My sister in law, her husband and their little boy are here visiting, so time is a bit limited. Both My SIL and I woke up this morning craving sushi, so we spent the better part of the day rounding up ingredients and putting together one hell of a feast. We made all of it, and it's totally awesome and totally exhausting and takes all day. I'm planning a longer post about it when I get a chance, but that may be a day or so.
At any rate, we're definitely staying busy this week, I'm dreading getting back to the work grind next week. I'm going to be in Houston next week, and probably most of January. I'm trying not to think about that too much right now, but it'll be time to get the suitcase out way too soon.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Blah.
It's Wednesday, December 29th. The last time I went for a run was last Thursday, and I'm currently feeling no desire to get off my ass at all. So I signed up for the LR Half Marathon today. Maybe that will help?
Tennis season is right around the corner, at which time I will once again (as happens every year) regret hitting only once or twice since our last match in the fall.
Sometimes I think it'd be awesome to have the stamina, muscle definition, and abs that you see on the super athletes - the ones who spend all their time focusing on their chosen sport. Then I remember - they spend all their time focusing on their chosen sport. They have that luxury. And they usually have fewer years to their name than I do, along with fewer kiddos (although that's not always the case).
So I remind myself that I exercise for my physical health and mental sanity, and as long as I'm maintaining both of them, I should be happy, right? And while I'm not one for new year's resolutions, perhaps I should consider starting fresh on January 1? Then again, maybe I'm just looking for an excuse not to exercise this week. Now, where did I leave that bottle of wine and hunk of cheese...
Tennis season is right around the corner, at which time I will once again (as happens every year) regret hitting only once or twice since our last match in the fall.
Sometimes I think it'd be awesome to have the stamina, muscle definition, and abs that you see on the super athletes - the ones who spend all their time focusing on their chosen sport. Then I remember - they spend all their time focusing on their chosen sport. They have that luxury. And they usually have fewer years to their name than I do, along with fewer kiddos (although that's not always the case).
So I remind myself that I exercise for my physical health and mental sanity, and as long as I'm maintaining both of them, I should be happy, right? And while I'm not one for new year's resolutions, perhaps I should consider starting fresh on January 1? Then again, maybe I'm just looking for an excuse not to exercise this week. Now, where did I leave that bottle of wine and hunk of cheese...
Kiddo Comments
I've spent a lot of time with the kiddos the last several days, and there are a couple of comments that I want to remember:
- Yesterday, as the kiddos and I are piling into the car to go have lunch with J, my 4.5 year old girl yells from the car: "Mommy, hurry up! I'm freezing my BUTT off!" Classic.
- Overheard "whisper" from the boy as I'm cooking dinner: "Come on, let's go shoot mommy's butt!" (note: nerf guns for the whole family was Santa's best idea EVER).
- At the recycling place yesterday afternoon, my girl kept yelling the word "damaged" - only it didn't come out sounding quite like damaged, but rather sounded like "dammit." This would have been fine had an older lady not been throwing out her recycling at the same time, well within earshot. I tried to repeat the word loudly enough so the lady realized my four year old was in fact not cursing, but I'm not sure that worked. I kept trying to get A to stop saying it, but then I just sounded guilty. Yeah. Good stuff.
Monday, December 27, 2010
The Space Between
Way back in law school (has it really been almost 10 years?), my constitutional law class discussed something called 'interstitial law'. Interstitial law is created by the courts when they fill in gaps that were left by the Constitution and legislatures, even though that is not strictly the court's purview (courts are supposed to apply the law, not create it). But our legislators (and our 200 year old Constitution) can't create a law for every single situation. Essentially, then, the courts are filling in the cracks of the law, addressing new issues as they arise and creating laws and precedent to deal with them.
I always liked that concept, and the word "interstices" applies in more than just a legal context. It's a little vague, by definition - the undefined, the break, the space between. I think a lot of the interesting times in life happen in the spaces between. We tend to think of our lives in chunks of time - the run I need to do today, the 8 hours I give to work, dinner preparation, laundry - all these discrete tasks that make up so much of our lives. But the small things that happen in the midst of our discrete activities are the things that really make our lives special and interesting.
I used to thrive on a full schedule, a booked calendar that told me I was needed and important. The spaces between calendared events held time that could be filled with productive activities. So, true to form, even these spaces ended up scheduled and organized. It left no time for surprises or unexpected events. I sometimes wonder if this is the calling card of a Type A personality, this drive to stay productive and not "waste" a single second of the day. At one point in my life, unscheduled time was "wasted" time that I could use to accomplish something in that ever-present drive to be productive.
Perhaps inevitably, I burned out. The satisfaction I once felt at having a full day scheduled turned eventually to irritation, then distaste, and then spite and fatigue. I no longer had time to do the things I wanted to do; I was too busy doing the things I was supposed to be doing. There was no space between in my life - there were too many discrete packets built into my days and I had forgotten why I was taking them on, anyway.
So I opted out. I stopped filling my calendar, I stepped back from some of the pressure I was putting on myself, and tried to "float" a little more. It sounds funny to use that word, but that's how it feels sometimes when I have a good chunk of unscheduled time - I feel like I'm floating, being blown by the wind. Sometimes it makes me antsy, nervous, and anxious because of all the things I should be doing. But sometimes I'm able to slow down and just enjoy the time for what it is - time with my kids, time with a book, time for a good conversation with a friend that might not otherwise happen. Time to pay attention to what's going on around me, instead of all the things I "should be doing" at any given time.
This holiday was the first one in a long time that I didn't feel stressed. Granted, some of that I owe to J because he did the vast majority of the shopping. But I still had my own "to do" list, and I managed to get most of it done without a lot of stress. We had several family members over on Christmas day, and it was a lot of fun; the kiddos were still in their pajamas at 3pm on Christmas day and my living room was a complete disaster area, but for whatever reason, I just didn't stress this year. I was able to really enjoy the spaces between opening gifts and cooking mashed potatoes and focaccia bread for Christmas dinner, and I didn't feel like I needed to be accomplishing something every single second. I took some pictures, helped the kiddos get into some of their toys (ok, that might have been a little stressful), talked to my family, and enjoyed the day, even if it got a little noisy at times. Of course, it could have been J's killer hot buttered rum recipe that made the day feel easier than normal ... but I prefer to think that maybe I've learned to occasionally let go and look for the spaces between.
I always liked that concept, and the word "interstices" applies in more than just a legal context. It's a little vague, by definition - the undefined, the break, the space between. I think a lot of the interesting times in life happen in the spaces between. We tend to think of our lives in chunks of time - the run I need to do today, the 8 hours I give to work, dinner preparation, laundry - all these discrete tasks that make up so much of our lives. But the small things that happen in the midst of our discrete activities are the things that really make our lives special and interesting.
I used to thrive on a full schedule, a booked calendar that told me I was needed and important. The spaces between calendared events held time that could be filled with productive activities. So, true to form, even these spaces ended up scheduled and organized. It left no time for surprises or unexpected events. I sometimes wonder if this is the calling card of a Type A personality, this drive to stay productive and not "waste" a single second of the day. At one point in my life, unscheduled time was "wasted" time that I could use to accomplish something in that ever-present drive to be productive.
Perhaps inevitably, I burned out. The satisfaction I once felt at having a full day scheduled turned eventually to irritation, then distaste, and then spite and fatigue. I no longer had time to do the things I wanted to do; I was too busy doing the things I was supposed to be doing. There was no space between in my life - there were too many discrete packets built into my days and I had forgotten why I was taking them on, anyway.
So I opted out. I stopped filling my calendar, I stepped back from some of the pressure I was putting on myself, and tried to "float" a little more. It sounds funny to use that word, but that's how it feels sometimes when I have a good chunk of unscheduled time - I feel like I'm floating, being blown by the wind. Sometimes it makes me antsy, nervous, and anxious because of all the things I should be doing. But sometimes I'm able to slow down and just enjoy the time for what it is - time with my kids, time with a book, time for a good conversation with a friend that might not otherwise happen. Time to pay attention to what's going on around me, instead of all the things I "should be doing" at any given time.
This holiday was the first one in a long time that I didn't feel stressed. Granted, some of that I owe to J because he did the vast majority of the shopping. But I still had my own "to do" list, and I managed to get most of it done without a lot of stress. We had several family members over on Christmas day, and it was a lot of fun; the kiddos were still in their pajamas at 3pm on Christmas day and my living room was a complete disaster area, but for whatever reason, I just didn't stress this year. I was able to really enjoy the spaces between opening gifts and cooking mashed potatoes and focaccia bread for Christmas dinner, and I didn't feel like I needed to be accomplishing something every single second. I took some pictures, helped the kiddos get into some of their toys (ok, that might have been a little stressful), talked to my family, and enjoyed the day, even if it got a little noisy at times. Of course, it could have been J's killer hot buttered rum recipe that made the day feel easier than normal ... but I prefer to think that maybe I've learned to occasionally let go and look for the spaces between.
Is it Over? Can I Look Yet?
Man. That was a whirlwind 5 days. Or however long it was, I've lost track. I need some semblance of a routine, a few hours of quiet, some headache medicine that actually works, and a serious holiday detox.
I've got a couple hours of work to take care of this morning, which is fine - it's better than having to go down to Houston today. I didn't get my long run in this weekend, so at some point I'd like to get a 9 miler in today. And maybe I'll consider eating food that consists of something other than sugar, butter, and vanilla. Mmmmmm... That might help my headache, right?
All in all, it was a fantastic holiday. Once the wrapping fiesta was complete (11:30 Christmas Eve, probably an hour or so ahead of previous years), the holiday actually went pretty smoothly. The kiddos have more loot than should be legal, and J got me an Ipad - woo hoo! Of course, seeing as he has secreted it away at the moment, I'm wondering if it was for me or for him. (I know I'm going to hear about that last comment later.) That thing is an incredible time suck! It's a total toy, and so much fun, I'm almost a little giddy about it. I'm sure I'll get things under control eventually, but for right now I'm totally loving it.
At any rate, I'm going to try to knock out a few hours of work, and then concentrate on a few more substantive posts. Maybe I can pull my head out of the holiday fog it's been in and make some sense. Heh. That's probably optimistic thinking.
I've got a couple hours of work to take care of this morning, which is fine - it's better than having to go down to Houston today. I didn't get my long run in this weekend, so at some point I'd like to get a 9 miler in today. And maybe I'll consider eating food that consists of something other than sugar, butter, and vanilla. Mmmmmm... That might help my headache, right?
All in all, it was a fantastic holiday. Once the wrapping fiesta was complete (11:30 Christmas Eve, probably an hour or so ahead of previous years), the holiday actually went pretty smoothly. The kiddos have more loot than should be legal, and J got me an Ipad - woo hoo! Of course, seeing as he has secreted it away at the moment, I'm wondering if it was for me or for him. (I know I'm going to hear about that last comment later.) That thing is an incredible time suck! It's a total toy, and so much fun, I'm almost a little giddy about it. I'm sure I'll get things under control eventually, but for right now I'm totally loving it.
At any rate, I'm going to try to knock out a few hours of work, and then concentrate on a few more substantive posts. Maybe I can pull my head out of the holiday fog it's been in and make some sense. Heh. That's probably optimistic thinking.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Whew.
As fun as that was, I'm ready for a little normalcy. Sorry for the absence, normal posting to resume today or tomorrow, depending on when we are able to dig ourselves out of the veritable shit storm that Santa's exploding sack created...
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Hard Candy Creation
My family has a tradition of making multiple rum cakes at Christmas time and giving them out as gifts. The smell of rum cakes is synonymous with Christmas in my mind, and today my mom and I have been cranking out rum cakes left and right. It's been a while since I've made one, so I'm a little out of practice. The glaze on the cakes involves a stick of butter, a cup of sugar, and careful boiling of the mixture for about 5 minutes before you add the rum and spoon it over the cake. Today, I hit 4:30 of careful watching the first batch of glaze and then was distracted by a munchkin. Lo and behold when I looked back 15 seconds later, my nice butter yellow boiling mixture had gone brown, and the smell of burned sugar permeated the kitchen. Damn. On the plus side, I hadn't yet poured in the rum...
My mom, much more knowledgeable than I am in the kitchen, said it had turned into a hard candy mixture and might still be good. Huh. So I found a shallow tray and poured out the boiling hot, now-brownish mixture so it could cool into a sheet, and threw the pot into the sink to wash so I could take my mulligan on the glaze. One thing I somehow missed is that, if the mixture in the tray was hardening as it cooled, perhaps pouring cold water in my cooking pot wasn't the brightest idea. That stuff set up hard as a freakin' rock! So I poured more water into the cooking pan, boiled the water to loosen up the rock-hard crap in the pan, washed it, and finally started another batch of glaze. This time I managed to get the glaze right.
I tried the "hard candy" a little while ago, and I'll be darned - it was actually pretty tasty. Just what we all need, a little more candy at Christmas time. Joy.
My mom, much more knowledgeable than I am in the kitchen, said it had turned into a hard candy mixture and might still be good. Huh. So I found a shallow tray and poured out the boiling hot, now-brownish mixture so it could cool into a sheet, and threw the pot into the sink to wash so I could take my mulligan on the glaze. One thing I somehow missed is that, if the mixture in the tray was hardening as it cooled, perhaps pouring cold water in my cooking pot wasn't the brightest idea. That stuff set up hard as a freakin' rock! So I poured more water into the cooking pan, boiled the water to loosen up the rock-hard crap in the pan, washed it, and finally started another batch of glaze. This time I managed to get the glaze right.
I tried the "hard candy" a little while ago, and I'll be darned - it was actually pretty tasty. Just what we all need, a little more candy at Christmas time. Joy.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Negative Nancy
Today was a frustrating day. Nothing in particular happened, but it was all around just one of those demoralizing days.
I've been trying to take this week off from work, but of course that's not happening. There's too much going on at work, which is not a big surprise, but still disappointing. B is out of school, and I can't bring myself to send him to daycare during his break from school if I can help it. He's been looking forward to two weeks off since the first few days of school. If B doesn't go to daycare (aftercare, whatever), A sure as hell isn't going to go. So today they were home all day, while I still had some work stuff going on in the background. That meant that we couldn't really leave the house for any length of time until later in the afternoon. It also meant that my attention was constantly divided and I wasn't able to really give 100% to any activity going on. That's a recipe for a bad day.
There was lots of bickering (them), lots of begging (mostly me), and lots of threatening (only half me) throughout the day. We had plans to make Christmas cookies this afternoon with some friends, and by the time we got over to their house, I was about to pull my hair out. Fortunately, work stress let up about the time we got there, the kiddos were out of the house with other kids to play with, and things calmed down for a while. We all needed the change of pace.
I try hard to keep a balance in my life, but I really wanted this week to focus on the kids and to take care of some non-work projects that have been outstanding for a long time. It's not working out how I wanted it to, and I'm irritated, impatient, and I feel like I'm not doing anything well. I'm annoyed that I haven't been able to stay on a consistent exercise routine (hello, paging self discipline?), and I'm just feeling out of sorts all around. Harrumph.
Fortunately, J took care of the kiddos after dinner tonight and I was able to hit the community center for a 5 mile run. I ran it harder than necessary, but by the last mile, I'd finally gotten rid of some of the stress. Still, I'm hoping for a better day tomorrow. I'm sure having some of those Christmas cookies around will help a little, anyway...
I've been trying to take this week off from work, but of course that's not happening. There's too much going on at work, which is not a big surprise, but still disappointing. B is out of school, and I can't bring myself to send him to daycare during his break from school if I can help it. He's been looking forward to two weeks off since the first few days of school. If B doesn't go to daycare (aftercare, whatever), A sure as hell isn't going to go. So today they were home all day, while I still had some work stuff going on in the background. That meant that we couldn't really leave the house for any length of time until later in the afternoon. It also meant that my attention was constantly divided and I wasn't able to really give 100% to any activity going on. That's a recipe for a bad day.
There was lots of bickering (them), lots of begging (mostly me), and lots of threatening (only half me) throughout the day. We had plans to make Christmas cookies this afternoon with some friends, and by the time we got over to their house, I was about to pull my hair out. Fortunately, work stress let up about the time we got there, the kiddos were out of the house with other kids to play with, and things calmed down for a while. We all needed the change of pace.
I try hard to keep a balance in my life, but I really wanted this week to focus on the kids and to take care of some non-work projects that have been outstanding for a long time. It's not working out how I wanted it to, and I'm irritated, impatient, and I feel like I'm not doing anything well. I'm annoyed that I haven't been able to stay on a consistent exercise routine (hello, paging self discipline?), and I'm just feeling out of sorts all around. Harrumph.
Fortunately, J took care of the kiddos after dinner tonight and I was able to hit the community center for a 5 mile run. I ran it harder than necessary, but by the last mile, I'd finally gotten rid of some of the stress. Still, I'm hoping for a better day tomorrow. I'm sure having some of those Christmas cookies around will help a little, anyway...
Monday, December 20, 2010
A Good Day
Yesterday, the kiddos and I spent most of the day together while J was at work. Days like yesterday remind me of how far we've come in the child rearing years. The kiddos and I joined a friend of mine and his kiddos at the big cheesy mouse place yesterday afternoon, and it was actually sorta fun. It was the first time I'd been there in a while, and there's been a lot of growing up going on lately - and maybe not just on their parts.
For starters, as soon as I handed out the tokens, B disappeared. And I guess I'd expected it, because I didn't feel the urge to chase him immediately and make sure he was ok. This is what they are supposed to do, right? And it was ok that I didn't keep him in my sights the whole time, or even know where he was most of the time. Not only that, though, the girl got the point where even she was fine wandering around by herself. I kept a little closer tabs on her, just because she's younger, but they pretty much entertained themselves, with an occasional air hockey game against mom thrown in (I won, in case you're wondering). I know it's a fairly safe place for kids, but it's hard to get over that urge to know where your kids are every second, to make sure they are ok and know that nothing bad is happening. They've gotten a little older, and I guess I am getting more comfortable with their rapidly developing independence.
Two years ago, this outing would have been something I would have avoided if at all possible, and it would have left me completely exhausted, irritable, and ready to go straight home and throw everyone in bed, including me (you've gone to bed at 4 in the afternoon, right?). It would have been an afternoon of me carrying the girl around and chasing after the boy, who wouldn't be quite old enough to play everything he wanted to play and who would be prone to temper tantrums because of it. I would have been concerned when either of them got out of my sight for longer than 5 seconds, and the word "fun" would have not been part of that outing. It would have been stressful, annoying, and I would have lost my temper myriad times before I gave up. I would have stalked out to the car with two exhausted (and most likely screaming) kids, and we all would have gone home and collapsed. I would have missed and/or avoided any activities that came later in the day, and my energy would have been zapped.
But yesterday? Yesterday was - dare I say it - fun. The kiddos played and amused themselves gathering as many tickets as possible, didn't need me around for every game they played, and I think enjoyed a little independence. My friend and I held down a table and chatted, and the kiddos checked in regularly for more tokens, or a hug, or a drink, or a bite of pizza, then buzzed off to whatever game they had their minds set on next. We didn't have anywhere we needed to be yesterday, there was nothing we needed to do, so I guess we were all able to relax a little and enjoy the afternoon. I know I tend to keep us on the go a little too much, and I worry that it wears on the kids after a while. If it stresses me out, I'm guessing it stresses them out too, so I need to remember to build days like that into our schedule.
After the kiddos had blown through more tokens than I thought possible and used up their wads of tickets on the cheap-ass plastic toys, we headed out to local park (again, two years ago this would not have happened). We got there as the sun was going down and the cold was setting in, so we didn't stay very long, but the kids still had plenty of energy to run around and play. I watched them buzz around the playground, yelling and screaming, and pushed my girl on the swingset as the darkness grew around us. The sky had all the sharp reds and oranges of the cold December sunsets that I remember from childhood, and the smell of wood smoke was in the air. It was a very peaceful and relaxing evening, even if it was a bit on the chilly side. I tried to remind myself, once again, that every now and then, I need to slow down and chuck my to-do list and just enjoy the day. It was a good day.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Bullets
Wow, what a crazy few days. In bullets ('cause my brain is a little fuzzy this morning):
Time to get the day going.
- Got up yesterday morning and did a little shopping with the fam - Chick Fil-A for breakfast, Sam's for some necessities, Park Plaza for some mysterious errand J had to do, eye appointments for J and I, and then back home.
- Fast and furious lunch, then I headed out to a doubles match to knock the ball around a little. Holy crap, I thought the running I've been doing would have kept me in decent enough shape to play doubles, but after 2 solid hours, I was completely beat. I am sore all over today, and I'm supposed to run 8 miles...heh. Really, though, it was the first time I'd hit since September, and I was pleasantly surprised at how quickly it came back. I somehow always forget how freakin' good it feels to wail on a tennis ball; I grinned like an idiot for the first 10 minutes we were out there.
- Raced back to the house after tennis, got cleaned up, got the kiddos packed up and took them to my parents, and then J and I headed out for dinner at Ristorante Capeo's in Argenta. We had a table in the front so we got to people watch all through dinner, and the food was excellent. It was so nice to have a little quiet time after the crazy busy day.
- After dinner, we headed down to Cregeen's to have drinks with some friends we hadn't seen in a while, and much hilarity ensued - a good time was had by all, I believe. I had a few glasses of vino, but apparently I kept the right balance of water, food, and wine, because aside from some slightly fuzzy thinking this morning, everything seems good. And really, some might say I have fuzzy thinking going on all the time, so is that really any different from normal?
Time to get the day going.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Random Thought
This morning I listened to a CD I haven't listened to in a long time, one I had sort of forgotten about until a few days ago. It was a constant in my CD player several years ago, and really defines a period in my life. When I put it on this morning, the lyrics and notes immediately came back, along with many of the emotions and memories that I associate with that time. On listening this morning, though, I felt like everything was viewed through a lens of nostalgia; time has blunted most of the sharp edges, and my interpretation of the words and the situations are very different than they were several years ago. The music itself is the same, but the listener and the interpretations are completely altered.
It occurred to me that it's similar to what happens when you go back and read a book that you haven't read in many years. Take, for example, a book you were forced to read in high school and hated, but when you go back 15 years later and read that same book, you can see why it's so beloved (Pride and Prejudice, should you be wondering). The words haven't changed at all over time, just the reader. Yet it is a completely different book, simply based on the experiences you have had since you last read the book. Now, I'm not sure I'm up to a third reading of Pride and Prejudice anytime soon, but it makes me wonder how it might read in another 20 years, and what kind of spin my brain will put on it then, what sorts of experiences will get tangled up in the very same words. Same for the music - what will some of the CDs that have disappeared to the recesses of my music collection sound like in another 20 years - will they be as relevant? Or will they have lost their shine, the experiences of life wearing the gleam to dull?
I don't really have a point to this, I just found the comparison interesting for some inane reason.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
It's Not Fair!
Scene: Last night, our driveway, getting out of the car.
Time: 5:30, just before dinner.
Actors: Me, my 5 year old boy, B, and my 4 year old girl, A.
Me: "B, can you bring in your backpack and shut the car door when you come inside?"
B: "Moooommm, why do I always have to do so much stuff? It's not FAIR!"
Me: (in slight disbelief): "Oh get over it - it's a backpack for crying out loud! A, can you bring in your coat and the extra plates from the backseat?"
I got out of the car and went inside with dinner (Little Caesars - the choice of desperate parents everywhere). The girl followed me pretty quickly, bringing the stuff I asked her to bring without complaint. She's smart enough to know that if her brother is misbehaving, she can rack up brownie points and irritate him at the same time by being extra good. SCORE!
A full 10 minutes later, B came through the back door, slammed the door, and threw his backpack on the floor. He was continuously muttering under his breath about how tired he was and how unfair it was that I was making him do "all this stuff" when he was so very tired. You know, like hauling in his backpack that weighed about 2 pounds and contained his empty lunch box. And nothing else.
So I asked him if he had shut the door to the car. He looked so pissed that I was guessing it didn't happen. I got a sullen "no" in response.
Really? It's that hard? The dude has boundless energy when it's bedtime, and more than enough strength to shut a damn door. I told him to go back outside to shut the car door. He promptly threw himself on the ground in a crying fit, wailing about how hard his life is and how unfair I am.
You think life is hard now, kiddo? Heh. One of these days you will so wish that your main responsibilities were bringing in your backpack and shutting a freakin' car door.
Time: 5:30, just before dinner.
Actors: Me, my 5 year old boy, B, and my 4 year old girl, A.
Me: "B, can you bring in your backpack and shut the car door when you come inside?"
B: "Moooommm, why do I always have to do so much stuff? It's not FAIR!"
Me: (in slight disbelief): "Oh get over it - it's a backpack for crying out loud! A, can you bring in your coat and the extra plates from the backseat?"
I got out of the car and went inside with dinner (Little Caesars - the choice of desperate parents everywhere). The girl followed me pretty quickly, bringing the stuff I asked her to bring without complaint. She's smart enough to know that if her brother is misbehaving, she can rack up brownie points and irritate him at the same time by being extra good. SCORE!
A full 10 minutes later, B came through the back door, slammed the door, and threw his backpack on the floor. He was continuously muttering under his breath about how tired he was and how unfair it was that I was making him do "all this stuff" when he was so very tired. You know, like hauling in his backpack that weighed about 2 pounds and contained his empty lunch box. And nothing else.
So I asked him if he had shut the door to the car. He looked so pissed that I was guessing it didn't happen. I got a sullen "no" in response.
Really? It's that hard? The dude has boundless energy when it's bedtime, and more than enough strength to shut a damn door. I told him to go back outside to shut the car door. He promptly threw himself on the ground in a crying fit, wailing about how hard his life is and how unfair I am.
You think life is hard now, kiddo? Heh. One of these days you will so wish that your main responsibilities were bringing in your backpack and shutting a freakin' car door.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Back on the Wagon
After J got home last night, I finally managed to get motivated to go for a run - it's only been a week and a half, after all! By the time I got out of the house, it was dark and below freezing (and I'm a wuss), so I hit the treadmill at the community center. After thinking it over yesterday, I'm going change training plans and try a 3X a week plan, as opposed to 4X a week. Eventually something's going to stick...right? At this point, the LR marathon is off the table; with a lost week or two, there is just not enough time, but I can probably do the LR half. I ran that one last year in the midst of an injury and really enjoyed it, so it'd be nice to run it pain free if possible. I think my best half marathon time was around a 2:11, so I guess I'd be making a run to beat that time. Time will tell (and who knows, the wheels may fall off in January when my schedule goes completely insane).
On the tennis front, I'm starting to hear rumblings of spring league starting soon. I have a match scheduled for Saturday; it'll be the first time I've played since September, so I guess a 4 month break is long enough, right? It'll be nice to get back out and knock the ball around a little, I've missed the full-body workout that I get from playing. Apparently I don't miss it enough to try to rustle up a match in the off-season, but oh well.
On the tennis front, I'm starting to hear rumblings of spring league starting soon. I have a match scheduled for Saturday; it'll be the first time I've played since September, so I guess a 4 month break is long enough, right? It'll be nice to get back out and knock the ball around a little, I've missed the full-body workout that I get from playing. Apparently I don't miss it enough to try to rustle up a match in the off-season, but oh well.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Christmas Card Crankiness
I think we received our first Christmas card this year (or holiday card, whatever) the weekend of Thanksgiving. I don't really have a problem with getting them early - if you are going to send them out, bully for you for being on top of things! I always enjoy reading through them, checking in to see what folks have been up to for the past year, and seeing how much everyone's kids have grown. I usually enjoy the occasional newsletters, too - it's interesting to see someone's life over the past year encapsulated in a page. You get a sense about what is really important to them. But I do feel bad this time of the year when someone asks for my address, because I gave up sending out Christmas cards about 10 years ago. So what are you supposed say to someone when you send them your address - hey, here's my address, but be forewarned that I'm not asking for yours because I don't "do" Christmas cards? Yeah, that goes over well, but I've been known to say that on occasion...
When I decided not to send out Christmas cards several years ago, I just simply couldn't bring myself to make the effort. It sounds terrible, but J and I were not too far out of college, still had many sets of friends who were changing addresses each year, and gathering up the addresses felt like a Herculean task. Plus, we kept up with people in other ways - a card in December wasn't going to make us any more or less likely to keep up with our friends. And I couldn't keep up with an address book to save my life. It was a doomed effort from the beginning, I suppose.
See, this was how the whole card fiasco would go for me, starting about the 2nd week in December: First, I had to find the address book. Assuming I could find it (box at the top of the closet? shoved under the bed? under the front seat of the car?), then the addresses had to be updated. So I'd make the several random phone calls that have to be made to get current addresses. Then the trek(s) to pick out "just the right card." You know, the one that won't offend anyone but is still humorous /meaningful/ beautiful/ whatever you are going for (although my sense of humor might be a bit more warped than some - sorry if you were a victim of one of "those" cards; hopefully it's been so long you don't remember it). Once I bought the by-then-well-picked-over-cards, I found it impossible to send them out without a personal note on each one. This meant that it took a good bit of time to finish each card, because in case you haven't noticed, I like to write. Sometimes a lot. And that took time. And then I had to figure out where I left the batch I wrote during lunch at work one day, and dig out the ones that got crushed in the bottom of my purse. And then address them. And stamp them. And take them all to the post office. Whew. I think I need a drink, I'm stressed just thinking about it.
But the logistics weren't the only thing. I noticed a few years after J and I got married that I was the only one really concerned with the damn things. Somehow, that task had fallen in my lap and I ended up being the one responsible for them for both of us; I don't think it mattered to him in the least. I started resenting the work I was doing to send out these cards, just because it's something you are "supposed to do" at Christmas time. Doubtless I put the onus on myself, and it irritated me that I automatically assumed that I would be the one in charge of the blasted things. I guess I could have just scaled back, sent out cards only to a few select friends, but by the time it occurred to me that I wouldn't be executed for not sending out cards, I was so irritated with the whole process that I scrapped it completely. So most of my friends have figured out not to expect Christmas cards from me. I just don't do it. Or haven't recently, anyway.
This year, I'm actually contemplating sending them out again. I'm not sure why - maybe because we are back "home" in Little Rock, maybe because the kiddos are old enough that I don't feel as overwhelmed as I used to, or maybe I just need to change things up a bit. I'm not sure I'll actually get to it, and I'm fairly certain if I do, they won't get delivered until after December 25th, but I'm considering it. I still don't have an address book (hah, now that is a joke!), but I do have an address spreadsheet started in excel, and there are even a few addresses in it! It may just be another road to hell (see: good intentions), but hopefully my friends know how important they are to me, even if I don't send them a Christmas card with a picture of Santa stuck in a chimney or whatever terrible card I would pick out this year. Very fortunately for me, my friends have better taste than I do... On that note, maybe I should spare everyone, scrap the whole idea, and revisit it again in 10 years.
When I decided not to send out Christmas cards several years ago, I just simply couldn't bring myself to make the effort. It sounds terrible, but J and I were not too far out of college, still had many sets of friends who were changing addresses each year, and gathering up the addresses felt like a Herculean task. Plus, we kept up with people in other ways - a card in December wasn't going to make us any more or less likely to keep up with our friends. And I couldn't keep up with an address book to save my life. It was a doomed effort from the beginning, I suppose.
See, this was how the whole card fiasco would go for me, starting about the 2nd week in December: First, I had to find the address book. Assuming I could find it (box at the top of the closet? shoved under the bed? under the front seat of the car?), then the addresses had to be updated. So I'd make the several random phone calls that have to be made to get current addresses. Then the trek(s) to pick out "just the right card." You know, the one that won't offend anyone but is still humorous /meaningful/ beautiful/ whatever you are going for (although my sense of humor might be a bit more warped than some - sorry if you were a victim of one of "those" cards; hopefully it's been so long you don't remember it). Once I bought the by-then-well-picked-over-cards, I found it impossible to send them out without a personal note on each one. This meant that it took a good bit of time to finish each card, because in case you haven't noticed, I like to write. Sometimes a lot. And that took time. And then I had to figure out where I left the batch I wrote during lunch at work one day, and dig out the ones that got crushed in the bottom of my purse. And then address them. And stamp them. And take them all to the post office. Whew. I think I need a drink, I'm stressed just thinking about it.
But the logistics weren't the only thing. I noticed a few years after J and I got married that I was the only one really concerned with the damn things. Somehow, that task had fallen in my lap and I ended up being the one responsible for them for both of us; I don't think it mattered to him in the least. I started resenting the work I was doing to send out these cards, just because it's something you are "supposed to do" at Christmas time. Doubtless I put the onus on myself, and it irritated me that I automatically assumed that I would be the one in charge of the blasted things. I guess I could have just scaled back, sent out cards only to a few select friends, but by the time it occurred to me that I wouldn't be executed for not sending out cards, I was so irritated with the whole process that I scrapped it completely. So most of my friends have figured out not to expect Christmas cards from me. I just don't do it. Or haven't recently, anyway.
This year, I'm actually contemplating sending them out again. I'm not sure why - maybe because we are back "home" in Little Rock, maybe because the kiddos are old enough that I don't feel as overwhelmed as I used to, or maybe I just need to change things up a bit. I'm not sure I'll actually get to it, and I'm fairly certain if I do, they won't get delivered until after December 25th, but I'm considering it. I still don't have an address book (hah, now that is a joke!), but I do have an address spreadsheet started in excel, and there are even a few addresses in it! It may just be another road to hell (see: good intentions), but hopefully my friends know how important they are to me, even if I don't send them a Christmas card with a picture of Santa stuck in a chimney or whatever terrible card I would pick out this year. Very fortunately for me, my friends have better taste than I do... On that note, maybe I should spare everyone, scrap the whole idea, and revisit it again in 10 years.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Cookies
Another weekend nearly over; man, they go fast these days. The weekend is pretty much a blur - returned to LR on Friday night, and pretty much went straight to bed. Yeah, exciting times here. We spent Saturday buying a Christmas tree, running a few errands, and hanging out with friends. Sunday was spent putting up the Christmas tree (only lights, the tree is still sans ornaments - I haven't had the fortitude to brave our attic just yet), doing some cleaning, taking naps, and going to a Christmas program at some friends' church. Of course, there are still all the things that didn't get done this weekend (grocery store run, Christmas shopping, bathroom cleaning, exercise, etc.).
Really, though, it was a very fun, frantic weekend, but I hit my limit on chaos and noise yesterday afternoon. When I travel and I'm not around the kids for several days, there is a honeymoon period when I first get back. They are thrilled to see me, I'm thrilled to see them, and it's all puppies and rainbows for a little while. And then real life butts in and things get back to normal - see: whining and bickering. Actually, sometimes things get worse before they get back to normal, like yesterday afternoon. Don't get me wrong, the kiddos and I spent some good time cuddling on the couch watching Christmas movies and Sponge Bob, but my patience allocation for the weekend had pretty much run out by the time we got ready for the Christmas program last night.
I made an ill-advised decision to take longer than usual getting myself ready for the program (d'oh!), and things snowballed from there as we scrambled to get out the door and on our way. My girl had a complete and utter meltdown about her socks (No, you can't wear your dirty socks. No, I don't know where your Christmas socks are. No, you can't go barefoot, it's 35 degrees outside. What's wrong with these socks??? Ok, fine, I give up, we're staying here). In the midst of the screaming, wailing, and gnashing of teeth (not all of it mine), I resolved about 5 times to just stay home with she-who-could-not-quit-crying. I changed my mind each time, though, because we'd made a commitment to go, and her temper tantrum wasn't a good enough reason to back out. Although I really, really wanted to.
We all piled into the car half an hour late, the girl still sniffling from her tantrum, me ready to jump down anyone's throat who dared cross me, and J yelling at the boy to get strapped in. GOOD TIMES at our house, lemme tell you. As we got buckled in, I noticed a wrapped plate of homemade cookies that we'd left in the car the night before - a gift from a friend. I picked it up off the dashboard so it wouldn't get thrown around during the drive, and it caught J's eye. "Everyone gets a cookie!" he shouted. So I passed the plate back to the kiddos and they each took a cookie, basking in the unexpected treat and immediately in better spirits. I offered the plate to J, saying I wasn't hungry (which I really wasn't). He stopped the car, looked at me, and said ominously "EVERYONE gets a COOKIE." Apparently hunger wasn't a factor here; I was going to eat a cookie, whether I wanted it or not. And you know what? I think it worked. We managed to make it through the evening without making a spectacle of ourselves. I'm not saying we get Family of the Year or anything (*snort*), but if a few homemade cookies can turn around a potentially calamitous evening, well - bring on the cookies. Mmmm ... cookies ...
Really, though, it was a very fun, frantic weekend, but I hit my limit on chaos and noise yesterday afternoon. When I travel and I'm not around the kids for several days, there is a honeymoon period when I first get back. They are thrilled to see me, I'm thrilled to see them, and it's all puppies and rainbows for a little while. And then real life butts in and things get back to normal - see: whining and bickering. Actually, sometimes things get worse before they get back to normal, like yesterday afternoon. Don't get me wrong, the kiddos and I spent some good time cuddling on the couch watching Christmas movies and Sponge Bob, but my patience allocation for the weekend had pretty much run out by the time we got ready for the Christmas program last night.
I made an ill-advised decision to take longer than usual getting myself ready for the program (d'oh!), and things snowballed from there as we scrambled to get out the door and on our way. My girl had a complete and utter meltdown about her socks (No, you can't wear your dirty socks. No, I don't know where your Christmas socks are. No, you can't go barefoot, it's 35 degrees outside. What's wrong with these socks??? Ok, fine, I give up, we're staying here). In the midst of the screaming, wailing, and gnashing of teeth (not all of it mine), I resolved about 5 times to just stay home with she-who-could-not-quit-crying. I changed my mind each time, though, because we'd made a commitment to go, and her temper tantrum wasn't a good enough reason to back out. Although I really, really wanted to.
We all piled into the car half an hour late, the girl still sniffling from her tantrum, me ready to jump down anyone's throat who dared cross me, and J yelling at the boy to get strapped in. GOOD TIMES at our house, lemme tell you. As we got buckled in, I noticed a wrapped plate of homemade cookies that we'd left in the car the night before - a gift from a friend. I picked it up off the dashboard so it wouldn't get thrown around during the drive, and it caught J's eye. "Everyone gets a cookie!" he shouted. So I passed the plate back to the kiddos and they each took a cookie, basking in the unexpected treat and immediately in better spirits. I offered the plate to J, saying I wasn't hungry (which I really wasn't). He stopped the car, looked at me, and said ominously "EVERYONE gets a COOKIE." Apparently hunger wasn't a factor here; I was going to eat a cookie, whether I wanted it or not. And you know what? I think it worked. We managed to make it through the evening without making a spectacle of ourselves. I'm not saying we get Family of the Year or anything (*snort*), but if a few homemade cookies can turn around a potentially calamitous evening, well - bring on the cookies. Mmmm ... cookies ...
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Mmmm...
Decaf coffee + Irish cream + a little Godiva liqueur = the perfect grown-up hot chocolate. I love wintertime.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
8(0)
When J and I got engaged, it took us a long time to pick out an engagement ring. We did lots of research and spent a good amount of time looking at rings and thinking about what we wanted. I'm pretty sure we spent several weeks perusing different jewelry stores and gathering information. In the end, we narrowed the choices down to maybe two or three different settings, and J picked out the final ring, along with the diamond. When we got married, he designed and commissioned two bands to go on either side of the engagement ring; the three pieces were were soldered together into one unique ring that I wore for several years.
When I got pregnant with B, I decided that I wanted a plain, smooth wedding band so that I wouldn't end up scratching the baby accidentally. For Christmas of 2004, two weeks before B was born, J gave me a plain gold wedding band that was perfect for what I wanted. I received that band the same Christmas as the now-defunct Ipod. At least I still have the wedding band, I guess...
A few years later, we were at our house in Houston, preparing to head down the street for a neighborhood festival. My girl was still a baby, B was maybe 2 and a half, and I was still wearing the plain gold band instead of my larger wedding ring. It was just easier in those days; the kiddos were still so little, and I hardly had time to think about what clothes I was going to wear, let alone jewelry. I wore very little jewelry in those days anyway, and tended to leave everything in my jewelry boxes on my dresser. As we left the house that day, I decided to leave the windows open in the house because it was one of those rare, nice days in Houston. Later that weekend, J realized that we were missing a photo printer in our bedroom. On the heels of that, we quickly realized someone had come through our bedroom windows while we were out, and had taken not only the printer but also my jewelry boxes. The only remaining piece of jewelry that I owned was the gold wedding band; the engagement ring and wedding bands were long gone, as were many other pieces of jewelry that had a great deal of sentimental value.
After hearing about the robbery, J's mom gave him the rings she had received from J's dad when they got married; she thought I might want to get the diamond reset into a new ring. J's parents divorced over 20 years ago, and his mom had put the ring away and quit wearing it after the divorce, so I guess it made sense to pass it along. We've been meaning to get the diamond reset for two solid years now, but things kept getting in the way - weekends were too busy, I was traveling too much, other things took priority, etc. Today, we finally set aside the time (well, J gets credit for orchestrating everything) to go to a local jewelry store and pick out a new setting.
It was such a different feeling, picking out a setting for a diamond this time around. When we picked one out the first time, we were in our early 20s. That ring was the most expensive item either of us had ever owned (except for our cars maybe), and spending a good chunk of change on a piece of jewelry was sobering. Not to mention that both of us were still in college at that point and our future wasn't anywhere close to being clear. No jobs were on the immediate horizon, our lives were still very much up in the air, and our bank accounts were not too far from 0. It was humbling and thrilling at the same time - it felt like such a grown up thing to do. This time around, the hardest thing about picking out a new setting was finding the time to go shopping. I guess maybe we've been grown ups long enough that the novelty has worn off...
I've never been one to wear a ton of jewelry, but I'm much more confident now about what I like and what I will be comfortable wearing. After about an hour or so, I had narrowed down my choices to maybe 3 or 4 different settings. As J and I were looking at one of my final choices, we noticed a little "S" on the side of one my favorites; it almost looked like filigree, but was definitely an S. J asked our saleslady if that could be changed, because really, the letter "S" has no meaning to either of us and wouldn't make sense on a ring. After she checked with one of the craftsmen, she said that it could indeed be removed or changed, joking that it could even be made into the number 8 if we wanted.
I probably should have just stopped right there, made my decision, and saved us all some time, instead of continuing to mull it over for the next half hour. After all, when your nickname has the number 8 in it, shouldn't you just take that as a sign and be done? The ring will be ready for pickup on Wednesday - I'm looking forward to wearing it.
When I got pregnant with B, I decided that I wanted a plain, smooth wedding band so that I wouldn't end up scratching the baby accidentally. For Christmas of 2004, two weeks before B was born, J gave me a plain gold wedding band that was perfect for what I wanted. I received that band the same Christmas as the now-defunct Ipod. At least I still have the wedding band, I guess...
A few years later, we were at our house in Houston, preparing to head down the street for a neighborhood festival. My girl was still a baby, B was maybe 2 and a half, and I was still wearing the plain gold band instead of my larger wedding ring. It was just easier in those days; the kiddos were still so little, and I hardly had time to think about what clothes I was going to wear, let alone jewelry. I wore very little jewelry in those days anyway, and tended to leave everything in my jewelry boxes on my dresser. As we left the house that day, I decided to leave the windows open in the house because it was one of those rare, nice days in Houston. Later that weekend, J realized that we were missing a photo printer in our bedroom. On the heels of that, we quickly realized someone had come through our bedroom windows while we were out, and had taken not only the printer but also my jewelry boxes. The only remaining piece of jewelry that I owned was the gold wedding band; the engagement ring and wedding bands were long gone, as were many other pieces of jewelry that had a great deal of sentimental value.
After hearing about the robbery, J's mom gave him the rings she had received from J's dad when they got married; she thought I might want to get the diamond reset into a new ring. J's parents divorced over 20 years ago, and his mom had put the ring away and quit wearing it after the divorce, so I guess it made sense to pass it along. We've been meaning to get the diamond reset for two solid years now, but things kept getting in the way - weekends were too busy, I was traveling too much, other things took priority, etc. Today, we finally set aside the time (well, J gets credit for orchestrating everything) to go to a local jewelry store and pick out a new setting.
It was such a different feeling, picking out a setting for a diamond this time around. When we picked one out the first time, we were in our early 20s. That ring was the most expensive item either of us had ever owned (except for our cars maybe), and spending a good chunk of change on a piece of jewelry was sobering. Not to mention that both of us were still in college at that point and our future wasn't anywhere close to being clear. No jobs were on the immediate horizon, our lives were still very much up in the air, and our bank accounts were not too far from 0. It was humbling and thrilling at the same time - it felt like such a grown up thing to do. This time around, the hardest thing about picking out a new setting was finding the time to go shopping. I guess maybe we've been grown ups long enough that the novelty has worn off...
I've never been one to wear a ton of jewelry, but I'm much more confident now about what I like and what I will be comfortable wearing. After about an hour or so, I had narrowed down my choices to maybe 3 or 4 different settings. As J and I were looking at one of my final choices, we noticed a little "S" on the side of one my favorites; it almost looked like filigree, but was definitely an S. J asked our saleslady if that could be changed, because really, the letter "S" has no meaning to either of us and wouldn't make sense on a ring. After she checked with one of the craftsmen, she said that it could indeed be removed or changed, joking that it could even be made into the number 8 if we wanted.
I probably should have just stopped right there, made my decision, and saved us all some time, instead of continuing to mull it over for the next half hour. After all, when your nickname has the number 8 in it, shouldn't you just take that as a sign and be done? The ring will be ready for pickup on Wednesday - I'm looking forward to wearing it.
Our Day
Our day, as told from my nearly 6-year old son's perspective:
We went to the bagel shop.
We went to Chick-Fil-A.
We went to get a Christmas tree.
We went back home.
We went to Nana Kay's.
Then mommy and daddy ran errands.
Then we went to Gadwalls for dinner.
Then we went see Santa, Christmas lights and the train.
We went to over to our friends' house.
We went back home.
Then we went to bed.
Then I got up because I was afraid of the wind.
It really was blowing hard, I could hear it.
And now we are sitting on the couch, writing about our day.
We went to the bagel shop.
We went to Chick-Fil-A.
We went to get a Christmas tree.
We went back home.
We went to Nana Kay's.
Then mommy and daddy ran errands.
Then we went to Gadwalls for dinner.
Then we went see Santa, Christmas lights and the train.
We went to over to our friends' house.
We went back home.
Then we went to bed.
Then I got up because I was afraid of the wind.
It really was blowing hard, I could hear it.
And now we are sitting on the couch, writing about our day.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
All Done
Well, not really, but almost. One more day in Houston, one more day of work insanity, and then hopefully home for the next three weeks. This week has been one of the busiest I can remember in a long, long time - maybe since trial last year. Tomorrow promises to be the same at least until lunchtime, but at least there is an end in sight.
What's that? Running? Um yeah, whatever. When I travel I tend to fall off the wagon big time on the exercise front, and that's exactly what happened. I've run one time in the last week and a half, but that's just the way it is. So, we'll pick up the schedule when I get back home this weekend, repeat a week or two, and march forward. I may not make the LR marathon, but I can still fit something in this spring. Maybe the LR Half will be a training run for something a little later.
Tonight I'm having dinner with a good friend who I haven't seen in a while (yay!), and we're thinking sushi and vino. After today? That sounds magnificent.
What's that? Running? Um yeah, whatever. When I travel I tend to fall off the wagon big time on the exercise front, and that's exactly what happened. I've run one time in the last week and a half, but that's just the way it is. So, we'll pick up the schedule when I get back home this weekend, repeat a week or two, and march forward. I may not make the LR marathon, but I can still fit something in this spring. Maybe the LR Half will be a training run for something a little later.
Tonight I'm having dinner with a good friend who I haven't seen in a while (yay!), and we're thinking sushi and vino. After today? That sounds magnificent.
Meanderings
Saturday night, I drove down to Clear Lake to hear my friend's band play. The drive south from downtown took about 45 minutes, and threw me down memory lane a little bit. This little 'burb south of Houston (think NASA) was home for the first year that J and I were married. I had never lived anywhere except Arkansas when we moved, so I wasn't quite ready for the seasons that exist near the coast. Or maybe I should say I wasn't ready for the lack of seasons, because really, there are only two seasons down here - Season #1, Hot, and Season #2, Rainy. I suppose if you get Hot and Rainy at the same time, you get Season #3, Nasty...
We first moved down to Clear Lake in the summer of 1998, and it really wasn't that bad; it just seemed to rain a lot and occasionally it felt like we needed gills to breathe. See Season #3, above. But eventually the season turned and we encountered our first Houston "winter." I kind of choke on that word a little - I'm not sure you can legitimately call it winter. The warm humid air coming off the coast ensured that my definition of winter was drastically and immediately altered that year. The regular appearance of short sleeved shirts and shorts seemed bizarre amidst rows of Christmas trees, and the contrast between occasional 80 degree weather and Christmas lights was a discordant jangle. Simply put, it felt surreal. During that first December, I listened to Christmas music almost obsessively, trying to convince myself that it really was time for the holidays. I missed my winters.
As I meandered through the wide divided streets Saturday night, passing lawns that were still lush and trees with plenty of green leaves, I opened my windows to the evening air. It was easy to forget that it was a December night, and after reacclimating to the colder Arkansas winters, the warm weather was comforting. The smells coming through the open windows were familiar. The earthy fragrance of pine needles combined with the sticky dampness of ocean air were strong reminders of life in my early 20s, that first December in Texas, and those first few years post-college when life's path was much more of a question mark than it is these days.
Every now and then, life tosses up a type of portal that takes you back in time and reminds you of one of the many former versions of yourself. Saturday night I found one of those portals, and for a little while, the 23-year-old version of me seemed almost approachable. It was a bit like visiting with an old friend with whom you've lost touch. Even though we don't have a lot in common anymore, there was still enough familiar ground that we were able to shake hands, reflect for a moment, wish each other the best, and move on. While there are aspects of that time in my life that I miss - the freedom that I didn't quite realize was there, the drive, the excitement about the paths yet untaken, just to name a few - I'm pretty content with the paths that were taken. It was still nice to drive down those streets again for just a little while, remembering the twists and turns that were required to create the current, updated version.
We first moved down to Clear Lake in the summer of 1998, and it really wasn't that bad; it just seemed to rain a lot and occasionally it felt like we needed gills to breathe. See Season #3, above. But eventually the season turned and we encountered our first Houston "winter." I kind of choke on that word a little - I'm not sure you can legitimately call it winter. The warm humid air coming off the coast ensured that my definition of winter was drastically and immediately altered that year. The regular appearance of short sleeved shirts and shorts seemed bizarre amidst rows of Christmas trees, and the contrast between occasional 80 degree weather and Christmas lights was a discordant jangle. Simply put, it felt surreal. During that first December, I listened to Christmas music almost obsessively, trying to convince myself that it really was time for the holidays. I missed my winters.
As I meandered through the wide divided streets Saturday night, passing lawns that were still lush and trees with plenty of green leaves, I opened my windows to the evening air. It was easy to forget that it was a December night, and after reacclimating to the colder Arkansas winters, the warm weather was comforting. The smells coming through the open windows were familiar. The earthy fragrance of pine needles combined with the sticky dampness of ocean air were strong reminders of life in my early 20s, that first December in Texas, and those first few years post-college when life's path was much more of a question mark than it is these days.
Every now and then, life tosses up a type of portal that takes you back in time and reminds you of one of the many former versions of yourself. Saturday night I found one of those portals, and for a little while, the 23-year-old version of me seemed almost approachable. It was a bit like visiting with an old friend with whom you've lost touch. Even though we don't have a lot in common anymore, there was still enough familiar ground that we were able to shake hands, reflect for a moment, wish each other the best, and move on. While there are aspects of that time in my life that I miss - the freedom that I didn't quite realize was there, the drive, the excitement about the paths yet untaken, just to name a few - I'm pretty content with the paths that were taken. It was still nice to drive down those streets again for just a little while, remembering the twists and turns that were required to create the current, updated version.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Early Night
Note to self: when you go to bed at 8:30, your body will likely think you are just taking a nap, because really - who goes to sleep at 8:30? When you wake up around 11, going back to sleep will not be an option.
Monday, December 6, 2010
On Taking Risks
Take risks: if you win, you will be happy; if you lose, you will be wise.
- Anonymous
It is only by risking ... that we live at all.
- William James
I've spent some time lately thinking about risks we encounter in life. Something I read recently has me pondering whether taking risks in life leads inevitably to pain. In other words, if you decide to take a certain risk (pick a risk, any risk), is it inevitable that you will experience some amount of pain, even if you achieve whatever goal you set or have a positive outcome to the risk you take? This is sort of a vague wondering right now, and I'm having a bit of trouble narrowing it down more, but let's give it a shot.
I guess maybe you have to start by challenging the assumption that pain is something that is bad, or something you try to avoid. I'm not suggesting masochism by any means here, but I think you also have to look at pain as something that is not 100% bad. The situations in my life that have caused significant pain have also brought experience, learning, and perspective that I wouldn't trade for anything. So even though taking a risk may bring about pain, I'm not sure that's an absolute bad thing. Not that I think it's worth actively seeking pain for that purpose, or recklessly taking risks - that's a bit counterproductive. And there's also the idea that we need the presence of pain in our lives to understand and feel pleasure. Without one, I don't think the other can exist, or at least, not in any appreciable form.
But back to whether taking risks definitely leads to pain. My first impulse was to answer yes and be done with it. I do think taking risks - no matter how successfully - typically does bring some pain in one form or another. Taking a risk usually involves some sort of change in your life; you are stepping out of your comfort zone and stretching yourself in an unaccustomed way. Even if you are successful in whatever you are risking, something else is likely changed, left behind, or neglected.
One fairly simple example I was thinking about this weekend was watching the bands playing Saturday night. None of the groups were required to be up there playing; no one was being paid and no one was forcing them to play. They all enjoy it and are willing participants. But even that is a risk, isn't it? You run the risk of messing up on stage, forgetting the music, not living up to your potential, people not liking your songs, etc. Even if you are perfect on stage, though, chances are that those folks are taking time away from something else - maybe time with their family, time participating in other hobbies, or even work. And you have to think that restriction in time is going to bring about some element of pain, even if it is more bothersome than debilitating - that seems true of most decisions we make. Most risks we take in our lives result in a level of discomfort that is pesky and annoying rather than mind blowing. Chances are, each of the musicians that played Saturday night has determined that whatever risk they might be taking with their music is more than worth the joy and pleasure they get from the experience.
After mulling it over a bit, I think I understand how I, at least, approach risk these days. My take on it is, if you look at the risk you are considering taking, and you think it through - really think it through, then you go into the situation with your eyes open. You know what the stakes are, you know not only what the positive and negative outcomes are, but also the absolute best, and more importantly, worst case scenarios. Before you jump, you understand what is at stake and if you still jump, then you've essentially made a deal with yourself that you accept the consequences. Now, that doesn't necessarily mean you won't feel pain, assuming some comes along with it. But I think it helps to mitigate it a little, and hopefully makes it easier to come to terms with and understand.
Over the last several months, I've been trying to become more aware of the risks that are present in my life, and I've been trying to step out of my comfort zone a little more often. Not crazy risks, not life changing ones, just little ones here and there that I normally wouldn't take. For a long time, I've felt stagnant, and I needed something to help me break out of the comfortable bubble I found myself in. Because, really, it wasn't all that comfortable - it was stifling and suffocating. It was time for a change, and that meant taking some risks (such as this blog - that felt like a huge risk for me). I suppose that's why I've been considering this topic - because if you believe that risk taking leads invariably to pain, then I guess that's what you open yourself up to when you decide to take a few more risks in your life.
- Anonymous
It is only by risking ... that we live at all.
- William James
I've spent some time lately thinking about risks we encounter in life. Something I read recently has me pondering whether taking risks in life leads inevitably to pain. In other words, if you decide to take a certain risk (pick a risk, any risk), is it inevitable that you will experience some amount of pain, even if you achieve whatever goal you set or have a positive outcome to the risk you take? This is sort of a vague wondering right now, and I'm having a bit of trouble narrowing it down more, but let's give it a shot.
I guess maybe you have to start by challenging the assumption that pain is something that is bad, or something you try to avoid. I'm not suggesting masochism by any means here, but I think you also have to look at pain as something that is not 100% bad. The situations in my life that have caused significant pain have also brought experience, learning, and perspective that I wouldn't trade for anything. So even though taking a risk may bring about pain, I'm not sure that's an absolute bad thing. Not that I think it's worth actively seeking pain for that purpose, or recklessly taking risks - that's a bit counterproductive. And there's also the idea that we need the presence of pain in our lives to understand and feel pleasure. Without one, I don't think the other can exist, or at least, not in any appreciable form.
But back to whether taking risks definitely leads to pain. My first impulse was to answer yes and be done with it. I do think taking risks - no matter how successfully - typically does bring some pain in one form or another. Taking a risk usually involves some sort of change in your life; you are stepping out of your comfort zone and stretching yourself in an unaccustomed way. Even if you are successful in whatever you are risking, something else is likely changed, left behind, or neglected.
One fairly simple example I was thinking about this weekend was watching the bands playing Saturday night. None of the groups were required to be up there playing; no one was being paid and no one was forcing them to play. They all enjoy it and are willing participants. But even that is a risk, isn't it? You run the risk of messing up on stage, forgetting the music, not living up to your potential, people not liking your songs, etc. Even if you are perfect on stage, though, chances are that those folks are taking time away from something else - maybe time with their family, time participating in other hobbies, or even work. And you have to think that restriction in time is going to bring about some element of pain, even if it is more bothersome than debilitating - that seems true of most decisions we make. Most risks we take in our lives result in a level of discomfort that is pesky and annoying rather than mind blowing. Chances are, each of the musicians that played Saturday night has determined that whatever risk they might be taking with their music is more than worth the joy and pleasure they get from the experience.
After mulling it over a bit, I think I understand how I, at least, approach risk these days. My take on it is, if you look at the risk you are considering taking, and you think it through - really think it through, then you go into the situation with your eyes open. You know what the stakes are, you know not only what the positive and negative outcomes are, but also the absolute best, and more importantly, worst case scenarios. Before you jump, you understand what is at stake and if you still jump, then you've essentially made a deal with yourself that you accept the consequences. Now, that doesn't necessarily mean you won't feel pain, assuming some comes along with it. But I think it helps to mitigate it a little, and hopefully makes it easier to come to terms with and understand.
Over the last several months, I've been trying to become more aware of the risks that are present in my life, and I've been trying to step out of my comfort zone a little more often. Not crazy risks, not life changing ones, just little ones here and there that I normally wouldn't take. For a long time, I've felt stagnant, and I needed something to help me break out of the comfortable bubble I found myself in. Because, really, it wasn't all that comfortable - it was stifling and suffocating. It was time for a change, and that meant taking some risks (such as this blog - that felt like a huge risk for me). I suppose that's why I've been considering this topic - because if you believe that risk taking leads invariably to pain, then I guess that's what you open yourself up to when you decide to take a few more risks in your life.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Well...
So let's see. It's Sunday night, the weekend is already almost over, and I didn't even come close to getting everything done that I wanted to. I never got my 10 miler in, which makes a potential LR marathon a lot less likely. There are other marathons around that time of the year next year, so I may just shift my training a little and try to pick up a race a few weeks later. I'm probably trying to ramp up too quickly anyway.
Yesterday involved more time at work than expected (although I guess I always sort of expect that), so it was too late to get my run in and get to where I was supposed to be last night on time. Not to mention that Houston is so damn big that it took me 45 minutes to get from downtown to Clear Lake, which is where my friend's band was performing.
The party was a lot of fun, and the bands were a blast - I forget how much fun it is to watch live music. I love being close enough to watch fingers fly over strings and drumsticks cut through the air - drummers in particular amaze me, which is what my friend is. I love watching the complexity of the beats, the tight coordination of limbs, and the sheer energy that is required for the drums. It was the first time I'd gotten to watch him play, and it just fascinates me. It's one of those instruments that I don't really ever seen myself learning to play (unless one of my kiddos decides to give it a try - guess I should watch what I wish for there...), and watching someone else is completely mesmerizing.
All of the musicians were late twenties to late thirties, which meant they typically had responsibilities, careers, families, time constraints, and all the stuff that comes with this phase of life. All of them also had a passion for music, and you could see it in their faces as they played - they were enjoying the hell out of it. It made me wonder how many bands like this there are, how many houses, garages, and warehouses had a similar thing going on last night, where for a few hours, you let 'real life' slip away and lose yourself in something you love, both musicians and audience.
It really was a fantastic night, although true to form I managed to enjoy myself a bit too much and pretty much blew today out of the water for anything productive, including my much-needed run. Knowing me, it won't be the last time that happens...
I've got a few more substantive posts rattling around, but they are slow in coming together. Hopefully later this week I'll manage something that is a bit more thought provoking than a daily calendar of what's going on around here. But right now I'm just procrastinating. Off to get some work done so tomorrow won't kick me in the ass any harder than it's already going to.
Yesterday involved more time at work than expected (although I guess I always sort of expect that), so it was too late to get my run in and get to where I was supposed to be last night on time. Not to mention that Houston is so damn big that it took me 45 minutes to get from downtown to Clear Lake, which is where my friend's band was performing.
The party was a lot of fun, and the bands were a blast - I forget how much fun it is to watch live music. I love being close enough to watch fingers fly over strings and drumsticks cut through the air - drummers in particular amaze me, which is what my friend is. I love watching the complexity of the beats, the tight coordination of limbs, and the sheer energy that is required for the drums. It was the first time I'd gotten to watch him play, and it just fascinates me. It's one of those instruments that I don't really ever seen myself learning to play (unless one of my kiddos decides to give it a try - guess I should watch what I wish for there...), and watching someone else is completely mesmerizing.
All of the musicians were late twenties to late thirties, which meant they typically had responsibilities, careers, families, time constraints, and all the stuff that comes with this phase of life. All of them also had a passion for music, and you could see it in their faces as they played - they were enjoying the hell out of it. It made me wonder how many bands like this there are, how many houses, garages, and warehouses had a similar thing going on last night, where for a few hours, you let 'real life' slip away and lose yourself in something you love, both musicians and audience.
It really was a fantastic night, although true to form I managed to enjoy myself a bit too much and pretty much blew today out of the water for anything productive, including my much-needed run. Knowing me, it won't be the last time that happens...
I've got a few more substantive posts rattling around, but they are slow in coming together. Hopefully later this week I'll manage something that is a bit more thought provoking than a daily calendar of what's going on around here. But right now I'm just procrastinating. Off to get some work done so tomorrow won't kick me in the ass any harder than it's already going to.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Yummy
Chick-Fil-A chicken minis, diet Coke, and a Nestle Crunch bar for breakfast. It's a good thing I don't work too many weekends...
Working Weekend
I ended up having to work down in Houston this weekend, which means it is a weekend away from the fam. It's a very strange feeling to wake up on a Saturday without hearing little feet and loud voices running up and down the hall. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself...
At any rate, here's the weekend as it is shaping up so far:
At any rate, here's the weekend as it is shaping up so far:
- Work today until mid afternoon.
- Hopefully get in my 10 mile run at Memorial Park this afternoon. It's supposed to be 80 here by the afternoon - ick.
- Head to a party tonight with a friend I know from our time down in Houston, although he is originally from Arkansas. His band is playing at a party and I've been wanting to hear them play, so the stars finally aligned.
- Sleep.
- Sunday? I have no idea. If I'm smart, it won't involve a headache, but I never claim to be all that smart.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Whirlwind Running
Yesterday was completely frantic. Work was crazed from the moment I got in the door, our office Christmas party was scheduled for last night at 7, and I also wanted to get in a run since I missed my 5-miler on Tuesday. I decided that if I left the office slightly before 5, I could get in a quick run and still make it to the party around 7. I might be a little ripe, but hey - at least I would be there, right? Besides, the party was at a bowling alley, so it wasn't terribly formal. It was a fancy shmancy bowling alley, true, but still - a bowling alley.
So I finished up the last of what I needed to do around 4:45 and sprinted out the office door, fought the elevator lines, parking garage lines, and traffic to make it to Memorial Park before it got too dark to run. While Memorial Park is a great place to run during the day, it's not known to be the smartest place for someone my gender (and terrifying size - hah!) to run by yourself after dark. After the frantic day, the effort to get out of the office and over to MP while it was still light out just added to the stress and edginess I was already feeling. I was a bundle of nerves when I finally got there.
By the time I changed, geared up, and finally hit the trail, the sun had set and I figured I'd be able to just eek out one three mile loop around the park before it got too dark. I carried the adrenaline and stress and rush of the day with me as I started the run, and the first mile ended up being wayyyy too fast (well, it's all relative - I'm not sure you can really call any of my running truly fast!). I could feel the tenseness in my muscles, and the fast pace / stressed out combo is a great way to pick up an injury. So I tried to slow down for the second mile, although that was kind of tough because the entire second mile is next to the three lanes of traffic on Memorial - and last night it was Memorial at rush hour. Not exactly a peaceful or quiet run; you just want to get that part over with as quickly as you can, 'cause those cars are less than 10 feet from you. But by the third mile, which is much quieter and more serene, I finally settled into a rhythm and was feeling some of stress and tightness start to bleed off.
I finished the third mile of the loop and wasn't ready to stop, although it was definitely dark. My body still had energy and wanted to run, and my mind needed the endorphins. I had noticed that the last mile of the loop was well lit and still fairly populated, so I decided to do an out and back to get to a five mile total.
That was easily the best decision I made all day.
The last two miles reminded me of why I run. My mind finally quit racing and found some quiet and stability, my muscles relaxed into a more soothing rhythm, and I felt the last of the day's craziness disappear behind me on the dim trail. Blissfully cathartic is the best description I can think of for that run.
Until a couple of years ago, my main athletic activities were tennis and softball. Someone commented one time that I must have a lot of aggression to get rid of, because my sports all involve hitting the hell out of something. I have to agree - there is something very satisfying about hitting the crap out of a ball, especially after a bad day. So when I started running, I didn't see how it could ever be as great a therapy as either my softball or my tennis. But then I had a couple of runs similar to the one I had last night, and I realized that the release I need doesn't have to come from hitting the crap out of a ball (although I still really enjoy that!). Something about the rhythm of a great run, the relaxing muscles and mental peace that come with it, the physical exhaustion and satisfaction from the distance covered, the post-run quiet energy - well, it's definitely different from a great tennis match, but it's just as effective at keeping me sane. And really? That's all that matters.
So I finished up the last of what I needed to do around 4:45 and sprinted out the office door, fought the elevator lines, parking garage lines, and traffic to make it to Memorial Park before it got too dark to run. While Memorial Park is a great place to run during the day, it's not known to be the smartest place for someone my gender (and terrifying size - hah!) to run by yourself after dark. After the frantic day, the effort to get out of the office and over to MP while it was still light out just added to the stress and edginess I was already feeling. I was a bundle of nerves when I finally got there.
By the time I changed, geared up, and finally hit the trail, the sun had set and I figured I'd be able to just eek out one three mile loop around the park before it got too dark. I carried the adrenaline and stress and rush of the day with me as I started the run, and the first mile ended up being wayyyy too fast (well, it's all relative - I'm not sure you can really call any of my running truly fast!). I could feel the tenseness in my muscles, and the fast pace / stressed out combo is a great way to pick up an injury. So I tried to slow down for the second mile, although that was kind of tough because the entire second mile is next to the three lanes of traffic on Memorial - and last night it was Memorial at rush hour. Not exactly a peaceful or quiet run; you just want to get that part over with as quickly as you can, 'cause those cars are less than 10 feet from you. But by the third mile, which is much quieter and more serene, I finally settled into a rhythm and was feeling some of stress and tightness start to bleed off.
I finished the third mile of the loop and wasn't ready to stop, although it was definitely dark. My body still had energy and wanted to run, and my mind needed the endorphins. I had noticed that the last mile of the loop was well lit and still fairly populated, so I decided to do an out and back to get to a five mile total.
That was easily the best decision I made all day.
The last two miles reminded me of why I run. My mind finally quit racing and found some quiet and stability, my muscles relaxed into a more soothing rhythm, and I felt the last of the day's craziness disappear behind me on the dim trail. Blissfully cathartic is the best description I can think of for that run.
Until a couple of years ago, my main athletic activities were tennis and softball. Someone commented one time that I must have a lot of aggression to get rid of, because my sports all involve hitting the hell out of something. I have to agree - there is something very satisfying about hitting the crap out of a ball, especially after a bad day. So when I started running, I didn't see how it could ever be as great a therapy as either my softball or my tennis. But then I had a couple of runs similar to the one I had last night, and I realized that the release I need doesn't have to come from hitting the crap out of a ball (although I still really enjoy that!). Something about the rhythm of a great run, the relaxing muscles and mental peace that come with it, the physical exhaustion and satisfaction from the distance covered, the post-run quiet energy - well, it's definitely different from a great tennis match, but it's just as effective at keeping me sane. And really? That's all that matters.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Madness...Sheer Madness
Last night while J and I were talking on the phone:
J: So, the Nerf guns I ordered for the kiddos' Christmas presents came today.
Me: Great, we can add those to the rest of the stuff we're hiding.
J: And ... I got us one, too.
Me: Seriously? As in, one for you and me?
J: Yeah. And even better - ours is bigger than theirs.
I'm not sure there is even a response to that statement.
J: So, the Nerf guns I ordered for the kiddos' Christmas presents came today.
Me: Great, we can add those to the rest of the stuff we're hiding.
J: And ... I got us one, too.
Me: Seriously? As in, one for you and me?
J: Yeah. And even better - ours is bigger than theirs.
I'm not sure there is even a response to that statement.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Discovery
I made the now-familiar drive from Little Rock to Houston last night. Although I was dreading it when I left town yesterday afternoon, it turned out to be one of the more enjoyable drives I've had in a while. The weather was clear, the stars were beautiful and bright, and my mind was easy and engaged (as opposed to restlessly spinning, hamster wheel style).
Somewhere south on Highway 59, going through one of those little east Texas towns that are deserted after 8pm, I remembered the Leonard Cohen music I downloaded a few days ago. My impression from the few snippets I listened to was that he might be a little mellow. I was a bit concerned about that, because it was getting late, it was dark, and I really didn't want someone singing me a lullaby. That's not typically a good combination for the flip side of a long drive. Fortunately, I couldn't have been more incorrect in my assumption about his music. I started his "Live in London" CDs and listened to his songs for the next hour and a half. As I pulled into the driveway of my friends' house around 11:30 last night, I reluctantly turned the music off.
The music is fairly simple in how it is written; it doesn't feel all that complex, although I could be embarrassingly wrong. But the instruments often sing their own songs, and the lyrics create so much imagery that the songs hold your attention, even if your mind tries to wander. The rhythms are sometimes unusual, sometimes playful, and feel like a mix of blues and waltz at times. I'm woefully inadequate at describing the technical components of music, so I'll leave it at that.
Instead, I'll just say how exciting it feels to discover someone new (well, new to me - he's been around awhile). I found myself grinning like an idiot in the dark car because I enjoyed the wordplay of the lyrics so, so much. It's the kind of thing you do if you are two or three glasses into a bottle of wine - you enjoy the hell out of some new trinket that you just discovered, but when you later sober up you realize it really wasn't all that great. Last night, though, I promise I was sober - I was driving, remember? And it really was all that great.
I woke up with the song "Hallelujah" going through my head this morning. Even though I was going on too little sleep (see: caffeine + late hours + long drive), it was a comforting way to wake up, and a reminder that I still have more new songs to listen to today. It also reminds me that I should be a bit more alert to breaking out of my bubble and looking for things that are new to me when they present themselves - the universe isn't always going to kick me in the ass several times. Duly noted.
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