Hear that sigh? That’s me. On vacation. It’s about time.

One day last week, the jack on my iPod stopped working. I Googled and followed a list of “this will fix it” type suggestions. None of them worked.

As pathetic as it sounds, I can’t run without my music. So it was off to the new Apple store to get a Nano. Big mistake.

The Apple store is just so… shiny. And full of all kinds of iPods and Nanos and Shuffles and Touches. I was immediately sucked into the hype despite the fact that I swore I wouldn’t. Those customers that I mocked just weeks before for staring at comparison charts and waiting to be helped by a “Genius”? Yeah, that was me.

Chris and I compared a bunch of different options and I eventually just replaced my Touch with a slightly nicer model. It was more than I had intended to spend but I decided that it made sense. I’ve had the other one for years and I use it a lot – not for games or SM or even the web. I use the music, the notes and the stopwatch. And I use it every day (not kidding).

So, new iPod Touch in hand, we left the store.

I was surprised that Chris didn’t try harder to talk me into just getting a Shuffle. But then he spilled the beans: it was his second Apple Store trip of the day. He had gone to one earlier and bought an iPad.

I know. We’re such a stereotype. It’s a little bit sad.

(But I still love my new iPod Touch)

I have been making a pretty good effort to track my blood pressure as per doctor’s orders. My goal is to stay off meds so in addition to ramping up my running (which I had been doing pre-doctor’s visit), I’ve also been reading up on ways to lower your pressure naturally. There’s some pretty doable stuff in many of the articles and I’m making some changes. However, on almost every list, there’s also a litany of things that you shouldn’t do – or shouldn’t eat. I can give up salt, chocolate, white bread, most meats… but I have to draw the line somewhere. So, for today’s Top Ten Monday, I submit to you the list of ten foods that I could never give up – even if my life depends on it. As always, in no particular order.

1. Cheese. I know it’s bad for you if you eat too much cheese but it is, without fail, my downfall. I can eat a cheese plate for dinner. And for dessert.
2. Dal Makhani. Indian spiced lentils. I could order it from Tiffin every day and never get bored.
3. Nutella. I don’t understand or trust people who don’t eat Nutella.
4. Peaches. They’re healthy which is awesome since I could eat my weight in fresh peaches.
5. Pulled pork. I was a vegetarian for about two years. During that time, I never missed a burger. Never missed a steak. I did miss pork. Tops on the list? Pulled pork. Eastern NC style, of course!
6. Raisin Bran. I love breakfast cereal. I am particularly obsessed with raisin bran (not brand specific). I could eat it morning, noon and night.
7. Cold sesame noodles. My favorite dish from any number of Chinese restaurants is this one. You’ve probably seen it but apparently I’m the only person in the world that ever orders it. It’s the noodle dish with peanut sauce, sesame seeds and hot peppers. Yum.
8. Cole slaw. I love cole slaw. It’s the kind of food I’ve made the effort to learn in other languages (kohl salat in German, in case you’re wondering) so that I can eat it globally. Also goes extremely well with pulled pork.
9. Boiled peanuts. It’s my favorite snack from back home. If you’ve never had it, it kind of sort of tastes like edamame. Same idea.
10. Black eyed peas. Also a favorite from back home. I eat them cooked simply with a little hot sauce on most occasions. I also like to sneak them into other dishes – they’re great in everything from fritters to fajitas. And of course, I eat them every single New Year’s Day – they bring you luck during the year. I couldn’t give that up!

What would be on your list?

(Yeah, the title is a rip off from the Go-Gos. I’m a child of the 80s, I can’t help it.)

Yesterday, I had the big talk with my mom and dad about vacation. My parents are supposed to be coming with us to our undisclosed location for a family vacation. We’ve never done anything like this before but talked about it last year and thought it would be a good idea. After all, my parents are getting older and it’s harder for us to get down to NC with any regularity because of school and work. The kids miss my parents and I want them to have a good relationship with both sets of grandparents. Add to this the setting (the woods, on a lake), the cost (cheap, relatively speaking) and climate (cool, not hot, very important) and it felt kind of perfect.

Flash ahead to last month when we found out about dad’s myeloma, the enlarged spleen and the operation. When my dad first mentioned the operation, I said something to my mom about vacation. She said he was still planning on going.

Even after the operation, the party line was that they would still be making the trip to vacation. A number of people, myself included, did not think this was such a good idea. But my dad is my dad and I *may* get some of my stubborn streak from him… And he wanted to come.

In the meantime, the kids have been planning for the gala event. Katie has mailed invitations to my dad for all kinds of things she’s planning, including treasure hunts and nature walks. Agendas have been set.

I tried to prep Katie for the idea that Grandpa might not make it up. She was sure that he would.

When I spoke to my mom on Saturday, she seemed to think that they were still coming. This, despite the fact that the first (and only) time they’ve left the house was this week and it was a little much for my dad. After the conversation, I chatted with Chris. I finally sent an email to dad and told him that I didn’t think it was a good idea. And he agreed.

That was the easy part. Next, I had to break it to the kids. There was some crying. First, from Katie, about why Grandpa wasn’t coming. A few hours later, a teary Amy stood at the top of the stairs asking why Granny couldn’t come without Grandpa.

I think we’ve sorted everyone out now… but I’ve also promised an extra trip to NC. I sense a busy fall coming up.

Those of you who know me know that I have struggled with my weight for years. Recently, I’ve made some changes – running more, eating less – that have been great for my health. The results have been mostly positive though I’ll be very honest about the fact that I’m not where I want to be.

Weight loss isn’t an easy thing for me. Not only is it actually physically difficult for me to lose weight (I guess years of being stupid about my weight have screwed up my metabolism), I fear falling back into old patterns of being abusive to my body. It’s a scary thing.

I’ve actually approached this latest effort to get healthy in a much more positive way. I’ve focused on setting goals that are focused on progress more than losing weight. This week, for example, I hit my PR in the 5k. I ran three 5ks in a row at a sub 10 minute mile pace. That’s fantastic for me. I felt great about it.

This week, I was away from home at a convention. I didn’t have access to my scale so I went a few days without weighing. I know they say that’s healthy but I’ll freely admit that I step on the scale every.single.day. It’s easy to become obsessed with the numbers – it’s why I didn’t even own a scale for about 10 years after I was “recovering” from dealing with my eating disorder.

When I got home, I was feeling good about myself. I felt good about my runs and my times. I was happy with how I looked (and felt) in my clothes – I received a number of compliments from folks who had not seen me in a while. It was a win. And then, back at home, out of curiosity, I stepped on the scale. I was up a couple of pounds. Just like that, my confidence plummeted.

I’m a pretty smart, rational girl. I know better. I tried to tell myself that it was “just a number” but it’s not that easy. *Sigh* You’d think with all the other stuff going on in my life, this would be just a blip on the screen…

If you follow me on Facebook, you’ll know that I’ve been lamenting about my crazy travel schedule. I don’t like to be away from my kids – well, wait. I don’t like to be away from my kids long distance. I enjoy the occasional hour or two without them. But you knew what I meant.

Anyhow, last week, I had to take a trip down to NC to be with my mom while my dad had surgery. The trip took longer than expected. I was hoping for about 3 days but planned on four. Duke ended up keeping my dad for five days. On day four, they decided that they didn’t like the sound of his lungs and sent him back to radiology. He was expecting to go home that morning but they scheduled one more day “just in case.” It was likely for the best. That meant, however, that I missed my train back home so that I could stay an additional day. I got back on Friday afternoon, just in time to see Amy’s final recital of the summer and have a quick bite with Chris on his birthday.

Less than a week later, I was on the train again, this time for work. That’s pretty remarkable considering that I rarely go anywhere overnight on my own and now I was doing it for two consecutive weeks.

I arrived last night, got settled, went for a run and then went out for drinks. Great people, wonderful time.

Except for “that guy.” And you know who I’m talking about.

I mean you might not know this exact guy but you know the kind of guy I mean. The smarmy “I’m at a conference so I’ll see how many women I can flirt with” guy. And I don’t mean flirt in a cute way. I mean flirt in that makes you flinch, uncomfortable, run away from an event kind of unwanted attention.

And it was going on – at a professional event – in a most disturbing way. There wasn’t even an effort to hide it. At one point, I was standing next to a colleague, chatting, while “that guy” strained to look down her shirt. Yeah. It’s the “in your face” of it all that’s so mind-boggling. This is the same guy who cornered me earlier to ask if were married and then referred to me as “the American dream.” (gag)

The thing is, I never see women do this. And I’ve been to my share of conferences and conventions. It’s always the men.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that all women are saints or that they don’t cheat or flirt or engage in inappropriate behavior. I’m just saying that I’ve never seen a group of men talking about how to avoid “that girl” because she’s making them uncomfortable. I’ve never seen one woman drape herself all over a number of men at a professional setting as they all scramble to get away. Why is that?

And what is it about our society that we just tolerate this nonsense? Cause it’s not just this conference. You and I have seen “that guy” more than once. And I, for one, am tired of it.

Earlier today, NBC10 stopped by Kate’s art camp. They interviewed her (near the end, the cutie in pink) and the results were not surprising. She’s so her father’s daughter. Take a peek:

Since I posted about running earlier today, it seems fitting to make my Monday Top Ten about running. When I went home last week, I ran down the same street I used to run on as a kid. It was weird to be back on an unlined street with no street lights, no stop lights and practically no traffic (though those that did drive paid zero attention to the traffic rules – apparently those lines that the DOT painted down the middle of the road just confuses the drivers).

I loved the flat roads back home since my run in Manayunk is one painful hill after another. But overall, I missed running in the City. So, for today’s Top Ten, in no particular order, I present Top Ten Things I Love About Running in the City:

1. Encouragement. On my run today, a man on Manayunk Avenue yelled, “You go, girl!” And you know what? I needed that. The deer and the geese? Not a single helpful word.
2. Street lights. I have the grace of Jerry Lewis on a good day. I don’t need to run in the dark on top of everything else. I appreciate being able to see where I’m going. And I hate wearing a mining helmet when I run.
3. Bon Jovi. Okay, so Bon Jovi doesn’t *actually* run with me. But there’s something weird about many of the songs on my playlist outside of the City. When Jon sings “I feel the heart of the city pounding underneath my feet” it makes sense in the City. In the park? Not so much.
4. Safety. I’ve had to mix up my run times a bit lately to accommodate the crazy schedule that is summer camp and working. That means that sometimes I’m running at night, other times mid-afternoon. A few weeks ago, I ran through the woods in the dark, not realizing how very dark it would be under the trees (and see #2 above). I was freaking out of my mind. Not only could I not see the rocks and sticks on the trail in front of me, I realized that it was stupid and unsafe to run by myself in that environment. I feel safer in the City. Say what you will.
5. Sidewalks. I’m a fan of running on the sidewalk. Not busy sidewalks – we don’t have that so much in the residential neighborhoods of Roxborough/Manayunk. But sidewalks. I don’t like running in the road. I realized while I was in Hampstead that drivers in rural areas are not expecting runners in the road – and it shows. I know how much the average car weighs and I know how much I weigh. I don’t like those odds.
6. I don’t like roadkill. Call me crazy but I don’t like dead things by the side of the road. When I was home, I was keeping a tally of what I ran by that was dead. Not a fan of gruesome scenery.
7. Change. For quite a bit, I was running in the park. I ran the same loop and saw the same geese and the same bridge every single time. On some level it was helpful – I had it memorized (hill 1, then geese, hill 2, mountain bike path on left…). But other than the change of seasons, it was exactly the same. Even though my sidewalk through the City loop doesn’t change, every thing about it does. The people are different, the cars are different. I love it. It keeps me interested.
8. I feel like Rocky. And yes, I’ll admit that I have the theme song on my iPod. What of it?
9. Noise. I love the energy of the City. Even better, I love the sound of my shoes hitting the asphalt. I can hear myself breathing hard. And maybe – just maybe – I’m singing out loud when I’m running. And in the City, not a soul cares. Especially me.
10. I’m just another runner. In a City of more than 1.5 million people, I’m just another runner on the sidewalk. There’s no judgment, no critique. I don’t feel like anyone is watching me. I’m not a novelty and I’m not a competitor. I’m just another runner.

I put on my running shoes tonight and I paused. It was hot. As in Africa hot. 82% humidity. “Feels like 93 degrees” – at 7pm. So I thought about not running at all because, well, I’m tired. I’ve been traveling. Today was my first day back at the office. I’m stressed. *Fill in the blank here* I had a million excuses. So what did I do? I ran. I ran and I ran farther than I have in the past couple of weeks. True, I also ran slower. But I did it.

I consider myself a runner. Not a fast runner. Not a fancy runner. But I’m a runner. I don’t get those “running snobs” who believe that you have to hit a certain pace or run a specific number of miles before you can call yourself a runner. I think the moment you decide you’re going to run, you’re a runner.

A good friend recently asked me how I started running. I told her the truth: I started walking and then I got faster. Hand to God. There’s no trick, no magical moment. I just got faster. True story.

I discussed running last year on the solo list for the ABA. And here’s what I said:

When I was a kid, I used to run alongside my brothers on the back roads of rural North Carolina. We ran not because it was fashionable or cool but because it required no money. No fancy equipment. Just shoes. And it was fun. But as I got older, I was discouraged from running because I was a girl, and in my town, other than cheerleading and volleyball, girls just didn’t do sports.

Fast forward about 20 years and three kids… I was constantly tired. I was not healthy. I was heavy. I was frustrated. And one day, instead of walking with my friends, I ran. And I ran the next day. It was just me, no kids, no computer, no clients.

That same year (last year) I entered my first race – an 8k – during the Philly Marathon. I was scared I wouldn’t even finish. Not only did I finish, I finished respectably for my age group. I was also more than 25 pounds lighter than when I started running a few months earlier.

I’m racing again in November for the 8k – I’ve had a few 5ks mixed in since. I really wanted to do the half marathon but I’m not quite there yet (life kind of got in the way). I have, however, lost a few more pounds.

Like you, running gives me a sense of accomplishment. I love looking back and thinking, “I just freaking did that.” And it’s not about winning. I know I’ll never be that girl at the front of the line. But I will be that girl at the finish line. And that’s why I run.

Why do you run?

This time last Monday, I was sitting on a train en route to Durham, NC, to be with my family. My dad was having his spleen removed at Duke Medical Center and the word before the operation was not terribly good. I’ll just qualify it all by saying that it’s a tricky operation at the best of times (my dad’s spleen was grossly enlarged) and he is not in the best of health to start. So, we were all a bit on edge.

The operation started at 10am and was over at 3pm. It had taken a little longer than normal but the initial word was that everything was good. The post-op folks at Duke asked my brother to get my dad’s CPAP machine (for apnea) for recovery. That was at 3pm.

Six hours later, we had not heard a word. After a bit of pressing, the staff went back to check on him directly since the post-op folks were not answering their phone (not terribly comforting). There had been no further word from the surgeon who had advised my mom that his job “ended once the spleen was out.” Yeah, nice.

Eventually, we were given a number scribbled on a piece of paper and told that Dad was being moved to a private room and that we should go there and wait for him. My mom, brother and I headed that way. While we were looking for his room, a gruff woman in the hallway asked what we were doing. We told him that we were looking for my dad’s room since we had been advised to go wait for him. She rudely advised that she had “not received his report yet” and ordered to the waiting room. We went.

An hour and a half later, nothing. Yes, this from Duke. It had been 7-1/2 hours since the surgery had been over and my mom had not seen my dad. No one came over to talk to us. Nothing.

So I went up to the nurse’s station and asked for someone to come talk to my mom, to at least provide an update. Nothing.

At some point, about a half an hour later, my mom said, very quietly, “I wonder if he hasn’t died and nobody wants to tell us.” I looked at her and she was so tired and her eyes were all red. And with that, I was tired of being the nice daughter. I got up and my older brother went with me. I went over to the nurse’s station and I told her, very calmly but also very seriously, that it had been EIGHT hours since the surgery, that my mom hadn’t seen my dad in over TWELVE hours, that we had repeatedly asked for updates, that we did not expect this kind of treatment from Duke and that *someone* would come talk to my mother. Now.

The rude nurse from earlier trudged over and reluctantly advised my mom that there had been a problem with the “transport” and that my dad was fine, would be over eventually.

A few moments later, he was rolled down the hallway on a stretcher. He was very red.

Mom said to me, “He’s red, did you see how red he was?” I told her that he was probably just agitated from waiting.

We went in and the nurse went about her duties. She didn’t demonstrate an ounce of compassion. My dad was sweaty and red. My mom kept asking if he was okay and he shook his head. He was mouthing “hot” through the oxygen mask.

The respiratory nurse came in and there was a whole ordeal with his CPAP machine. I told the respiratory nurse we could just use the Duke equipment if this would be a problem. No, no, she said, we want to use your equipment – only if something goes wrong with our equipment, we were advised that it was not connected to the alarms, etc., for their equipment, so it wouldn’t alarm or anything. Nice.

Dad kept being a bit restless. My mom said to the nurse, “He is very hot, he is not comfortable.” And the nurse ignored her. Mom said, again, “He’s hot.” The nurse rudely said to her, “We will take care of him.” And that was that.

She left the room and my mom was wiping my dad’s forehead with a cold washcloth. We were all tired. Dad pulled the mask off enough to say, “Kids, I have witnesses. She said I was hot.” And we laughed. Mom glared at him and said, “TMI, Wayne, TMI.” I looked at my brother and said, “Did our mom just talk in text?” It was somehow all better then. We stayed for a bit and then went back to the hotel, feeling better.

Until the next morning.

When we arrived at Duke the next day, we found out that the nurse never adjusted Dad’s pain meds. He was supposed to have Dilaudid because that’s what works for him, not morphine. Morphine doesn’t do a thing for him. The nurse who arrived in the morning, when we were there, noticed that the drip was still morphine. She switched it. The night nurse hadn’t done a thing, despite the fact that my dad had told her he was in pain. He looked awful when we arrived, all ashy and pained.

We also found out – from the nursing staff – that the night nurse had also not bothered to turn him (he’s a big man). Our morning nurse was clearly bothered by all of this.

The nurse manager stopped my mom outside the hall to ask how late we had to wait. Mom told her. I followed her down the hall to talk further. She, too, was really unhappy to hear what had happened the night before.

I called Patient Services to relay what had happened. I told them that I expected that the nurse from the night before would not be back in my dad’s room at all (she wasn’t). I also expected someone to come apologize to my mom. They did. Every day.

I was really unimpressed with Duke for about the first 24 hours. While I’ve always heard that it was the best medical care in the country, I was truly shocked at little they actually seemed to care about the patient and the family. That eventually changed, after we complained, but it never should have gotten to that point. My entire impression of Duke has been tainted going forward (I already told them that they ruined basketball season for me now…).

More on what happened next later.