It's funny. Most of the time, I'm a pretty optimistic, fairly even keeled person. I don't get overly emotional or dramatic (at least, I think I don't), and the little things don't tend to bother me. Hell, sometimes the big things don't get to me either, even though maybe they should.
But every now and then, I'll have a day where something will knock me out of equilibrium, and it feels nearly impossible to regain it. Today is one of those oh-so-fun days. It feels almost beyond my capability to make a decent decision (even though I know that's not the case), I feel overwhelmed (even though I shouldn't), and the annoying, questioning voice in my head won't shut up.
I probably need to go for a long run - go have a big throwdown with the critical side of my brain and figure out if there's something that needs changing, or if I just need to hold on for a few days to let the ship right itself. Probably the latter. Either way, it's irritating as hell. I hate days like.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
To Sleep...
I woke up at 4:30 this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. There are a lot of things going on right now, and for whatever reason, I couldn't clear my mind enough to go back to sleep. Joy.
Sleeping patterns amuse me. Back in high school and the first part of college, I got wayyy too little sleep. This came back to bite me in the ass after I got mono the summer between my freshman and sophomore years at Fayetteville. It took several months to fully come back from that, and I never quite had the same ability to go with 3 or 4 hours of sleep for days on end.
I rarely pulled all nighters after that first year of college, and never pulled them in law school. But I never slept all that great, either. I've always been a very light sleeper, and waking up in the middle of the night usually meant I'd be awake for about half an hour. And let's not even start on how long it might take me to fall asleep. J can be snoring in a matter of 30 seconds while it used to take me half an hour to fall asleep. There were nights I wanted to hit him 'cause I'd have to listen to his ass sleeping for half an hour while I tossed and turned.
Then? We had kids. Talk about fucking up your sleep schedule, right?
Once we got past the whole "sleeping through the night" deal, my sleep patterns drastically changed. I no longer considered myself a light sleeper, but I seemed to need a lot more sleep on a regular basis. After we got the kiddos settled into their routines, my pattern seemed to require sleeping from 10:30 or 11:00 until 6:30. I'd get 8 full hours of sleep, and still not be ready to get up. Hell, sometimes I'd go to sleep around 9:00, and sleep through until the morning. I'm not sure if it was my body still recovering from having kids, or what, but it frustrated the hell out of me. How was it possible to need that much sleep?
This summer, though, I feel like I've fallen back into some old patterns. I'm still falling asleep fairly easily most nights, but I don't feel like I need as much sleep. I'm staying up later, and occasionally waking up at the ass crack of dawn, unable to go back to sleep. See: this morning. I feel asleep around 10 last night, and woke up at 4, ready to get up. I'm ok with that - gives me a bit of planning time in the morning, and a chance to write a thoroughly mundane blog post without interruption. Go me.
And that's all fine. As long as it doesn't portend the beginning of the blue hair years, I consider it a good thing. When we start talking dinner at 4, bed at 7, and coffee at 3am? Then I'm gonna have an issue.
Sleeping patterns amuse me. Back in high school and the first part of college, I got wayyy too little sleep. This came back to bite me in the ass after I got mono the summer between my freshman and sophomore years at Fayetteville. It took several months to fully come back from that, and I never quite had the same ability to go with 3 or 4 hours of sleep for days on end.
I rarely pulled all nighters after that first year of college, and never pulled them in law school. But I never slept all that great, either. I've always been a very light sleeper, and waking up in the middle of the night usually meant I'd be awake for about half an hour. And let's not even start on how long it might take me to fall asleep. J can be snoring in a matter of 30 seconds while it used to take me half an hour to fall asleep. There were nights I wanted to hit him 'cause I'd have to listen to his ass sleeping for half an hour while I tossed and turned.
Then? We had kids. Talk about fucking up your sleep schedule, right?
Once we got past the whole "sleeping through the night" deal, my sleep patterns drastically changed. I no longer considered myself a light sleeper, but I seemed to need a lot more sleep on a regular basis. After we got the kiddos settled into their routines, my pattern seemed to require sleeping from 10:30 or 11:00 until 6:30. I'd get 8 full hours of sleep, and still not be ready to get up. Hell, sometimes I'd go to sleep around 9:00, and sleep through until the morning. I'm not sure if it was my body still recovering from having kids, or what, but it frustrated the hell out of me. How was it possible to need that much sleep?
This summer, though, I feel like I've fallen back into some old patterns. I'm still falling asleep fairly easily most nights, but I don't feel like I need as much sleep. I'm staying up later, and occasionally waking up at the ass crack of dawn, unable to go back to sleep. See: this morning. I feel asleep around 10 last night, and woke up at 4, ready to get up. I'm ok with that - gives me a bit of planning time in the morning, and a chance to write a thoroughly mundane blog post without interruption. Go me.
And that's all fine. As long as it doesn't portend the beginning of the blue hair years, I consider it a good thing. When we start talking dinner at 4, bed at 7, and coffee at 3am? Then I'm gonna have an issue.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Birthday Girl
Tomorrow (ok, technically today), Alyssa turns five years old. FIVE. I still call her baby girl, but I probably should stop - she's far removed from babyhood at this point. Even though her behavior sometimes argues against that fact.
One of my very favorite stories is the first five minutes of her life. I had a C-section, and she came out crying, which is a good thing. They wrapped her up, put her on my chest, and she screamed her head off. J and I started talking to her, and she immediately stopped crying. When we stopped talking, she started crying again. And when I started talking again, she stopped. She knew our voices. She knew my voice. And that was enough to calm her down in the first few minutes of life. It was amazing to me.
I'm not sure why that little occurrence seems so incredible to me, but it does. It wasn't magic - God knows she'd listened to me yell at Benjamin for the previous 9 months. As J said today, she probably thought HER name was Benjamin when she came out. Or, more to the point, "BenjaMIN!"
But she recognized our voices, even though she knew little else at that point. It was just amazing to me, and so special.
Of course, now she recognizes my voice and occasionally chooses to ignore it. She's stubborn, bull headed, a little devious, and funny as hell. She's still 18 months younger than Benjamin, which I occasionally forget. But she's lost all of her baby fat, and pretty much even her baby belly. It was there a few months ago, but when I looked a week ago, it was gone. She's a daredevil on her bike (even with training wheels), and is usually willing to try new things (see: artichoke leaves at dinner tonight).
I have no doubt that when she's older, we're going to be scrambling to keep up with her. And she's gonna get into all sorts of trouble. My hunch is that she'll be quite the challenge when she's in high school.
I think I'll just enjoy the young years for a while, and be happy to have some time to spend with her now. While I'm still closer to the time that my voice was soothing, and not yet to the time where I'm sure my voice will irritate the crap out of her. 'Cause isn't that what being a teenager is all about?
One of my very favorite stories is the first five minutes of her life. I had a C-section, and she came out crying, which is a good thing. They wrapped her up, put her on my chest, and she screamed her head off. J and I started talking to her, and she immediately stopped crying. When we stopped talking, she started crying again. And when I started talking again, she stopped. She knew our voices. She knew my voice. And that was enough to calm her down in the first few minutes of life. It was amazing to me.
I'm not sure why that little occurrence seems so incredible to me, but it does. It wasn't magic - God knows she'd listened to me yell at Benjamin for the previous 9 months. As J said today, she probably thought HER name was Benjamin when she came out. Or, more to the point, "BenjaMIN!"
But she recognized our voices, even though she knew little else at that point. It was just amazing to me, and so special.
Of course, now she recognizes my voice and occasionally chooses to ignore it. She's stubborn, bull headed, a little devious, and funny as hell. She's still 18 months younger than Benjamin, which I occasionally forget. But she's lost all of her baby fat, and pretty much even her baby belly. It was there a few months ago, but when I looked a week ago, it was gone. She's a daredevil on her bike (even with training wheels), and is usually willing to try new things (see: artichoke leaves at dinner tonight).
I have no doubt that when she's older, we're going to be scrambling to keep up with her. And she's gonna get into all sorts of trouble. My hunch is that she'll be quite the challenge when she's in high school.
I think I'll just enjoy the young years for a while, and be happy to have some time to spend with her now. While I'm still closer to the time that my voice was soothing, and not yet to the time where I'm sure my voice will irritate the crap out of her. 'Cause isn't that what being a teenager is all about?
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Easy Saturday
After a fairly busy morning (birthday party for J and the kiddos, tennis with friends & sunburn for me), we packed up pizza makings and trekked over to J's parents' house for dinner and a swim. My in-laws have a pool in their backyard, and we offered to make some pizza while we were over there letting the kiddos swim. I was craving some good homemade pizza, and it turned out quite delish. FWIW, a Green Egg rocks when it comes to making pizza.
My in-laws still live in the same house where J spent most of his childhood. They live less than a mile from the house I grew up in over in NLR, although J and I didn't meet until we were in junior high. Still not really sure how that happened...
Being back in that neighborhood is always comforting; I biked those streets like crazy when I was younger, and knew all the twists, turns, nooks and crannies that Indian Hills held. And if you know anything about that area, you know that's saying something. Whoever laid out those streets was obviously high on something when they did the layout.
Before J and I moved back to AR, we would visit my in-laws a few times a year, whenever we were back in Little Rock. I remember visiting them on days like today - hot, sultry, summer days where the pool was incredibly refreshing and the light didn't fade from the sky until impossibly late in the evening. The neighborhood, still so familiar, would be quiet, and the old, large trees would shade nearly everything but the street itself. It was still home, even though I hadn't lived there for many years.
We'd leave their house after these visits, and I'd take a second as we walked to the car to enjoy the peaceful evening. It always felt a little slower, a little cooler, and a little more content there. I distinctly remember thinking how nice it must be to be able to leave your relatives' house and go home on such a night. Not to whomever's house you were staying with that weekend, with the long drive back to Htown looming in front of you, but to your actual home - with Sunday stretching out in front of you and a day well spent with relatives and friends behind you. And a nice peace of mind.
Today, as I was hauling wet towels, swimsuits, and leftover pizza to the car, I paused again to enjoy the evening as the sun set. And remembered when I used to wish for a night just like tonight. A hot summer day well spent with relatives and friends, Sunday open in front of us, and our own house only half an hour away. There are definitely things I miss about Houston, we had (and still have) so many good friends there. But my soul is at ease here. What else could I ask for?
My in-laws still live in the same house where J spent most of his childhood. They live less than a mile from the house I grew up in over in NLR, although J and I didn't meet until we were in junior high. Still not really sure how that happened...
Being back in that neighborhood is always comforting; I biked those streets like crazy when I was younger, and knew all the twists, turns, nooks and crannies that Indian Hills held. And if you know anything about that area, you know that's saying something. Whoever laid out those streets was obviously high on something when they did the layout.
Before J and I moved back to AR, we would visit my in-laws a few times a year, whenever we were back in Little Rock. I remember visiting them on days like today - hot, sultry, summer days where the pool was incredibly refreshing and the light didn't fade from the sky until impossibly late in the evening. The neighborhood, still so familiar, would be quiet, and the old, large trees would shade nearly everything but the street itself. It was still home, even though I hadn't lived there for many years.
We'd leave their house after these visits, and I'd take a second as we walked to the car to enjoy the peaceful evening. It always felt a little slower, a little cooler, and a little more content there. I distinctly remember thinking how nice it must be to be able to leave your relatives' house and go home on such a night. Not to whomever's house you were staying with that weekend, with the long drive back to Htown looming in front of you, but to your actual home - with Sunday stretching out in front of you and a day well spent with relatives and friends behind you. And a nice peace of mind.
Today, as I was hauling wet towels, swimsuits, and leftover pizza to the car, I paused again to enjoy the evening as the sun set. And remembered when I used to wish for a night just like tonight. A hot summer day well spent with relatives and friends, Sunday open in front of us, and our own house only half an hour away. There are definitely things I miss about Houston, we had (and still have) so many good friends there. But my soul is at ease here. What else could I ask for?
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Heavy
Warning, this one is on the heavy side. I need to write it out, but it's more for me than anything else.
I was very fortunate to grow up in one house. When I was two years old, my parents moved from LR to NLR, and we stayed in the NLR house until after I got married and moved to Houston.
Sometime after we moved to Houston, my parents decided to sell the NLR house and move to Maumelle. I never saw the NLR house while it was on the market or after it sold; J and I simply got directions to the new house during one trip home from H-town. It was more than a little odd to need directions to my parents' house, lemme tell you.
Right after they moved, I started hearing about some friends that were helping my parents move in, Patty and Gib. My parents had known them for a while from their social circle, but had never been particularly close; however, P&G's house was less than a mile from their new one. P had apparently come over and helped my mom get her kitchen organized, which meant only one thing: she had to be amazing. My mom's kitchen is her domain, and she can cook like nobody's business. If she let someone else help her set it up? That person had to be pretty awesome.
Over the last ten years or so, P&G have become a fixture in my parent's lives, and vice versa. They have a routine dinner date Friday nights, usually followed by a raucous, low buy-in poker game. J and I have played several times, and we usually end up just shaking our heads at the "strategy" employed in the game. There are always jokes about who's paying for breakfast the next morning (sometimes that actually happens, too), and the smack talking is prolific.
G is one of those incredibly loud mouthed individuals that sometimes makes you wonder how on earth he survived to this point in his life without someone opening fire on him. On the flip side, any time you ever need anything - be it caramel popcorn, questionable baked desserts, a pond pump (go figure), or a helping hand, he's there. A loud-mouthed, extremely kind-hearted individual. It was very common for me to be over at my parents house for about half an hour and have him stop by with a batch of cinnamon rolls that he'd bought for a fundraiser - not because he wanted them, but because he was supporting someone he cared about. He was a regular, and a very generous soul.
On Saturday, while our crew was all in Vegas, G had a heart attack while working in his yard. He spent hours each day doing this, so it wasn't out of the ordinary, but he'd been having some indications that maybe he should get his heart checked out. He didn't.
His memorial service is this afternoon. It's been an odd and hard thing to think about this week. He wasn't a daily part of my life, but definitely of my parents' life. These are some of their best friends, and one is suddenly gone. A very gregarious, loud, integral part of their lives.
I came back from Vegas already thinking of how incredibly grateful and fortunate I am for my friends and family. I have some of the best people in my life that I could ever hope for, and I can't imagine losing any of them. I can't imagine such a big part of life suddenly disappearing, even though the possibility is always there.
We're going to be spending a lot of time with friends and family this summer on various trips, and I'm reminded to not take this time flippantly or for granted. Life is not always going to be as kind and generous as it is right now.
I was very fortunate to grow up in one house. When I was two years old, my parents moved from LR to NLR, and we stayed in the NLR house until after I got married and moved to Houston.
Sometime after we moved to Houston, my parents decided to sell the NLR house and move to Maumelle. I never saw the NLR house while it was on the market or after it sold; J and I simply got directions to the new house during one trip home from H-town. It was more than a little odd to need directions to my parents' house, lemme tell you.
Right after they moved, I started hearing about some friends that were helping my parents move in, Patty and Gib. My parents had known them for a while from their social circle, but had never been particularly close; however, P&G's house was less than a mile from their new one. P had apparently come over and helped my mom get her kitchen organized, which meant only one thing: she had to be amazing. My mom's kitchen is her domain, and she can cook like nobody's business. If she let someone else help her set it up? That person had to be pretty awesome.
Over the last ten years or so, P&G have become a fixture in my parent's lives, and vice versa. They have a routine dinner date Friday nights, usually followed by a raucous, low buy-in poker game. J and I have played several times, and we usually end up just shaking our heads at the "strategy" employed in the game. There are always jokes about who's paying for breakfast the next morning (sometimes that actually happens, too), and the smack talking is prolific.
G is one of those incredibly loud mouthed individuals that sometimes makes you wonder how on earth he survived to this point in his life without someone opening fire on him. On the flip side, any time you ever need anything - be it caramel popcorn, questionable baked desserts, a pond pump (go figure), or a helping hand, he's there. A loud-mouthed, extremely kind-hearted individual. It was very common for me to be over at my parents house for about half an hour and have him stop by with a batch of cinnamon rolls that he'd bought for a fundraiser - not because he wanted them, but because he was supporting someone he cared about. He was a regular, and a very generous soul.
On Saturday, while our crew was all in Vegas, G had a heart attack while working in his yard. He spent hours each day doing this, so it wasn't out of the ordinary, but he'd been having some indications that maybe he should get his heart checked out. He didn't.
His memorial service is this afternoon. It's been an odd and hard thing to think about this week. He wasn't a daily part of my life, but definitely of my parents' life. These are some of their best friends, and one is suddenly gone. A very gregarious, loud, integral part of their lives.
I came back from Vegas already thinking of how incredibly grateful and fortunate I am for my friends and family. I have some of the best people in my life that I could ever hope for, and I can't imagine losing any of them. I can't imagine such a big part of life suddenly disappearing, even though the possibility is always there.
We're going to be spending a lot of time with friends and family this summer on various trips, and I'm reminded to not take this time flippantly or for granted. Life is not always going to be as kind and generous as it is right now.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Confidence? Who Needs That?
I played a great doubles match this morning. One of the total luxuries of not working means I get to play tennis during the day. It's the ultimate guilty pleasure - I get my exercise on while the sun is still up with a bunch of fun folks. And to make things even better? I remembered how to serve a ball in the damn service box. It will be a long time before I take that for granted again.
Lemme explain.
The movements associated with the sport are motions my body is completely at home with - quick side to side movements, explosive forward and back sprints, service motion, forehands - they are all very much a rhythm in my life.
Generally speaking, there are things that go wrong with every tennis game from time to time, even with the best players. If you don't play for a while, your timing is off. Sometimes your grip gets slightly too far one way or another, and things go badly for a while. Sometimes you forget how much topspin you need. And sometimes? Your confidence takes a nosedive and manifests it in a very frustrating way.
It has been several years since I've had an issue with confidence, but apparently there was a worm of doubt that managed to infiltrate my game and manifested itself with a completely defunct serve. I know it started several weeks ago, and I know it went into full bloom during the first match I played with one of the junior players. I haven't double faulted so much since I was a teenager. Nor have I wanted to throw my racket quite as much since I was a teenager. I (mostly) refrained.
So when it first went out, my first thought was to look at my mechanics. I broke everything down, thought about the process of serving, tried out various things - sometimes something would work, but usually only for a game or two. The more I thought about it, the more irritated and frustrated I got. It wasn't the toss. It wasn't the swing. It wasn't my grip. It wasn't my spin.
In the beginning, it might have been mechanics. But by the time I finished screwing around with everything, it was 100% confidence. I was afraid to go after the ball, I was scared of the serve, and I was incredibly frustrated. And the only thing to do with something like that is to work through it and bring it back around. I knew it was confidence because I would serve just fine in warmups, and completely break down in the match. I've played this stupid game since I was 12 years old. This shit should not happen.
Last week during a doubles match, I finally gave up. My only goal was to serve the ball in the right square with just enough pace to get the ball over the net. Funny enough, that might have done the trick. I started getting a few more serves in, even though they looked terrible and my opponents ate them up for lunch. My doubles partner wasn't thrilled with that, but at least they were going in, as opposed to just donating points.
Towards the end of that match, I found the rhythm to the serve that had been missing. I could feel what I had been doing wrong, and it was all about not having enough confidence to hit out on the ball. It wasn't mechanics. Just a stupid lack of confidence.
Today, after a week off, I finally felt normal again. I was popping serves with my normal rhythm, making shots, and I felt 100% at home again on the court. Funny how much you miss that feeling when it disappears. It was a good reminder that no matter how long you've been playing, you are never immune to a drop in confidence or a complete collapse of a shot. I enjoyed every. damn. serve. I hit today. It's a lot more fun when they actually go in.
Lemme explain.
The movements associated with the sport are motions my body is completely at home with - quick side to side movements, explosive forward and back sprints, service motion, forehands - they are all very much a rhythm in my life.
Generally speaking, there are things that go wrong with every tennis game from time to time, even with the best players. If you don't play for a while, your timing is off. Sometimes your grip gets slightly too far one way or another, and things go badly for a while. Sometimes you forget how much topspin you need. And sometimes? Your confidence takes a nosedive and manifests it in a very frustrating way.
It has been several years since I've had an issue with confidence, but apparently there was a worm of doubt that managed to infiltrate my game and manifested itself with a completely defunct serve. I know it started several weeks ago, and I know it went into full bloom during the first match I played with one of the junior players. I haven't double faulted so much since I was a teenager. Nor have I wanted to throw my racket quite as much since I was a teenager. I (mostly) refrained.
So when it first went out, my first thought was to look at my mechanics. I broke everything down, thought about the process of serving, tried out various things - sometimes something would work, but usually only for a game or two. The more I thought about it, the more irritated and frustrated I got. It wasn't the toss. It wasn't the swing. It wasn't my grip. It wasn't my spin.
In the beginning, it might have been mechanics. But by the time I finished screwing around with everything, it was 100% confidence. I was afraid to go after the ball, I was scared of the serve, and I was incredibly frustrated. And the only thing to do with something like that is to work through it and bring it back around. I knew it was confidence because I would serve just fine in warmups, and completely break down in the match. I've played this stupid game since I was 12 years old. This shit should not happen.
Last week during a doubles match, I finally gave up. My only goal was to serve the ball in the right square with just enough pace to get the ball over the net. Funny enough, that might have done the trick. I started getting a few more serves in, even though they looked terrible and my opponents ate them up for lunch. My doubles partner wasn't thrilled with that, but at least they were going in, as opposed to just donating points.
Towards the end of that match, I found the rhythm to the serve that had been missing. I could feel what I had been doing wrong, and it was all about not having enough confidence to hit out on the ball. It wasn't mechanics. Just a stupid lack of confidence.
Today, after a week off, I finally felt normal again. I was popping serves with my normal rhythm, making shots, and I felt 100% at home again on the court. Funny how much you miss that feeling when it disappears. It was a good reminder that no matter how long you've been playing, you are never immune to a drop in confidence or a complete collapse of a shot. I enjoyed every. damn. serve. I hit today. It's a lot more fun when they actually go in.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Tripping
Wow.
Just wow. What a freakin' fantastic trip.
We had 12 twelve people descend on Vegas this weekend. It was awesome.
There were any number of ways this trip could have gone wrong. For one thing, no one on the trip knew everyone else. There was one couple and J and I had never met, one couple we'd only met a couple of times, and the rest we knew pretty well, but we were the exception. Some folks only knew a couple of people on the trip. The potential for awkward silences, conflicting personalities, and group frustration was high. And none of that happened.
Instead, there are several former Vegas newbies who, by the end of the trip, were talking about making this an annual trip and friending each other on Facebook. These are signs of a very successful trip.
The down and dirty:
Thursday: Eight of us arrive in Vegas around 4pm. We eventually make it to the hotel, get checked in, and head to dinner around 7 Vegas time. Dinner decision for 12 was made extremely easily - hamburgers in a nearby casino (we all stayed at Bally's). Post dinner: wandered around some casinos a while, scoped out tables for J, and eventually found some decent video poker. I ended up playing video poker with one person or another until around 2:30 am, when I finally called it a day. Bear in mind, this is 4:30 in LR. Then I had a terrible time falling asleep, and finally crashed around 4 am, only to be woken by crushing nausea around 4:30. Damn jack and cokes. So I got about an hour's worth of sleep that night. Yay.
Friday: Crepes and coffee in the Paris' Creperie around 10, once my stomach settled a little. Our entire crew gathered at the Creperie and split up for the day. One group drove out to the Valley of Fire in the desert, and the rest of us stayed in town to do some shopping/gambling/casino ogling. We wandered around until about 4:00 that afternoon, going in the Bellagio, Aria, Monte Carlo, and some other casinos that I can't remember the names of.
Later that night, we all had tickets for Cirque du Soleil's "Love" based on the Beatles' music. Drinks beforehand with one group of friends, and then an absolutely fantastic sushi dinner after. Some of the best sushi I've had so far. We gambled a little after dinner, but I only made it to about 1:30 that night; that wasn't too bad considering how little sleep I was going on.
Saturday: More crepes (YUM), then the cabana that we had rented for the day by the Bally's pool. At first I thought it wouldn't be that great a thing, but every single person in our group spent a good bit of time down by the pool. In hindsight, I think we'll be much more likely to rent a cabana in the future if we take a group out there. It was a great way to spend Saturday. Some of the folks also got massages, some folks went for walks, some went for tacos, some played video poker, some read books by the pool, and some worshipped the sun for several hours. It was a long, lazy, removed-from-realiity afternoon.
Saturday afternoon, four of us played a poker tourney over at Bill's casino. The tourney started with 3 tables of 10 folks each - the gender split in these things always amuses me. I think there were a total of 4 women in the tournament, but I was the only female at the table I started on. Why oh why don't more women play this game? Anyway. All four of us playing made it down to the two table cut, and two of our crew bowed out somewhere after that. J and I made the final table (although I was on short stack and the first one out from that), but J finished 3rd and in the money! Woo hoo! Totally awesome for him. The payout was a pretty good return on his buy in, so this is a good thing. Once the poker tourney was over, everyone hit a nearby Thai place for dinner, and finished the trip off with some gambling.
But I have to say, one of my favorite memories of the trip was later that night. Two of the group had 6:30am flights on Sunday morning, so their plan was to just stay up all night, rather than sleep 2 hours and get woken up at an absurdly early hour to get to the airport. So 5 of us, including the couple with the insanely early flight, played video poker and drank until about 1am, when we all decided to go to the Sugar Factory, a 24 hour dessert place. Oh. My. God. The chocolate there was heavenly. Chocolate fondu, eclairs, "frozen hot chocolate" - I only wish I could have eaten more. We were all loopy from lack of sleep and alcohol, and the conversation was all kinds of goofy. I haven't laughed that much in forever.
In all honesty, it felt like a charmed trip. With 12 people involved, many of whom who were meeting for the first time, I was a bit concerned that we'd have personality conflicts and other issues. Never happened. It's one of the few times I've really not been ready to leave Vegas - I didn't even lose that much gambling! Funny what happens when there's so much other stuff going on. J didn't have that problem, though - his Sunday morning gambling session kicked his butt, so he was ready to come home. Ah well. It was a nearly perfect trip.
Just wow. What a freakin' fantastic trip.
We had 12 twelve people descend on Vegas this weekend. It was awesome.
There were any number of ways this trip could have gone wrong. For one thing, no one on the trip knew everyone else. There was one couple and J and I had never met, one couple we'd only met a couple of times, and the rest we knew pretty well, but we were the exception. Some folks only knew a couple of people on the trip. The potential for awkward silences, conflicting personalities, and group frustration was high. And none of that happened.
Instead, there are several former Vegas newbies who, by the end of the trip, were talking about making this an annual trip and friending each other on Facebook. These are signs of a very successful trip.
The down and dirty:
Thursday: Eight of us arrive in Vegas around 4pm. We eventually make it to the hotel, get checked in, and head to dinner around 7 Vegas time. Dinner decision for 12 was made extremely easily - hamburgers in a nearby casino (we all stayed at Bally's). Post dinner: wandered around some casinos a while, scoped out tables for J, and eventually found some decent video poker. I ended up playing video poker with one person or another until around 2:30 am, when I finally called it a day. Bear in mind, this is 4:30 in LR. Then I had a terrible time falling asleep, and finally crashed around 4 am, only to be woken by crushing nausea around 4:30. Damn jack and cokes. So I got about an hour's worth of sleep that night. Yay.
Friday: Crepes and coffee in the Paris' Creperie around 10, once my stomach settled a little. Our entire crew gathered at the Creperie and split up for the day. One group drove out to the Valley of Fire in the desert, and the rest of us stayed in town to do some shopping/gambling/casino ogling. We wandered around until about 4:00 that afternoon, going in the Bellagio, Aria, Monte Carlo, and some other casinos that I can't remember the names of.
Later that night, we all had tickets for Cirque du Soleil's "Love" based on the Beatles' music. Drinks beforehand with one group of friends, and then an absolutely fantastic sushi dinner after. Some of the best sushi I've had so far. We gambled a little after dinner, but I only made it to about 1:30 that night; that wasn't too bad considering how little sleep I was going on.
Saturday: More crepes (YUM), then the cabana that we had rented for the day by the Bally's pool. At first I thought it wouldn't be that great a thing, but every single person in our group spent a good bit of time down by the pool. In hindsight, I think we'll be much more likely to rent a cabana in the future if we take a group out there. It was a great way to spend Saturday. Some of the folks also got massages, some folks went for walks, some went for tacos, some played video poker, some read books by the pool, and some worshipped the sun for several hours. It was a long, lazy, removed-from-realiity afternoon.
Saturday afternoon, four of us played a poker tourney over at Bill's casino. The tourney started with 3 tables of 10 folks each - the gender split in these things always amuses me. I think there were a total of 4 women in the tournament, but I was the only female at the table I started on. Why oh why don't more women play this game? Anyway. All four of us playing made it down to the two table cut, and two of our crew bowed out somewhere after that. J and I made the final table (although I was on short stack and the first one out from that), but J finished 3rd and in the money! Woo hoo! Totally awesome for him. The payout was a pretty good return on his buy in, so this is a good thing. Once the poker tourney was over, everyone hit a nearby Thai place for dinner, and finished the trip off with some gambling.
But I have to say, one of my favorite memories of the trip was later that night. Two of the group had 6:30am flights on Sunday morning, so their plan was to just stay up all night, rather than sleep 2 hours and get woken up at an absurdly early hour to get to the airport. So 5 of us, including the couple with the insanely early flight, played video poker and drank until about 1am, when we all decided to go to the Sugar Factory, a 24 hour dessert place. Oh. My. God. The chocolate there was heavenly. Chocolate fondu, eclairs, "frozen hot chocolate" - I only wish I could have eaten more. We were all loopy from lack of sleep and alcohol, and the conversation was all kinds of goofy. I haven't laughed that much in forever.
In all honesty, it felt like a charmed trip. With 12 people involved, many of whom who were meeting for the first time, I was a bit concerned that we'd have personality conflicts and other issues. Never happened. It's one of the few times I've really not been ready to leave Vegas - I didn't even lose that much gambling! Funny what happens when there's so much other stuff going on. J didn't have that problem, though - his Sunday morning gambling session kicked his butt, so he was ready to come home. Ah well. It was a nearly perfect trip.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Already Smarter than Me
I started packing for Vegas this afternoon. At one point, I was trying to decide which of two dresses I wanted to take with me. I asked Alyssa which one she liked better, and she said she liked them both. Then she paused, looked at me, and said, "What if you go out to dinner two times while you are there?"
Damn. Obviously, I should take both of them, because that will definitely happen. Smart girl.
Damn. Obviously, I should take both of them, because that will definitely happen. Smart girl.
Tired
Good lord I'm tired. I've done some pretty heavy duty workouts the last 5 days straight (either a run or a tennis match), and that doesn't include any "extras" like playing at the pool with the kiddos, housework, yard work, and any other activity that came along.
Last night, I played a singles match against a local junior who is preparing for southerns. If you aren't familiar with junior tennis, southerns is THE tournament that your entire year revolves around if you play in the south. She is headed to Rome, Georgia tomorrow for this tournament, and was trying to get some last minute match play in.
Talking to her about southerns made me feel so incredibly happy to be past that point in my tennis career. Your entire spring and summer in juniors revolve around preparing for this tournament. There is a TON of pressure to do well, and a lot of logistics and work that go into it. For me, Southerns meant a long-ass driving trip, and a lot of sacrificing on my family's part. Please to ignore the fact that I never did very well, either.
My team will go to sectionals (the old folks' equivalent of the juniors' southerns) in July. And can I just say how much I prefer the team atmosphere and the camaraderie that comes with team tennis? Not that camaraderie didn't exist in juniors, but it's a bit different. There is still pressure to play well, to get ready for the heat, to not let the team down. But it's not just about one person - it's about the team. And it's not just about tennistennistennis in my life for 3 months leading up to it - it's still about kiddos and traveling and summer and life. And a little tennis thrown in.
And, more immediately, it's about a trip to Vegas this weekend. With ten other folks, some of whom I know well, some of whom I've never met. I'm fairly certain there will be some excellent shenanigans and stories to come out of this trip. Vegas usually incites those types of things, not that I'd know anything about that. I may try to post tomorrow, but if not...see you on the flip side. Vegas, baby.
Last night, I played a singles match against a local junior who is preparing for southerns. If you aren't familiar with junior tennis, southerns is THE tournament that your entire year revolves around if you play in the south. She is headed to Rome, Georgia tomorrow for this tournament, and was trying to get some last minute match play in.
Talking to her about southerns made me feel so incredibly happy to be past that point in my tennis career. Your entire spring and summer in juniors revolve around preparing for this tournament. There is a TON of pressure to do well, and a lot of logistics and work that go into it. For me, Southerns meant a long-ass driving trip, and a lot of sacrificing on my family's part. Please to ignore the fact that I never did very well, either.
My team will go to sectionals (the old folks' equivalent of the juniors' southerns) in July. And can I just say how much I prefer the team atmosphere and the camaraderie that comes with team tennis? Not that camaraderie didn't exist in juniors, but it's a bit different. There is still pressure to play well, to get ready for the heat, to not let the team down. But it's not just about one person - it's about the team. And it's not just about tennistennistennis in my life for 3 months leading up to it - it's still about kiddos and traveling and summer and life. And a little tennis thrown in.
And, more immediately, it's about a trip to Vegas this weekend. With ten other folks, some of whom I know well, some of whom I've never met. I'm fairly certain there will be some excellent shenanigans and stories to come out of this trip. Vegas usually incites those types of things, not that I'd know anything about that. I may try to post tomorrow, but if not...see you on the flip side. Vegas, baby.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Running Nonsense
Managed to get a 3 miler run in late this afternoon. We had a cool (well, sorta cool) front come through this afternoon, so by the time I ran, it was about 85 degrees, but still 100% humidity. Welcome to Arkansas in the summer. At least it wasn't 97 with 100% humidity, right?
It was actually a terrific run. It will likely be the last run until after our Vegas trip later this week/weekend, so I'm glad it was a good one. I'll pick back up next week, most likely sticking with the 3-4 mile distances for another week or so.
Stats for the run: 3.1 miles, 9:30 pace, and a lower than expected heart rate. There wasn't anything all that exciting or interesting about the run - just a quick jaunt around Lake Willastein in Maumelle. But it's a nice reminder that my baseline is pretty strong right now. Any day I can break a 10 minute per mile average over any distance is a good day in my book, especially if I'm really not trying. And a day where I feel good, strong, and uninjured? Icing on the cake, baby.
It was actually a terrific run. It will likely be the last run until after our Vegas trip later this week/weekend, so I'm glad it was a good one. I'll pick back up next week, most likely sticking with the 3-4 mile distances for another week or so.
Stats for the run: 3.1 miles, 9:30 pace, and a lower than expected heart rate. There wasn't anything all that exciting or interesting about the run - just a quick jaunt around Lake Willastein in Maumelle. But it's a nice reminder that my baseline is pretty strong right now. Any day I can break a 10 minute per mile average over any distance is a good day in my book, especially if I'm really not trying. And a day where I feel good, strong, and uninjured? Icing on the cake, baby.
Daily Minutiae
I don't really have too much interesting to write about right now, other than a nice monologue of "what I did today." And I'm fairly certain it's not all that interesting, but since that's what I've got right now? Here we go.
So I've been home pretty much full time with the kiddos for nearly a week now. It's been interesting to figure out what our routine is going to be. I thought maybe we'd get up first thing in the morning and go to the playground or park or something, but apparently no one in this house wants to leave the house in the morning. Our kiddos routinely get up before 7 (at which point they are sent straight back to bed to wait until their clocks start with a 7), and they may come down fully dressed, but neither seems to have any desire to leave the house. Which is fine with me. Coffee, computer, a little planning time - these are all good things for momma.
Swimming lessons at 11, which involves prep time starting at 10 (put on sunscreen, where the hell are the towels, why is my swimsuit still wet, where are my goggles, etc.). Add in food somewhere in there, and before you know it, the morning is g.o.n.e. Swimming lessons, pool time after, come back home and have a snack and shower, and it's mid afternoon. Quiet time for everyone, followed by the inevitable, "what are we having for dinner?" and then? The day is nearly over. And very little has gotten accomplished.
But at the same time, it's much easier to enjoy hanging out with the kids. We have our moments (boy don't we) but it's really nice to spend time with them when I'm not on a deadline or worried about missing a call or an email or whatever. Sometimes I feel like maybe I should try to fit more into the day - do something organized in the morning instead of letting them just "play" for several hours. But really, one of the things I want them to get used to this summer is just "playing." Nonorganized, nonelectronic, use-your-imagination type playing. And they're starting to come around to it. We'll see how long it lasts, but for right now, it seems to be going well. My fingers are crossed that it stays that way...
So I've been home pretty much full time with the kiddos for nearly a week now. It's been interesting to figure out what our routine is going to be. I thought maybe we'd get up first thing in the morning and go to the playground or park or something, but apparently no one in this house wants to leave the house in the morning. Our kiddos routinely get up before 7 (at which point they are sent straight back to bed to wait until their clocks start with a 7), and they may come down fully dressed, but neither seems to have any desire to leave the house. Which is fine with me. Coffee, computer, a little planning time - these are all good things for momma.
Swimming lessons at 11, which involves prep time starting at 10 (put on sunscreen, where the hell are the towels, why is my swimsuit still wet, where are my goggles, etc.). Add in food somewhere in there, and before you know it, the morning is g.o.n.e. Swimming lessons, pool time after, come back home and have a snack and shower, and it's mid afternoon. Quiet time for everyone, followed by the inevitable, "what are we having for dinner?" and then? The day is nearly over. And very little has gotten accomplished.
But at the same time, it's much easier to enjoy hanging out with the kids. We have our moments (boy don't we) but it's really nice to spend time with them when I'm not on a deadline or worried about missing a call or an email or whatever. Sometimes I feel like maybe I should try to fit more into the day - do something organized in the morning instead of letting them just "play" for several hours. But really, one of the things I want them to get used to this summer is just "playing." Nonorganized, nonelectronic, use-your-imagination type playing. And they're starting to come around to it. We'll see how long it lasts, but for right now, it seems to be going well. My fingers are crossed that it stays that way...
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Ugh.
I remembered today why I detest shopping so much. Because I suck at it.
It sounds fairly simple. I need sandals. This should be easy, right? Except I haven't bought sandals in about 5 years. I had a stress fracture in my left foot in 2005, and have worn orthotics since then. If I go too long without the orthotics, my foot gives me trouble, and most sandals are not orthotic friendly.
But to be honest, I've never been a sandals person. My taste in sandals is pretty much all function, no form, and 100% comfort. So my sandals predictably look like I belong on a hiking trip. Normally, this is not a big deal.
But these are sandals to wear in Las Vegas later this week. Maybe out to a show and a nice dinner.
I hit my go-to shoe store right off the bat, knowing that I nearly always find something there, even though it won't be cheap. I even took the girl with me, hoping she could help. Alas, the ones she liked were a little too "colorful" for me, and the ones I liked, she thought were boring. Of course - she was right. Shit. After about 20 minutes, I gave up and walked out empty handed.
Sometimes I think I should've been born male. It'd make this whole shoe/shopping thing a lot easier I think.
It sounds fairly simple. I need sandals. This should be easy, right? Except I haven't bought sandals in about 5 years. I had a stress fracture in my left foot in 2005, and have worn orthotics since then. If I go too long without the orthotics, my foot gives me trouble, and most sandals are not orthotic friendly.
But to be honest, I've never been a sandals person. My taste in sandals is pretty much all function, no form, and 100% comfort. So my sandals predictably look like I belong on a hiking trip. Normally, this is not a big deal.
But these are sandals to wear in Las Vegas later this week. Maybe out to a show and a nice dinner.
I hit my go-to shoe store right off the bat, knowing that I nearly always find something there, even though it won't be cheap. I even took the girl with me, hoping she could help. Alas, the ones she liked were a little too "colorful" for me, and the ones I liked, she thought were boring. Of course - she was right. Shit. After about 20 minutes, I gave up and walked out empty handed.
Sometimes I think I should've been born male. It'd make this whole shoe/shopping thing a lot easier I think.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Saturday Morning Ramblings
Sheesh. It's not even noon, and I'm already tired. In all fairness, I got a lot done this morning.
And on another plus side, the sore hip from last week seems to have resolved - woo hoo! I've been running a little here and there, but have been pretty light on the workouts for the last week, trying to make sure the hip doesn't end up being more complicated than it needs to be. After today's run, though, I feel pretty confident that all is well. Thank goodness. I don't think my mental state could handle a lengthy injury. For that matter, I don't think J could handle me if I had a(nother) lengthy injury...So it's a good thing.
This morning's run was actually very nice; I wish I could have finished out another half mile to get to 5, but it was not to be. Too much heat, humidity, and sweat. My average pace was around a 10:00 mile, although taken individually, each mile was progressively faster than the previous. That's a good sign.
I figure I'll hold at small to medium distances over the summer, maybe work my way up to 10 mile long runs by the end of the summer, but no real expectations. If I can hold a decent baseline through the summer, training for any fall races I decide to do will be so much easier. And less likely to cause injury. Which we all know is a very good thing.
- Chocolate chip pancakes? Check.
- 4.5 mile run in the heat / humidity? Check.
- Lawn mowed? Check.
- Sprinkler started? Check.
- Two gallons of sweat? Check.
- Blissfully cold shower? Check.
- Girl's last t-ball game at 1.
- Pool party celebrating end of t-ball to immediately follow game.
- Backyard splashy birthday party this evening for the boy for a classmate of his (cute little blond girl he loves to hang out with).
And on another plus side, the sore hip from last week seems to have resolved - woo hoo! I've been running a little here and there, but have been pretty light on the workouts for the last week, trying to make sure the hip doesn't end up being more complicated than it needs to be. After today's run, though, I feel pretty confident that all is well. Thank goodness. I don't think my mental state could handle a lengthy injury. For that matter, I don't think J could handle me if I had a(nother) lengthy injury...So it's a good thing.
This morning's run was actually very nice; I wish I could have finished out another half mile to get to 5, but it was not to be. Too much heat, humidity, and sweat. My average pace was around a 10:00 mile, although taken individually, each mile was progressively faster than the previous. That's a good sign.
I figure I'll hold at small to medium distances over the summer, maybe work my way up to 10 mile long runs by the end of the summer, but no real expectations. If I can hold a decent baseline through the summer, training for any fall races I decide to do will be so much easier. And less likely to cause injury. Which we all know is a very good thing.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Busy Day
I got back from Houston last night while the sun was still up - amazing! It was incredibly fitting that my car rolled over 100,000 miles on this last trip home from Houston. I was in Atlanta, Texas, on highway 59, just a little south of Texarkana when the event occurred. I despise car payments, so I'd dearly love it if my car would just keep chugging along for another 100,000 miles. Please?
If I'd been good, I would've hit the ground running last night, but alas. I played words with friends and goofed around until far too late. So today, in bullets:
If I'd been good, I would've hit the ground running last night, but alas. I played words with friends and goofed around until far too late. So today, in bullets:
- Knocked out a 3 mile run this morning before J left for work. It was hot, hard, and humid. My pace was pretty slow, but my hip seems to have healed, so I'm not stressing about speed. I'll just be very content to not be injured. Actually, my pace was around a 10:10 mile. That's really not that slow for me, I'm not sure what I was expecting. Heh. Need to rein in expectations.
- Kids have swim lessons this morning, and then want to stay and swim at the pool for a while after.
- We have good friends coming through town this afternoon. Gina, you already know not to expect a pristine house...I've been gone for 3 days, so you know how it goes. My slave labor has been mostly cooperative in the cleanup effort, but they seem to currently be distracted in a game of froggy baseball, with a drumstick for a bat. Go figure. But Benjamin has already promised to show K his legos and make sure baby J doesn't put anything in her mouth, so they are definitely looking forward to seeing you guys.
- J's parents are cooking dinner for us tonight. His dad makes a recipe called "Cornell chicken" which is so incredibly yummy - I'm already looking forward to it.
- I think J and B have haircuts scheduled for after dinner, so A and I will probably go play trivia with some friends.
- Collapse.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Writing About Life as Though It Matters
I read a lot of blogs. Somewhere around the time I first got pregnant with Benjamin, I got hooked on a few of them and have been reading them ever since. About 3 years ago, around the time we were starting to look seriously at moving back to AR, I happened on a blog that I read and immediately loved. Although it doesn't appear to be live anymore, it was titled "Notes to Self" and was written by a lady named Kyran Pittman. The first post I read was enough to have me hooked; she was lyrical, interesting, and a just a damn good writer. Her blog posts were more than just a recount of what happened in her day; they were closer to poetry than prose. And always immensely enjoyable.
What was even cooler? She lives in Little Rock (which I didn't realize at first), so I started recognizing references and locations, and was just completely thrilled to find the blog. I love good writing; it is so amazing to me what some people can do with the written word. This was (and still is) really good writing.
I've followed her blog for the last 3 years, and she recently shifted domains to http://www.plantingdandelions.com/ after her book of essays was published this spring. I read one of the reviews a few days ago, and a comment in the review stood out to me. The article, found in the Globe and Mail, was generally favorable, but the article's author made the following comment: "Pittman is an excellent writer with a strong narrative voice who writes about her life as if it matters."
Wait.
As if it matters? What??? I mean, maybe it's a little presumptive to assume that my life matters, that her life matters, that anyone's life matters, but what, then, is the point? Pittman's topics focus on her life's journey from Canada to Arkansas (go figure, talk about culture shock!), and family and domestic matters. She stays home with her kids and squeezes in writing time between school and laundry and all the other myriad things the day holds. I have to wonder if the article's author would write the same thing about, say, essays by Michelle Obama? Or Hillary Clinton? Do their lives matter?
I'm always a little sensitive in this area, I suppose, and maybe that's why it jumped out at me. We teach our kiddos they can be anything they want to be. We want big things for our kids, and they in turn want big things for themselves. But you don't have to have a "big life" for it to matter. You don't have to reach thousands of people to make your impact, you don't have to do wondrous amazing things for your life to be important. But that so often seems to be assumed, and it just rubs me the wrong way.
I want my kiddos to be happy. I don't want them to feel like they have to do big, wonderful, amazing things to make their lives "matter". They are going to get that message enough other places, I try very hard to not make that my message to them.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's not up to anyone else to decide whether our lives matter. We each live our lives as best we can, and it is up to us to determine whether we are making our lives matter - not anyone else. And as long as we are meeting the criteria and goals we set for ourselves, that should be enough. Regardless of your vocation or "importance" in the world at large.
What was even cooler? She lives in Little Rock (which I didn't realize at first), so I started recognizing references and locations, and was just completely thrilled to find the blog. I love good writing; it is so amazing to me what some people can do with the written word. This was (and still is) really good writing.
I've followed her blog for the last 3 years, and she recently shifted domains to http://www.plantingdandelions.com/ after her book of essays was published this spring. I read one of the reviews a few days ago, and a comment in the review stood out to me. The article, found in the Globe and Mail, was generally favorable, but the article's author made the following comment: "Pittman is an excellent writer with a strong narrative voice who writes about her life as if it matters."
Wait.
As if it matters? What??? I mean, maybe it's a little presumptive to assume that my life matters, that her life matters, that anyone's life matters, but what, then, is the point? Pittman's topics focus on her life's journey from Canada to Arkansas (go figure, talk about culture shock!), and family and domestic matters. She stays home with her kids and squeezes in writing time between school and laundry and all the other myriad things the day holds. I have to wonder if the article's author would write the same thing about, say, essays by Michelle Obama? Or Hillary Clinton? Do their lives matter?
I'm always a little sensitive in this area, I suppose, and maybe that's why it jumped out at me. We teach our kiddos they can be anything they want to be. We want big things for our kids, and they in turn want big things for themselves. But you don't have to have a "big life" for it to matter. You don't have to reach thousands of people to make your impact, you don't have to do wondrous amazing things for your life to be important. But that so often seems to be assumed, and it just rubs me the wrong way.
I want my kiddos to be happy. I don't want them to feel like they have to do big, wonderful, amazing things to make their lives "matter". They are going to get that message enough other places, I try very hard to not make that my message to them.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's not up to anyone else to decide whether our lives matter. We each live our lives as best we can, and it is up to us to determine whether we are making our lives matter - not anyone else. And as long as we are meeting the criteria and goals we set for ourselves, that should be enough. Regardless of your vocation or "importance" in the world at large.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Drink the Good Wine
I made the drive from LR to Houston on Sunday night, one of the last of these drives. I'm cleaning out my office this week, saying goodbye to some folks, and sort of wrapping up my time here. It's really sad in many ways, even though I'm looking forward to the summer with the kiddos. I've been at the firm for over seven years now, long enough to go from being childless to having two kiddos in school. I sincerely loved this job, and the folks I worked with. It's hard to say goodbye, even though I know it's the right decision.
Anyway, in the frantic hour or so before I left the house Sunday afternoon, I downloaded a couple of podcasts to listen to on the trip. On of them was a short running "Intervals" podcast entitled "Drink the Good Wine." The gist of it, of course, was to encourage the listener to not wait for the fabled special occasion to open a good bottle of wine. Instead, let the good wine help make the occasion special. Live life while you can, make regular occasions special when you can. I love this idea, and it reminded me of our pizza party recently.
On Memorial Day, we had about 20 people at our house for homemade pizzas. There's a connection to wine here, I promise, just stick with me. It was a terrific day, even though I woke up at 5:30 that morning and couldn't go back to sleep for thinking about all the stuff I needed to do. We make our pizzas from scratch: dough, pizza sauce, toppings, pretty much all of it. And I thoroughly enjoy making them, even though it wears my ass out.
In all, I made 8 pizzas that Monday: A Greek pizza, a Brisket pizza (J's brainstorm), a Margarita, a tropical (pineapple, Canadian bacon, shrimp), 2 kiddo friendly pizzas, and two supreme style pizzas. We made the pizzas around lunchtime, with a cooler of beer and some wine to ease the conversation. There were family members, friends that might as well be family, friends who are still getting comfortable with our craziness, and I'm not sure how many kiddos running around our house. I think it's safe to say that it was one of our better gatherings.
When the last of the pizzas came out of the oven, I grabbed a few slices and looked around to refill my wine. Ugh. Out of white wine. Pizza party fail. Unwilling to switch to beer or red wine, I wandered back to the wine fridge to see if I'd overlooked a bottle. Nope. No regular white...but there was a good bottle of sparkling that I'd bought a while back. You know - for special occasions.
Hmmmm...wonder if anyone else would be interested...
For some reason, it seemed like that bottle was the fitting end to a fantastic gathering. Most people took a little, even though champagne at 3pm after homemade pizza is a bit out of the ordinary. It reminded me how much I enjoy the luxury of planning these gatherings, cooking good food, and watching people enjoy themselves. It is such a wonderful expansion and enrichment to my life.
And really, how lucky am I to have such a wonderful group of people in my life? What better time to break out a good bottle of champagne? The occasion wasn't fancy for any particular reason, just good family and friends getting together. But really, what occasion is more special than that?
Anyway, in the frantic hour or so before I left the house Sunday afternoon, I downloaded a couple of podcasts to listen to on the trip. On of them was a short running "Intervals" podcast entitled "Drink the Good Wine." The gist of it, of course, was to encourage the listener to not wait for the fabled special occasion to open a good bottle of wine. Instead, let the good wine help make the occasion special. Live life while you can, make regular occasions special when you can. I love this idea, and it reminded me of our pizza party recently.
On Memorial Day, we had about 20 people at our house for homemade pizzas. There's a connection to wine here, I promise, just stick with me. It was a terrific day, even though I woke up at 5:30 that morning and couldn't go back to sleep for thinking about all the stuff I needed to do. We make our pizzas from scratch: dough, pizza sauce, toppings, pretty much all of it. And I thoroughly enjoy making them, even though it wears my ass out.
In all, I made 8 pizzas that Monday: A Greek pizza, a Brisket pizza (J's brainstorm), a Margarita, a tropical (pineapple, Canadian bacon, shrimp), 2 kiddo friendly pizzas, and two supreme style pizzas. We made the pizzas around lunchtime, with a cooler of beer and some wine to ease the conversation. There were family members, friends that might as well be family, friends who are still getting comfortable with our craziness, and I'm not sure how many kiddos running around our house. I think it's safe to say that it was one of our better gatherings.
When the last of the pizzas came out of the oven, I grabbed a few slices and looked around to refill my wine. Ugh. Out of white wine. Pizza party fail. Unwilling to switch to beer or red wine, I wandered back to the wine fridge to see if I'd overlooked a bottle. Nope. No regular white...but there was a good bottle of sparkling that I'd bought a while back. You know - for special occasions.
Hmmmm...wonder if anyone else would be interested...
For some reason, it seemed like that bottle was the fitting end to a fantastic gathering. Most people took a little, even though champagne at 3pm after homemade pizza is a bit out of the ordinary. It reminded me how much I enjoy the luxury of planning these gatherings, cooking good food, and watching people enjoy themselves. It is such a wonderful expansion and enrichment to my life.
And really, how lucky am I to have such a wonderful group of people in my life? What better time to break out a good bottle of champagne? The occasion wasn't fancy for any particular reason, just good family and friends getting together. But really, what occasion is more special than that?
Cleaning out my ... Office.
Spending the next day or so cleaning out my office and tying up loose ends in Houston. I have a couple of posts in mind, but they'll have to wait until later tonight. And will probably occur after a glass or two of wine with a friend. Consider yourself warned.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Huh? The Running? What's That?
OK, ok, I haven't done a lot of running lately. In fact, when I switched on the Garmin yesterday before my 3 miler, I saw that the last run I did was over three weeks ago. Huh? How did that happen???
In my defense, though, I killed it on the exercise front in May, mainly in the tennis area. And in response, May decided to pay me back with a very sore hip. From what I've read, it's indicative of overuse from repeated impact (imagine that!), so I'm gonna spend the next few days resting and keeping my fingers crossed that it heals. QUICKLY. Or it's gonna be a rough couple of weeks around here.
But. I did manage 3 miles yesterday, in some amazing humidity and 92 degree heat. Ouchie. My average was somewhere around a 9:40 minute mile. Considering I hadn't run in three weeks, had just eaten dinner, and it was humid and hot as hell? I'm quite happy with that. The fitness baseline is getting stronger all around.
What was more interesting, though, was the mental side of things. When I get into a good running groove (meaning, running more often once every three weeks!), my brain tends to spin down at the beginning of the run into a pause, and then spirals out slowly on whatever topics have been going through my mind. But since it has been a while since my brain has had a chance to do that, there was no spin down or slow spiraling; more like frantic BBs fired in rapid succession. So the topics jumped all over the place, which was a bit irritating. There was no zone yesterday, just random threads that wanted picking but mostly disappeared before I could tug.
I could feel the change in seasons, even through the cacophony of thoughts. Earlier this month, my runs held the fragrance of honeysuckle and flowers and grass, with still-pleasant temperatures. Last night, I smelled minerals and deep, earthy odors, coupled with a distinct lack of breeze. Somewhere in the last three weeks, the long, hot days and muggy, sticky nights of summer arrived. Lightening bugs, afternoon thunderstorms, front porch conversations, popsicles, late bedtimes, and an excited anticipation of the future are what I remember of my summers, growing up.
It was fun to travel down that path for a little while, hearing the same sounds and smelling the same smells as I did when I was a kid. Remembering the big unknowns that were still out there at that time, wondering what my future had in store. As grown ups, we are supposed to set up our lives with some level of stability, especially if we have kids. Generating that stability feels like it leads to stagnation sometimes. I forget to anticipate the future, the unknown. The things that are out there to look forward to, known and unknown. The run last night helped remind me of that. Even if there were an untold number of BBs that interfered with that thought process.
Right now, the first thing I'm looking forward to is this damn hip healing. Getting old sucks.
In my defense, though, I killed it on the exercise front in May, mainly in the tennis area. And in response, May decided to pay me back with a very sore hip. From what I've read, it's indicative of overuse from repeated impact (imagine that!), so I'm gonna spend the next few days resting and keeping my fingers crossed that it heals. QUICKLY. Or it's gonna be a rough couple of weeks around here.
But. I did manage 3 miles yesterday, in some amazing humidity and 92 degree heat. Ouchie. My average was somewhere around a 9:40 minute mile. Considering I hadn't run in three weeks, had just eaten dinner, and it was humid and hot as hell? I'm quite happy with that. The fitness baseline is getting stronger all around.
What was more interesting, though, was the mental side of things. When I get into a good running groove (meaning, running more often once every three weeks!), my brain tends to spin down at the beginning of the run into a pause, and then spirals out slowly on whatever topics have been going through my mind. But since it has been a while since my brain has had a chance to do that, there was no spin down or slow spiraling; more like frantic BBs fired in rapid succession. So the topics jumped all over the place, which was a bit irritating. There was no zone yesterday, just random threads that wanted picking but mostly disappeared before I could tug.
I could feel the change in seasons, even through the cacophony of thoughts. Earlier this month, my runs held the fragrance of honeysuckle and flowers and grass, with still-pleasant temperatures. Last night, I smelled minerals and deep, earthy odors, coupled with a distinct lack of breeze. Somewhere in the last three weeks, the long, hot days and muggy, sticky nights of summer arrived. Lightening bugs, afternoon thunderstorms, front porch conversations, popsicles, late bedtimes, and an excited anticipation of the future are what I remember of my summers, growing up.
It was fun to travel down that path for a little while, hearing the same sounds and smelling the same smells as I did when I was a kid. Remembering the big unknowns that were still out there at that time, wondering what my future had in store. As grown ups, we are supposed to set up our lives with some level of stability, especially if we have kids. Generating that stability feels like it leads to stagnation sometimes. I forget to anticipate the future, the unknown. The things that are out there to look forward to, known and unknown. The run last night helped remind me of that. Even if there were an untold number of BBs that interfered with that thought process.
Right now, the first thing I'm looking forward to is this damn hip healing. Getting old sucks.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Can't Argue With That
I've mentioned elsewhere that I do not like to shop. It's just not something I've ever really enjoyed. It probably stems from being too damn short in a world of tall people. Probably also has something to do with the fact that when I was in the teen years, when how you look is so important, I felt like nothing looked good on me. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was, but I was certainly not one of the cute skinny girls during the time when that counts for so damn much.
Anyway.
I don't like to shop. My shopping trips consist of knowing what I need, going directly to the store I think is most likely to have that item, determining within 5 minutes whether they have it in my size, and either trying on and purchasing said item or moving on to the next likely store. I don't shop sales because my size is so rarely available and usually picked over. Really, I don't need floral patterned Capri pants - who the hell thinks they look good on short folk anyway? My legs are short enough without that kind of help, thank you very much.
Lucky for me, J likes to shop. And often finds good deals on stuff in my size, and knows me well enough to usually pick things I like. So every now and then, a package shows up on the front door that holds fun stuff for me. Like today, for example. Exhibit A contained two items for me - a very cute top and a bathing suit.
Yes, you read that right. A bathing suit. There is precedent here. A few years ago he picked out a bathing suit online that ended up working great. The dude shops much better than I do and usually manages to save money in the process. Plus I don't have to brave the damn department store. That's a win/win.
So before everyone got home today, I tried the stuff on. The top fit perfectly. I already know that's going to Vegas with us in a few weeks and will probably be completely worn out by the time summer is over.
Then the bathing suit. The top worked great. The bottom, I wasn't as enamored with. It felt kind of ... skimpy. The first thing I thought was that maybe I needed a bigger size, but I wasn't sure that would solve the issue. I needed a second opinion. When J got home, I tried it on again to make sure my first assessment (bathing suit does not work) was the correct one.
As I walked out of the bathroom to show it off, Alyssa looked up and asked "Mommy, what is that? Is that a bathing suit?" I told her it was, and asked her what she thought. At first she said she liked it, and J hadn't really made up his mind. But after I had made a few turns in front of the two of them, Alyssa looked at me and said, "Mommy? I don't think I like it. Your booty is hanging out."
Thanks Alyssa girl. THAT was the kind of assessment I was looking for. And back to the store it goes. I'll try again in another day or two when the trauma has worn off.
Anyway.
I don't like to shop. My shopping trips consist of knowing what I need, going directly to the store I think is most likely to have that item, determining within 5 minutes whether they have it in my size, and either trying on and purchasing said item or moving on to the next likely store. I don't shop sales because my size is so rarely available and usually picked over. Really, I don't need floral patterned Capri pants - who the hell thinks they look good on short folk anyway? My legs are short enough without that kind of help, thank you very much.
Lucky for me, J likes to shop. And often finds good deals on stuff in my size, and knows me well enough to usually pick things I like. So every now and then, a package shows up on the front door that holds fun stuff for me. Like today, for example. Exhibit A contained two items for me - a very cute top and a bathing suit.
Yes, you read that right. A bathing suit. There is precedent here. A few years ago he picked out a bathing suit online that ended up working great. The dude shops much better than I do and usually manages to save money in the process. Plus I don't have to brave the damn department store. That's a win/win.
So before everyone got home today, I tried the stuff on. The top fit perfectly. I already know that's going to Vegas with us in a few weeks and will probably be completely worn out by the time summer is over.
Then the bathing suit. The top worked great. The bottom, I wasn't as enamored with. It felt kind of ... skimpy. The first thing I thought was that maybe I needed a bigger size, but I wasn't sure that would solve the issue. I needed a second opinion. When J got home, I tried it on again to make sure my first assessment (bathing suit does not work) was the correct one.
As I walked out of the bathroom to show it off, Alyssa looked up and asked "Mommy, what is that? Is that a bathing suit?" I told her it was, and asked her what she thought. At first she said she liked it, and J hadn't really made up his mind. But after I had made a few turns in front of the two of them, Alyssa looked at me and said, "Mommy? I don't think I like it. Your booty is hanging out."
Thanks Alyssa girl. THAT was the kind of assessment I was looking for. And back to the store it goes. I'll try again in another day or two when the trauma has worn off.
Sashay Much?
This afternoon, in the kitchen with Alyssa, she looks up at me and says, "mommy, watch this!" and does this little strut around the kitchen. So I asked her if she was trying to sashay, and she said "what's shashay?"
So I tried to show her, in my best sashay attempt around the kitchen bar.
Alyssa says to me, "no, mommy, like this." And proceeds to totally kick my ass in the sashay arena.
Which brings about two concerns. One, is it bad that my four year old (nearly five) kicked my ass in this area? And two, oh god, the teenage years gonna be bad.
So I tried to show her, in my best sashay attempt around the kitchen bar.
Alyssa says to me, "no, mommy, like this." And proceeds to totally kick my ass in the sashay arena.
Which brings about two concerns. One, is it bad that my four year old (nearly five) kicked my ass in this area? And two, oh god, the teenage years gonna be bad.
June, ALREADY?
Wow. I cannot believe it's already June 1.
I'm spending some time this morning trying to plan out the summer for the kiddos and myself. It's gonna go by frighteningly fast. I keep trying to find a routine we can fall into, but every few weeks something will mess it up. A trip, swim lessons, visitors, etc. There will likely be no routine.
It's funny, though. I have this vision for a nice, long, lazy summer with the kiddos, all of us just hanging out. But maybe the long, lazy summer really only applies to kids. Because I don't see a lot of laziness in front of me this summer. Nor does it seem very long. And my fear is that I turn around, it's August, and the main memories I have are of Benjamin playing Xbox and Alyssa wandering the house, wanting someone to play with.
So here's the plan.
We're gonna do the summer reading program at the library. My hope is to do a little reading time most days with the kiddos, probably in the morning.
We're gonna swim. A lot. The kiddos are getting better in the water, but they are not quite comfortable in it and they don't float yet. They've got swim lessons starting next week, and we're gonna be water babies for a few weeks I think. This means I'm gonna have to get over not enjoying the water. And stock up on 100spf sunscreen, 'cause we redheads don't exactly tan well.
We're gonna learn how to ride bikes without training wheels. This involves making sure the bikes are in working order, all helmets fit, tires are aired up, and we manage to get out in the cool part of the day. And find a decent, safe place to ride.
I'd like to take the kiddos on a few trips. We have relatives in Dallas whom we don't see much, and the new Legoland there would be heaven for Benjamin. See: more planning.
So there are a few things that I want to do. Funny enough, though, each one of those involves a decent amount of planning, prep, and activity on my part. See? No such thing as "lazy" up there. Ah well. We'll have some good memories, anyway, right? And it will NOT be of Xbox games and television shows.
I'm spending some time this morning trying to plan out the summer for the kiddos and myself. It's gonna go by frighteningly fast. I keep trying to find a routine we can fall into, but every few weeks something will mess it up. A trip, swim lessons, visitors, etc. There will likely be no routine.
It's funny, though. I have this vision for a nice, long, lazy summer with the kiddos, all of us just hanging out. But maybe the long, lazy summer really only applies to kids. Because I don't see a lot of laziness in front of me this summer. Nor does it seem very long. And my fear is that I turn around, it's August, and the main memories I have are of Benjamin playing Xbox and Alyssa wandering the house, wanting someone to play with.
So here's the plan.
We're gonna do the summer reading program at the library. My hope is to do a little reading time most days with the kiddos, probably in the morning.
We're gonna swim. A lot. The kiddos are getting better in the water, but they are not quite comfortable in it and they don't float yet. They've got swim lessons starting next week, and we're gonna be water babies for a few weeks I think. This means I'm gonna have to get over not enjoying the water. And stock up on 100spf sunscreen, 'cause we redheads don't exactly tan well.
We're gonna learn how to ride bikes without training wheels. This involves making sure the bikes are in working order, all helmets fit, tires are aired up, and we manage to get out in the cool part of the day. And find a decent, safe place to ride.
I'd like to take the kiddos on a few trips. We have relatives in Dallas whom we don't see much, and the new Legoland there would be heaven for Benjamin. See: more planning.
So there are a few things that I want to do. Funny enough, though, each one of those involves a decent amount of planning, prep, and activity on my part. See? No such thing as "lazy" up there. Ah well. We'll have some good memories, anyway, right? And it will NOT be of Xbox games and television shows.
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