My kids didn’t just wear the same shirt for pictures. They wore the same shirt.
Monthly Archives: October 2012
It’s an unusually temperate day in October. I’m dressed in a black t-shirt and dark jeans but the sun has been inveigling me through a window that will never open. I’m in the frame of mind to stomp on bubble wrap for an hour if it were irresponsibly left laying around. Only, we haven’t had bubble wrap here since 1985. My only option is the sweat offered by the sun.
My discontent with life continues its expansion until I realize that I’m just pissed that my feet are hot and the socks are slipping inside of my Neo shoes. The forty minute walk I planned won’t happen if I am already looking forward to slouching over the germ infested keyboard at my desk.
Stupid is as stupid does. – Mamma Gump
I stop being stupid and my discontent drops 40 points as soon as I rip my shoes and socks off. No, going barefoot isn’t a cure all for my life’s problems. It is an election year and everyone tells me my life must be or will be terrible so 60% discontent is the least it can get. Don’t judge me, Mr. Mail Man, I might look postal but I much better off barefoot.
Despite the warmth, the bare limbs of the trees are giving a preview of winter. Scattered across the ground beneath are the remnants creating colorful blankets of bold reds, luminescent yellows and dramatic browns for me to walk across. I’m thankful for one more opportunity to enjoy the gifts of fall.
Before I return to work, a leaf shaped piece of glass gets my attention. I find it more interesting than concerning. It catches blue sparkling light and throws it back into my eyes. I don’t look away, I look closer. It’s not my first broken glass and it won’t be my last. It won’t cut me, it never does.
This past weekend was the Lions’ Club Spook Hike fundraiser. For $5 you get more than your monies worth with a headless horseman (real horse) and other psychological fears.
My oldest son loves going through the the haunted houses. I was certain that he would have nightmares for months after we went the first time three years ago. Instead, he approached it as though he were attending a broadway play. I find it curious because this child has an extensive imagination and can scare himself right out in broad daylight.
As far as the spook hike goes, he is just like me. The spook hikes don’t bother me either. I like to see the clever ways they startle, distract, and unsettle you or tap into that irrational fear. I like to watch the process but I’m not affected by it.
Then this morning, I realized just how much I am like my son. Recently, I read about a weight loss blogger who was running early in the morning in her reflective gear, etc. It made me want to get out in the wee morning hours despite the lack of daylight. So, I laced up some minimals and went for a run long before day break. The thing is, I have a terrible fear of running in the dark. This was only the second time I had ever ventured out into the scary pre-dawn world. I didn’t even think using my iPod because I wanted full hearing functionality in case footsteps approached from behind or a nondescript white van with no back windows suddenly started its engine. I made it back to the house unscathed but spooked to the core…over nothing at all. I guess my imagination was getting the best of me.
Still, I am not sure if I’ll be brave enough to even run to the garage in the morning.
Almost anything can lurk there..including a double stuff Oreo.
Last weekend was a hilarious gathering of most of the women in my mom’s family for our annual Sisters’ Bash. Mom died 11 years ago from pancreatic cancer, so, my sister and I rely on maintaining this tradition with our family so we can stay close to her. Even if it does mean that I end up being the automatic reference for butt or ass in charades. It was an honor I earned rapping a rendition of Da Note Ta Folla So with my pants hanging low.
Before leaving for Kentucky, my sister recruited me to help entertain my neice over the weekend. It’s a girls’ weekend but Miss A was going to be the only one under 30 attending. Remembering that Miss A signed up to participate in a Girls On The Run event, I figured it was a good time to get some training for it. It seemed like a good idea until my sister emailed back saying Miss A lost interest in training because she’d rather play than run.
Sounds like a job for Run Smiley, doesn’t it?
12 hours after the gluttony of the Sisters’ Bash began, I informed Miss A that it is time to go running and running with me is F-U-N. As it turns out, another cousin’s 10 year old daughter was in attendance at the Bash too. I felt a little pressured when the 10 year old, my sister, and my cousins all asked to come along after I expressed the fun-ness of running. Gulp. This year’s Bash hostess lives out in the boonies of Kentucky. There is no playground, no parking lot barriers, no manicured business landscapes, no skate parks, no… I was going to have to figure out how to Run Smiley without all my usual bag of tricks. I was surrounded by private property and a road.
Alright, I’m being overly dramatic. It is one of those things we do so well at the Bash. It seriously wasn’t that hard to Run Smiley and if had been then I’d be a little disappointed in my abilities.
Two steps out of the frighteningly steep driveway, I tapped Miss A on the shoulder and yelled, “You’re it.” Then took off running. Playing tag is a seriously effective way of completing your speed intervals. You are going to run way faster than you would any other time when you have someone chasing you.
I’m pretty sure I heard Miss A tell my sister that it was fun to run with me.
When the boys were very young, a friend shared sage advice about having them ride snowmobiles.
“You need to make them get off the snowmobile before they want to so that they are really excited to ride the next time.”
– R. Grivins
I haven’t been running much this year. It started out with trying to resolve some aches and pains but spiraled into doubt and depression. I wasn’t sure I’d run again but worse, I didn’t really care that I hadn’t run.
The other night when all was quite except for a mouse and me, I went to the treadmill. I knew that I would never get up in the morning to exercise, the best use on my time right then would be a 1 hour walk on the treadmill.
Most people dislike the treadmill because it’s boring to run in the same place. Mostly, I agree. Yet, on this particular time, I loved my treadmill. Because I become bored on the TM, I started running short intervals. I can’t even recall the last time I went running before this. I’d lost my running mojo, yet, here I was running, again. Every time a short interval ended, I wanted to run more. The short intervals were just too short, and I couldn’t wait for the walking intervals to end so that I could run more.
R. Grivins was right. I had to stop running before I wanted to. As a result, for a first in long time, I am excited about going running again. Even if it has to be on a treadmill.
I stood in my co-workers office with screwed up look on my face as I performed a quick mental calculation.
Then I declared, “I have gone 40 hours without chips or a sweet.”
She snickered sympathetically before responding, “That’s not even two days.”
40 hours IS hardly anything to write home about. (That’s why I write a blog.) Sadly, it has taken me weeks to string together this many hours that were sugar and chips free. Maybe I’d try one or the other, but this is the first time in a while I’ve done both. Generally, I use one as a crutch to get by without the other even though I promise myself regularly that I won’t touch either till 2013.
I’m pretty sure that I’ve spent 2400 minutes of those 40 hours THINKING about sweets and chips.
Will I make it to 48 hours? 72 hours? Or, even 17 days, my one time record? I don’t know. Like any good recovering addict, I’m just taking it one hour at a time.
44 hours and 31minutes at the time of posting.
48 hours succeeded