likes Nuun. I had been searching for a not Gatorade hydration drink for long runs. I had investigated Nuun. I had not ordered it because it only came in packs of a lot, and what if I hated it? But Kirsten likes it, and I trust her, so I ordered it. Just in time, too, because I so needed it this past week. And it's awesome. Thanks Kirsten!

3. Someone was having fun at the animal cracker factory....

4. I have gotten to the point of familiarity with the baristas of my local Starbucks that I now take them cookies when I bake. Is this a good development, or a bad development?

5. I finally took my first solo hike of the summer. There just something about being out on the trails alone in the morning, when it's all quiet and calm and just you out there. It's lovely. (Although I am grateful to whoever it was who took Trail 8 last,because they left stair-like boot prints that made it a tish easier for me....)

6. I have let my hair exist in its natural state today. It has been a looooong time since I've let that happen. (How long? Hubby has never seen it all natural like. That's how long.) It is maybe a little bit scary. And big. And tangly. But I've called a large clip into action, and I'm going with it. Maybe I'll do it more often. It did take less time than "fixing" it...

7. This past Saturday marked the weekend last summer where my knee began it's implosion. This year I ran the mileage I had attempted that day without incident. My fingers remain crossed for my trail race this coming Saturday.

8. Yesterday Hubby and I had planned a hiking day. The weather really didn't look like it was going to cooperate, if radar was to be believed. So instead of a nice, strenuous day of hiking, I made chocolate chip scones, we ate all of them, then went for our second viewing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. Of course the storm never materialized and we totally could have spent the day hiking, but you know... chocolate chip scones and Harry Potter.

9. Hubby and I went to see Josh Groban in concert. Because Josh Groban is my boyfriend and I wanted to hear him sing Higher Window to me. Also, Josh Groban's guitar player might be Officer Cobra Bubbles from Lilo and Stitch. I couldn't get close enough to check his knuckles.

10. I took my 3 year old niece for cupcakes. She ate a little less than half of her cupcake, said she was full, and stopped eating. I fully did not comprehend what she meant. How can you be full when there is still cupcake to be eaten? And when did I turn on my I'm Full Manual Override Switch? Or do I just not register being full? What is full anyway?

you capture - beautiful plants

2011-07-21T10:10:00.006-05:00

If you want to see some beautiful plants.....

just come eat with the vegans...

******
see more at Beth's

******
see even more here (if you want)

home, again

2011-07-18T16:32:00.005-05:00

We are the second owners of our house. The first owners were my Great Aunt and Great Uncle.

I used to come here as a child. I used to visit my Great Aunt when she was older.

My Great Aunt was almost a hoarder; there was wall to wall "stuff" when she was here. Then she had to go into a nursing home, and Mom and Dad set to the task of sorting though the stuff.

In that time, Hubby wasn't Hubby yet, but had decided to move to my area. My Great Aunt's son offered to sell him the house. He said yes.

The house was sorted, emptied, and overhauled. Carpets ripped up, everything got a fresh coat of paint, curtains were opened for the first time in years. Then we moved in.

The house looks nothing like it used to. I've worked hard to make it home. It's calm. It's comfortable. And sometimes it's a little strange, living here.

Sometimes I'll have these little flashes, little moments, where it still seems like my Great Aunt's house. Every once in awhile... while I'm walking down the basement steps, while I'm coming in the back door. I'll have this odd moment where I feel like, if I turn around, the house will look the way it used to look when it was theirs, not ours.

It doesn't happen often, but it does happen. And when it does, I wonder if it's my Great Aunt. When she went in the nursing home, she never came back to her house. I don't think she was even told that it was sold. And now that she's left this existence and gone on to another, I wonder how she feels about that. Is she angry that the house isn't hers anymore? Is she glad that I live here, and not some strangers? I don't think she's haunting me or anything like that. You know how sometimes you'll drive by a place that you used to spend a lot of time, like the house of a friend from elementary school or the place you used to work when it was an ice cream parlor, and you'll think "wow, I used to spend a lot of time there" and you'll kind of sigh and go on with your day? It feel like maybe my Great Aunt does that sometimes. It doesn't worry me, or scare me, or anything like that.

I just hope she approves of what we've done with the place.

you capture - summertime

2011-07-14T08:17:00.005-05:00

Little Man's first toes into the big pool.... This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship....

******
see more at Beth's

hey, mr. space man

2011-07-10T19:07:00.005-05:00

As a little girl, I became fascinated with space travel. I know that came from my dad, although I'm not sure of the specifics. I don't remember one great moment where I thought "space travel!" but it became part of my consciousness just the same.

I wasn't particularly interested in planets or stars or science-type stuff. It was the astronauts that caught my attention. The idea of manned space exploration; of people leaving the planet and floating among the stars. Just the thought amazed me.

The movie The Right Stuff came out when I was a kid (I wouldn't read the book until much later), and when it was on cable, I was allowed to watch it. I watched it a lot. I started learning about Project Mercury, which led to Project Gemini. And then I really fell in love with Project Apollo.

It was the sense of adventure. It was the romance of it all. The idea of dreaming up the impossible and making it a reality. Traveling to the moon and back.

To this day, I can tell you all about the original Mercury Seven Astronauts. I can tell you all about the rockets and craft that got the American Space Program underway. I can tell you the life story of every astronaut from Alan Shepard (the first American in space) to Gene Cernan (the last man on the moon). When the moon is full, I can point out all of the Apollo landing sites, then give you the specifics about each mission.

There has never been a time in my life when space flight was science fiction. It has always been reality. I've watched it unfold, secondhand though books and magazines and documentaries, and right on my own television - countless space shuttle launches and landings, images from Mars, astronauts fixing the Hubble Telescope, building a permanent space station. I've witnessed astronauts who are orbiting the earth at 17,000 miles an hour interact with a rock band and their audience at a U2 concert. (Talk about convergence of all things good and true...)

The adventure. The magic. The romance.

This week the last ever space shuttle mission was launched. It was beautiful and amazing. And it made me a little sad. Not because this chapter is over, but because there is nothing waiting to take its place. We are not looking toward a new frontier. We're just stopping.

And the world could really use a little magic.

so beautiful tonight

2011-07-06T20:43:00.006-05:00

Sometimes a moment comes that is everything you wanted. And everything you needed.

Sometimes a moment comes in which the happiness is so complete, so full-to-bursting, you cannot recall what unhappiness is.

Sometimes a moment comes where you get to say "Hi Edge."

Sometimes a moment comes where you get to hear One Tree Hill live.

Sometimes a moment comes that is so much more to you than you will ever be able to explain to anyone else. And if you try to explain its significance, people will look at you like you've lost a bit of your grip on reality.

But you haven't.

Because really, you know it's just a moment. And you know that tomorrow life will be just like it always is.

Except a little better.

Because now just a moment is forever your memory.

long time, no list

2011-07-04T20:06:00.004-05:00

1. Don't you hate it when you are washing the container that used to have cake it in, but now the cake is gone, but the container still smells like cake, and you get a little sad and maybe a little misty because you wish there was still cake? Or is that just me?

2. There's this counter girl at one of my favorite cafes who messes up my order every single time. I order the same sandwich with the same toppings every single time. And she messes it up in the same way every single time. And I have to go back and tell her that my sandwich is wrong every single time. And she acts like it's my fault every single time. I think I might start checking to see who is working before I walk all the way up to the counter, and if she's there, I'll just go somewhere else.

3. It turns out that a ventisoyunsweetenedgreentealatte is equally as good frozen as it is hot. Good to know. Or maybe just dangerous to know.

4. Spending a week getting up at 3 AM and eating fruits and veggies and little else can make you just a tish crazy.

5. Any day that you are walking through Target with your husband and he suddenly stops at the camera department and says "we need a camera that just fits in your purse and stays there and will be good at concerts and stuff like that" and then proceeds to actually buy one is a good day.

6. When you go to your doctor for your monthly knee check up and adjustment and you tell said doctor that your knees are a little more swollen than usual this month and his response is "yeah, that'll happen" it makes you wonder why you're forking over that $10 co-pay.

7. I changed up my yoga to a more vinyasa style practice. Why didn't I do that years ago?

8. Hubby bought the cat a continuously moving water drinking fountain thingy. So you can now hear running water from pretty much anywhere in the house at all times. Apparently it's good for the cat. It just makes me have to pee.

9. Hubby and I decided we wanted to watch a movie the other night. He is 37. I am 36. And we sat on our couch and watched The Emperor's New Groove and laughed like fools. Then we spent the rest of the evening and most of the next morning quoting it to each other. We're cool like that. (Noooo touchy.)

10. I'm going to see U2 tomorrow. Just saying.

funny how that works

2011-06-30T18:09:00.005-05:00

This week is long.

The days start too early and last forever.

There is too much to do, too much to take in.

It is slightly overwhelming.

And the last thing I want to do at the end of it all is go run. Especially on Thursday.

I'd rather go to bed.

But I don't.

I drive myself home (and when I get there, I realize I have no idea how I got there).

I change from school clothes into shorts and a singlet and lace up my running shoes.

And I trudge out into the heat and sun and humidity.

And I head for the trails.

An hour later I come back, drenched in sweat, fully exhausted, with bugs plastered to me.

Happier than I've been in days.

thinking...

2011-06-24T17:10:00.006-05:00

So, I can't think of it as the class I don't want to take but have to take. I can't think of the money I had to spend to take the class I don't want to take but have to take. I can't think of it as having to get up even earlier than I do for work (!) in order to make it on time to the class I don't want to take but have to take. I can't think about how my internal workings will deal (or not deal) with that schedule. I can't think about sitting in a window-less room all day long, all week long, when the weather is finally supposed to be nice. I can't think about not getting home until stupidly late then having to cram in a run and post-run recovery tactics. I can't think about not having time to eat dinner, but only having 20 minutes during the day to eat some form of main meal for the day. I can't think about not seeing or speaking to anyone that isn't in this class (that I don't want to have but have to take). I can't think about any of it. I will slide into a sobbing heap if I do.

Things like this (for many and varied reasons) very nearly broke me this year.

I can't think about it.

So I'm not.

What I am thinking is this...

Next week, I am going to go though one hard-core, kick-butt, deep-cleansing detox. Because, hey, if I've gotta get up that early, and I'm not going to have time to eat, I may as well make it work to my advantage, right?

That little change in perspective gives me something I can actually (oddly) look forward to. And maybe even be a little excited about.

(Why does this feel like progress to me???)

gnomeo, oh, gnomeo....

2011-06-21T14:01:00.003-05:00

Seriously. I love them.

Admit it. You do, too.

***********

52 weeks of happiness

soft shoe

2011-06-19T18:11:00.008-05:00

So, it was the first time Best Friend and I would be seeing Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. It was us, plus Two Lovely Ladies. We were in a giant sports arena, just about as high as you could climb without actually perching on a rafter. But we did not care. It was Bruuuuuuce. We were just so happy to be there.

We were waiting for the show to start, chatting and whatnot, when this fellow came up to us. He had a bit of a tough-biker-dude vibe about him, and I was a bit suspicious. He says "I only have two left, but if two of you want to go up to the front row, they're yours." My companions instantly said "yes!" but I wasn't quite so quick to the yes. My reply was something like "who are are you and why do you have these and why are you giving them to us?" Tough Biker Dude laughs just slightly and says "I work for Bruce. He doesn't let the front row of tickets be sold. He sends me out before the show to find people like you, with seats like these, and move you up to the front." My companions are pratically throwing their tickets at Tough Biker Dude, totally ready to trade up. My reply? "Do you have any ID?" He flashes his passes and badges and says "Do you want them or not?" So Best Friend and I hand over our tickets and take what he's offering. And off he goes, into the night. And the four of us just sat and stared at each other. Four people. Two tickets.

The Two Lovely Ladies looked at Best Friend and me, smiled and said "GO!!!" So we did. We made our way out into the concourse area, then stopped and looked at each other, slightly dazed. Then we looked down at the tickets we were now holding. Mine said Row 1, Seat 1. We looked at each other again, screamed, and took off running. Down three levels of arena. Screaming the whole way. We did stop briefly to call my mom, who had generously given her ticket to Best Friend earlier in the day, and told her what had happened. Her reply? "F***!"

When we finally made it down to the main level, we were shown to our Row 1 seats by a grinning usher. Looking around, it was a row of bewildered Bruce fans, talking quickly and animatedly with each other, pointing to where they had come from. We giddily took our seats, shared our story, (there was an episode with some $21 beverages, but that's another story), and the show started.

Turns out our Row 1 seats were about three feet from The Big Man, Clarence Clemons, himself. Oh. My. Gosh. A) It's Clarence Clemons!!! B) Bruce spends A LOT of the show hanging out with Clarence!!!

At one point, Bruce held my hand for about 2.1 seconds. And at another point, during a stunning Clarence solo, I became bold enough (maybe due to the $21 beverage) to reach out, very slowly, and touch (maybe the right word is "pet") Clarence Clemons's shoe. It was extremely soft. And he glanced at me with a look somewhere between "silly girl" and "why are you touching my shoe?"

It was one of the Best Nights Ever.

Love you, Clarence.

I should be standing by the pond right now, but...

2011-06-14T20:19:00.006-05:00

When I was a sophomore in high school, there was an excerpt from Henry David Thoreau's Walden in my literature book. I was approximately one and a half pages in when I realized that this piddly little excerpt was not going to be enough. Luckily, the library had a copy. I devoured it.

It wasn't like anything I had ever read. In it I saw such truth, such honesty, such wisdom, such beauty. And I fell in love. I was ready to move to a tiny one-room cabin on the shore of Walden Pond. (I'm still ready to move to a tiny one-room cabin on the shore of Walden Pond.) I try, every day, to live as Thoreau-like an existence as I can (I don't always succeed, but I keep trying). I quote Thoreau in my head on a daily basis. Two of my favorite quotes hang in my kitchen as constant reminders. My copy of Walden is filled with highlighted section, penciled-in notes in the margins, and dog-eared pages. I consider Henry David Thoreau to be a guru, of sorts.

I have been dreaming of making a Walden Pilgrimage for years. Three or four months ago, Hubby and I decided to make it happen. Take a vacation. My dream vacation. After all, we had not taken a real vacation (one longer than a half-day's drive away, one where we stayed longer than a long weekend) since our honeymoon, five years ago. Research was done. Hotel reservations made. Excitement built.

And then, three or for weeks ago, I was paying bills. (I could probably end right there. You know what's coming.) It became apparent that trying to pull together your dream vacation in three or four months could cause some financial strain where it didn't need to exist. So, reservations were canceled. Plans were un-made. Excitement turned to sadness.

And it's not forever. We will go. Just not now.

But I just can't stop thinking that it's sucky that money is so important. Such a focal point. Such a driving force. Even if you aren't a particularly materialistic person, you have to worry/think about money far more than I think it's healthy to do. There are lots of reasons, and some of them are totally out of our control. But still, you know?

If Thoreau was here in our world today, what would he say?

And would he let Hubby and me build a cabin next door?

restart and reboot yourself

2011-06-12T19:49:00.004-05:00

For the past few days, my neck has hurt. Really hurt. Actually, I've hurt from the base of my spine, down my neck, into my shoulders, and down my back. And my head has hurt, as well. I believe this is what it feels like when several months of pent up frustration/anger/upset/worry/anxiety all begin to leave your body at the same moment.

******

We went for a walk on the beach after dinner tonight. There was a chilly breeze and huge waves and no one there but us. We walked and walked, but didn't feel the need to talk. And I came home with a pocket of beach glass, lungs full of fresh air, and a slightly clearer head.

******

It's not very late, but I need to start getting ready for bed soon. The alarm will go off early tomorrow. Not for work, though. We're taking the train into The City for the sole purpose of eating a huge meal at a vegan restaurant, and maybe buying a few things we don't really need, if we see something we really like. Just because.

******

My list of things to do this week does not exist. Because this week, I do not care what gets done and what does not get done. This week I just want to be. To decompress. So that's what I'm going to do.

you capture - flowers

2011-06-08T18:19:00.007-05:00

My head is already there. Already on the beach with a book, listening to the waves meet the sand and the seagulls play in the air.

There is already a playlist filled with Jimmy Buffett and The Grateful Dead and Crosby, Stills, & Nash, and The Eagles on repeat in my head, and I'm thinking of that one particular harbor where I can see the southern cross and get a peaceful easy feeling while living a sunshine daydream.

Because my head? It's already in summer mode.

But the rest of me is catching up fast....

*******
see more at Beth's

he gets it

2011-06-07T19:06:00.006-05:00

Standing in the entry way of a museum that had kindly opened its doors so that several thousand runners did not have to wait in line for the porta-poty, UB turned to me and said "I'm gonna head to the finish now. What time do you think you'll be done?"

This was the first time UB had been to a race with me since the meltdown. He's used to me saying some quick-ish time and nailing it. And he knows what's been going on, but he hadn't really experienced Me, Version 2.0 yet.

I answered with something like "Um... ahh... Maybe an hour? Hopefully not more than an hour. But maybe more than an hour. But I really really really hope it's not an hour."

He gave me a hug, said "Stride on," and left to wait for me at the finish line.

I went to the starting line.

Fifty-five minutes and sixteen seconds later, I crossed the finish line. I grabbed some water, located UB in the stands, and started making my way up.

I sat down one row below UB and stretched out my legs as he pulled the two huge ice packs from the cooler and handed them down to me. As I sat there with ice on my knees, we were both quiet for a few seconds. Then he put a hand on my shoulder and said "Good job, kiddo. You said you wanted less than an hour, and you were way under that. And in this heat, too. Good job." Then he moved on to another topic. There was no need to say more about the race; neither one of us ever lingers too long on a race performance discussion. But I was kind of stuck on that comment. It made me just a little teary.

Because UB, he gets it. He so gets it. And he gets me. And he gets what it means to me. And I just can't say that about a lot of people.

But I sure am lucky to have UB around. That I can say.

ripple....

2011-06-06T21:28:00.007-05:00

Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.

Reach out your hand if your cup be empty,
If your cup is full may it be again,
Let it be known there is a fountain,
That was not made by the hands of men.

Jerry Garcia

********
52 weeks of happiness

a thread or a fall. or peanuts.

2011-06-05T12:31:00.004-05:00

For too long, I've felt like I'm hanging on to the last thread of a fraying rope.

Lately, I've felt that maybe someone set the rope on fire, too.

And I can't quite figure out if I'll wind up more damaged by hanging on, or letting go.

But I'm hoping if I can just hang on for a tiny bit longer, the fall won't be so far, the landing not as hard.

And maybe, just maybe, I can finally find a different way.

Until then, I bought some chocolate covered peanuts.

you capture - games.

2011-06-01T17:41:00.005-05:00

I don't get it. He will search up and down the beach, looking for the "perfect rock." This can sometimes take quite awhile.

When he finds the "perfect rock," he then hurls it into the water. This takes a few seconds.

I think the "point" is to hurl the rock at the exact perfect angle and trajectory so as to make said rock skip across the surface of the water before sinking to the bottom of the lake.

If that can be considered a point.

I think it's a Guy Thing.

Or just a dumb thing.

Whatever.

******
see more at Beth's

eventually finally came

2011-05-31T11:31:00.005-05:00

I knew I'd get the flowers planted eventually....

52 weeks of happiness

my little laundry friend

2011-05-27T21:01:00.005-05:00

Shortly after we moved into our house, the light over the washing machine and dryer quit working. All the other lights in the basement continued to work, but that one did not.

So I called Dad. He came and took a look. He said it was something to do with shorts or switches or something electrical sounding like that, but that it was easy to fix. Which was good, because laundry is no fun anyway, but laundry in the dark is even less fun.

The next day, Hubby and I went off to work, and Dad came to fix the light. He sent me an email later in the day to say all was well and the light was working again.

When I got home from work, I headed to the basement to throw in a load of laundry, just for the novelty of doing so with the lights on. But when I went to grab the pull chain, something was different. What should I find hanging from the end of the chain but a lovely plastic crystal dolphin. I laughed out loud.

When I called Dad to thank him for his help, I made sure to make a mention of the extra special feature he'd added. He chuckled just slightly and said "Yeah, I picked that one out special, just for you." We have a similar sense of humor, Dad and I.

But now, every time I turn on the light to do laundry, I smile. Every single time.

you capture - pretty

2011-05-24T18:59:00.004-05:00

I live in a tiny little town.

We have a few bars, a bank, a mini mart, a lot of train tracks, and a violin repair shop. I sometimes wish I lived somewhere else.

But then I'd miss the sunsets.

***********

see more at Beth's

sundays

2011-05-22T17:36:00.005-05:00

I usually feel like the hamster on the wheel; just going all. the. time. Rushing from the moment I wake up in the morning until the moment I lay down at night.

The weekdays are consumed by work, or things related to work, or things required by work, and my silly little biological quirks.

The weekends are consumed by all the things that don't get done during the week, like laundry and grocery shopping and dusting and cleaning the bathroom and stupid, time sucking, un-fun things like that. And, of course, going to work for awhile to make sure everything is ready for the week ahead.

Just going. And busy. And life.

Sundays tend to involve me doing the out-of-town errands to get silly essentials that are usually cheaper at, say, Target than the grocery store. So off I go to buy things like toothpaste and tampons and glass cleaner and cat treats.

But I have a secret.

Before I go do the Necessary Things That Must Be Done On Sunday, I stop at Starbucks. I stop at Starbucks and I get a ventisoyunsweetenedgreentealatte (and sometimes an oatmeal cookie). And I sit in Starbucks. Just because.

I am rarely at Starbucks for more than 10 or 15 minutes, because there is lots that still needs to be done, and life beckons and all. But for those 10 or 15 minutes, I am doing something just for me. Just because I want to.

Don't tell anyone, okay.

you capture - busy

2011-05-17T18:37:00.003-05:00

*******
see more at Beth's

(because they never happen to me)

2011-05-17T15:54:00.006-05:00

Today at work, five people told me that my hair looked good. Five! And two of them stopped me in the hall to tell me. This never happens.

Of course, my hair is an entity unto itself, with a mind and a will of its own, and it does not care what I think or feel or want it to do. It does what it wants to do, which is to be big and poofy and frizzy and uncontrollable. So it's usually in a ponytail, because at least then it's out of my face.

But today, the hair gods smiled on me, and let my usual Rosanna Roseannadanna do take a day off.

And I am just girly enough to fully appreciate that today was a good hair day.

52 weeks of happiness

caught up with you yesterday

2011-05-15T13:00:00.004-05:00

You're standing in the middle of 20,000 people, and Alto Reed hits that first note of Turn the Page, and the roar is deafening. Then all those voices become one voice, note for note, word for word, right along with Bob Seger... "On a long, lonesome highway, east of Omaha...." And,as you sing along, too, you cannot help the goose bumps that rise on your arms.

Then you look to your right, and you see the couple that must be just about Bob Seger's age (but fighting it every step of the way). And they are joined at the mouth, like those sucker fish that clean all the algae out of your fish tank. And you cannot help but throw up in your mouth a little bit.

And you look back to Bob as fast as you can.

*****

Love you, Bob.

you capture - motherhood

2011-05-10T18:00:00.009-05:00

My mother is a wonderful person. Really, truly, wonderful.

But... We're kind of different from each other.

She wants to be the life of the party. I don't even want to go to the party.

She likes to share what she's doing with everyone. I just want to do what I do and go home.

She out there, in the mix, for everyone to see. I'm most likely someplace quiet where no one can find me.

And I sometimes get the feeling that she wishes I was.... different. More.... something.

I'm not different, though. I'm just me. Which is fine with her, I know. But still.

So here, Mom, this one's for you....

******

see more at Beth's.

big pictures

2011-05-08T17:58:00.006-05:00

So, when I saw the time on the clock as I crossed the finish line, I wasn't happy. For all kinds of reasons.

But then, about five seconds later, I saw the big picture. Or maybe a few of them.

******

One month ago, I ran the longest 5k of my life. My time in that race was one fourth of my total time for Big Race.

Two weeks ago, my twelve mile training run was only five minutes less than my time for Big Race.

That's a whole other mile (point one). With only five minutes more on the clock.

When I look at the month as a whole, I see progress.

I can't be upset about that.

*******

The first ten miles weren't so bad. I ran. I kissed bricks. I saw people clogging to YMCA. (Seriously.)

The next two were, um... tough. So I just kept repeating "dig deep... dig deep..."

The last mile was the single most difficult mile I've ever run. I really and truly did not think I was going to make it. I really and truly thought I was going to have to walk. Or stop. Or cry. But I just kept saying "find your strong... find your strong..."

And I dug deep. And I found my strong.

When I look at Big Race as a whole, I see fight and determination.

I can't be upset about that.

**********

Hubby was waiting at the finish with a cooler full of ice.

I can't be anything but grateful for that.

*******

Today I am sore. More sore than I've been since my early marathon days.

My knees are swollen; just a tiny little bit, though.

Today I am smiling.

Because I am happy.

*******

Stride on.

this is the part where I get scared

2011-05-05T16:10:00.004-05:00

I should be packing right now. I'm leaving in the morning, after all.

Big Race weekend is here.

I should really be packing.

But instead I'm sitting here scared.

I know I will make it through the mileage. But I'm scared about how I'll make it though.

I want, so so much, to be someone who runs purely for the joy of it. Because that is what running is to me. Joy. Pure and simple. There are very few people who really, truly get just how deep it is for me. (I mean you, BFF) I run because it brings me joy. Real, true joy.

But I'm also competitive, and a perfectionist. And when I run, I want to run. Fast. Faster than you (whoever you might be). But fast isn't part of my reality right now, and most likely won't be, ever again. And so I'm also scared of what others will say or think about the girl who used to be fast, and now.... isn't.

And I'm scared that regardless of just how hard I've worked and trained and prepared, my knees will act up and that will be that. And I'll wish I had a sandwich board, like boys who sold newspapers in the 20s and 30s, that says "I swear I used to be fast, but now my knees suck and I can't run like I used to even though I want to and you can call my doctor and he'll tell you that's the real truth!"

And every time I think I'm over that fear, that stupid, pointless, self-conscious fear, it just sneaks up and settles right down next to me, and doesn't seem like it plans to leave any time soon.

So, yeah. I'm sitting here sacred.

But I'm also remembering the moment in the movie Without Limits where Bill Bowerman is talking about the Olympic motto, Swifter, Higher, Stronger - "It doesn't say swifter, higher, stronger than the other guy. Just swifter, higher, stronger."

And reminding myself that it really, truly is about the joy.

****

Before I ran Boston, my godmother gave me a necklace (even though I really don't wear jewelry). She told me she wanted me to have something special to mark such an occasion, and when she saw this necklace, she knew it was the perfect thing.

I haven't worn it since Boston. But I think I'll take it out for the weekend ahead.

Stride on.

you capture - outside

2011-05-03T17:55:00.006-05:00

The first wedding anniversary is the "paper anniversary." So Hubby got me a gift certificate for a local nursery, as we had been having many discussions about the bare-ness of our yard, and I had made a mention or two about wanting a big, shady tree to sit beneath.
The gift certificate came along with a great deal of information about various types of trees. Hubby had looked in to all kinds of factors and details and information trying to figure out what tree would be just the right tree for our yard.
He decided, in the end, that a Crimson King Maple would be the perfect choice. It grows quickly (by tree standards). It provides a significant amount of shade. It doesn't attract a lot of bugs. (Because bugs aren't cool. At all.)
So, when spring came (our anniversary is in November, after all...) we took the gift certificate to the nursery and told them to show us all of their Crimson King Maple trees. In among all the twisting, turning, trees there was one Crimson King standing up perfectly straight and tall. It was the most perfect looking tree we'd ever seen. So we said "that one" and the nursery people brought it to our house and planted it in our yard.

Five years later, it's still perfectly straight. Just a little taller now.

********

see more at Beth's

just kinda (or really)

2011-05-01T11:29:00.013-05:00

It's somehow becoming really clear to me lately that I'm kinda different than most of the people I know.

I have a different routine.

I have different ideas.

I have different necessities.

Different things are important to me.

I do things differently than others I know.

I'm very solitary. Probably to a fault.

I like warm beverages and quiet places.

And I'm beginning to think that a lot of people around me just don't quite understand these things about me.

I'm not sure how to feel about that.

I guess I usually just think that they can think whatever they want, because they really don't know the whole deal anyway.

But sometimes I wonder if I'm really just that unimportant to the people around me that no one even cares to know the whole deal. (I mean, am I just supposed to unload my life on people, all uninvited, if they don't want to know?? I don't think it works that way.)

But then I just feel thankful for the few who do know, and understand, and accept, and support.

Or maybe it's just one of those days.

you capture - pink

2011-04-26T18:06:00.006-05:00

Some days suck.

And it's cold.

And it's raining.

And you're running late.

And you leave your breakfast on the counter.

And you leave your glasses on the dining room table.

And you have two meetings. At the same time. Before work actually begins.

And you really just want to crawl back into bed and sleep until you can't sleep anymore. Which is probably a really (really) long time.

And when you finally make it into your work space, you see that some anonymous someone has left one single flower on your desk.

And suddenly your day isn't so sucky anymore.

*****
see more at Beth's

so I said when

2011-04-23T21:26:00.004-05:00

There was a time in my life when I did everything. Everything I needed to do/wanted to do/was asked to do/etc.

That time is past.

As I get older, I find more and more that I can't do it all. Even if I want to, I can't. The reasons are many and varied and sometimes kind of depressing. And it took me kind of a long time to realize any of it. But once I did see it, I had very little problem adjusting; I was able to look and see what could be trimmed away. That's actually kind of a continual, day to day process for me.

And as I sat staring down this weekend, I knew something had to give.

My priorities seem to be written in triple bright neon these days, so they were not hard to spot. But sometimes figuring out what will go is not quite so easy. But I have my process of elimination (for lack of a better term), and eventually it gets sorted out. And once it does, I'm good with it. Even if what has to go is something I would actually really like to do, I'm good.

But it doesn't always work out that everyone else is good with it. And I've found that sometimes when I try to explain what, to me, is crystal clear and makes perfect sense, the response I get is "that's just stupid." So I've pretty much quit trying to explain myself to other people.

Really, I figure they don't need an explanation anyway. Because sometimes I just have to do what's right for me. And that's all the explanation there is.

you capture - spring

2011-04-19T19:41:00.006-05:00

Just a few glimpses.....

******

see more at Beth's

keep pushin'

2011-04-15T22:17:00.003-05:00

This week was one of those weeks. I know you know those weeks.

By the time I got to Wednesday, I just kind of wanted to curl up someplace dark and quiet and not come out. Ever.

Wednesday also happens to be one of my three precious run days. But I did not feel like running. Not. At. All. I felt like curling up someplace dark and quiet and not coming out. Ever.

But instead, I came home from work, changed, and headed out the door. The automatic pilot part of me headed for the hills. Literally - the out and back loop that takes me over some crazywicked hills.

As I started my slow shuffle down the street, I felt as though my legs were made of equal parts lead and iron. The thought of just looking at hills tired me. The thought of running up them made me want to cry. Everything in me wanted to turn around and just go back inside.

But I didn't.

I keep at my slow shuffle until my legs started to loosen up a little. And then something happened that I hadn't expected. I started to push the pace.

I can't even say what made me do it. I can't remember the last time I'd done such a thing. I can't even say it was a conscious decision.

But there it was.

Me. Pushing.

Maybe I was delirious from lack of sleep.
Maybe I was fed up with the things-out-of-my-control.
Maybe I was trying to remember what it felt like to race.
Maybe my legs remembered something the rest of me had forgotten.
Maybe it doesn't matter.

Because I went with it. Mind you, there was nothing particularly fast about the pace I was pushing. But it was faster than I'd managed in quite awhile. And don't even think those monster hills didn't slow me down to something akin to a crawl. But holy wow if I didn't pick up again when I got to the top.

And when I got home? I didn't feel so leaden. I didn't feel so ready for a dark hole.

I felt good.

Good enough to push on through the rest of the week, with something like a smile on my face.

Stride on.

you capture - smile

2011-04-12T19:17:00.007-05:00

And then I bit his head off.

Which made me smile, too.

Some days are like that, I guess.

******

See more at Beth's.

so I turned myself to face me

2011-04-10T18:48:00.009-05:00

When it comes to my hair, I will try just about any cut or any color.

That is about the limit of my comfort with changes.

I am a creature of habit. Change makes me nervous. It's just so unknown. More than one night I've sat awake wondering, worrying, about how things could/might/need to/should/are going to change.

And yet, one of my favorite quotes is "Be the change you wish to see in the world." (Gandhi said that.)

I've always taken that to me the whole, wide world. As in, do what you can to make the world better. And I've always tried to do that, nervousness or not.

But lately, I've kind of turned that phrase inward. It occurred to me that "the world" is also my world; as in my life. And if my world is going to change, I'm going to need to be the one to do it. And it needs to change. And that makes me so, so, so nervous. Even as I make decisions and choices that I hope will bring changes, I am nervous.

So when the nervousness sets in, I've taken to saying "be the change" to myself. Somehow, that helps. Somehow, that little phrase reminds me that it's still me, and it's still my life, and I'm not actually going to change who I am, but that the changes will serve to make my world a better place, and maybe even make me a little better, too, which will, in turn, make me more useful to the world around me. How those three words do all that, I'm not sure. But they do.

Hubby brought home a ring for me not so long ago. It's just a simple silver band, inscribed with the words "Be the change you wish to see in the world." A beautiful, ever-present reminder.

Be the change. I'm trying. Every day.

you capture - fun

2011-04-05T20:23:00.007-05:00

... because sometimes you just need a post-work, pre-dinner, hormone-driven snack.

******
see more at Beth's

fairy tale

2011-04-03T16:36:00.003-05:00

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved to run. She wasn't a "natural" runner; didn't look the part, wasn't particularly fast. In fact, people were sometimes surprised to learn she was a runner at all. But she loved it just the same. And she worked really hard at it, too.

Over time, over miles, over races short and long, she improved, little by little. She set goals. She worked toward them, day after day. She watched her times drop at every distance. Eventually, she actually became a kind of good runner. There was quite a string of time where she consistently won her age group, finished among the top ten women, won a few races herself. Her lucky 13th marathon was the Holy Grail of Boston.

Exactly one year later her knees were in an MRI machine.

Running changed then. She still loved it, to be sure. But it was harder now. Painful. A struggle. She was slower than she had ever been. It was frustrating. And, even though she put on a brave face and said all the right things to make everyone think she was fine, she was sad. And she let herself be sad for a very long time.

Then one day, she decided she didn't want to be sad anymore. Being sad was a waste of time. She could still run after all. Even if it was slow, she could still run. Even if it involved new rituals, she could still run. And, after all, she still loved to run.

So she set her mind and her heart, and she went back to work. And it was still hard, but it somehow didn't seem as difficult anymore.

And one day, she decided it was time to be brave and sign up for a race again. A 5k, just to remember what it was like to run a race. It scared her. She was afraid of making a fool of herself, of being the slowest person there, of people pointing and whispering (things like "didn't she used to be good?"). But she got up early on Saturday morning, laced up her running shoes, and toed the line anyway.

And she did what she had done in every race she had ever participated in - she ran. When she got to the one mile mark, she noticed the clock was already showing double digits. But this oddly didn't upset her, or anger her, or depress her. When she got to the two mile mark, she realized that once (upon a time) she would have already been done with the race. But this oddly didn't upset her, or anger her, or depress her. Instead she took stock: Do I feel okay? Yes. Would it be possible for me to run any faster than I am? No, not today. So? Keep running.

And she did. She ran the slowest 5k she had ever run. But this oddly didn't upset her, or anger her, or depress her. After all, it was the best she could do on that day.

So...

Will she ever be faster? Will she ever get better? Will her times ever improve? Maybe. Maybe not.

It turns out it doesn't really matter.

One day she was fast. That day is over.

One day she was slow. That day is over.

But every day, she loves to run.

So she does.

The end.

Stride on.

little moments

2011-04-01T11:56:00.009-05:00

... waiting in Starbucks for my ventisoyunsweetenedgreentealatte and listening to George Harrison's If Not for You playing in the background...

... sitting in a quiet house eating warm apple cinnamon oatmeal...

... realizing that it was totally worth it to buy the expensive flat iron...

... unrolling my mat...

... turning on the radio in the car to find that Eric Clapton's Lay Down Sally is starting just this very second...

... seeing that, for the first time in a month, the store has the pizza sauce that you love so much back in stock (and buying two, just to be safe)...

... standing still on top of a sand dune to listen to the waves below...

... wearing a hat, with a flower on it...

... lacing up my running shoes...

... eating a homemade peanut butter cookie...

you capture - vibrance

2011-03-29T19:50:00.008-05:00

Hubby and I are both vegetarian / borderline vegan. And when we eat in the company of non-vegetarians, we often hear comments about how our companions could never give up meat, or "jokes" about eating meat, etc. It is annoying, especially since we don't make comments about their choices in food, but we've learned to accept it.

But the funny thing is, when everyone sits down to actually start eating, those non-vegetarians will look over at our plates, then often look back at their own with a trace of sadness in their eyes. See, our plates are always prettier and much more colorful.

*******

see more at Beth's

lost and found

2011-03-27T15:43:00.004-05:00

In about 5 weeks, it will be time for this spring's Big Race.

Five weeks.

I drug myself through January and February, spending most days wondering how I would ever make it to the Big Race, let alone actually through it. I can remember exactly two runs in those two months that were not marked by the word pain. And I really, truly thought I was done running.

But.

March arrived. And even though it's still freezing cold, there's some sunshine. And I decided that I didn't want to be drug through March. So I dug in

I gave up chocolate for Lent (notmetalkaboutit). I pulled out my old, trusty training plan and amended it to fit the new normal. I got to work.

I quit running in the knee braces, and save them for some post-run therapy.

I've been running up and down hills. Big ones.

I've been to the track for speed work. (Granted, to anyone watching it would not look like speed work. But speed it a relative term.)

And today I hit ten miles again. It was long, and it was hard, and the near constant freezing wind didn't help anything. But it was good.

Because, for the first time in a long time, I felt kinda like myself again.

I've missed me.

I have five weeks to run up and down hills, and run circles around the track, and inch my mileage up, little by little.

And that makes me smile.

And Big Race doesn't seem like such an impossibility anymore.

Stride on.

you capture - youth

2011-03-22T20:00:00.004-05:00

I remember when birthdays were like this.....

(Okay, so I guess mine still are, if I can help it. I may be at an age when many people try to forget or ignore their birthday. But then you don't get cake. Why would I deliberately do something where the end result is lack of cake?)

*****

see more at Beth's

spring fling

2011-03-20T16:31:00.003-05:00

Today I am packing away clothing made of corduroy or wool, as well as clothing that has a turtleneck. I am also shoving winter coats into crates and then shoving those crates into basement corners.

It's not necessarily warm, and I could wind up wishing I still had some of those things within easy reach.

But I don't care.

Spring begins today.

Although it's still chilly, I want jackets, and cotton skirts, and t-shirts with cardigans, and mary janes with no tights.

Although my knees still ache and the wind still has a bite, I'm running with a little more pep, and a smile on my face, and faaaaar fewer layers.

Although I have a crazy, full, busy, most likely tiring week ahead, I can see spring break on the horizon.

I am ready for spring.

Ready for sunshine

Ready for outside.

Ready for a bicycle and my legs to be my main modes of transportation.

Ready for open windows.

Ready for fresh air.

Spring, I am so glad you're here.

you capture - emotion

2011-03-15T18:47:00.008-05:00

Sometimes I want to take pictures, but I don't know what I want to take picture of. That's usually when I head over to my sister's house and just see what happens.....

******

see more at Beth's

let go

2011-03-13T16:52:00.007-05:00

I have created a very intricate labyrinth of rituals to get myself from one side of the day to the other. Steps that must be taken in a very specific, careful order or my world will tilt off balance, if not come crashing down. And I have been telling myself that this whole little dance is to my benefit, to keep me functional and "normal"and lots of other things.

But lately I'm not so sure.

Have I just crammed so much into the day that I've pushed out anything that can actually help to lighten it?

Things that once were fun and freeing are becoming one more thing I have to try and fit into an already over-crowded day. I seem to just be tired and sluggish and unhappy and anxious and all kinds of other not good things like that.

And then I had this thought - What if I stopped?

It came to me the other day, as I was crying because it was late, and I was tired, and I still had to about 12 different things before I was able to get into bed, and I was so filled up with stress and anxiety that by body was in huge amounts of pain in all kinds of odd places. Though my tears I said to Hubby "I just want to be like normal people. I just want to stop hurting. I just want to be able to go to bed."

And the thought came. What if that was what I did? What if I just went to bed?

I know there are some things that I really, truly do need to do, but...

What if I did the things that made me feel good, but not the things that make me feel less than good?

What if I shifted my focus to the things that actually, truly help me, lighten me, bring me some measure of peace or happiness or calm?

And if I didn't manage to fit every little thing into the day, I just let it go and went to bed?

These thoughts are revolutionary to me. And a little scary.

I want to believe that I can control everything, and that by controlling everything, I can make everything perfect. I can make me perfect. I can make life perfect.

But really, there is very little, if anything, that I can control. And nothing is ever perfect.

Including me. Especially me.

So why do I put so much energy into trying to make it so?

My answer has always been that I, in fact, can control it all and make it all perfect if I just work a little harder, do a little more, so I simply must make each step I take through my labyrinth day dance be as perfect as possible, so that I can be better, faster, thinner, happier, on, and on, and on.

But today..... I just keep asking why do I put so much energy into trying to make it all perfect?

Because it's not. And I'm not. And it's not going to be. And I'm not going to be. Ever.

But I believe I can be happier, calmer, more at peace.

I used to be.

I can be again.

If I can just let myself go.

you capture - body parts

2011-03-08T19:38:00.006-06:00

It's kind of crazy to think about all the people who look at us during a typical day. It's maybe even crazier to think that each person who looks at us sees something different...

focuses on something we may not usually think about...

notices things we may not have noticed ourselves...

and yet, it's all still you.

What do people see when they look at me?

*********

see more at Beth's