Let The Games Begin:

Today was the day I was all set to download the documents I need for the first week of my classes, and all was well with the universe... until the Road Runner decided to up and quit on the only other working computer in the house (other than the phones, tee hee).
So I got to put life on hold *yet again* for another hour to mess with cables and wires and connections behind the dusty computer, but finally got it working (and clean!) again, wheeeee! It's great to be techno-savvy, but soooo perplexed as to why this process of starting school seems to be frought with monkey wrenches of all sorts (I must got me some bad Master's degree mojo goin' on, woo wooooooooo!).

So now, at the end of another busy day filled with more cupcakes (the co-workers weren't sated with the vanilla cupcakes and soon demanded chocolate... I'm too busy to get very creative, so I just made chocolate espresso cupcakes with whipped hazelnut ganache buttercream, no filling), visits from the grandbaby, loads of laundry, dinners planned, shopped for, house cleaned, organized, kid's lives in order for the school week, activities/transportation arranged, and now I *finally* have pages and pages of syllabi, assignments printed and highlighted, textbook chapters marked... all in anticipation of turning in my first assignments in a couple days (first 3 page paper due by Friday, gar!). Sigh!
And life is good... just wish me luck, k? Still need to get those &%$@# cupcakes frosted, and it's getting late:-(
p.s. exactly one hour later...
If my encounter with the vanilla cupcake last week was a wee little affair, what I've since done with the chocolate cupcake could only be classified as a full blown romance: I had no shame WHATSOEVER eating a whole one (covered in chocolate sprinkles, no less!) and even licked the beater with great, sinful delight after the last cupcake was frosted.
My rationale for the big cheat was that it was best to enjoy it while the gettin' was good: I was there, it was there, the moment was *perfect*-- the cake fresh, the frosting creamy and soft... I plan on absolving myself of my indiscretions tomorrow with a 2 hour session at the gym after work, but will no doubt be replaying the scene over and over in my head, hoping to relive it a little as it will be my last for a long time to come, tee hee.

A Boy and His Dog:

Maggie and Jacob's first pheasant; awesomely, fantastically cool, and 100 times better than sitting on the couch (even if it IS cold and windy outside, no?).

p.s. Click on the picture: doesn't Maggie look a little freaked out? And what's up with that boy's hair? Oy!

I wish I knew you...

This tune came on the Celtic Crush show early this morning and it got stuck in my head. Something about that note she hits when she sings "and we'll meet some daaaaaaaaaaaay" and the simple guitar riff she plays over and over that my brain got fixated on (which, after many hours of deep thought, I realized reminds me of this). Should pull out the violin and find out what note it is... my niece had her teeny tiny 1/4 size violin out last night and it was fun to try and knock out a few tunes on it, even downloaded a tuner onto my iPhone so I could make the little thing sound like it's supposed to (tough to tune a wee instrument like that, was hoping I wouldn't pop a string).

Much to my sadness, I able to access my classes today, even tho they don't officially start until Monday:
I found out yesterday that my laptop is, in fact, dead, as the new cord didn't bring it magically back to life as I had hoped....but-HEY! Called the folks at Compaq and was thrilled to discover that not only do they now employ tech support people that speak an understandable form of English, but that my sad little laptop has *30* days left on it's warranty (vs 30 days out as I had feared)! Woo hoo! There is a slight suckage factor that I'll have to start classes using the kid's computer (with the wonky keyboard), but hope it's only temporary. Oh, and that it doesn't look like going back to school will be much fun, lol... one of my instructors is located in Saudi Arabia, which I don't hardly even understand, but ya gotta love technology nonetheless... here's to hoping the guy speaks English.

Fascinating discussion here: This is my favorite blogger in all of Blogland, always good for thoughtful discourse. But I must warn you: if you get lost in the comboxes, you'll quickly become mired in despair at how soulless we've become as a society and how far we've fallen... but the good news is that as long as there are people like Rod around, there's still hope for us (and not of the creepy, political variety). Major snaps to Rod for reminding me each day that all is not lost.

Obama vs McCain Dance Off...

http://view.break.com/592648 - Watch more free videos

Tap that ass? Bwahahaaaahaha!
More people have told me that I look like Sarah Palin in the past week (cause I've had a lot of older, vision impaired patients at work lately perhaps?).
Politics at it's finest...

Say Hey!

Heard this song on the way home today, and instantly, I really liked it... has a nice island feel to it,which I'm sorely craving as the weather turns colder and colder each day. And the performer doesn't look like the type of guy who would run the streets singing "I love you, I love you, I love you", does he? Makes the song even more fun.

"Seems like every where I go, the more I see the less I know"; so, so true.

So Far Away...

from my brain, that is...

Maybe I shouldn't have gotten the flu vaccine while I'm still feeling rotten... dang that hospital peer pressure! They have a list up on the wall at work with the names of the people who have/have not gotten the vaccine so it's apparent TO ALL if you've been a wussy bad girl and therefore open to all forms of nagging. If I was the hypochondriac type I'd say I could feel the viruses hooking up and mutating in my brain, creating the fog I've felt all afternoon, sleeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppyyyyy!

But being the fully rational and unimaginative girlie that I am, I'd prefer to think it's just 'cause I had quite the whirlwind of a weekend; entertaining visitors, running amuck, preparing for a busy week-- not to mention recovering almost 20 patients yesterday all by my lonesome. Fortunately, the work dried up early in the afternoon today so I was able to get home a little sooner and rest my weary head to ready myself to do it all over again, and again, and again. In the big picture it's all good, I'm so grateful to have a decent job in these goofy times, but I REALLY wanted to extend my week of leisure just a few days longer, waaaaaahhhhhhhh!

Also, my laptop died a few minutes ago, and am hoping a new cord will bring it back to life before my class begins next week; really, it's my own fault at this point, since the dog chewed up the cord months and months ago and I should have replaced it then. Jake did such a nice job of MacGyver-ing it back together that I took it off the "to do" list, I'm just glad it croaked now vs. in the middle of a 20 page paper... yippie yahooey, and thank God for Ebay ('cause I got one for $17 postage paid vs some $80 at Best buy, and this girl doesn't want to go there anyhow).

Addendum: I have a confession to make...

After many painful and wonderful moments of loyalty, discipline, and devotion, I'm ashamed to admit that I cheated.

And who ever would have thought? I was never the kind of girl who lacked in self control, never one to cave in to temptation, even when something lovely was right in front of me, enticing me...

But I did it... and in the grand scheme of things, in spite of the risks, it was quite nice, *completely* worth it :-)

I can't say that I'm looking forward to getting myself in that situation again, but if another vanilla cupcake brushed with lemon juice, filled with raspberry jam and topped with a mountain of lemon meringue frosting comes my way, I'll be better prepared (damn my good baking skills, and my nice coworkers for being cupcake worthy! Who ever could guess that I couldn't bake a few dozen and never eat one... it took a couple days, but I finally caved, sigh!)
My next object d' affaire:

OOOoooooooOOOOOooooooOoooo! So dirty, yet soooo delicious;-)

p.s. Was it cheating if I thought of a salad while I was eating it? What if I ate it in the bathroom so no one could see??

Yay!

It's amazing how many people are on the roads at 6:30, at how dark it already is at this time when at the beginning of the week it was still light...
Getting up early to get the girl to the bus isn't my ideal early morning scenario, but so far it hasn't been bad. There's a dreamy quality to jumping out of bed the instant the alarm goes off vs laying in bed for 1/2 hour and waking verrrrryy sloooooowwllly:
For the first 5 minutes of so after you roust yourself, it's almost as if you're still dreaming, carrying the remnants of your last dream in your head as you rush to get ready, trying to make sense of who you are and where you are.
And it's GORGEOUS outside at this time of day; also dreamlike, misty, like the narrow and soft space between sleep and awake. Plus, it's wonderful then to have 20 minutes all to myself before the boy gets up and round 2 starts.
Speaing of wonderful, have I mentioned how fan-freaking-tastic it has been to have most of this week off? I am still a little sick (sinus infection?), but feel rested, better, more like myself. I couldn't have this amount of time to myself all the time, and it rots to get to the point where I need a break so badly, but it's another one of those push-pull situations in life where suffering thru the difficult things makes the wonderful things that come after so much more appreciated. So, YAY! And back I go next week to the grind: 44 hours, bummer:-( Hope I make it to the gym after work for a little sanity time...
Speaking of the gym (sorry, segueways don't come easily at 6:30 in the am..), I received the *best* compliment I've probably gotten in quite a while:
My spin instructor got off her bike 1/2 way thru class yesterday to check and see where our gears were, how hard we were working. With my cold, I've vacillated this week between working reallllly hard to knock the goo out of my head, and being pretty wiped out, yet still cranking it--but you still wonder where you stand in relation to the other people who have been taking the class a lot longer than I have.
When she came by my bike she said "wow, you're really working hard", and then pulled me aside after class to comment on what a strong rider I was, on my level of athleticism. And while I know my body has changed a great deal after a summer of heavy riding and daily spin classes, I have no idea if my change from an overweight, out of shape person to an avid cyclist (20# lighter, wheeeee!) is apparent to anyone else. Or if the new muscles, no longer covered by a layer of chub and lots of clothes to hide them, can be seen vs only felt (my glutes feel *really strange*, maybe it's from doing a few too many of these:

Time to get dressed and enjoy my last day of freedom, to one last morning at the gym for a while...
LATER: went shopping today, since my belt has become a fashion necessity again, and lo and behold, I'm down another pants size (the smallest I've been since the kids were born, yee-ha!)... LASK eye surgery scheduled for two weeks from today, too, but not sure how I feel about that; we're such pragmatists that something unnecessary like cosmetic eye surgery is hard to do without much guilt.

Be Ok:

This is the theme song of the day, serendipitously chosen by the local High School radio station (WBSD 89.1, best radio station *anywhere*) as it was the song that woke me from a deep sleep this morning:
(I couldn't have picked a better one if I tried)



This was the day where I was going to try and get my equilibrium back after the events of the past few days: getting sick, cars breaking down, children's secrets revealed... and as such, I've had to expend a great deal of energy to fix/arrange/organize things with only half the brain capacity and a full box of tissues at my side. Add to that the lovely weather that fairly screams "get outside and get stuff done!", and I'm so sooooo glad to have this day off to recoup and get my head straight.

Gracy pants' behavior and broken car earned her a month and a half of bus rides, starting this morning: wheeeee! It was a pain to get up at 6 to drive her maniacally do the bus stop, but I made sure she had something to eat, a little spot of coffee, and a jacket (yes, she's 16; tell me about it... but even naughty girls need some mommy time), so when I got her on the bus knowing she was going to make it to school on time for a change, a wonderful peace descended upon me. Getting home and having all that quiet time all to my ownself was very nice, too.
To put it in perspective:
I was in such a panic yesterday before I got the bus set up, wondering how I was going to drive the girl to school every morning at 7, run home, get Jacob ready, myself in order, Jacob dropped off at 7:50, and myself to work all before 8 am. Really, it was quite the dilemma, made my head spin. I've done it a couple times before, and it's no way to start the day, esp when work is soooo hairy right now.
But I have to tell you, getting Grace on the bus, having some time to myself, getting Jacob organized and fed, off to school, and my sickly self to the gym with nary a hitch this morning was bee-you-ti-ful, and for a brief moment as the autumn sun shone its warmth upon me this morning I truly felt at peace with the world, and it was GOOD:-)

Gardening tidbit (there weren't that many this year were there? Poor gardens have been neglected..):
In my boogery, sudafed induced haze I mustered up enough energy on Sunday to cut down the seed heads from all the perennial gardens on the property and wheel them up to the prairie (a necessary evil if you don't want to expand the gardens each year, takes at least a couple hours). How I pulled that off, I'll never know... drugs-- powerful stuff, I tell ya!
I used to really enjoy that task, too (somewhat... it's dirty and scratchy and hot), loved breaking apart the 80 gagillion seedheads one by one and distributing the seeds throughout the prairie in all the promising spots; I'd take a look and see where some rudebeckias might look good or where some echinaceas needed to go, like some benevolent God of my own little domain. But Sunday, I just dumped the plants in big piles and wandered back, glad to have it over so I could crawl back on the couch:-(
Feeling much better today, I tore out the huge tangles of morning glory that climb on the deck railing, chicken coop, and everywhere else it wasn't supposed to go.. they look so pretty and romantic when in full bloom, but after a frost look desolate, and are so covered in seeds that they need to be taken somewhere else. These insanely vigorous plants and their spawn are from plants we grew from seed at our old house 6+ years ago, crazy! They obviously love it here...
I threw the plants up by the fence in the front prairie, wonder how long it'll take before they take over up there, too?

For some reason, I lost all interest in the gardens this year, but hope taking a season off will get me yearning to dig new gardens and get my hands dirty next year... we'll see.
In the meantime, I'm just going to try and be ok:-)

Oy!

Did ya ever have one of those days where you felt like you could never focus on any one thing long enough to get anything done?
Believe it or not, I got all the crap stuff on my daily list accomplished (laundry, phone calls-- all the big items) but the *little* things like "remember to grab your vitamins so you can take them before you go into the other room" sort of stuff, the kinds of things that keep you from wandering aimlessly from one room to the next, over and over and over again in fruitless pursuit of what you were going to do... *that's* the stuff I've been having a problem with today.
And now my brain hurts now with all the futile remembering and forgetting and re-remembering; think it's time to grab a glass of wine and call it a day;-)

Sick:

So totally bummed, cause I'm siiiiiiiiick! My head is aching, nose running, froat sore, and worst of all, no energy to pretend like I'm fine (which is what I usually do).
This always seems to happen after a long stretch of working too much, as I have been the last 3 weeks: with all the changes at work, the stress of anxious co workers, uncertainty about my job (who knows what my job even *is* these days-- things are 360 degrees different over the past two weeks since they've restructured everything... used to have at most 9 patients to recover in the morning, which made for a mondo-schitzo morning, but now we are recovering 13+ patients in the same time span, with no breaks, no help--crap! You head into work and wait for someone to tell you how things are different today since yesterday, and hope that it all comes together and no one has a meltdown, wheeeee), it's made for a hairy past few days, and my body is crying "uncle"!
So very glad to have nearly a week off now to recover, before it all starts back up again and I pile on the stress of starting school in a couple weeks. Hopefully, when I am back to the crazy hours they will have it all figured out and I can become acquainted with whatever it is they want me to do and I can return to my happy autopilot that motors me numbly through each day.

Ya know, what truly rots is not the sickly part, but the fact that it is GORGEOUS outside, and so feel double the weight of getting off the couch so I can fully appreciate this fleeting weather; feel pressured to do something "fallish" like take Jacob to the pumpkin farm (he hates it anyway), or to a corn maze (ditto that), or really just anything other than being bundled up and shivering and wasting the lovely sunshine away.... gar! I would love a nap, if only to ease my headache, but feel too GUILTY about closing my eyes and missing a moment of this nice day... would love a tylenol, too, but can't seem to get off the couch:-(
(and in the meantime, Maggie keeps sneaking over and stealing my booger-y kleenexes off my pile; hope she eats them in their entirety so I don't have to pick them all up later when I finally muster the energy to get moving).

So here lays I, trapped between being unable to move and feeling too guilty to fully embrace any attempts at recuperation.... lame. We have Jake-events to attend this afternoon as well, boo. If I go, I'll be blowing my nose constantly, feeling tired, freezing, not at all in good form to socialize with strangers; but these events are *so* few and far between that I need to make an attempt: Need to eat something, need to wake up, need to get some tylenol.
Need to lay on the couch, need to close my eyes, need to nap away the afternoon... yeah.
(Also need to figure out how to get Grace to school all next week and then pay for her $$ car repairs, but that's a whole 'nother story...)

Endorphin Block...

Ok, first it was blogger's block, which all by itself was fairly sucky...

But now I've extended the suckage to include an inability to kick my ass at the gym:-(

I did a 30 minute sculpting class on Monday that hurt me bad for a couple days, but since then I haven't been able to reach the level of intensity in my spin class that I've really grown to crave (allright, it's more like an endorphin high that I've become addicted to, seriously).

I used to sweat so much during spin that it would drip on the floor under me and soak my clothes (gross, I know-- and at first it really creeped me out). Then after a couple weeks the perspiration dropped off a bit, but it was still enough to get in my eyes and fog up my glasses. But NOW, even tho I've been cranking up the resistance to crazy high levels (19 today) and spinning my pedals as fast as I can, I can barely break a sweat, barely get winded... in fact, instead of collapsing yesterday after my spin fix like I usually do, I still had so much pent up energy that I did a sculpting class AND Zumba afterwards, and could have probably done one more class if I wasn't overdue for a meal and a little dizzy. Gar! I felt so dissatisfied.

Is it all that common to max out so soon in fitness classes? Or have I just hit a strange plateau, where all my muscles have grown accustomed to their daily abuses and are like "yawn, bitch. Is that all ya got?"

Granted, I am on cold medicine cause I can hardly breathe as I have something nasty a brewin...

Is sudafed like some sort of exercise meth? And if I keep taking it before class, will I end up looking all haggard like those people in the "after" photos you see on the Oprah show??

Cyndi before spin class:

Cyndi *after* spin class:

Sheeeoooooot! Maybe it's time to cease with all the exercising for a bit and chill out on the couch with a tasty box o donut holes.... for my health, after all. I mean, I already feel like an endorphin withdrawing crack whore who can't score her next fix, no matter how many tricks she turns; don't want to find myself on an intervention episode of the Tyra Banks show, dressed in spandex... (at least not until I lose those last 10 #, tee hee).

Kabir:

I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water is thirsty:
You do not yet see that the Real is in your own home,
and you wander from forest to forest listlessly...
Here is the truth!
Go where you will,
to Benares or to Mathura;
If you do not find God in your your own soul,
the world will be meaningless to you.

I used to like that poem, ages and ages ago... and every so often it pops back into my brain for one random reason or another--in fact, it woke me up this morning at 5:30 and I haven't been able to sleep since, go figure.
Personally, I think God took an extended vacation from my soul and thus have been moving about in a haze ever since... and unfortunately, even tho church and its accoutrements are a nice filler material, they haven't had the staying power to keep me from wandering the forest all these years...
And altho I enjoy the travails of wandering, find neither purpose nor direction lately and would like to focus my efforts, find a guidemap so I can make sense of where I am, where I've been, and where I'm headed.

Dreamed of my hometown last night, of no one event in particular... just of the feeling I get sometimes when I'm there, when I was there, and woke up with Kabir in my head.
Strange.

Another spin class song; usually I'm not one to form a connection to a song right away, but when you have the resistance cranked up to 17, your legs are on fire and you can barely breathe... closing your eyes and focusing on the beat, the voice, and the lyrics can really pull you through:

I See You Baby...

Ok, for about 32 seconds I thought I would be able to pull off a wee little bit of a writer's strike, but even tho I am in a dry spell, blog-wise, it's far too difficult to NOT blog than it is to dry blog, so bear with me:


Not completely sure if this is meant to titillate those of my gender or not... but with my newly established identity as a gym dweller, made me laugh just a little...
Here's the original, if you wish to draw some parallels:

Being able to identify which one is your favorite will be very telling...

Me, I would love to get in on the girlie "stripper aerobics" class-- reminds me of my favorite pre adolescent television program "The 20 Minute Workout", woo hoo, in which I discovered that it was waaaaay fun to abuse my body to a perky, choreographed beat (and who knew you could find episodes of the show on line? I've been watching a few and it really explains a lot...)

I have many more things of a highly profound nature to relate, but it's all stuck in there and doesn't want to come out, boo. Maybe I need to let it fester for a few days until it's ready to explode... we'll see. In the meantime, I'm feeling achy and cranky and a bit blue today; clearly blog constipation has created a toxic overload to my brain and body.

Just for funs, I'm going to include this video:

This is the sort of stuff I pump into my head before starting work, trying to set the tone for the work day. The version I have stored on my iPod is a little more... nas-tay ("'cause you gots to be nasssss-tay!"), but I like the Fat Boy Slim nuances they added in this one. Since I'm leaving soon to see an 8pm Ani Difranco concert farfar away today, lord only knows what's going to get me revved up for work tomorrow morning-- double espresso with added espresso powder, with a side of amphetamine, perhaps?

p.s. even tho I hate to be cold this time of year, I just can't muster up the gumption to wear warmer clothes. Wearing jeans makes me feel like I'm suffocating in yards and yards of fabric; had a sweater on for a brief few moments yesterday and felt like I couldn't *breathe*. My clothes don't fit so great these days, and the low rise jean issue doesn't help: I'm yearning for a pair of fully fledged mom jeans that will cinch my waist so the pants will STAY UP. Hate the sensation that I'm only a bend at the waist away from some ass crackage, hate always having to crank the pants up, yank the pants up, pull the damn pants up all day all day all day...

Allright, wanted to change my original morose video to a more fun one, and discovered that there are NO Prince videos to be scrounged off YouTube.. guess Mr Prince doesn't allow such pilfering, ohwell:-( Seriously tho, they played a Prince song in spin class this am and I realized at that moment that I MUST get the "Purple Rain" soundtrack in it's entirety.... what a nerd!

p.s.s. the Ani DiFranco concert was very nice; she had a great xylophone player with her that really mellowed out her set... I could have 100% done without the political rhetoric, but what do you expect when you go to the most liberal town in a 500 mile radius to see the most liberal performer probably in existence-- and during an election year, to boot? I was just askin' for it, so I will limit my complaining, but it was painful and irritating and I will surely know better for next time;-)

Ya Know...

If you leave comments, I might be inspired to blog a little more.
You can even do it anonymously, and I will only delete them if they're ungodly vulgar (or not, who knows, tee hee)..

Therapy...

... has turned my brain to mush, and now all I can do at the moment is drink a lovely chardonnay and listen to the "Milkshake" song, over and over and over again on my iPod (in my defense, it's the DJ Zinc version, which is somehow way cooler and makes this less creepy).

I've known for many a year that it's best to keep my personal pathologies under wraps, deeply buried, away from the prying eyes of spectators. And as a venerate naval gazer from waaaay back, I'm already well aware of my problem areas, diagnosed three generations back, with those even in the periphery sorted into tidy DSM IV classifications....
So why, o why, do I need the validation of strangers to confirm what I already know?
And what exactly will I do when all my scary parts are dangling in the open air, exposed for all to see (yick! once those beasts are unleashed from their restraints, will I ever be able to tuck them back into the tidy package they were crammed into all those years? Doubt it)?
And once my analysis really gets rocking, does this mean that I will be forced to stop smoking crack, beating the children, and sleeping with random men I meet at the local truck stop?
Soooooooooo unfair!
Or will it mean that I'll end up living in a cardboard box by the railroad tracks once my selfish attempts at self actualization fall flat???

Sounds fan-freaking-tastic, and I get to pay big ole $$$ for the fun of it all!
PMS+ analysis=one shitty day:-(

I leave you with this synopsis of my inner turmoil du jour, one of the more entertaining ones:

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Bleah!/Pumpkin Pie Custard

Lazy Sunday, not much going on... amazing how much and how little you can get done in the span of a day when you're slogging thru, barely paying attention.
Didn't make it to the groovy outing this weekend, which bums me out a little; but I don't know exactly how I would handle more evidence that I am wasting the best of my years worshiping at the feet of the Blockbuster movie club, or more acknowledgement that some people's worlds are interesting and large, and mine... well, mine is not.

Ah, PMS! I feel your sweet embrace!

Perhaps THAT could be why I am insatiable lately, didn't even consider it until I pulled out my appointment book (phone) and mapped it out-- damn! When I worked at a women's health clinic years ago, I was always amazed at how 14 year old girls knew with amazing accuracy when their "friends" would arrive... me, I'm pushing 40 and still have no clue.
Could be why everything is making me crazy, including this stupid keyboard in which the space button, for cripes sake, isn't working correctly. Considering that this is where the children play their games/do my space, etc, there is likely enuff food under the keys to feed a hungry toddler... it's a wonder it works at all and I should be grateful, instead of wanting to throw the whole thing under a moving train-- gar! Soo getting tired of having to go back and put all the spaces in between the words, wahhhhhhh!

Interesting weekend, to be sure. Grace's counselor suggested that we try and do something with the girl, something she wanted to do, in an effort to spend time with her/get to know her/etc. Never you mind that every time we try to talk to her, she tells us to either "shut up" or "go away", and tells us "I don't know" when we ask her what she would like to do.... so in the absence of the slightest idea, we gleaned a little:
She was talking earlier in the day about some shop she and her friends had travelled to the day before, which had some items she really liked.
So off we went, in search of things to buy to demonstrate our parental interest and love.
So where did my daughter take us???
To a head shop in Racine, ick!, which reeked of patchouli, incense, and other such things I swore off years and years ago. I mean, really-- is this crap genetic? Girl knows very little about my past (she could care less, as surely it was lame and of no interest to a hipster like herself, lol!); about my travelling with the Grateful Dead (had to chuckle at the vast array of Jerry and GD merchandise... um, most of those geezers are long gone), and my opening a shop much like this one (only like 1000x nicer; no drug paraphernalia, nasty piercing stuff... it was all handmade artwork and imports from India, Guatemala, Bali, etc).
So I'm standing in this shop with my kid and I'm thinking: "I don't have any clue who this girl is anymore", this teenager who (unbeknownst to me) has been dilating the piercings in her ears (my appeal that she will have droopy gramma holes that will never heal fell on deaf earlobes; she pulled out her piercing and I almost fell over when I saw the gaping hole, so gross!), this girl who is standing on the precipice of being just a little too much like me as a young person-- only way younger, much more immature, and much too eager for all the trouble that surrounds her.
Me, I was so much more of a spectator: found things fascinating, yet was unwilling to commit to any one lifestyle and would move on to the next shiny and interesting thing as soon as I felt I had figured the old one out (I was also somewhat concerned about getting in TROUBLE: didn't want to really get too involved in anything that might be a problem later, you know, if I wanted to run for public office later in life, tee hee).
Daughter, however, loves it all, and it makes me a little nervous.
We ended an unsettling afternoon by stopping by the Old Country Buffet, where Grace used to love to go with her grandpa. Place is quite the melting pot, I'll tell ya: there was a 450# lady who was talking about her pregnant 14 year old and how she needed another trip to the dessert bar, if only her arthritic knees could carry her there; a booth of fine Hispanic men who looked like they wanted to eat my daughter for dessert (and my husband, the sweet talker said "they were even checking YOU out", as if a booth full of men who would screw any drunken thing they could immobilize for 45 seconds wouldn't be so desperate to oogle an old broad like myself-- hey! If you don't have enuff sex appeal to entice those sorts of guys, you might as well just sew it up and move in with the nuns next door).
Oh! And then there was the group of ladies who were with a baby shower who were standing next to me at the salad bar wearing nametags that said: "Baby Poop", and "Spitup", etc : mmmmmmmmm! That's a tasty visual, ho ho ho. Good thing the folks from NAACOG weren't meeting there, with humorous nametags that read:"Pap Smear", "Genital Warts", or "Herpetic Lesion", might have been a little yucky... but I suppose, now that I think about it, me and the ladies from work could get in on the fun: I could be "Irritable Bowel" (get it? PMS???), and someone could be "Colon Polyp", and another could be "Bowel Prep", wheeee! We could hang out by the gravies and gross people out into eating their mashed potatoes dry...

Anyhoo, told ya I was bitchy!

Fabulous PMS food (and low carb, for the most part..)

Heat in a pan for 10-15 minutes, stirring constantly with a spatula:
1 15 oz can pumpkin (I threw in a cooked sweet potato that we had left over from dinner the other day, too)
Bunch of ginger (1-2 tbs fresh or 1-2 tsp ground)
1/2 tsp cinnamon, to taste
1/2 tsp nutmeg, to taste
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup sugar free vanilla syrup

In a separate bowl, mix 1 cup milk with 4 eggs until well blended. Whisk in pumpkin mixture until smooth.
Bake at 325 degrees in a casserole dish that is immersed in a larger pan filled 1/2 full with water. Bake for 50-60 minutes until center almost set; prop over door open with a pot holder and allow to sit for 20-30 minutes until custard is set. Refrigerate overnight, and try not to eat the whole thing for breakfast... Jacob really liked this served with extra maple syrup, lucky little dude! Soooo glad we have a gallon left until we can make more next spring:-)

p.s. my bad knee is getting wonky, completely blue about that as well. WTF will I do if it blows out, and I can't participate in my acts of daily absolution?
Won't end up doing all 3 classes tomorrow in an effort to be cautions, just spin and swim. Pretty sure it was the stoopid scuplting class "walking with resistance bands wrapped around your feet" thingey that messed up my ligaments, boo. And I've been trying to be so careful! Anyway... I remember reading something somewhere (hazard of reading 6 things at once... minimal retention) about your joints and ligaments being more labile during your special girlie time, bah! Stupid hormones!

Constant Craving...

The diet has been clipping along nicely the past few weeks; haven't lost a pound in like forever, but the tidy sensation of self control is highly gratifying, even if it amounts to little more than self induced S&M:

I have been SUCH a bad girl lately tho and in much need of discipline, craving food like crazy... and not necessarily foods I can't eat per se (went to an ice cream shop tonight with the fam and didn't bat an eyelash), but just wanting to *eat* and *eat* and *eat*. Maybe it's all the spin classes et al ramping up the appetite, but I don't like it AT ALL; much easier to whip myself into submission when I could care less if I ate or not, but not so much fun when I sit during an entire 2 hour movie and have orgiastic fantasies about bunless cheeseburgers and chocolate raspberry ricotta smoothies (eating one now, as a matter of fact... blend 1/2 handful of frozen blackberries, 2 tbs unsweetened dark chocolate powder, 1/4-1/2 cup skim milk, 1/4 cup lowfat ricotta, a glug of sugar free Kahlua syrup... eat with a spoon and try not to moan so loud you wake the kids up).
I am *sorely* in need of a plan, where to go from here so I don't keep feasting on nuts and sprouted grain crackers every time I'm at a loss for what to put in my mouth.

Sing it, KD; girl knows just what I'm talkin about:

Guess Who..

...I ended up sitting only a couple feet behind while I was on my scooter, waiting for the light to change?
Sporty Guy!!! (ooOOooOOOOooooooo!)
Seeing that he wasn't moving at a high rate of speed for a change, didn't have mirrors to catch me peeking, and wasn't looking back, I took the opportunity to investigate at length the muscles of his famed dreamy thighs, his sinewy arms, his complete lack of body fat... sigh! Even his bike is slender and sexy looking, a far cry from my Pee Wee Herman put-put bike with my big ole mom basket.
Why do I see this guy almost every day, every where, allover the place?
One of the great mysteries of the world, no doubt...

Something completely unrelated:
You know what I miss???
I miss living in a low budget girlie pad, where none of the decor costs more than $6.99, and the "window treatments" are nothing greater than cool pieces of fabric strategically pinned to the curtain rods. Being a fully fledged grownup is certainly weighty in a number of ways, keeping up with the Joneses a fine aspiration, but give me a place where there is little worry about how sterile the joint is vs how cool and interesting your stuff is, and I'd be a happy happy girl. Bah! Being a member of the middle class is HIGHLY overrated.


Or your house, neither, cause I'll prolly mess it up and make it look like Pee Wee's suburbanite ranch, bike and all.

Ow!

Discovered something new yesterday:
Sculpting class is wicked evil; I could hardly walk properly today...
And another fitness tidbit to mention: when you are already having difficulty walking, doing an hour long spin class is soooooo not a good idea. It felt GREAT while I had the endorphins flowing, but they all seem to be absent now and the ibuprofen has since become a weak balm.
Had a wee little stressful sort of day, had a million things going on, and didn't have time to eat dinner. Thusly, upon arriving home at 9:30 PM, starving like mad, I had a scarf of desperation that would have made even Dr. Atkins hurl:
4 slices of bacon (cold), a scoop of cottage cheese (directly from the container), a handful of nuts, a 1/2 package of sprouted wheat crackers (it was small..), 3 sugar free chocolate candies, and a sugar free fudge bar. Damn! I guess if you're going to cheat and eat like a cow, you should do it up properly... at least I didn't gorge myself on carbs.

Politics (as much as you'll ever see from me)...

Bwahahaaaahahahahaaaahahahaaa!

Did that "3 hours at the gym" thing today again, and feel a whole lot better than I did the first time 'round... in fact, this morning I was sweating it out in spin class (which is normally not my thing that early), and I'm doing just great, really getting into it, and the guy says: "Ok, this is our last song"... I was like: "say what?" and cranked my resistance up as high as I could stand it.
How'd that happen??

Love love loving getting back in shape; it's become quite the fun little addiction, and I'm totally not hating the results, either. I started a bellydance class this past weekend as well, but sadly am not sure if the class will continue, since there aren't enough participants. Maybe it's just karma trying to keep me from humiliating myself, from shaking my thing (thang?) on stage someday for all to see, but it's been fun practicing my lil bellydance moves all over the house. I've known since waaaaay back in my club hopping days that I was a closet hoochie dancer; get this girl some platform heels, a mirror, and something to twirl around (oh! and a martini..), and I'll be happy for hours on end....but best to keep such things private;-)

One more thing:
More oddball fun! Anybody want to go with me? Guaranteed to make you scratch your head in consternation for weeks to come; a wonderful diversion from politics, the collapse of the economy, chronic boredom, and other such unpleasantries. Plus, you get to hang with me, which is usually good for a chuckle, wheeeeeee! (I'll leave the platform heels at home, promise...)

Friends:

Not 100% sure I've drank enough wine to get the creative juices flowing... some days, the posts just flow from my fingers into creation; other times, they need a little jump start...

Can't even begin to express how nice it was to *finally* have company over today; there's something about sharing where you live with other people that makes you see your life in a new perspective (sometimes good, sometimes bad, tee hee).
And I truly do feel that if it wasn't for company, I'd NEVER clean beyond the most obvious:
Starting at 7 am, in frenzied anticipation of witnesses to my poor housekeeping skills, I was cleaning the faces of the cupboards, washing the grates to the stove, etc and etc... we women are ruthless when it comes to domestic self abuse, so no matter how much I cleaned, dusted, tidied, and downright *hid* piles of clutter, it never seemed like it was enough. I even gave the chicken coop a quick brush up and weeded the gardens a bit, der!
And who really cares? Cause unless Martha herself was coming to call, no one would likely notice.
Can't tell ya, either, how much fun it is to hang with our old/new friends, Todd and Lynn:
Is it really that strange to be friends with your teenage boyfriend and his wife, even if the teeny bopper romance ended over 20 years ago? Really??
So do you think Jerry Springer will be showing up at the door anytime soon...
and will he notice that the chicken coop is in disarray and the gardens are a mess????
Sigh!

Friends are hard to come by, especially those who knew you before life got so complicated, so I'm not going to over analyze...
*Fun* people are hard to come by as well, so I'm glad that any awkwardness can be overlooked and we can enjoy the newness of friendships begun and those small bits of familiarity of the best and oldest of friends.

Damn! Now I've drank too much, and I'm sleeeeepy:-(
There's so not a set formula for liquid inspiration, and it seems I've overdosed... off to bed, to face a chaotic week of working too much and catching up on my finances, wheeeee!

p.s. read something interesting tonight, written by a man who recently ended his own life:

" Because here's something else that's true. In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And an outstanding reason for choosing some sort of God or spiritual-type thing to worship -- be it J.C. or Allah, be it Yahweh or the Wiccan mother-goddess or the Four Noble Truths or some infrangible set of ethical principles -- is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things -- if they are where you tap real meaning in life -- then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your own body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly, and when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally plant you. On one level, we all know this stuff already -- it's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, bromides, epigrams, parables: the skeleton of every great story. The trick is keeping the truth up-front in daily consciousness. Worship power -- you will feel weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to keep the fear at bay. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart -- you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. And so on.
Look, the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they're evil or sinful; it is that they are unconscious. They are default-settings. They're the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that's what you're doing. And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default-settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default-setting, the "rat race" -- the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.
I know that this stuff probably doesn't sound fun and breezy or grandly inspirational. What it is, so far as I can see, is the truth with a whole lot of rhetorical bullshit pared away. Obviously, you can think of it whatever you wish. But please don't dismiss it as some finger-wagging Dr. Laura sermon. None of this is about morality, or religion, or dogma, or big fancy questions of life after death. The capital-T Truth is about life before death. It is about making it to 30, or maybe 50, without wanting to shoot yourself in the head. It is about simple awareness -- awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, that we have to keep reminding ourselves, over and over: "This is water, this is water."
It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive, day in and day out."
http://reno.wsj.com/article/SB122178211966454607.html

25 Miles:

The weather in the Great North has been gor-ge-ous the past few days... and as such, have not been the least bit sad when getting sent home a little early from work, even tho I am on the verge of being broker than broke;-)
Yesterday, I lounged outside in the shade and felt the breeze on my face, the indirect warmth filtering thru the leaves of the maple tree; I leaned back in the lawn chair, closed my eyes, and tried my hardest to pretend it was still summer. Lovely!
Today, I got an itch to make a run to the library, my 7 mile easy loop, as a prelude to my evening spin class. I was sloow and tired, didn't want to push myself too hard knowing what was in store later at the gym (hell, that's what). Picked up so many good books and a pair of yummy shoes from my favorite thrift store (they were quite the slutty find, considering they came from the Christian Charity resale shop, tee hee), that I could barely get everything home-- thank God for bungee cords...
It's funny, in a weight loss/fitness situation, that plateau you reach when you've lost quite a bit of weight and are more fit than you've been in a long time... and thus are fit and slender enough to start comparing yourself to *everyone else*, bummer. Which then begins to illuminate how much more weight you need to lose, and then that rosy glow of accomplishment begins to fade.
Tired! More later...

Hey Ya!

Gar!

Girl needs a cocktail, like, 2 hours ago...

Between the children's drama and other such unpleasantries, here sits I, trying to concoct a low-carb girlie martini in lieu of dinner: unsweetened cranberry juice, stevia, vodka... or should it be: sugar free irish cream coffee syrup and vodka?
Desperate times call for desperate measures, just hope I can choke it down.
And here's to hoping the hangover doesn't keep me from spin class and my trip to the police station tomorrow... cheers, motherfuckers!

Awkward:

Every once in a blue moon, life presents you with evidence that whilst you are numbly making your way through the average middle class experience, some very interesting things are afoot... that while you are doing laundry or watching another lame movie from the Blockbuster on another Saturday night, people are interacting, having heaps o fun, and experiencing life in strange new ways.
Enter the Miltown Kings with Dead Man's Carnival up at the Miramar, beloved venue where we saw the Ditty Bops last year:
Not 100% sure what the evening's entertainment had in store, just that it was some sort of vaudeville drag show-slash-carnival-- how could it NOT be cool?

I was the slightest bit confused when I saw that the ticket taker was a gal with a mustache (or was it a dude with boobs??) and wondered for a second what the deal was... and then when a couple really solid, squarish women with manly haircuts kicked us out of our seats it started to become more clear (how bullish! there weren't assigned seats, tee hee).
Well, slap me silly, but I had never heard of a "Drag King" show... and I thought I was at one point quite the worldly girlie, bummer. Anyhoo, the show was well done, the emcee absolutely hilarious, the performers really talented (the striptease with the ample bootied, small breasted woman was, hmmm, interesting... not the source of titillation I suspect it was meant to be, but inspiring that another woman from my tribe of "chubby girls with no breasts" was comfortable enough in her own skin to strut her stuff on stage for all to see). Since it was my stepdaughter Emily who suggested our evening out, I leaned over at that point and reminded her how lucky she was to have us for her parents, or the whole experience might have been a little..... awkward;-)

The fire juggling act-- cool! The skinny dude in the dress who stripped down to a thong that was clearly too grande in the pouch-- not cool! (sorry, skinny dude.. my open mindedness of body imperfections is fairly limited to women).

As we were walking out of the theater and eavesdropping on a group of gals, I overheard one of the ladies say: "yeah, I think I may have met you already-- we made out one time outside a club, but I never got your name"... snort!
Overall, a fascinating experience, and long overdue.
And much kudos to the husband, who was willing to be dragged--yet again-- to something that would make the average man run screaming into the night.. it's why I married him, after all:-)
In homage, I present to you Ms. Ani DiFranco:

p.s. got me some Ani tickets for her Madison concert next month, oh yeah!

18#:

As of a couple days ago, I'm down 18#, can't hardly believe it:-)
Only 10 to go.... (ok, is that starting to get a little creepy, 'cause that # is never going down? As a former Miss Annie Rexic I guess I'll need to watch that, but figure I'm pretty darn safe for about 30 more # or so, tee hee)
In fact, pulled on a pair of those jeans from the shop-a-thon the other day, and even out of the dryer are a little baggy now. Hmmmmmmmm...spin classes clearly rock as equally as they suck major butt.

SO crazy busy these days, and as a result screwed up Grace's Dr's appointment AGAIN: between the gym, work (+ new job), school (and my school, which hasn't even started yet), the kid's schedules, maintaining the houshold, etc, life is kicking my ass right now, and we's just getting started.

Speaking of ass kicking (and I'll list these in order of importance): got me butt kicked in spin this morning, go figure. Maybe I'm just not a morning person, but slogging thru and then doing swim aerobics really hard works out well...
Oh! And I also bought 3 esssspensive Aveda lipsticks at the salon today (quite the splurge for me) in dark, rich shades. Husband, in addition to not completely liking the 'do, sniffed at them and asked why I didn't get a frosty pink one instead-- gar! Thought guys liked full, dark red lips. Men... what a mystery (the mystery being how long it will be before he gets any again, truly)!

Here's something a little silly:


And something a little sad:


Just for funs, I rode my bike to the library at full speed in my highest gear-- the ENTIRE way. Sheeeeee-ooooot: Just a few spin classes and I've already kicked up the self abuse a notch. I was doing pretty darn good, too, until I got to that last gigantic hill. I had hoped to sprint up, but instead crawwwwlllled up-- but still in the highest gear (used to be spinning my wheels and panting at 2 or 3, a different creature altogether at 7, wheeeeeee!). Love love love to kick my OWN ass, too, I guess. Prolly need to take a number these days, tho-- yah.

Woo Hoo!!!

Normally, I would think a song like this was totally saptacular (being a fairly non sentimental person, except recently..), but this was the song that pulled me thru a *really* intense spin class tonight, and who would ever have thought???

This would be class #3 for me (4 total; the first one scared me off spin for *many* years..), and only wound up in spin after being tricked into it today, as I swore to my limpy self that I would take at least a day off.

I was feeling antsy after my day of shopping and cool restaurant-ing (details to follow), so felt a need to run to the gym to do a quick Zumba class to give those traumatized biking muscles a rest.

Turns out, Zumba class was cancelled, dangit! and who would mosey over but the spin instructor to invite me--personally-- to come to spin instead. WTF??? How could I say no???

My hopes were very low that I'd make it thru the entire class: I was still sore from yesterday's workout, and was tired and hungry-- energy levels low from a long day.

Sigh! So I jumped on the cycle and hoped I wouldn't kill myself. The songs the instructor played were tunes I normally would have sniffed at, not the high energy disco-ey songs I'm used to, but they were perfect, SHE was perfect, a nice change from the 2 other classes I've taken this week.

And you know what??? I DID it!!! I completed the WHOLE class, cranking up the resistance, standing, sitting, sprinting, keeping the RPM's where she wanted them (breaking new speed records for me), hallelujah! I could breathe better, knew mentally what to anticipate, which made it sooo much easier to push through my fear of not being able to keep up, it was amazing, and so much sooner than I thought it would take. Yay, encouragement, so needing this today, right now:-) Slipped a pedal during a sprint, too-- OW! Got a nice purple goose egg forming on my shin; looks great with all the other pedal scrapes and ankle gouges from the Door County trip...

Speaking of encouragement, was able to squeeze into the next size down in jeans today.. not the best, most comfortable look for me (part of the "I can't breathe" collection for fall), but still cool noetheless. Made me feel bad for buying like 7 pairs of jeans that fit (to go with the 7 boobie shirts I bought last week; since the girls are shrinking they would like a wee bit of recognition before they disappear altogether...), but I won't cry if I need to go down to the next size in a few weeks, oh no I won't;-)

Tracey and I also checked out a vegetarian restaurant I've been dying to try: Cafe Manna in Brookfield. What a gorgeous preplanned community! So clean! So new! In spite of Brookfield's almost scary perfection, the Cafe seemed a wee bit less pretentious.. my tofu on a bed of greens with grilled vegetables was tasty and Tracey's portabella sandwich looked good, but always very nice to have another opportunity to see that I can cook circles round those shi shi folks, tee hee (excellent at both vegetarian AND non- sorts of cooking, I guess I just rock that realm, in a "really bad hobby for a dieting girl" sort of way...) Nothing will ever compare to the vegetarian restaurants in Austin, but it was nice to try something a little more local.

Sleepy, sleepy... working a shift and a half tomorrow...

Never Never Never:

Do a spin class, followed by an hour of intense swim aerobics (totally wiped the floor with those gramma's in the class, lol!), with an hour of crazy scuplting afterwards.
Oy!
Girl has felt sapped, I tell you, all day... not sore, just on empty, despite drinking a ton of water and even eating some steel cut oatmeal (=carbs, thought it would give me energy.. it didn't).
But I spose it didn't keep me from mustering the ambition to clear my drawers and closets of **8** bags of clothes, shoes, and whatnot (even blew the great "culling of the holey bras and underwear" event out of the water, which I think was only *3* bags).
So it was a good day, a painful, exhausting day, a day of letting go:

If you twist and turn away
If you tear yourself in two again
If I could, yes I would
If I could, I would
Let it go

Bad:

Here I sit on the patio, enjoying the cool fall air, on what would be an otherwise ordinary Sunday, coffee in hand...
...waiting for the dog to barf, again.

Since Grace works at the local custard shop, she has brought more ice cream into the house lately than we've had in all our years combined, and had set a few containers of the richest, darkest, double chocolate-ey chunk stuff on the counter last night to make room in the freezer for more.
So what did I find this morning when I stumbled out of bed??

Chocolate: all over the floor, the counter, the cabinets, the rugs, the couch.. it was like a chocolate massacree had happened while I was sleeping, unaware that such a thing could happen so quietly.
And so, without even missing a beat, I walked into the bathroom, drew up a 5cc syringe of h2o2 and squirted it into Maggie's chocolate smeared mouth.... and waited, and waited...

Success! Fortunately, it was a more pressing need than I thought (and not unlike an archaeological find, if you will...) for contained therein was an entire ball (chewed up into large chunks), 1/2 of a stuffed animal, the entire contents of the cat box, and a fully intact tampon.

Welcome to the life of a displaced country girl! (Or am I a city girl who has been displaced in the county for most of my years? I'm confused)...

It was fun being outside for a change to see something I haven't in a while: people cruising down the highway can catch the briefest glance of our tipi as they pass, and sometimes will pull onto the service road to get a better look... ya gotta wonder what they think when they see it sitting there in the prairie grass, and then see me on my computer looking all nerdy and blogging, and then picking a discheveled tampon out of the dog's mouth (she tried to gulp it back down again, and ate most of the ball before I could stop her...).

Heard this song on the radio this morning, reminded me of something... sure wish I could remember what (tee hee; being forgetful can be entertaining, sortof, cause someday it will remind me of a dog barfing, and I won't remember why exactly...):

p.s. Bono with no shirt on? Hubba hubba! Lost 15# btw, can actually see my waist, my belly is 95% flat, arms getting slimmer... did a spin class on Thursday, and got my booty kicked into next Tuesday, but was encouraged by a very nice class participant who assured me that it takes at least a month to be able to do the whole 45 minutes all the way thru. Don't think I've sweated so much in my ENTIRE life, and wasn't even *doing* it correctly... looking forward to kicking it's butt someday in the near future; it will be quite the accomplishment and confidence builder, and should coincide round about with meeting my weight goal (10# left to lose, +/-, the spin should help me get over the plateau).
Great summer, overall, sad to see it go.. more on that later.

p.s.s. (later): one of my *secret* fave bloggers, JenIG visited my blog! Ooooo, and since she is the very nice Christian gal I have long aspired to be, I quickly scanned the blog and tried to clean it up, much as I would if she had stopped by the house... but instead of throwing the dirty laundry down the basement stairs (and closing the door) and hiding the many piles of clutter in the oven, etc, I was deleting evidence of my potty mouth, much more rampant of late (je m'excuse!).
Oh, and another thing. On the bike trail this am I discovered that there are TWO plaid shirt guys!!! Except this one was heavy set, older, and had a bushy beard. Good thing, too, otherwise I'd never keep them straight....

Sushi!

Funny how things run in streaks, and the strangest things, too. It all started yesterday, with a free moment and an impetuous decision-- well, two impetuous decisions, really.

You see, free moments and myself can be dangerous, landing me and mine in all sorts of folly. In my spare time, I have all sorts of opportunities to plan, scheme, and jump headlong into stuff that sounds like fantastically rational things to do at the moment I decide to do them....

Sooooooooo, after years of planning, researching, talking with people, changing my mind, getting 65 separate informational packets sent, I have enrolled in a Master's program!!! In a couple hour's time, I had spoken with the enrollment coordinator, filed my application, sent for my transcripts, and written a 3 page "Statement of Professional Goals", wheeeeeeeeeee! The program itself is quite unique (and fully accredited, btw), offering one class to complete in an 8 week time period, with completion in two years. I don't know 'bout choo, but doing only one class at a time sounds fan-freakin-tastic, and soo less schizophrenic than the 4-5 classes at a time of programs past. And there's a 10% discount if more than 5 people enroll, and 20% off if 20 + people get on board-- and ya'll know how much I loves me a discount! I should be beginning Oct 20, with books (included in tuition, wtf??) being drop shipped-- did I mention that the entire program is online? Did I mention that I am in love?? Oh yeah! And since the community college I've been adjunct-ing with for years has requested a new contract with me for this semester, one can only speculate a lovely clinical experience teaching there, and an equally sweet lil job a waitin' for me when I graduate (ok, that's projecting something awful, and tempting the fates to boot, so I'll erase those thoughts from my brain).

I also joined the gym today, and quite characteristically forgot to attend classes tonight-- so it's already going swimmingly (no pun intended-- there's no evening swim classes, har de har har).

And since Jacob had a fabulous day at his BRAND, NEW SCHOOL: he not only goes to school with several people he knows in one form or fashion, but made a new friend... oh, and did I mention that unbeknownst to us, his best friend since age 5 unexpectedly decided to enroll!!! Crazy, crazy times, and happy ones for a change. School and my kids are not always on the best terms, god bless their antisocial and antiestablisment lil hearts (lol! really, it kindof bums me out...). Oh, and the dude signed up for violin, too-- and instead of being $80/month, is FREE (me like free).

So, enroll in master's program, good day at school for kiddo... maybe we need to go to HONADA, that new sushi place I've heard a ton about and isn't too far (Kenosha)??? It wasn't hard to get the boy on board, but had to twist a little arm to get the man out the door...I even dressed up for the occasion, which was a little exciting (for me, maybe the man, too;-).
Since I wasn't 100% sure what to get, I figured getting the largest and most obnoxious thing on the menu would be useful, so we were presented with the "Party Boat" (and no, the party boat sushi was NOT wrapped in weed vs the traditional nori, as one sassy person suggested; miso what-was-that-again, btw?)
I've included a photo for your amazement:

The sushi was INCREDIBLE, and we did our best, but couldn't even come close to finishing the monstrosity... so with the leftover fish tonight, I very lightly cooked the stuff up (cause there's no telling what it picked up in our nas-tay fridge overnight, cesspool of spilled stuff and assorted biohazards it is), and made a ton of rolls:And I've even included a RARE photo of moi, all sweaty and unkempt from my toils of sushi making:
After yesterday, I'll let you in on a little secret (so shhhhhhh! don't tell): sooo not really a fan of sushi. I much prefer the rolls, tyvm, vs plain raw fish. Something about an overwhelming ick factor, visions of liver flukes and such (blast! that nursing education and all it's paranoia...), and having to gum a sometimes nasty, gooey bit o raw fish. Cook it the tiniest smidgen of a bit, and I'm on board, 100%.

p.s. even got tomorrow's dinner on the docket: asiago cheese and spinach sausages (a la Sam's club), sliced and served on pita bread with tzatziki sauce, sliced cukes and tomatoes from the garden... happy times to be organized, wonder how long it'll last;-)

p.s.s.: mighty excited about politics these days, looks like our gal is the REAL DEAL, and then some (scroll all the way down to the end of the post).

We Be Campin'!

Camping and blogging, who'd a thunk? The way the world's spinning, headlong into technology that reaches into the wilderness family vacation (ok, Door County isn't the wilderness... but there's still very few places you can get a cell signal) one can't help but be thrilled:-)
We got off to a late start on Monday, so much so that we weren't going to make it to the campground in time for the 11 *PM* deadline... so we finally had the happy experience of camping at the Door County Walmart-- classy! We had always heard that you could spend the night there in the parking lot, and there you have it: we can cross that one off the list of "tacky things we must do before we die".
So then it's wake up early, pick up some last minute purchases, and head out to the campground, all at the decent hour you should have made it the previous day if you were the punctual type.
The campground was not too crowded, I suspect because those from the Land of Lincoln went back to school this week, and we have since decided to make this the official camping week for evermore.

The weather was gorgeous, the bike trails sublime. The kids were crabby (quelle surprise!), so Jake and I took the motorcycles out on the peninsula for a ride all by our adult lonesome, wheeeee! We met the friendliest couple from Oregon who travelled all this way for the Harley reunion-- amazing! What an incredible thing it must be to have a passion that can take you places, I really need to look into that...
We determined that it would cost a whopping $70+ to take the kids and the cycles on the ferry to Washington Island, and would it be worth it??? That truly is the question of the day, an excellent indication of how little stress we're feeling, ahhhhhhh:-)
We twisted arms big time to get the kids on the bikes for an ice cream run, sigh! Its getting harder and harder to entice the kids to get up and moving... they enjoyed their gigantic custard sundaes while I munched on an apple, and being the less geebed out afterwards, kicked their butts on the ride back home (I felt so good, I rode up the huge hill to get out of the ice cream place TWICE. I remember being *barely* able to get out of there the last time we went a couple years ago, and each and every time before then..)
Of course, the ride was spectacular, stunning, breathtaking (I'm running out of adjectives here, so let's just say it was pretty dang fabulous) and funny, since I remember the trails as being a little more grueling than they actually were, go figure. Either the ride wasn't so bad because I wasn't hauling dead weight in the form of a bike trailer or trail-a-bike (one of the few advantages of parenting adolescents, yippie yahooey! I flew past those poor trailer draggers and tried very hard not to gloat, tee hee), or my daily self abuse back home is increasing my stamina. Either way, I'm loving it.

It got dark waaaay too early the first night, and since I neglected to bring any evening entertainment, the boys went promptly to sleep while Grace and I twiddled our thumbs-- it was only 9 pm, for cripes sake! So we girls mustered up the ambition to make an evening trip to the beach to check out the stars (and fairly uncharacteristic of our lazy, scaredy cat selves). The beach also happens to be the only place in the whole gigantic campground that has a cell signal *and* a place to charge Grace's phone, so off we went.
Being the ever smart girl, Grace had the brilliant idea to bring a lantern, a tiny thing that I scoffed at: as a self proclaimed master navigator, I thought for sure that we didn't need a light. After all, I had my phone (which casts like a tiny flicker of light, woo hoo), and we were just going to the beach, an easy, 5 minute walk from our campsite.
The night sky was breathtaking, you could see every constellation and galaxy with perfect clarity, making for excellent stargazing. That, and Grace could return all 600 of the texts she received when there was no signal, and I could sit and read my favorite blogs by the light of the stars. We felt like quite the clever girls, mixing the very best the world has to offer: the night sky, the wind blowing off the water, the faint call of an owl... and reading the Crunchy Con blog and Natalie Dee comics.
Thought we'd see other techno addicts hiding out by the light of the moon, but we were the only ones, compounding the feeling that we are worse off than most, but no surprise there.
At around 11, the lure of the camp bed beckoned, and so I set off alone with my trusty iPhone, as Grace wasn't quite ready to head back. And off I went into the pitch black night... feeling the confidence that I initially had of my stellar navigational skills flicker and wane with each step I made. Where the hell was I anyway? Which direction was I heading-- and was our camp this way, or over that way? I had no flippin clue. All of a sudden the panic crept in, even tho I was only a 2 minute walk from where I started: I was lost, in the pitch black, and was flooded with visions of wandering around in the night aimlessly until morning (the greatest fear being that I'd miss my morning bike ride). The panic went straight to my gut, a ridiculous thing, since I knew how to get back to where I started and the bathrooms nearby (if only I could get there in time!). It was a strange reaction, one of those sympathetic "fight or flight" things I'd heard about in nursing school but thought was far below my civilized self.
I was walking as fast as I could-- all the while FREAKING OUT--listening to the sound of my flip flops as they hit the trail beneath me that I felt but could not see. Gar!
Made it back, just.in.time... to wail my lost status to my totally UNsympathetic daughter (I even texted her "I'm lost", to which she replied "like I care"-- evil, bad daughter;-).
I convinced her that we needed to leave right then and there with her lantern so we could make it back together, and THE SAME FREAKING THING HAPPENED AGAIN. We got totally turned around, weaved and bobbed on our way to finding the trail, and got stopped by the Rangers, who were no help at all, really. I think they thought they were busting a couple of teens drinking on the beach (hence the weaving), and told us the trail was "over there" (yah, we knew that... but finding it was another deal altogether). So off we went again, like big time dorks, feeling for the road beneath us to guide us *somewhere*: our first attempt led us out of the campground altogether, so we backtracked, looked for landmarks barely remembered, backtracked again, and then went for it and picked a path. It was the wrong path, but thought we remembered that it took us to the camper (Grace thought it was in one direction, I thought it was the other.... and mom overruled).
THANK GOD! After wandering around in the dark for 45 minutes we made it back to camp, humbled and grateful... and shamed, as the "clueless girls who should never venture out" we truly are. No more will I boast about being able to find my way in the dark sans flashlight, for even with a light source was still able to get myself lost, boo (and no, Jake was not worried and thought it was funny, said: "you two should do that sort of stuff more often", sheesh!)

UPDATE:
The rest of the vacation was pretty chilled, the kids sleeping in as long as possible, me taking long bike rides in the early am (averaging 15- 30+ miles per day).
I can't describe how beautiful and fun the trails are to ride: I'd start out by the beach (and check my emails, tee hee), ride along the shore, a knotty trail with great little hills and sharp corners... I've taken a liking to riding my bike as hard as possible, using my upper body to pull the bike up, over, and side to side, showing it who's boss (fully realizing that one day it will throw me over the handlebars and really let me know..). The sensation of flying, of maneuvering my body to work with the rise and fall of the land was incredible. The best way I can illustrate the joy I felt was when I saw a little 7 or 8 year old girl on the trail, pedaling her bike with abandon: she would stand up, sit down, pedal like crazy, and cruise... you could see her turn her head to catch the wind to blow her hair, and she'd smile a full face, radiant grin, showing the pure elation she felt as she flew down the trail. That's how I felt, like a kid again: the pedaling almost effortless, climbing the hills with a sting and a burn, with the absolute thrill of riding downhill as fast as possible, pulling the bike to and fro to avoid tree roots and rocks, feeling strong and alive.
Each trail opened up to a new and gorgeous natural feature of the park, one better than the next: the first being the shoreline, and then the woods and bluff (my favorite! You'll be climbing some to get there, but your ass will thank you later. The views are breathtaking, and the ride down a *ton* of fun). One way takes you up, up, up the bluff even further, the other only part of the way, but both eventually take you to an open meadow, a basin lined with mature cedars and prairie flowers. Soon, you'll find yourself at the Ranger's station, and it'll be time to head back the way you came, so you can revisit all the gorgeous spots all over again, before you end up back at the beach.
I tried to get as many miles behind me as I could before the guilt set in that I was holding up the family, but no one seemed to care.
We rented double kayaks on our second day, which was an incredible upper body workout and *tons* of fun. I've been trying to get Jake to ok the purchase of a couple decent kayaks for us and a Sunfish (sailboat) for the kids, and maybe I've convinced him now... we are the toy family, for sure, and are so blessed for it!
We paddled out to Horseshoe Island and explored the trails (in a bikini and flip flops, what a woman...), where Grace was accosted by a millipede and narrowly escaped with her life.
Paddling back was a pain as Grace decided she'd rather be the passenger vs an active paddler, but I was able to amp up my endurance by singing Fiona Apple and Ditty Bops songs (thank god we were out of hearing range for anyone) and make it back in time for our 2 hour limit. Man! Did my shoulders hurt so good the next day:-)
The kids hung on the beach quite a lot, I rode my bike, Jake did a little of both, and we were able to get the kids out for one motorcycle ride out to the end of the peninsula-- beautiful! On the return trip, we stopped in Ephraim, to find a cute but misplaced hippie couple singing and playing slide guitar, with the girl occasionally doing hula hoop tricks (a la Cirque Du Soleil?). Being in the midwest, most folks initially looked confused as to what to make of such free spirited goings on, but eventually relaxed and it became almost normal to see people expressing themselves openly in the public square.
It was nice, took me back a few... I remember being free that way in other parts of the country, and was it the place that made it possible, 0r was it just who I was at the time?
I think it was mostly the location: Santa Fe, Tuscon, and parts of Texas being far more open to artistic people, but of course was a completely different girl back then (and sometimes I miss her).
Jake and I wrapped up the trip with one last motorcycle ride out to Bailey's Point (while the kids beached it yet again per their choice, hopeless relaxers!). We made it back just in time to strap the bikes back on the trailer and thoroughly irritate Mr Punctual Dude, the guy who was to take residence in our camp once we left and had to wait 15 WHOLE MINUTES to do so... (poor Punctual Guy. We sometimes would like to be him, but he didn't look to happy, having obviously taken great personal pains to show up at EXACTLY the correct time with his stuff and his family, and then had to wait. Makes being the Slow Boats and Wal Mart campers seem that much more appealing..)
So there ya have it: our 5 day vacation in a nutshell (sortof).
We reconnected, felt the joy and pain of what it means to be a family, holed up in a metal box for days on end, realizing that even tho what we have is fractured and dysfunctional, is precious nonetheless.

Har De Har Har Har...

As a former (reaaallly bad) gymnast, I find this completely funny, yet still amazing...look at how strong the guy is; even in parody, he's still impressive! Sigh!

p.s. interesting little diet factoid: the shorts I could barely squeeze into a few weeks ago are now so loose that I can almost pull them off without unbuttoning them, strange. But other than feeling a little more toned, think I look exactly the same, which is even stranger.. (BDD? ya gotta wonder)

We'll be spending hours and hours on our bikes over the next few days up at Peninsula State Park, wheeeeeeeeeeeee! We used to average 30-50 miles a day some days when the kids were little (and didn't complain as much), not sure if we'll be able to match that, but we'll certainly try. Maybe said shorts will simply fall off of their own accord once we return home, and wouldn't THAT be entertaining?

Hopefully we'll be able to bring the motorcycles as well and check out the peninsula SANS the geebish motorhome, which gives me the worst car sickness *ever*, esp when navigating narrow, winding roads. There's a certain romance to exploring Door County via motorcycle, making a lovely and long overdue trip even more so.

Death Wish 2000

Something strange yet not entirely unpredictable is happening to my husband and his friends:
My guy is older than me, yet 99% of the time he doesn't act like it... but it's becoming clear that in spite of this, his DNA is well apprised that he's firmly entrenched in his middle age.

So what are all these middle aged guys starting to do?

Buy motorcycles, that's what. And not only are they buying the dang things, but they're planning extensive, cross country trips, buying waterproof chaps and hideous, space age boots they can barely walk in that are supposed to make a long, uncomfortable journey less so (how? Je ne sais pas!)

It's almost as if their genetic makeup is saying, "look guys, most of you weren't supposed to make it thru the 70's, being seriously testosterone soaked meatballs and such... quite a few of you narrowly dodged the AIDS crisis of the 80's, and really, since you have far exceeded my expectations for life span, it's long overdue that you start to think about how to eliminate yourself from the gene pool".

And truly, what's the best and most efficient means of accomplishing that?
Buy a motorcycle.

Well, having worked with a few realllly miserable old people this past week at the hospital, a quick and dramatic ending might be the wise choice, after all... let's just hope that fate is kind to these foolish, aging men and they don't live out the remainder of their days on a spinal cord injury unit.

But good god! Leather chaps on a paunchy, balding dude? If fate is kind to *me*, let the vision be removed from my mind, such that I won't be tormented with it for evermore.

Regular:

A really interesting phenomena is happening with my daily bike rides on the local trail:
I'm becoming a regular.
Which basically means that some of the more routine riders are becoming familiar, and even though I have never spoken to any of them, have begun to construct identities for them:
There's a skinny older guy who rides pretty much the same route I do, the 10 mile loop. He plugs away at it at a fairly quick pace, but in blue jeans and a button up, plaid shirt.
What's the deal, plaid shirt guy?
Maybe he has yet to discover the wonders of lycra and the beneficial effect being jeans-free will have on his nether parts.
And then there's the driven, sporty guy I see all over the dang place, on he bike trail and most of the roads surrounding our property. He's well appointed in his schnazzy bike duds and helmet, super cool Lance Armstrong glasses (no doubt), and flies like the wind on the trails, kicking my ass (fo shizzle!).
That guy is out there, rain or shine, tearing up the roads and bulking up his already dreamy thighs... sigh! I avoid eye contact for fear that I will get lost in his athletic fabulousness... but I digress (je m'excuse, tee hee).
Why is he there everyday, how can he go so fast? (In defense of fastness, tho, I rode a hard 10 miles in under 45 minutes tonight-- getting faster all the time, wheeeeeeee!)
Then there's the middle aged gal who rollerblades with her teenage daughter; she's made great progress in her technique since I first saw her out there, looking most timid and afraid of how hard the ground is, and how far away.
Today, she was flying down the trail, looking triumphant and a wee bit more slender...
And every so often I'll see an older lady cruising on the trails on a bike with an empty baby seat... she gives a general air of unfriendliness, doesn't like to connect and give the perfunctory "hi" and nod as you whiz past her. She looks a little exotic, like a misplaced gypsy woman who is wary of strangers, even those she sees daily on the bike trail.

You have to wonder: why are we all here, day after day?

Each of us has a story to tell, a motivator that keeps us returning to the sore ass and sweaty, bugs in our teeth trail.
It would be nice if each of us had a sign, indicating our particular driving force (and/or pathology):
"Recent Divorce" (the reason a co worker quit smoking a couple years ago and became a triathelete, losing over 100# in the process), "Sexually Frustrated", "Tired of Being Overweight", "Running Away From My Husband and Kids", "Proving to Myself That I Can Do It"... all these reasons and more (altho I think the dude with the plaid shirts could slip his frustrations down a notch with some fashion tips and a trip to Kohl's).

But I'll continue to keep a lookout for my compatriots of cycling, united perhaps not by what drives us but by the wind in our hair and the benefits it affords us all.
p.s. went shopping today, and I'm down a SOLID pants size, and then some...and with only the slightest bit of sucking, can nearly visualize my belly being as flat as it was before I gained all that weight. I'd jump up and down, but am feeling a little faint (just kidding! Actually, I feel pretty awesome, wahoooo!).