A Wild Safari

Last night, after a particularly long weekend, I decided to grab my current read and climb into the bathtub.

I pulled all the toys out of the tub, turned on the water, and crawled in.

About two pages into my book I stopped and looked around.  I was surrounded.  It was a wild safari in the bathroom.

The giraffe told me that my best friend is quite tall, and hot.  I told him to back off.

The hippo told me to stop being a stick in the mud.  He wouldn't tell me what about.

The rhino reminded me to pay bills.  Or the alligator would come after me.

And the whale commented on how she'd like to be my size.  It's all relative I told her.

It took me a while to realize that I was imagining things - whales don't belong in the safari!

Not Mr. Darcy

My literary life has had a good start this year.  So far I've read about thirty books.  And that is NOT counting the many books I read each night at the end of the evening to the cute, clean children snug in their beds.

One book has sat on my bookshelf for years, begging to be read.  I've resisted for years.  Mostly because it is considered one of the (if not the) ultimate chick books of all time. 

Pride & Prejudice

So for the record.  I've read it.  Rather I savored it.  Having known the characters all these years it was like spending a week at a spa with each of them, getting to know them all better and understanding all the missing pieces much more.

And for the record, the reason I love it so much is not Mr. Darcy.  It's Elizabeth Bennett.  Mr. Darcy is swell and his character is fascinating...and blah, blah, blah.  

For me the real romance was falling in love with Elizabeth through the pages.  Identifying so much with her character, the personal journey she goes through, and the harsh realizations she faces of family, self, and love.  

I'm inclined to believe that most women who read this novel fall more in love with Elizabeth than Mr. Darcy.  Which in unfortunate for all those men, including my own husband, who believe their wives to be smitten with Mr. Darcy.  

Now that the record is straight, where I'm concerned at least, I must continue in the improvement of my mind by more extensive reading.  Good thing the library has three books on hold for me now!

Psychology of a Run

There is a reason I wear headphones.  I know when I've run in groups of people that sometimes the others have wondered why, when good conversation is to be had, I've got headphones in.

Let me explain why.  My constant running partner is the evil genius who lives in my head, Shelina.  No, I'm don't have MPD.  I'm not schizophrenic.  

Shelina is this figment of my imagination - this part of me, embodied by a woman, who holds insane power over me.  She gets to hear all of my innermost workings. And she uses it to her advantage.  

Shelina came into my life as I was leaving the work place.  Unsure of my role as a mother and feeling the great loss (albeit by choice) of my identity of a career woman she slowly crept in with her self-consciousness, doubt, and insecurity.  Since then she has ruled supreme.  

So, if I run without my earphones Shelina's language of self-doubt fills my mind and every few steps, especially when push comes to shove, Shelina steps in ready to fill the void with notions of failure.  

Slowly but surely I am learning not to listen to her.  Slowly.  

In the meantime my music makes beats my body cannot ignore.  Kanye urges me to push it harder, faster, and become stronger. When Lady Gaga shouts out to use my muscle carve it out, work it hustle - well, that's what I do.   Robbie, Cascadia and even Miley Cyrus provide such solid beats that my feet cannot help but pick themselves up.  On top of that I round every corner thinking "What if ____ is standing there?"  I imagine someone from my TRI group, or E and the kids, or Amy and Sarah (my running missionaries) standing there cheering. 

And with each step the old Shelly returns.  And Shelina is fading in the dust of my confidence.  I even have moments where I am not sad about where I am now, what I look like now.  Rather I'm proud of where I am at.  And these are significant wins in the battle in myself.  

(PS - I hit mile 100 for the year! Suck on that Shelina!)

The Haunting

The boys are at the grandparents.

E is in New York.

And I am here at the house relaxing and rejuvenating.

Or at least I am supposed to be.

My big goal was to get a good night of sleep. And I'm not sure why that is eluding me so skillfully.

I mean, I did ride ten miles on my bike and run a 5k yesterday. I thought for sure my body would knock me out.

Instead I woke up at 4:00am, as usual.

I did go back to sleep but was haunted in dreams by ghosts of people past. Not people who have passed. Rather people in my past.

Oh. I am tired of this. I am tired of being haunted by people and situations I cannot control.

The friends I am no longer close to.

The friends and family I cannot please.

Outside of the dreams I am torn between letting go of situations or continuing to try. The thing is, I am tired of being the only one who tries. And being blamed either way.

I don't know how to rid myself of these conflicting emotions...and the guilt.

I need an exorcism.

Flip-Floptimism

I've always considered myself a realist. That glass everyone is talking about - well for me it's neither 1/2 full or 1/2 empty. It's just there. Sitting on the counter. Needing to be put away or finished. And most likely it needs a coaster.

Then this morning, as I was walking back to my car, shivering, I realized something.

I'm much more of an optimist than previously believed to be.

See, every morning I put on a t-shirt and my favorite, old flip-flops and head out the door. No sweater. No good shoes. Definitely no socks.

Always hopeful that the day is going to be warm enough and bright enough to fill my flip-flop wishes. Always optimistic.

And even when it's just a little too cold - like it was this morning - I still don't change my shoes.

Episodic

The last couple of days I've delved deep into my drawer of movies to the TV show section.  For most of our marriage E and I have been TV free - which in our case means we own a TV but do not have it hooked up via any cable to any broadcasting.   We agreed to do this early in our marriage after, in our first apartment, we had cable (including HBO) for several months.  We learned that we are both easily addicted to TV.  Because of that we've turned to TV-on-DVD for any shows we hear are hits.  Our old library, in the downtown of a relatively urban city, had a plethora of TV shows on DVDs...so we really lucked out.  

Unlike the library our personal collection of movies - although supple - has gotten old.  On top of that I've been working on a bunch of projects lately and have found myself drawn to old (old is relative) TV shows we do have.  It's nice, for me, to have some noise on while I'm working on things and This American Life or my latest playlist don't always cut it. 

Anyway.  The show I've been watching of late is my old seasons of Friends.  I'm not particularly proud to admit this.  At one point in my life I adored this show.  Sitting in my apartment with Leslie and the-blond-Shelly, wondering if Ross was going to kiss Rachel this time.  Feeling so giddy when they got together.  Wondering why no one ever got Chandler.  At this point I find the humor a little too middlebrow, the laugh track obnoxious, and the whole duck/chick/monkey thing absurd.  I think our latest TV-on-DVD show, HIMYM*, has raised the bar a bit.  As have life experiences.  

Still, I watch it.  And for one really good reason.  It's episodic.  You can watch one episode and then watch another from another season without a lot of work.  The whole episode is so appealing to me.  See, in Friends each "friend" gets an episode, or episodes.  One show might be about Ross or Ross and Rachel.  Another about Phoebe and her insane singing.  Another about Chandler and the mess of women he dates.  Or Monica and the many way she's cleans (though I do love that).  You get my point.  It rotates.  

Things also end.  In Friends there are times when pivotal plot issues arise in one episode, maybe carry over for two or three other episodes.  MAYBE.  But more likely than not they serve their purpose in an episode and disappear.  Sometimes it even seems a little odd that the event or storyline was so quickly dealt with.

It's a nice break from life.  Life doesn't feel that way for me right now.  Right now it feels centered on a few specific characters and their trials, errors, adventures, and lives.  

This is my own problem - and quite frankly my own creation.  I don't have any other screenwriters - although E does get some editing rights.  Again, by my choice.  And I'm working on it.  But it just seems so big sometimes.  Like I really am not writing my script anymore.  Or rather that the plot lines I wrote so long ago, that I thought would disappear in an episode or two, are not.  And I feel lost in the plot line.

(*PS- given that HIMYM only has three seasons on DVD no one spill any spoiler beans here!)

Gained

Usually a gain isn't something we talk much of.  Unless you're pregnant.  Or on a wrestling team.

But tonight I gained.  1/2 mile.  

Turns out that route I've been running for the last two weeks isn't 3.0 miles.  It's 3.4-3.5.  

Yeah baby.

Sideways laugh...

For some reason learning that Mr. Duggar's  first name is Jim Bob has made me smile all day.   Could it have been anything but that?  

Eyebeams

In church on Sunday we discussed the concept of paying it forward. It's a premise of life I've always believed in but haven't always practiced well. Especially because I do little acts of, usually, random kindness rather that large acts of selflessness.

One thing that really stuck with me, particularly at this time in life, was a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson collection of essays:

"Read the language of those wandering eye-beams. The heart knoweth."

I have struggled making friends since our move from Zion. I've wondered what I've done wrong, am I not dressed right, or why people don't seem to notice me. It has become such a self-involved activity - without really meaning to be one.

Hearing this reminded me that I see plenty of wandering eye-beams, people who look at me and maybe hope that I'll talk to them, but I remain so focused on hoping someone will talk to me that I see past it. And yet, my heart knows.

This week I'm going to try looking at people's eyes, meeting their gaze, and starting the conversations. Maybe this will provide what both of us are looking for...

Ch-ch-ch-changes

This morning I was banned by a friend on Facecrack. Yep, I went to view their page and everytime I clicked their name it took me right back to my own page. Banned. Blocked. Denied.

So it got me thinking. Of course I thought about why I might have been BBD'd - but mostly it got me thinking about the internet and my use of it.

Right now I have 200 friends on FB - a place where I share quite a bit of detail about my life, including photos, and I'm not always sure who sees it. I've changed privacy settings and have started limiting who I accept as a "friend".

And yet I love FB. I love the ease at which I can stay connected with people...particularly people I might not be able to connect with otherwise. I love being able to hop on, tell someone something, and then hop off. Our triathlon group has a page where it makes communicating between four busy people relatively easy.

It is just difficult to put your finger on what technology does and what you want it to do for you.

This site started off as a sort of journal. And then as more people started reading it I became more selective in my sharing. At the same time, when I did share I craved responses and didn't always get it. It has become this strange thing of relating feelings, thoughts and emotions for their own sake - and relating information for discussion or response. These two aren't always complimentary.

So, I'm revamping a little. I took the blog off my "displayed blogs list" so that when I comment on others' blogs they are directed to our family blog. Sometimes I think people come here, knowing bits and pieces of me, and are a little overwhelmed by the things I say. Or maybe not.

I also took off the blog roll. We still have this on our family site but I did not feel it was necessary here. I'm reverting back to journaling on here.

If you're reading this now - you are most welcome to stay my reader. I hope you do. And I always appreciate comments but don't need them. If you do read something that provokes you, you are always welcome to call me. I miss the phone calls. Blogs and forums and FB have all started replacing snail mail and the telephone - not to mention even email.

And yes, I finally updated the site so that the display looks better. Oh, I could spend ample time picking out blog designs. What joy.

Ugh

I just noticed that my blog background was removed - so I found it again and re-uploaded it. However it doesn't quite work - so a facelift is in order.  It does make reading my posts a bit difficult - and I apologize. 

I'll change it as soon as I can.  Please bear with me.

I am putty.

Tonight as I was cleaning the house I started running through my massive collection of This American Life episodes.  If I was ever to have enough passion about a product to go door-to-door it would be this one.  I'd be a missionary or a salesperson for This American Life.  If you haven't listened to it already - you must.  See below for my recommended episodes.

As my iPod worked it's way down the list, starting with A Little Bit of Knowledge and headed towards Your Dream, My Nightmare I stumbled across one of the treasures.  Apology.  An entire episode devoted to apologies.  And in this treasure I found a nugget of truth for myself. 

One of the acts of the episode is David Sedaris reading from his book, Dress Your Children in Corduroy and Denim.  I've listened to this episode before - maybe even a few times on drives and such.  But tonight I heard him say something, while talking about his sister Lisa, that feels true of me.  (I'm using my dictaphone skills here and typing while he's talking - this material is all his!)

College hadn't quite worked out the way she'd expected, and after two years in Virginia she'd returned to Raleigh and taken a job at a wineshop.  It was a normal enough life for a twenty-on-year-old, but being a dropout was not what she had planned for herself.  Worse than that, i had not been planned for her.  As children, we'd been assigned certain roles- leader, bum, troublemaker, slut - titles that effectively told us who we were.  Since Lisa was the oldest, smartest, and bossiest, it was assumed that she would shoot to the top of her field, earning a master's degree in manipulation and eventually taking over a medium-sized country.  We'd always know her as an authority figure, and while we took a certain joy in watching her fall, it was disorienting to see her with so little confidence.  Suddenly she was relying on other's opinions, following their advice, and withering at the slightest criticism.  "Do you really think?  Really?"  She was putty.  

It's frightening to hear it stated, so clearly, from the voice of a stranger.  As if he'd called my siblings, cousins, family and friends and then read it outloud on stage.

I don't like it - but it's true of me.  My prescripted life plan veered off the path a while ago. While there are parts of my now that I love and cherish,  I know I look at where I am versus where I thought I would be with disappointment, angst, and anger.  

Somewhere I lost that umph I once had.  Kind of like Stella and her groove.  And I'm just trying to get it back.  

For more This American Life brilliance - check your local NPR stations for schedules or subscribe to their weekly podcast.  You'll discover some jewels.  Or check out these episodes for purchase either at their website or on iTunes.  

#304 Heretics

# 179 Cicero, IL

#270 Family Legends  (Act Two is AMAZING!)

Switched at Birth  (I listen to this one every month.  I still cannot get over it.)

#352 The Ghost of Bobby Dunbar

#61 Fiasco

#241 20 Acts in 60 Minutes

#373 The New Boss

#38 Simulated Worlds (hilarious!)

(I better stop here - I could just keep going, and going...)

Do you feel like you can listen to one within the next week?  Can I call you and follow-up?

Keep on keeping on...

I've been waking up far too early.  Again.

This is a pattern that emerged for me a few months ago and then disappeared.  Or so I thought.

4:00am.  That's when the call to arms goes off in my head.

Actually it's more like this:  

At 2:00am I wake up.  Stretch my legs and roll back over.  Fall into a deep enough sleep to get some funky dream going.  This morning's was about being at Coachella. Each night my dream reaches some critical, dramatic stage at which point I open my eyes, still dazed and confused, but alert.  I look at the clock.  Maybe it says 4:00.  Maybe 4:15.  Maybe even 3:45.  I try in vain for 20-30 minutes and then realize that sleep is not going to come.

I try my old standby - a book in bed.  Nope.  

I try listening to and following E's deep, rhythmic breathing.  Nope.

I get out of bed.  Check on the boys (assuming they aren't already in my bed).  Move to the couch or the kitchen table.  I'm up.  I might as well be up.

And then slowly but surely the thoughts that were steering my dreams start clarifying themselves. Soon my heart is racing. My mind is filled with thoughts, ideas and problems.

Being a problem-solving type I begin to try and solve things in my mind.  But I forget one thing.

I am tired.

The tired doesn't help me try to clarify or solve anything.  In fact the best advice I got from those silly little games they play at wedding shower was "Give yourself permission to go to bed when you're angry.  Staying up will only play tricks with your emotion and mind.  Things will look clear and be solved better in the morning." (thanks Aunt N!).  That is the same for dealing with my own world issues.

So in an effort to both cleanse my mind and put things in a place to deal with later, here are the things I'm thinking about, trying to solve, worrying about, etc.

* Running.  I am supposed to run but my legs are still incredibly sore (and unbelievably warm) and I'm not sure I can get my mind in a place to make my body do it. *

* Elementary schools. Finding a place that I can trust with both his mind and his mouth is a new challenge. *

*  The economy.  Particularly the job market here in this area.  *

*  Her.  She knows who she is.  *

*  The other her.  And her entire family.  Or most of them at least.  *

*  Asia.   Canada.  And the relationship between them and our family.  *

*  a 5k.  Feeling totally unprepared mentally or physically for it.

* Vegetables.  How do I get them in him without a battle?  How do I get him to eat anything but cheese and carbs?  

*  Yes job. No job. Day job? Night job? Anything I can get job? *

*  Charter school.  Le Grand Elementary.  Homeschool.  My Mom's school.  *

*  Family vacation.  Why did I volunteer to plan this?  Am I taking too much charge or not enough?  *

*  Menu for Valentine's lunch.  *

*  My thoughts.  I worry about whether I worry too much or too little about things.  Yes, I did just say this.  *

*  Running a damn race.  What was I thinking?  *

*  Bills, checks, money in, money out.  Money to come.  Where should it go? *

Well that feels better.  So much better that my eyelids are heavy.  

Oh wait...I hear the stirring of little bodies.  Soon it will be time for breakfast.  At least that isn't on my list!

To celebrate

Things to celebrate this week:

An amazing evening with a friend.  Hours went by and more hours could easily have passed.  No subject left untouched.

Watching both of my children discover the power of holding and writing with a pen.  

Breaking down boundaries between cousins.  I love them and am not always sure how to say it.

Chinese New Year.  

Time with the BFF and her two kids.  More time than we've had in a long time - and still not long enough.  Falling in love with both her kids.

Hitting mile 40 of my running.  One month, forty miles.  Awesomeness.  

Having my first portrait done by my son.  Loving childhood perspective.

Running away

Tonight was one of those nights.

Not with the kids.  Not with E.  Just in my head.  One of those nights.

I found myself already crying as I tied up the laces to my shoes.  Knowing that I need to run in order to run away.  

I wish I could say that my total motivation for running and for doing the 5k was myself.  Better health, better shape, better lung capacity...

Tonight though the other reasons reared their ugly heads and propelled me out the door and through the streets of our town.

Mostly I ran away from her.  She is haunting me and there are days when I cannot bear it.  My guilt over walking away.  The responsibility I feel for making sure she's ok.  The disappointment I feel in myself for not being over the pain and strain of that friendship.  

I ran hoping that I could run away from all that.  That each step I took might shake off some of this emotional weight.   

I don't know how to move past this.  I don't know how to not feel guilty that I should be more - could be more.  

But I'm trying.  With each foot and mile I run I'm trying.  

On the outside

I wonder.

Does he approach the door on nights like this and, upon hearing the noise inside, pause with his hand on the knob?

Does he know how tired I am and, being tired too, want to turn and walk away?

Does he here their cries and want to help?  Or turn away?

Or is he like me - does he pause, take a deep breath and move inside?

On better nights does he quicken his step in anticipation of the meal I've cooked, the boys who will scream his name, and the fun we'll have?

Does he hear our giggles from the outside and long to be with us?

I wonder what I'd be like, if I were the one coming home.  How, after a long day with tall orders from the bosses and a depressing economy, I'd feel coming home to a sick wife, healing children, and an empty table.

From the outside would I pause at the knob, filled with mixed emotions about walking inside.  Knowing my day ended just for it to begin again.

Would I skip home eager to meet the faces that greet me - or would I turn and walk away?

Kickoff!

I love New Year's.  The reflection on the year past.  Counting down till midnight.  

But the whole resolution thing and I have mixed feelings about each other.  I often start the year out, journal in hand, attempting to fix all the problems of the last year in tidy resolutions for the new.  Sure I can loose all the weight, exercise every day, always have a clean house, never yell at the kids, continue to work on good communication with E, always write thank you cards, blog twice a week, start forgiving myself for past mistakes, make new friends, keep the old...etc.

And within two weeks of writing my resolutions I feel overwhelmed.  If I stop meeting my own expectations I start feeling guilty.  The guilt leads to disappointed and then I spend much too much time feeling disappointed with myself - which then I decide to resolve at the next New Year.

So this year I'm doing it differently.  I started working on things I want to resolve months ago.  Actually I've been working on resolving things as I've noticed their appearance in my life.  And thus far, no feelings of overwhelm.  No anxiety.

Except....I started to feel anxious about not having any real New Year's resolutions.  Should I make at least one?  Which one should I pick?  What if it leads to others?  What should I do with those?

Oh lordie.  I just can't keep up with myself sometimes.

So I back off thinking about it.  While in San Diego I starting noticing all the people walking around wearing green and yellow.  Cars drove by us with decorated windows.  A few people even had their faces painted.   Sports fans!  There for the something-bowl between Oregon and someone.

And it hit me.  For one year I am going to be a sports fan.  I know nothing about sports - only briefly cheered my Utes on when I was in school there.  E loves sports but does relatively little about them since (a) we don't watch tv and (b) I don't watch sports.

It will be fun.  It will be new.  It will give E and I another reason to be hanging out together. And since seasons start all through the year I can balance the resolution out.  

I have no idea how I'll pick a team but once I do, here are my rules:

(1) Choose one team from the following sport genres:  basketball, football, baseball, and either soccer or hockey.  

(1)  I cannot pick a team who won a championship last year unless it's a local team*.

(2) I must read about each sport, learning the language and rules before each season begins.

(3)  I must watch at least four games for each team in each regular season.

(4) At least one of the five games must be watched at a sports bar with rowdy fans.

(5) At least one of the games I have to have my face painted.

(6) I must drive a distance to attend one game.  If it's not for one of my teams then I must assume the position of fan for one of the teams playing.

(7) If chosen team enters the playoffs, I must watch each game they play in.

E seems to think if I'm to immerse myself into the sporting world that I must also join a fantasy sports league.  I told him that I'm not trying to be a sports fan AND a nerd.  

Since basketball already started and it's season is so short in the year if I wait till it starts up again, I'm going to pick a team already in progress.  

So sure, there are other resolutions kind of wrapped up in this.  I can't help it.  

But mostly, I'll have fun.  

Perky

Last night we returned from a quick family trip to San Diego.  Oh it was magical and stress-free.  And casual.  For someone like me who moves at a breakneck pace (except when running) it was glorious to have ideas rather than an agenda.  

The whole trip reminded me of some of the financial perks that we get through E's job that don't come in cold-hard-cash.  No IRS reportable illegal offenses or anything - but things we did not realize at the onset.  Company brand shirts which makes his paying for his wardrobe cheap. Trips around the continent that stimulate his mind and serve to remind me of the wonderful presence in our life.  Company dinners which give us a reasons to dress and eat well.  Seven days of paid "holiday" time which started last week.

The most relevant example, given the post, are the hotel points that he accumulated this year with all his travel. We walked into this gorgeous Marriott hotel and as I opened the door I realized that when my boys think of hotels this is what they know. We stayed as a family, when I was growing up, in Motel 6. Nothing wrong with Motel 6 - in fact we (my family of origin) considered it such a treat to stay in a motel that it didn't matter what it was. Plus we lived on a shoestring budget and for us, having the adventure, was more important than where we stayed in order to have it. My parents provided us with a ton of adventure for minor cost.

I'm not saying this to appear a braggart. It's just that, given our (granted, self-created) situation it is easy for me to find disappointment in things. Both E and I thought we would be at a different place at this time in our lives. Mostly I feel so secure in where I am and so aware of how I got here, how far we've come, the lessons we've learned and are learning, and what I am doing differently. But there are moments when that all fades away and the disappointment is evident.

So it's wonderful to pack up our bags, on our own shoestring budget, and set off for adventure.

What a perk.

I'll be..

Random bit of Shelly here.  

On someone's blog today I found myself typing the following sentence:

"I'll be excited to try your Photoshop tips on some of my snaps."

I do this all the time.  I delegate an emotion to be had at some later time.  

I'm either in the emotion or not, right?   I'm either excited at the moments or not.  

"I'll be waiting" makes sense.  It says that at some point, hopefully determined in the next sentence, I will be doing something concrete.  But that at some point I'll be excited....hum.

Strange habit.  

Small bites

Last month my cute cousin Ann approached me about doing a triathlon.  Actually, I overheard her talking about it with her in-laws and butted in.   

They are planning to do the Castaic Lake Annual Triathlon.  It's a sprint-triathlon.  Which until a week ago meant nothing to me.  Now it means 3 miles of running, 1/4 mile of swimming, and 10 miles of biking.

And I found myself suddenly compelled to join in.  Maybe it was the Ya-Ya-Sisterhood-ish moment they were all having.  Maybe it's the fact that I spent several hours in a gym and running outdoors suddenly sounded freeing.  Maybe it was all the sugar from the cookies I'd eaten that day.

And this is what I decided...

To do a 5k!  Honestly, I'm not sure I can see myself doing a triathlon.  But I'm working on it.  Because I'd like to say at 31 (which is how old I'll be by the date of the event) that I did it.  And not wait until I'm 50, or never, to do it.  

I start training tomorrow.  My friend Autumn and I are doing some of the training together. And Eric will join me in some of it as well.   But most of the training will go on in my head.  So I could use your support.  

You can track my progress here - but also by talking with me.  It will be a great motivator.  

Anyone else in?