Shaping My Way

Black, White, and Barcodes

2008-10-06T00:10:00.004-04:00

Lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking about groceries, and grocery stores. Do all of you remember walking the dreaded "generic aisle", where all color was leeched from the world, and you entered into a sort of supernatural void where everything was bar codes and black on white block letters?

I HATED the generic aisle. I could never figure out how my mother found anything in it, as everything looked the same - most particularly the canned goods. I can only assume that she was so determined that going through everything can by can didn't bother her. Or maybe it was in alphabetical order? I never really looked that close. I'm extra sensitive to color, and an entire aisle that had been bleached of all signs of life seriously creeped me out. Not to mention, nothing tasted good from the generic aisle. I don't care that it looked similar to spaghetti-O's, those things were vile. And mushy.

It's rare to find something sporting the old black and white generic jacket. I suppose all the "store brands" with their bizarre knock-off cartoon characters are the norm now. They don't taste half as bad either, and no one looks at you with that pitying glance like they did back in the day when your cart barely had any color in it at all. Well, that is if you grew up like I did. Name brand was a treat, and the order of the day was making everything because it was cheaper. Prepared foods of any type were a luxury - EVEN the generics.

It isn't that way any more. I made cookies with my kids yesterday. Even though the ingredients I used were generic (ha), the price of a batch of cookies was far more than if I had just grabbed a couple boxes of Oreo's. Of course, buying a box of cookies would mean that I won't have the experience of teaching my kids how to bake cookies in the first place. Maybe that's what all this is. Maybe all those marketers (and yes, I'm aware that I have a business/marketing degree - I see the irony) figured out how to charge you for the experience of cooking. A do-it-yourself premium?

Everything else seems to follow the same pattern as well. What used to be a luxury, prepared foods, is now the cheaper alternative. Mostly. Sure, you still have the ones that are clearly priced way out there; the "bistro" selections, or whatever fancy name the brand marketers have come up with. Sometimes you nail a really good deal on some raw ingredients like chicken. But overall? I can feed a group of 12 people pizza and drinks for what it costs for a family of four from scratch.

I find that amazing. I knew that costs had shifted dramatically, but when I went to the grocery store and actually started pricing things out I was truly amazed. No wonder the baking aisle isn't an aisle anymore. As a matter of fact, the baking aisle is about 1/3 of a side of an aisle now, when by contrast I remember it taking up the entire thing - both sides (and sometimes an additional aisle) for all the raw goods.

I grew up cooking for myself, and not out of a can or package. I think that perhaps is what has kept me on that self-preparation track. I don't buy prepared foods, as a rule. But it's clearly costing us, as things have changed. Before anyone says it, I do buy in bulk when it's the better price (it's not always.) I'm just simply amazed that doing something for yourself costs so much more than having someone else do it for you, so all you have to do is throw it in the microwave. It used to be that having someone else shoulder the work meant you paid through the nose for it... but now if you want to do the work it costs you more money. Am I the only one who finds that shocking?

Little Jitters

2008-10-03T07:24:00.004-04:00

It's a little bit strange, the things that send you into nervous jitters; they're not always what you think they'll be.

Yesterday I had a job interview. My first interview for regular employment in 11 years. I haven't worked full time for someone else in 10. I have worked, as I have my art business, and my personal training. Technically, I did go on an interview when I was working through local gyms and teaching classes. But, it was just different. You are an "independent contractor" in those situations, and frankly? They're pretty desperate for people to bring in cash. I think gyms aren't really on people's radars up north like they are in more mild climates (that also have a population base to draw from.)

Thus, being that it was my first serious interview in a long time, and my first interview after graduating and subsequently applying for a very different type of position, you would have thought I would have been a bundle of nerves. I thought I was, but it turned out I was more worried about what on earth I was going to wear. (I just totally sounded like a "girl", didn't I? Gah!) Something tells me that my normal bohemian chic isn't the norm for corporate America. Once I settled that out (I wore a nice suit), I found I was just a hair off of completely rock solid NOT nervous. I actually had moments of "uh, why am I not nervous?" during my interview. Who knew that not being nervous could be distracting?

The interview went well, and we'll see. It went well enough for me to really contemplate what taking the job would mean. And that's when I started getting the jitters. I couldn't figure out what was bothering me. I like the job. I know I would be good at it, and it's an excellent match for my experience and capabilities. It has a lot of potential attached to it. It's located close to home. It's considered an excellent company to work for. All good things. All perfect things, really. So what was bothering me?

It's silly really, and I need you all to slap me back into reality and talk some sense into me; I'm worried about the kids.

It doesn't matter if it's this job, or another job I applied to (I'm going on lots of interviews, this was just the kick-off.) Eventually, I'll be employed. The reality is that it is highly unlikely I will find a position that enables Mr. Savy and I to work hours where one of us always has the kids. That means care programs (because it's illegal to leave a child home below the age of 12.)

The expense isn't fun (and I've had to balance that against what I would make to see if it is even worth it), but that isn't what is bothering me. I grew up as a latch-key kid from first grade on. By myself in the morning, I would make sure my brother and I ate and then would lock up and head off to school - only to come home to an empty house until around 7 PM or later. Some weeks I wouldn't even see my mother, because she worked such a wacky shift (nurse) and we just missed each other completely or she was asleep.

I knew it bothered me a little, but it made groundings easier (boy, did I get into a lot of trouble), because I was able to sneak around most of the restrictions. That being said, the good things that came out of it was a major sense of independence (Mr. Savy says it's over developed) and a high level of self sufficiency. The bad side was that I was lonely. A lot. I missed my parents. No one could fill that void. Nothing replaces your actual parent.

Now, my kids wouldn't be left in a program for very long - just an hour or two (unless it is during the summer, and then it's an all day thing.) Which is really no big deal at all. See? It's so stupid that this is bothering me! But, that's an hour or two I actually had with them that I won't anymore. This is something that the kids actually brought up, not me.

I also worry for those times when Mr. Savy has to travel. Trying to coordinate everything I'll need to. My experience in the past was that people are not understanding. How do you working parents handle those sorts of things? What about when your child is sick? How does that play out for you in the workplace? Do you feel guilty at all? Talk to me folks, I don't care if you write a book in the comments. I need to hear from other working parents and how they feel it's going. What would you change if you could? What is the hardest part? What works? What is good about it for you?

Ecnoweakonoshonomy

2008-10-02T11:09:00.003-04:00

I think I've become a CNN junkie since this bailout thing started getting tossed about. I check the stock market, I watch for reactions from businesses... I don't know what it is. Maybe it's triggered something in my DNA that normally plays out like an addiction to soap operas or Oprah like my mother has. I'm missing those genes, I don't like either.

But this CNN and C-Span stuff, and wondering what mess our government is making for us today? Oh yeah, I'm totally hooked.

I think it may be giving me an ulcer though.

In my family, we never discussed politics or what was going on while I was growing up. My parents are polar opposites politically. They would sit down before voting and compare how they would vote on issues and candidates. The reason they did this was because they almost always went opposite each other - 100% down the line. So, if they were exactly opposite, they didn't vote because their two votes essentially canceled each other out. That was the theory anyway. Although, I always wondered if they agreed not to vote, and then secretly went out and voted because they thought they had convinced the other not to go.

In my household, my husband and I are on the same page. It's a little scary sometimes, actually. We don't seem to disagree on anything political... (or he just doesn't want to argue with me and nods in agreement. I hear men do that.) He sort of relies on me to relay what is going on. When the stock market decided to go bungee jumping this week, I was the one who called him and he got to share the news with everyone at work (yeah, now who says men don't gossip?)

But he'll ask me what is going on. This seems to only perpetuate my addiction to CNN, because goodness! What would happen if I said "well, gee... I don't know!" Life would clearly end as we know it. Alright, maybe not, but I might have a serious freak out moment.

I think CNN, C-Span, and I need a 12 step program in order to step back from our economy. To at least just once a day.

Maybe twice.

En Garde

2008-10-01T00:23:00.005-04:00

I had my second fencing lesson on Monday. I am happy to report I liked it better than last Monday. Not having to skewer my daughter helped, as did having my feet listen to me at least 50% of the time. We even got to spar at the end.

I'm sporting quite a few bruises along my rib cage today. I was going to post a picture, but I've decided I'm too embarrassed to do so. Now, I do bruise easily. A sneeze will pretty much do it, and since I'm so pale... well, they show up spectacularly. I'm just glad they're on my ribs, frankly. During the first bout I discovered I had completely forgotten to grab the chest protectors and pop them in the pockets of the jacket. I called a time-out (which I don't think you're allowed to do, but well... hello? No protection!) However I have to tell you, I don't think they do much. These are what they look like:

They're not exactly hard to get around if you are bouncing about all over the room. Plus my jacket is too big for me. What I really need is this (yes, this is all real fencing equipment):

But one that extends to my toes, I'm thinking. Alright, yes. The point could be made that if I could evade the hits this wouldn't be an issue. But therein lies my problem. Lack of coordination, remember? I'm learning! Plus, when you go through the drills to learn, you are instructed to let your partner stab you, and vice versa. I've always bruised easily, and my ribs are always sore for no reason, so I suppose I'll just end up sucking it up and looking like a bruised apple for a while.

Hey, it's motivation to improve quickly, right?

I've been looking at all the different equipment. I know I need to do something about my shoes. I feel like I'm trying to fence in snow shoes. I'd probably do really well if they let me fence barefoot, but I think that's unlikely to happen. While perusing stuff, I found that I absolutely love the look of a sabre and epee with ornate stuff on them. Which is probably never allowed even for the folks who know what they're doing. Probably just for show. What is it about swords that makes them so... interesting?

I think I did pretty good for only my second lesson. Don't get me wrong, I still stink at it. What I mean by stink is that a 70 year old woman (a total firecracker) signed up, brand new to everything, and was better at it than I was. I'm alright with that. I still had a good time - and that's how I figure I did pretty well overall.

Candles and Tea

2008-09-30T00:26:00.000-04:00

I am truly a girl of the four seasons. Well, mostly. I mean, I could pretty much chuck Spring out the door with nary a tear and launch right into Summer, but the other three I couldn't live without.

I love the long days of Summer, when it's hot and there is sun tea brewing and a hammock with a book in it just waiting for me. (I never actually get to the hammock, but it's nice to know it's there.) I'm not a fan of those 100% humidity days where it's 95 degrees and little red animals with pitch forks are running about, but those other days? When the breeze comes in, and you can hear the giggles floating through the windows while the kids play in the backyard? Those days are great.

But after a while they get boring.

For me, Summer seems to be a time when you are supposed to be doing stuff. All sorts of stuff. You need to mow, weed, garden, go to the pool, see relatives, you name it. The lazy days of Summer are really the ones you steal from the schedule, because when you have 11 acres there is no such thing as getting all the chores done. You finish one, and the other needs doing again. This is fine for a few months, and it's neat to see the garden bursting with life, but after a while I start to feel like I need a break. I can't imagine what it is like to live where the growing season never ends, just shifts.

Out here, Autumn arrives with a crisp breeze and a debate on whether the windows get left open at night or not. Harvest festivals, outdoor preparations for freezing, and leather jackets while you walk in a forest so bright you can barely look at the leaves directly. It's still busy, but things are changing. A break is coming.

Winter brings a full on stop to everything. I love that things stop, even if it's just for a spell. It's about crackling fires, naps, and hearing the wind batter your house while you stay cozy inside (under 16 blankets and 30 layers of clothing, because you can't afford to heat the house higher than 55 degrees. But 16 blankets can be cozy! Alright I'm kidding... mostly. partly.) It's true, activity picks up when the snow is right. I like to cross country ski, even if it's just in my back yard. There is also the additional adrenalin rush of trying to not be eaten by the local wildlife while I'm sliding around out there.

All of this is pretty standard, and I enjoy the change. Things are finally changing here. I even saw some violently pink and orange trees over the weekend. But you know what I'm especially excited about? Tea and candles. Candles and tea.

The only kind of candle you can burn in summer are those nasty ones that keep the mosquitoes away. And tea? It's all iced. I hate sweetened ice tea (yes, I'm one of those), so I'd rather just have normal tea for that. However, come autumn... I get to light all sorts of fragrant candles and drink exotic teas. I've got my Iced Pumpkin already lit, and my Cinnamon and Cloves candles all ready to go from my major score at the 75% off sale in the Spring. I've got my Vanilla Hazelnut tea in my Tea Drop maker, and a bunch more I'm waiting to try like the gingerbread spice and sugar cookie sleigh ride.

I've really missed my candles and tea (and socks and sweaters.) They give me a lot of comfort that I miss while it's hot and humid outside. Although, I wonder if I would love them as much if I had them year round. Probably not. That whole "absence makes the heart grow fonder" thing being in play, I probably love them more because I don't get them all the time. I'm just glad that this year has come round to them once again.

Reflecting

2008-09-29T00:47:00.003-04:00

I'm so taken aback by everything going on in our little corner of the globe, that I really feel as though I'm speechless... well, near speechless. That's why my posting habits have trailed off a bit here and there.

Last night, my daughter asked me why we're "falling into another great depression." I asked her where she had heard that, and apparently the other kids are talking about it at school. I asked her what she knew of the first great depression, and she didn't know much. What she had read in books stuck a lot less compared to Kit Kettridge, American Girl (the movie, of course.)

I suppose I can't really argue with that, what stuck with me wasn't what I read in books, but stories my grandparents used to tell me. I debated whether to pass on any of those stories, but then I decided why not? It's part of our country's history, but also our family's. My grandmother used to tell of how one of her worst experiences was when her mother was actually able to buy meat for a stew (something that was a rare occurrence) and when she was left alone with it... she ate all the meat out of the pot. Apparently, that went over poorly with her mother and there was hell to pay. That story stuck with me from when I was about my daughter's age, simply because I could see myself doing the same thing. It was something I could connect with.

Connection or not, however, I know I'll never truly grasp what that time in our history was like. It's not that I worry that the same thing will happen as it did then; it can't. We're not the same country, with the same tools at our disposal. New things can happen, perhaps even worse ones (if you're a pessimistic sort), but history cannot truly repeat itself. But that doesn't mean I'm not extremely nervous at this moment. Case in point; last week's news made me want to convert my cash to a foreign currency and bury it in my back yard. Of course, the moose would probably eat it, so... I didn't.

I also kept having scenes from It's A Wonderful Life flashing through my head, such as the run on the bank scene where they only had to keep their head above water until closing time. Sure, it's the movies, but it's just another story of a time long ago that is echoing back at us right now. At a bike event this weekend put on by the school, I overheard one guy chatting with a large group of people about how his 401K is now his 201K. Everyone laughed, but there was a rather serious under current. Somehow, it's just not all that funny.

I'm honestly curious what other people are thinking about in regards to what is going on with our economic structure. Does it ring any bells for you? Did you hear any stories while you were growing up that apply (if so, I would love to hear them)? Have you hit the panic button, and stashed all your cash in the walls of your house and started farming your back yard? I hear the news reports, and well, that's spin. I'm curious what all of you actually think about all of this, and your own situation. How is everyone feeling?

The Smallest Pursuit of Happiness

2008-09-26T00:05:00.003-04:00

I currently coach boys 5th and 6th grade soccer. I've coached before; girls prior to this (same age group) and co-ed 3rd and 4th graders, but I really don't enjoy coaching the girls. At my last practice, I think I figured out why.

At this age, somewhere between 10 and 12 years old, the girls are distracted. It's about drama, politics, and figuring out how to manipulate each other. I know that's a pessimistic view, but it's dead on too. I watched my daughter's game the other day, and I saw the defense fail on purpose because a couple of the girls were mad at a teammate from something earlier in the week. Drama playing out on the field. My daughter just wanted to start banging her head against the goal post, she doesn't like the drama on the field (although, she seems to get way too caught up in it when off.)

The boys, on the other hand, aren't at that point yet. They are there to play. You can't pass the ball to them fast enough. They'll grapple for the chance to do a throw in. But more than anything? They're still little kids. The girls got to the growing up point internally faster than the boys did, I guess, but deep down the boys are still little boys.

The best thing about children, besides their untarnished view of the world, is this sort of innocent seeking that they do just so they can be happy. I'm not talking about life long happiness, a secure 401K nest egg, a house with a white picket fence and 2.34 children with a dog named Rover. They just want to be happy, for a moment, any moment, and they're happy when they find that moment. Little things, like getting to do the throw in, delight them - can make them happy for the rest of the day.

Do you remember when life was like that?

I do. I remember being just like that as a kid. It didn't matter that my parents were separated, or that my brother had chopped the head off my only barbie doll (he just got to it before I did, really... and it was probably a deserving measure of retribution for what I did to his green army guys. Who knew those things would melt like that?) It didn't matter that the kind of things going on which would make my life miserable from morning till night as an adult were all around me, because as a kid a little moment of "Oh! That is so cool!" was all it took for it to be a good day. Wading into a swamp and catching a handful of frogs, zipping along outside for an hour on my roller skates, biking down to the park and swinging so hard that I wondered whether I'd swing all the way over - and then jumping (we called it Supermanning, and if I ever see my kids doing that I might just have a stroke on the spot) and flying through the air made me happy.

I'm not sure when it is that we lose that ability to take the tiniest bit of momentary happiness and savor it through the rest of the day. My daughter seems to be at the transition point, sometimes a little spark of happiness clears everything up. But sometimes the reverse is true, where a spark of unhappiness can ruin a perfectly good day. She seems to waver back and forth, and I try to quietly tip her back in the direction of happiness.

I suppose there are some adults left that are still capable of being that way. I think that is what they mean by telling you to never lose your inner child. I think it's about happiness, and finding it in small things and realizing that you once had the ability to take a small sliver of it and make it carry you through the rest of your day.

I don't know when I lost that ability. I have a good memory, but I cannot pinpoint the shift. Watching my daughter, I suspect it was at the same age she's at now. I hope she doesn't lose this ability in all the muck we find to mire ourselves in. I have the same wishes for my son.

For myself? I wish I could find the talent once more. Sometimes I think I see glimpses of it here and there. On vacation in new places, discovering new things. Playing with my children. And coaching soccer with these kids who spend 99% of it laughing and carting home that happiness to their families. That's why I coach, they make me laugh and seeing them happy makes me happy too - if only for a moment.

Stress and Sweaters

2008-09-25T07:15:00.004-04:00

I had a serious post planned, but then I saw this...

Yes, that's actually a chicken in a sweater. A striped sweater.

You see, Buffy was a distraught little chicken. She didn't take well to her surroundings, and subsequently went bald. (My husband is making the same claims as far as his hair line goes.) She was rescued and diva'd up into the fabulous sweater wearing chicken you see today.

I instantly had that Coco Chanel quote going through my head; "dress shabbily and they'll notice the dress, dress impeccably and they'll notice the woman" (or something close to that.) I wonder how that applies to chickens.

I have to admit, however, that a good sweater really can lift the spirits (apparently, even if you are a chicken!) I'm someone who needs all four seasons. I love the hot summer weather, but I look forward to the leaves changing and snow on the way. I never sleep better than during the winter (although getting up to workout becomes significantly harder.) I also love when it's time to dig out my softest, fluffiest, warmest sweaters and socks.

Unfortunately, it seems I have hit a sock and sweater low. All my wonderfully fluffy socks have been worn thin or have holes in them. I sadly laid them all to rest in the waste bin this morning. And my sweaters? Well, they're not faring so well either. It's been a while since I purchased a new comfy one, and it seems all those wonderfully soft comfy sweaters are kind of rough, stretched wrong, and some even have holes like my socks did. Granted, some of them are older than my marriage, so I suppose it had to happen sometime.

Still, this leaves me with a little bit of comfort panic. I've been keeping a lookout for fluffy socks, knowing I was running low... but I had no idea I had NO fluffy socks, and that they would be very hard to find suddenly. It's not quite sweater season yet, although some mornings are frosted hard right now. I feel like I have a little more time to find both, but that it's running out....

So, if anyone knows where I can find extra soft (this is the #1 priority), comfy, (and affordable) sweaters and socks... let me know. I'd hate to be running around the house bald and stressed out like that chicken when it starts snowing!

Overhead

2008-09-24T07:37:00.003-04:00

There comes moment in time (sometimes on a daily basis for some of us) when we realize we are in over our head with something. This morning, this was a very literal thing for me. I had decided that today was the day to switch up my training program (as you should every three to four weeks, otherwise your body adapts) and incorporate free weights again.

Free weights are fantastic, and I actually prefer them over machines because they engage so much more of the body at once. However, part of that "engaging so much more of the body at once" roughly translates to "you are on you're own sucker, don't screw up!" This means that there isn't a machine to help you out if you stumble and catch the weights. You can (and I will) drop them on your toes, trip over the plates, and because they rely so heavily on proper form you can easily injure yourself that way, too.

My over the head moment came when I literally had weights over my head. I was doing an over the head standing triceps extension with a dumbbell. The first time through setting up a new routine, you aren't always sure of how much you should be lifting for each set, so it's a little bit of experimentation and listening to your body in order to determine the proper weight load. I'm currently working in a pyramid training process, and had no problems up until the last (and heaviest) set. It was too heavy.

A normal person would probably have figured this out right away. Unfortunately, I actually managed to get this particular load (80 lbs) over my head before I realized that for my heavy set, this was just a smidgen too heavy. And now this too heavy load was over my head, elbows bent (i.e. I was stuck, perfectly balanced between left and right, but elbows too low to lift up, over, and then lower it back down to the bench) and starting to pull me backwards little by little.

I have mirrored doors in my weight room, so I was able to actually contemplate my look of panic while I tried to work through my dilemma. I don't know if other people have found this to be true, but my mind has a snarky side when in a bad spot. I heard things run through my head like "Who gets trapped by their own triceps? Do you think you'll still be here by the time the kids return from school? Maybe the cat will knock you over... of course, like this you sort of resemble a scratching post. Look, it's the leaning tower of Kyra!"

I did manage to get out of that tight spot (obviously), but it involved a lot of swearing and one seriously tweaked right side. And Advil. We're loving our Advil today.

In some ways, this just makes me want to start laughing. Not normal laughter, but that insane, she's completely lost her grip laughter. After the past week I had, and everything feeling frustrating and out of my control, and just.... GAH! To be held hostage by a dumbbell and my triceps was just too funny... or maybe it was just too much.

I sat down on the floor after I managed to extract myself, and leaned my head against the bench. I suppose this little situation is life's funny way of throwing a metaphor at me; no matter how you got there, there is a way out. But it might hurt for a while and cost you some dignity.

I'm taking that as my life lesson today, especially considering I have something big to face later on this afternoon. I can't stop it. I can't avoid it. I can't fix it. Instead, I'll just try to keep a mental image of myself stuck like a distorted statue of liberty in my head, and hopefully if nothing else, I'll be able to laugh at whatever comes my way.

New Work

2008-09-23T14:05:00.003-04:00

Another new one:

(copyright K.Wilson Studio.)

6 x 18 x 1.5, oil.

I know the picture is blurry... might try for a better picture later when the paint isn't so wet.

Silver Lining

2008-09-23T07:07:00.004-04:00

Yesterday ended with me even angrier than when I wrote the post about things being bad in the morning. A huge snafu in the afternoon left me holding the bag (which meant I had angry people calling me) when I had nothing to do with the situation to begin with. I decided that I was going to get a stack of post-it notes that all say "Jerk #..." and just start slapping people on the forehead with them along with a "congrats! You are jerk number 144 today! Aren't you just so darn proud of yourself?!!"

Seriously, I really think I would have enjoyed that.

So what's a girl to do when the world wants to destroy her, and she feels like really doing some damage back? Why, go to her first fencing lesson of course! Sharp objects always seem like a good idea at a time like that, don't they?

Due to the snafu, I ended up with my daughter at the class and she got to try it out with me. I ended up paired with her at one point, and I just couldn't lunge and stab at her. We were supposed to do a hard lunge forward, with the foil actually bending on contact with our partner's chest. I finally stopped and said that while I appreciate being paired with my lovely child, I can't skewer her like I'm supposed to.

Of course, the response was that lots of parents enjoy stabbing their kids in the class, and just wait until she was a mouthy teenager. I laughed at that, and acknowledged that maybe then I'd have no problem. But right now? When she's cute and doesn't hate me yet? I can't. Interestingly, my daughter had problems with nailing me with the foil too. She kept saying sorry and wanting to hug me.

Once we switched partners, it went much better and I was amazed at how my daughter hopped around and actually did very well. I have to say that fencing with a foil is very different from working with a bokken (samurai training sword) as I am used to. I was doing alright for my first time and all, but towards the end of the class my footwork just... stopped. Or rather, my feet just started doing their own darn thing which bore no resemblance to what I was supposed to be doing. I think it was a combination of things from still being sick, to being tired and worn out from my horrendous day, and then my lack of coordination. I mean, my complete lack of grace had to kick in at some point.

It was also 8,000 degrees in the gear. They ought to let you fence in a swimsuit! Unless you are in the middle of an arctic storm, you are going to be overheated very quickly. The jacket is heavy, because it needs to be able to take the body shots. There are also different sorts of "protection" for the girls. In some of the jackets you can put two bowl shaped things into front pockets which give you a sort of roving protection, as the jacket isn't too snug to your body. Or, for the girls who knew to look for them (I didn't) there are these "breastplates" that look a lot like someone skinned a mannequin's top half. I'm going to be looking for one of those next week, believe me.

The face mask is also quite heavy, and while there is a mesh you can see through, it's a lot like breathing with a thin blanket over your face. You get warmed up very quickly. I also learned that because of how quickly you warm up and sweat in the face mask - if at any point you have had eye makeup on during they day? Raccoon city, folks. I didn't even think about it going in even though I never exercise with makeup on, but it had been a very long day. Lesson learned.

All in all? I'm looking forward to my next class next week. My daughter wants to continue with it too, but she's in soccer, band, and chorus. The next session starts in January, and I'll sign her up with me then. It's kind of neat, I found something new to try and at the same time discovered something I can finally do together with my daughter. The last, with my daughter, was completely unexpected but absolutely my silver lining to the day!

The Bad Can Be Good

2008-09-22T07:31:00.003-04:00

There comes a point in time in a "Healthy Lifestyle" where you wake up one day and you just don't care anymore. This feeling isn't in a non-caring don't care kind of way, it's more of an aggressive "I'm so tired of this, this is stupid, with everything else going on in my life.... I just don't give a flying fig, dagnabbit!" (Of course, my mental language might be slightly more sailor than preschool mom, as I'm posting here.)

I'm there, right this very moment. I've just gone through a really bad week personally. I'm sick. I'm overwhelmed with things, and I'm being pressured left and right by everyone right now. I've been attacked personally by someone (this is a hot button for me, and irritates me as very little else is able to do.) Basically, my back is completely up, I'm angry and frustrated... and when you feel like this, it seems like there is no where to go. No valve that I can turn to relieve some of the building pressure.

I grew up with a lot of alcoholics around, and I have heard them spout some very similar sentiments in reference to why they were suddenly "off the wagon" and snuggling an economy sized bottle of Vodka to them like it was their first crush. I don't reach for the alcohol, but you might find me secreted away with a gallon of ice cream, behaving in a remarkably similar manner. Well, last week it was actually the chocolate cake from my anniversary... but what do the details matter, right?

Every exercise/fitness/health-nut/guru out there will spout some nonsense about how you should just go exercise off the bad feelings! Go lace up those running shoes, grab an apple, and reset yourself back to perfect. Whatever (or more realistically? SHUT UP!) Doing what they suggest is absolutely perfect for the minor irritations in life. They're absolutely spot on for handling those blah days where things aren't great, those days you could turn into an excuse if you made the effort.

But for the bigger stuff? You know what I would like to hear? Someone acknowledge that sometimes life just stinks. Sometimes you just feel really bad, with reason. Does it ever feel as though we're allowed to be annoyed, but we're not allowed to actually feel really bad because things are actually bad? If there is one complaint I have about the "industry", it's that it sort of sweeps that whole human side of us under the rug. I realize that people who don't want to take responsibility for their health use any trivial reason they can to get out of doing the right thing. But a blanket effort to snuff that by ignoring that eventually for all of us things will actually get bad here and there, at one time or another, isn't helpful.

So then what? I know, this is the part where I come up with the miracle solution, right? You know what I think it is? That you just allow yourself to feel bad. Give yourself permission to say "You know, this just really sucks. I mean, it really sucks." Without adding on some positive statement about how it's not as bad as you think - which I believe undermines you by saying you shouldn't feel like you do. Just having someone say that you have a right to feel bad, can make you feel better. But when was the last time that anyone did that for you? When was the last time that someone halted the "it's not as bad as you think, chin up!" and instead said "I'm sorry things are the way the are right now. You're right. It stinks."

A healthy lifestyle is about being healthy all the way around. Inside and out. It's not just becoming a robot where life doesn't throw you curve-balls. That is a fantasy. The reality is that life comes at you, fast, and sometimes trips you up. Sometimes you can't catch your balance, and then you fall. If you are allowed to feel great, you must be allowed to feel bad. If you aren't, you start feeling guilty for feeling bad on top of everything else - and how does that help anything?

I still hit every workout last week, and I will this week too. In the past, I would have skipped it because I was lost in feeling bad and then feeling guilty for feeling bad, and everything would just keep snowballing. It turns out that the secret is that feeling bad isn't all bad. You can still go forward with your daily plans by acknowledging, at least to yourself, that this is where you are at. This is how you feel. And you know what? It may be that life stinks. PERIOD. No extra sunshiny spin tacked on to the back end to make it sound like an acceptable thing to say.

There is a freedom in allowing yourself to be angry, sad, defeated, frustrated, irritated, and just not the perfect person you think you should be at this moment. Somehow, admitting that does help relieve some of the pressure. The bad with the good creates the whole, and acknowledging all of it allows you to move forward.

And sometimes? Sometimes on rare occasions it may involve chocolate cake.

On The List

2008-09-20T08:41:00.002-04:00

I read pretty much anything I can get my hands on, from romance novels to fishing magazines (I don't like actually catching fish, but I know more about it now than I ever wanted to), to scientific publications and the usual fitness assortment and art publications. If I'm not reading something, I'm at loose ends.... hence the fishing magazines - because really, who actually gets that excited over bait? They're sort of my low and shameful point of reading desperation.

There are moments during all that reading that I end up doing a sort of double take. It's similar to a situation where you were out and about and suddenly saw something completely incongruous out of the corner of your eye. You just have to go back and take a closer look.

I read an article recently that suggested writing New Year's Resolutions for your partner. I went on, and then had a mental "Wait, what?" in my head where I had to go back and reread that and think on it. It's a couples "thing". It's supposed to bring you closer together, or something. The more I thought about it, the more terrifying the idea became.

Don't get me wrong, I can see the angle they were going for. It's a way to ask for improvements in your mate, while trying to do what would be best for them, all wrapped up with a pretty ribbon and a certain level of compelled deniability. I think. Unless I completely missed the point. Entirely possible. I have to tell you though, the whole thing sounds fraught with land mines to me.

Anything you suggest, you want them to feel good about achieving. Well, you're supposed to want that for them. (If you don't, that might be a sign that you shouldn't be in the relationship in the first place. Wait, is that what this exercise is for?) So, you want to pick things that you think that they would want, as well as you. But that's a lot of pressure! What if you want them to try for things that they don't want at all, and are then pressured by your out of sync ideas?

Worse, what do you think they'll write for you? Whole other kettle of really scary fish, right there! I know that New Year's resolutions are all about improving who you are, but when written by someone else... well, it's a little scary to find out where you aren't good enough. Especially if the perspective is coming from the person to whom it matters most. Major ouch opportunity, right there.

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Oh yeah, we're so totally doing this. (Good lord, I just went completely Valley Girl. I bet he writes that one down for elimination.)

Coordination

2008-09-19T06:45:00.002-04:00

I have none. I've always been that girl, you know her, you've seen her. When everyone was young and trying to do what they thought were advanced gymnast moves (i.e. cartwheels, hand stands, splits), she was the one slamming into the wall, on her head, taking out three other children with her. When there were cheerleader try outs, she got tangled in her own feet before she ever even made it to the try-out area. At school dances, she was a little safer... as long as she could actually stay on the beat. Once she lost it, as she invariably did, look out! And as an adult, trying out all those step and hip-hop whatever classes, she was always the one you worried about being close to the windows... especially if there was a multi-story drop.

I'm that girl. If you ever wondered what happened to her, now you know.

I've always yearned for coordination. It's something so many people have and take for granted. If it can be tripped over, I will. Even if it's invisible. This means I constantly sport bruises, and a general sense of embarrassment pretty much all of the time. I never know when I might go toppling over, which I suppose could add an element of excitement to my life... or other people's anyway, if I was trying to be an optimist. I've never been good at optimism, so I just stock a lot of ice packs and apologies instead.

This also means that I've generally been unable to try out some things that look relatively fun for fear of really embarrassing myself. I know, everyone will say "Hey, no one really cares! No worries!" But that isn't true. I can promise you that there is always at least one requisite jerk in the area (usually more, they travel in packs) whenever anything embarrassing happens.

When I was 16, I tried running on a treadmill for the first time in my gym. I didn't know how to get off it correctly (it had really elaborate hand rails for some reason, maybe it was used for physical therapy stuff too?) Confused, I stumbled ever so slightly, fell on my derriere and slid off the back of the machine. I twisted my ankle in the process, so instead of just being embarrassed I was really in pain too. There was a couple in the gym; a blow-up plastic cupie doll with giant hair (it was about 1990, so big hair was still in and the hairspray gods reigned supreme) and a puffed out, can't put his arms down, muscle head. I think they actually lived in that gym. I went there twice a day and they were always there. Those two thought my little performance was the funniest thing they had ever seen. I sat on the floor with tears running down my face while they busted a gut about three feet from me. I'm talking about falling over, off the weight bench, laughing. When the girl realized I was crying she actually said "OH look! She's even crying!" and proceeded to laugh even harder. Really, it's amazing I was able to shed tears anyway - my face was burning up with such mortification I would have thought any tears would have vaporized upon impact.

Those kinds of experiences stick with a girl. I stopped going to that specific gym after that day - I never went back. I was humiliated, and I knew those two were always there. It took me years to even be able to set foot in a gym again, and sure enough there were plenty of jerks waiting in the wings at those too. It's not that gyms are anything special, there are jerks everywhere. It doesn't matter if we're talking about a gym, a store, or online. But when you know you fall over, and exercise is a difficult thing to face - especially later on as an obese woman, on her own without friends at the gym, it becomes an especially hard experience.

I have actually found my sense of humor about my natural predicament. I can laugh about it. Still, my lack of coordination is only so funny to me, and then it's just personally painful. I think we're talking about a 40/60 mixture. Part of the painful is the frustration at just not physically being able to do the things everyone else can. Not that step-aerobics are so wonderful, but I just can't do them.

Still, out of pure irritation (I'd like to say dedication, but I'm being honest here...) I kept trying other things. Fortunately, this attitude paid off a little. I found that I CAN do kickboxing. I can play with swords, generally even the footwork isn't an issue then. I'm not certain why that is, you would think it would be worse, wouldn't you? And honestly, I must have had a death wish to start playing with sharp objects in the first place, considering. Although, people tend to laugh and point a little less when you are holding something you could stab them with.

So I found my little niche in the coordination world, but I still wish I had even a little coordination to enable me to do things like dance. I was reminded of this last night, when I met a drummer for the local African Dance Group. They hold classes, and my daughter simply loves them. I love listening to the drums. The drummer wanted to know why I didn't take the class. I felt a sort of instant shame, and said in a light tone that I simply had no rhythm. 100% truth. He argued that anyone could do it, and explained how the dances came from different tribes with different dances and so on, and how where he was from there were seven distinct different tribes - and everyone dances.

I found everything he explained about the dances absolutely fascinating, and at the same time - I was even more insistent that I simply couldn't do it. My coordination is so bad and these dances are more than "just dances"... what if I ended up insulting everyone in the process? That's probably completely irrational, but it's how I felt.

Maybe it's wrong of me, but with my current level of experience I know that there isn't a single dance out there that I can do successfully without injuring myself or others in the process. I wonder if all you folks who can dance even to a small extent know how lucky you really are. I still seek out new things, but I try to find ones that run in the vein of what I have discovered I can do. So, I'll sit and enjoy the music, watching the dances... and then go play with swords later on. Maybe that's just my own way of dancing.

The Scale Protection Program

2008-09-18T00:47:00.004-04:00

Last night when the kids were playing with the Wii Fit, my seven year old son pointed at my 10 year old daughter and said "You have a belly! I see your belly!" In his mind, he was teasing her and simply pointing out the fact that she was wearing a tank top that was too small, and her belly button was showing when she was bouncing around the room. I knew what he meant, my husband knew it, and we didn't think very much of it.

My daughter didn't take it that way.

She came to a full on stop, placed a hand on her front and back and started turning and looking at herself from every angle in a panic and said "I don't have a belly! It's muscle! MOM! I don't have a belly, do I have a belly? MOOOOOOOOOOOM! Do I have a belly!??!!"

I was flabbergasted by her reaction. Before I could close my gaping mouth and answer her, she babbled on about how "well, *name* says that *another girl* has a belly, and I think maybe she does. Maybe. And *name* is always trying to compare herself to everyone else, you know - who can suck it in the most? Look the tiniest? And *another girl* is always asking everyone what size they wear...."

Wholly crap.

My daughter just fast-forwarded to her teen years. The paranoia body phobia part. The part that I'm still not over, but never speak about in front/around/while she is home. I'm serious, any magazines with fitness or anything about weight on the cover aren't even kept out where she could read them.

I'm vigilant about this, because I had a very different upbringing. My mother used to bring me down and make me turn so she could evaluate my body proportions. At SEVEN years old (and up.) I'm talking about things like how many ribs show, how do my jeans fit, how big/small I was, and how much I weighed. My mother controlled the food in the house in completely a out of control, disordered manner.

The focus was on weight constantly, not only with her but with her friends, too. She used to call me down to discuss my body proportions when her friends came over to visit, and project how they thought I might turn out. When I started turning out rather voluptuous, I was then treated to a litany of opinions that all sounded like "Oh, yes, I see that. She'll have to be careful since she's so... curvy. Women like that, they have to hardly eat anything. You'll need to watch her..." The one that stuck with me the most was when her friend said to her "you know, she's kind of pretty and clearly going to be so tall. If she can just learn to, you know - not eat, she could actually be pretty." And then I was dismissed. Pony show over.

It's important to note that my mother had a serious disorder (bulimia and anorexia nervosa). This translated heavily into how I was raised, and since it was during the 1980's for the most part - those two diseases were not looked down upon. As a matter of fact, it was "cool" to have them. Positive reinforcement for a horrible thing, that was then structured into our daily lives, but primarily mine as the only other female in the house.

I still have nightmares about it, so I have worked damn hard to make sure none of those things translated into my home. I worked hard on focusing on what you can do (jump? run? play?) and how good things like apples and vegetables taste, without acting as though the other stuff doesn't exist. Moderation, in all things. I wanted to give my daughter a freedom from food/weight that I never had... for as long as possible, until society got their hooks into her. I knew it had to happen eventually... but at TEN YEARS OLD!??!!

I was in a daze, trying to come to terms with this fact when I caught more of what she was saying; "and *name* says she weighs herself on her mom's scale EVERY MORNING, because her mom says it's the only way to not turn out fat. Is that true? I checked the scale yesterday, but it just says the same thing it always does. What happens if that changes? What do I do mom? If I get fat, is that really bad? What does that mean? I don't want to be fat mom, *name* says that if you are fat your life is over."

I was still gaping at that point... but when the shocked numbness started to wear off, I actually found myself enraged. I mean, angry to my core. Not at my daughter, but because these are a bunch of TEN YEAR OLD GIRLS. Active, ten year old girls. Not a single one of them is overweight by any stretch of the imagination. I know there is a childhood epidemic (as the media puts it) with children increasing in girth, but this crew is not a part of that.

And yet, here they are - already scared to death about their weight. I don't even think they properly understand what all of this even means, just that it's somehow bad and earth shattering, and they must now be frightened about it. I've gone to so much trouble to not do what my mother did, and here she is at 10 years old right where I was. Ok, maybe not quite - but close enough! I'm so mad I want to scream until my throat bleeds.

I found my voice again, I reassured her that she is fine. I told her that weighing herself every day is silly and explained how the body works sort of like a machine. If you treat it right, fuel it right, and keep moving so it doesn't rust up, she'd never have anything to worry about. I also explained that she is going to see all her peers change over the next few years and while everyone pretty much looks the same right now, there are going to be vast differences emerging. And that the differences are what make us unique, and don't mean we're somehow excluded. I then also explained that being fat is NOT the end of the world, and that hey - mommy was at one point too, because she didn't use her body or treat it very nicely, but she learned to do so.

And then we had a LONG discussion about scales. Apparently, there are numbers flying around the school. Kids are weighing themselves at home and bringing the numbers to compare with each other at school. I explained that was just being silly, and how a scale is simply a measure of mass. I pointed out that it doesn't tell her anything about how tall she is. And say she was 60 lbs here, she'd only weigh about 10 lbs on the moon and 140 or so on Jupiter... but would she be any different? If I weighed an apple and then an orange, could she tell which was which just from the number? I saw the light bulb go on, as she got it.

The discussion was longer than this, and I calmed her down and sorted out all sorts of nonsense. I left the door open to further discussion. I know it's not over. I know it had to happen sometime; there isn't a girl out there who hasn't felt the body angst acutely. But it just hurts so badly inside to see it, even though it's just the tiniest bit right now. There is no escaping our culture of "not good enough". I'm furious that this is our society, this is what we do to our children.

I'm also removing the scale. I'm not throwing it out, just putting into a sort of... witness protection program. In dosing circumstances I will still need to know now and then what they weigh. I wish I could turn the weighing function for them off on the Wii Fit. I don't think there is an option to do so.

My angle has always been to work subtly enforcing moderation, movement, and respect for the body. I'm going to keep doing that. I know it's the right thing to do, and to unravel any nonsense that comes through the door. But deep down inside? I want to wrap her up in bubble wrap and cotton. I want her to see herself as I see her, and protect her from the lies. I want to crucify the media monsters who put those sexualized, anorexic, photo shopped models into every girl's head, especially when their biggest concern should be how long they can last in a fast game of 4-square.

Nothing I do will ever seem like it is enough.

Wiiiiii

2008-09-17T00:33:00.003-04:00

Our gift (to each other, and the family) for our anniversary was a Wii Fit.

My mother brought hers with her when she visited about a month ago. I had completely disregarded the Wii Fit, believing it was relatively stupid. I have what amounts to a whole gym in my basement, what benefit would I get from a Wii Fit?

The most compelling answer to that question is that I would get extremely tired children.

I absolutely love how children throw themselves into something. While an adult might make a halfhearted attempt at the Wii run, the kids are moving every part of their bodies in a manner that probably burns more calories than anything else I can think of, and gives me whiplash just watching. But wow, are they having a great time doing it.

They could care less about the yoga and the strength training, but at their age they don't really need it. Instead, it's been hula hoop challenges, and bubble, penguin, something-or-other championships. The kids are sweaty, exhausted, and happy. Solely because of that, I wanted one. Not for the summer months, I'd rather toss the kids out the back door. But the Winter months are very cold here, often too cold to even go play outside, and the rainy season is just as bad in the Spring. I'm big on activity, and this is a way to make sure they keep moving year round.

Which all sounds very noble... until I confess that I monopolized the thing last night for an hour and a half. It's harder than it looks, and slightly addicting. I even enjoyed the running programs, although I would love to find a way to hook it up to my treadmill. Running in place is hard for me, I want to be putting pavement behind me - even if it's just a mechanical track.

I'm playing with the yoga and strength programs as well. Some of them I like, some of them I think are a waste... but I'll give them props for trying. Overall, I really like the Wii Fit. I'm going to incorporate the strength moves into my weight training days as a little addition to my normally scheduled program. I just have to do it before the kids get home, because they're willing to fight me for it.

I do have one complaint. If there is a way to do this, I don't know what it is. You can't create a workout line-up where it cycles through the exercises (like the yoga or strength training.) So, between every exercise you have to put up with the trainer babbling for a second, then choose to quit or retry, and then pick something else. What I want is a way to say "do this, then this, then this..." etc and have it run through them.

So, am I stupid and I just didn't see how to create a full workout? Or is the Wii missing that component instead?

Anniversary

2008-09-16T00:59:00.003-04:00

Today is my anniversary. Yes, I could get all maudlin about it and post some nonsense about how birds carried my train down the aisle, butterflies made up my bouquet, and deer frolicked by the alter while the sun came out at just the right moment... but let's be serious, I've been married thirteen years. Do you know the things you learn about your partner in thirteen years of marriage?

I don't mean me, I'm talking about him. Can you imagine what that poor man has had to put up with? I don't know if he's after a sainthood or is just a poor misguided soul, but here we are... thirteen years later.

I figure that the old-school folks had a pretty good idea about the stuff you witness over thirteen years of marriage. Why else would they have made this the year of Lace? Of course, the third year is the gift of leather so you have to wonder a little about that as well. The jokes have been flying, along with many a suggestion, to which my response runs something along the lines of "You would pay that much for something that has less fabric than a spider web?"

I'm a practical soul, while my husband is a romantic. For example; my husband likes to give flowers. Flowers give me anxiety over the cost of something that is just going to die in three days.

Don't worry, you don't have to say it. I had my "girl" card revoked decades ago.

But all hope is not lost! It took me this many years to finally figure out how to get flowers and love them; they need to be flowers that I can plant and keep growing. Once we figured that out (just this past May - I'm slow, apparently), Mr. Savy started peppering me with flowers on holidays and sometimes for no reason at all... I think he's got a backlog of flower giving he wants to get out of his system. Fortunately, it turns out that I LOVE getting flowers in this fashion. Compromise is wonderful, isn't it?

I got married relatively young, I was 20. Mr. Savy and I had mutual friends for five years, yet never actually managed to meet until a fluke brought us together on a group trip (with those friends) to the Renaissance Festival. He noticed me and I noticed him. The group split up mid-day, with a promise to meet under a big tree with tons of ribbons tied in it at a specific time. When I showed up, the only person there was him. I found out about ten years later that he had shooed everyone off in order to meet with me alone. We started dating that night, and every night thereafter. We were engaged about six weeks after we met, and were married 14 months from the day we met.

I believe that is called a whirlwind courtship and marriage?

It wasn't all a fairytale, like when the minister refused to marry us only days before the wedding. The minister decided that according to our computer compatibility tests that they made everyone take, we were complete opposites. (Uh, hello? Rocket Scientist and Artist? Duh?) We had to have our parents vouch for us in order to get married - talk about embarrassing. The minister (who oddly resembled Dr. Ruth) only went through with the wedding because it was too close to call it off in a business sense, but she "went on record" in front of everyone that our marriage wouldn't last the year in her opinion, and we were making a mistake before the "eyes of God." I can't tell you how much I have wanted to drop in on that minister and give her a good piece of my mind.

Still, I married my best friend, and so even that minister couldn't ruin my wedding. Or any of the other scandalous things that were going on (ever notice that weddings bring out the absolute worst in humanity? Especially in your extended family?) It didn't matter, we had each other, cake, and a honeymoon to look forward to. And speaking of cake, this is my very favorite picture from our wedding:

Instead of mashing the cake in my face, he simply put frosting on my nose and kissed me. Yes, this part is sappy, but hey - it had to happen sometime, as this is a post about my anniversary.

Thirteen years of marriage went by awful fast, but it's wonderful to know that you can love someone more than you ever thought possible, if you are only given the time together to let it grow.

Full of Hot Air

2008-09-15T07:59:00.004-04:00

Auntie Em! Auntie Em!

It is incredibly windy here today. It was so muggy and hot that Mr. Savy decided to open some windows on his way to make coffee this morning, and I awoke to glass shattering. The wind was so strong that it swept my glass candle holders right off my fireplace mantle and smashed them into the wall, along with stripping paintings off the walls and generally terrifying the household. When I came down, all three dogs were huddled in a corner looking up at me as if to say "We didn't do it! We swear!!!!"

I'm having one of those blog moments where you have so much to say, but you realize you can't post any of it publicly. If only I had an anonymous blog! So, really I am spending my time dancing around what I wish I could talk about. Which means you are supposed to focus on things like the weather, and maybe politics. I already said it was windy.

As far as politics go? I've been really surprised to see the emails come in asking about why I haven't posted my support for one candidate or another. Why don't I have a badge linking to one party, or talk about how I think so-and-so is going to be the answer to all of society's ills. One person went so far as to say that regardless of who I support, it is my "civic duty" to go forth and campaign for them.

Is it just me, or are people seriously invested in this election? I haven't seen this kind of furor since the last Harry Potter novel was due to come out.

For the record; it is NOT my responsibility to campaign for anyone, unless I was employed by the campaign or running for office myself. I also don't think that one small set of people running for office are going to solve all our problems, mostly because I think we're all responsible for a lot of our own problems and I am sick and tired of having people look outside their own houses when something is wrong in their own back yard. I do have a political opinion, but that doesn't mean I have to share it with every person I meet and try to convince them that I am preaching gospel and they must follow my lead!

Well, at least until a candidate sends me my body weight in expensive chocolate. Then we'll talk.

Until then? I think people are smart enough to pick a candidate that they agree with. I might not agree with their choice, because believe it or not I actually have incredibly strong political opinions, but it's their choice. I believe that everyone needs to pick who they think will best suit their views, and I am not the one to argue that with someone else - because I think that is insulting to them, as it would be to me. I hope that clears up the whole political issue that people are feeling the need to email me about. I'm a lost cause, folks, so just let it go already.

And lastly, because politics are icky, I thought I'd share these photos I took this morning right after my morning run.

(It's dark because the sun is just coming up. It's way too early. *yawn*)

This is my back yard, and as you can see - none of the leaves are really changing yet. Very green. I wish I could post the audio with the picture, because the amount of noise coming from the fields is unbelievable. Crickets, birds, you name it... it's like one of those nature albums people like to listen to in order to "soothe" themselves... but turned way up! Too loud. You couldn't sleep through this if you wanted to. And at night, the coyotes have been kicking up their heels like a bunch of teenagers ditching the prom.

And this picture is of my closest neighbor on one side.

I'm taking these not only to share, but to remind myself that I do like it here. Most of the time. I need to do that today, for all the reasons I can't post about. But having every view out of every window look like it's right out of a post card does help ease some of my angst.

Taller

2008-09-13T00:52:00.002-04:00

I saw this article about a study on tall people, claiming a connection between height and happiness. Basically, for every extra inch in height the person was as happy as if they had a 4% increase in income... I wonder how they adjust for inflation.

As the study focused on men, I suppose I can kind of see the connection. Though one does have to wonder if they didn't spend a lot of time wandering around the NBA. The study asserts that taller people are more likely to be college educated and reach their full cognitive potential over their shorter peers.

I understand that they're trying to link physical development with brain function and thus superior life coping skills overall. I understand the nature of pure research, you don't always have to have a specific question in mind; sometimes the value of information becomes known only after you have it (hence the argument behind the hadron collider, which I happen to find absolutely fascinating.) But on the other hand, what exactly is this particular study going to help? I'm sure the follow-up study will be sponsored by the High Heels Manufacturers Association.

Personally, I've always wanted to be shorter. I was thinking a nice 5'4 or 5'6, with tiny feet would be just about right.

It's Personal

2008-09-12T00:08:00.002-04:00

People have a lot of different theories and opinions on how others should operate, especially in business. I've been out of the corporate world for a while, but I've been working in the art world and the fitness world in the interim. Looking back at my experiences... well, I have a question for you all:

How much "personal" should you involve in your business life?

What I mean by that, is how much of your personal life do you bring to your work? When I worked in the corporate fields, I found that anything personal was generally attacked almost immediately. It was seen as a weakness, and as such it was exploited by everyone - almost without exception. I'm not talking about coming into work and sobbing your heart out because your boyfriend left you, babbling on about your extended family, or something else completely inappropriate. There IS a line, and a general rule of decorum no matter who you are. I'm referring more to the small stuff, like having a photo of your loved ones on your desk.

I worked in several different companies, but it was always the same. The worst experience I had was when I worked for a tyrant of a woman in Chicago. She did horrible things to me on a daily basis, and it was miserable working for her (i.e. she would come in, trash the copier room, and then demand to know why I hadn't cleaned it in the last 20 seconds since she left it, and how incompetent I was... now go clean up her mess!) She would call me to her office and discuss her personal life in detail, and then if I said anything about my life she would rip my head off. I found that things improved considerably when I removed all personal items from my cubicle. I only had a picture of my husband up, and a small keepsake - but taking those two things out of the office and becoming a blank slate about anything other than the office (think robot, we're talking about not even having an opinion on the weather), life became slightly more bearable.

In my other corporate jobs, while they weren't as extreme in nature, I would say that the same could be said. Be polite, but never be personal. Even the single family photograph should stay clear of your office. I don't know if anything has changed, but we'll see.

Now, by contrast in the fitness world people want you to be personal. They want to know your story. They want to know when you struggle, so that they might learn a new coping skill, or just feel less alone in general. They want to know you are human, and connect with that.

In the art world, it's even more intense. People want to know everything about you. If you paint abstractly, or in a fashion that sparks emotion, people actually want a tragic story from you. They don't want to hear that everything is fine. They want abuse, suffering, and possibly madness. They want to plug into all those emotions that would probably get you fired on the spot in any other job.

It's a rather bizarre feeling for me to move between the two worlds because on one side you have a group of people who don't even want to think about you breathing, much less that you might exist outside of the stone building and florescent lighting. The other side wants to know every deep dark secret you ever had, and to cling to the notion of shared soul and expression. I've been completely dehumanized at one turn, and turned inside out on another. It starts to make you dizzy if you think about it too long.

I suppose my experiences have taught me that different careers bring different flavors of personal involvement. I'm just curious what everyone else has experienced. Are you allowed to be you at work? To what degree?

Private

2008-09-11T00:45:00.003-04:00

I'm sure everyone knows what the date is today. It's one of those days where you never have to ask when you are writing it down. The blogosphere will be buzzing with 9/11 content. I can't say anything more over what has been said these past years by so many, repeatedly.

While I won't say much more on the 9/11 topic, if you feel the need to know my thoughts I will direct you to the post from this past June where I needed to educate my young children about it.

On a different slant, I would like to ask you your opinion on something. It's a hot topic, to be sure. So much has changed since that day in September, but even more as technology has advanced and more and more people are going online. While the government has made many questionable (or defensible, depending on whom you are speaking with) forays into reducing public privacy, as a nation we've done a fair share of it ourselves.

Online, you can find out anything about anyone. In most cases, you don't even need to shell out a dime. Go and do a search on yourself, and a million "People finders" and "Public Information" sources pop up. Websites clamoring for you to visit so you can learn anything you want about anyone. Once upon a time it used to cost money to find out information about another person, and now the tables have turned and it costs you money to keep your information private. There are even companies you can hire that will make it their duty to scour the internet and remove information about you where they find it... for a sizable fee, of course.

I have heard some people say that this is a blessing, as they are now able to find long lost relatives and high school friends. Other people find it threatening, and invasive.

My question to you all is this: what level of privacy do you expect? What do you think you have a right to keep private, and what should be available to everyone? Only some people? How do you feel about your current level of privacy? Are you going to do anything about all the public information about you that is out there, or have you already?

Cheered

2008-09-10T00:37:00.004-04:00

I've been feeling slightly off for the past few days. I've come to believe I'm probably fighting something small that my petri dish children brought home as a back to school present for me. It's a traditional thing that happens every year, at Christmas they like to bring me the flu!

Still, I'm sort of the reverse of you exercise-haters out there; I hate exercise as much as the next person, but I do it as soon as possible so I don't have to think about it anymore. I don't put it off, I want it out of the way. I don't look for excuses not to workout, I look for any reason why I should, simply because it's more annoying to think all day long about how I should have exercised than to just be done with it!

I know, I paint such a pretty picture of fitness, don't I? I should clarify that there are some things I enjoy, but nothing at 5 a.m. when I workout, and anything can become monotonous after a while. Yes, I'm a personal trainer... but I'd rather be lounging in a hammock with a steamy romance novel and pina colada too. I'm not so different from you. It's just that the benefits outweigh the downside of nagging at myself all day and the other repercussions.

Now, that being said - I exercise at home for the most part. Everyone thinks that this is great, think of all the advantages! You can workout when you want to, without having to drive anywhere at any time! You can exercise in your pajamas if you want to!

Well, yes... but how do you justify cute exercise clothes? Yeah... see, major pitfall right there!

You're probably asking yourself how I got from feeling sick to clothes, but that is how I got myself out of bed this morning with a decidedly sour stomach. You see, I hit the mother lode on Sunday. I had to take my daughter out to buy a few essential pieces of clothing, and on the clearance racks were a ton of exercise clothes. I managed to snag sassy sports bras/tops for $5, cute running skirts for $3, and exercise shorts for $1. I felt like the triumphant hunter who just happened to stumble into a herd of suicidal buffalo: Jackpot, baby!

I also picked up an iPod Shuffle, finally. All this time I've been stuffing my full sized iPod in my sports bra, because the armbands hurt. This is nothing if not awkward. So, I've been meaning to pick up a Shuffle for ages, but I always forget when I'm in town.

It was the draw of my sassy new workout outfits (my first in several years) and my light little Shuffle that drew me out of bed this morning. I got to look cute, run, and not worry about my iPod going flying across the room! It really is the little things, isn't it?

I have to add that I love my running skirt. I only grabbed one, because I had very little faith that someone like me could wear one. I'm what you would call an hour-and-a-half-glass figure. I pretty much figured a running skirt would end up looking more like a belt on me, but since it was so cheap I had to just go for it. I cannot tell you how surprised and pleased I was. The skirt stayed where it was supposed to (unlike running shorts) and felt great. In truth, I actually looked better in the running skirt than I do the running shorts, even though it looks like a mini-skirt. Shocking, really.

Of course, I had to get over a serious fit of the giggles. When I first saw myself in the running skirt with my matching running/bra top (which looks like a cross between a bikini top and a halter), I realized I look like a cheerleader. All I was missing were the pom-poms... oh, and coordination. I hear that cheerleaders need that too.

Now I'm just kicking myself for not grabbing a few more of them... And trying to get that "Hey Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind, Hey Mickey!" song out of my head. It's what instantly stuck in there the moment I saw myself in the mirror. It's going to be a long day.

Thunder Drama

2008-09-09T07:49:00.002-04:00

After my run this morning, I figured I had enough time to hop into the shower before ushering the kids out the door... Eight minutes. I can do that in eight minutes. No problem. Life is good.

I was just at that point in my shower where my eyes were stinging from the soap and I was wondering if everyone else gets soap in their eyes every single time too, when there was suddenly a loud banging on the door. I practically had a heart attack, and of course my first instinct was to open my eyes. Bad. Idea.

"Mommy! MOM!!!!!!!!!!"

"WhaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaT!?!!?!!!" (I'm peevish when I have soap in my eyes. I mean, seriously - can a girl just get a few minutes, less than eight even, to take a shower for crying out loud?!!)

"Mom! Get out of the shower! You're gonna die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Uh.... come again?

"I just heard a really BIG THUNDER BOOM! MOM! Get OUT of the shower!!!!"

*sigh* I called to mini-me that I would be out in a minute and it would be alright. She shut the door, and then I had to holler back at the top of my lungs that the mini-mes needed to not go outside and wait for the bus!

No answer. Crap.

I rinsed quickly, noting that my daughter had a point about me standing in water in a metal tub with a lightning storm going on (there hadn't been one when I went to take a shower.) We had always hammered home the point with them, but you don't expect a storm to roll in on top of you in the shower from out of nowhere. I jumped out of the shower, and almost broke my neck as I slipped on the tile, grabbed a towel and shouted out around the bathroom door for them not to go outside.

"WE know."

oh. yeah. Well, anyway...

I dashed around and realized that the bus was due any minute. Soaking wet, I grabbed my bathrobe and ran down the stairs. I piled everyone in the car, and drove them out to the end of the driveway (I have a 200 foot driveway.) While we sat there, the storm really moved in. Lightning flashed all around us, and some of it was actually purple! I have seen all colors of lightning before, save for purple. It really was amazing, so long as you forgot about the fact that you are sitting in a tin can in the middle of enough electricity flying over your head to power your house for a year.

The bus showed up, and the kids made a panicked dash across the road by themselves (I told them I was not getting out of the car in just a short bathrobe, thank you very much, I had faith that they would make it) while unending thunder rolled and lightning flashed. When they were half way across, the sky opened up and dropped a lake on us.

There was so much water coming down, I couldn't see to back down my driveway. Eventually, I made it back to the house... you wouldn't think going 200 feet would be such a chore. I closed the garage and actually thought to myself "Whew, at least that's over!" And then I opened my door.

It had escaped my notice while I was flying through the house in my bathrobe, sopping wet hair streaming behind me, that all my windows were open. ALL. OF. THEM.

Wholly, freakin', mother of a sea turtle!

I ran to the first window where the curtains were billowing out like sails in a hurricane. Everything was wet. The carpet actually squished as I approached. Not good. Of course, the window was stuck. I mean, can you really expect a window to want to shut in the middle of all of this? What really bothered me, as I was being pelted in the face with a steady stream of water, was the realization that my window had better water pressure than my actual shower did.

Thus the routine was set, me running to the next window, violently struggling to close it while being blasted by Mother Nature's fire hose full on in the face. In my bedroom, there is a bay window. It had an INCH of standing water in it, which I was subsequently knocked into when my Labrador barreled past me to cram himself under my bed when another thunderclap sounded.

At that point I just sat there in the window, in the water, in my soaked bathrobe.

Are you sure today isn't Monday?