Reclusive Behavior

Last Friday morning at work, I noticed a small painful spot on my leg, on my right shin. At some point that morning, something had bitten me. Since bug bites don't usually bother me too much (mosquitoes find me unappetizing), I noted it and then ignored it. But as the day went on, the bite spot went purple in color, got more painful, and a red ring started spreading around it.  Huh.  That's a bit unusual.

The redness around it spread out quite a bit as the day went on, despite my best efforts to ignore it and not touch it.  By Saturday morning, the purple color remained, the redness had spread, and I had a terrific rash as a bonus.  On the plus side, the awesome bonus rash was entirely covered by shorts and a t-shirt, so I didn't look like a leper.  But the bite site itself was pretty damn painful, as was the rest of my leg, and I'm pretty sure my leg might have looked a bit leper-like.  Grrrr.

By Sunday morning, the redness had quit spreading and the bonus rash was receding. At that point, I figured the worst was over.

Fast forward to yesterday.  By the end of the day, the place where I had gotten bitten a WEEK ago - and the entire surrounding area - itched like a sonofabitch.  Seriously, I'm pretty spoiled in this area.  Mosquitoes don't like me, and my skin rarely reacts to anything, so I don't typically get 'itchy' spots.  By this morning, an area as large as my entire hand (base of palm to tip of fingers) was raised, red, and itchy as hell.  Let's not even mention the fact that the itchiness woke me up multiple times last night.  Not cool. 

I threw in the towel and managed to get an appointment to see a doc this afternoon.  Diagnosis?

Brown Recluse Bite, of the mild variety.  Apparently I managed to brush him off before he got a good hold.  There's nothing to be done, which is fine by me.  I'm just glad the sucker didn't get a good bite; I can't even imagine how bad that must be.

While the Iron is Hot...

So I ironed tonight - we all know how rare that is, right?  And as I was ironing, I noticed reddish spots appearing on some of my clothes.  Slightly irritating on my newly-crisped white shirt...

Eventually, I discovered that it was rust coming off the starch can, which made me wonder how long it's been since I bought a can of starch. My first thought was that it very well could have been in the time BC - before children. Then I laughed, thinking that it couldn't be possible that I've ironed so little that I haven't needed to buy starch in 7 years.

Did you know they put the dates on the bottom of starch cans?

Yeah. Me neither.

The rust laden can? Date: April 2005. Just three months after B was born. Which means it was probably purchased well before he was born.

Holy shit. It's been over 7 years since I bought a can of starch.

On the plus side, tonight I feel like I have a whole new wardrobe to wear this week - score! And I think I finished off the rusty can - guess it's time to buy a new can of starch. If I follow this trend, B will have a learners permit to drive by the time I buy another can of starch...

Gettin' Old

You know you're getting older when you manage to pull a back muscle playing with your kid at the playground. Ouchie. Good thing I don't have any tennis planned for the next few days...

The Infernal, Eternal Optimist

Lest I ever forget that at heart, I am an optimist -

Tonight, I went to the grocery store. As I was checking out, I could hear the rain rattling the roof of the store, and everyone was looking up, thinking about dashing to their cars in the deluge.

Sure enough, as I exited the store with my cart stuffed with grocery bags, it was freaking pouring rain.

And my thought, as I left the cover of  the store and proceeded to get sopping wet, was, "well, at least it's not any colder out, 'cause that would suck."

I annoyed even myself with that way-too-cheerful-for-a-sunday-night thought.

Mispronunciation

So last night, I was reading with the girl. She's still learning a lot of sounds and phonics, and we've developed hints for certain sounds over time. For example, for the sound that "ow" makes (owl, howl, etc.), we tap her on top of the head to remind her that it says "owwww," the sound you make when someone hurts you.

This reminder worked really well for the boy, but Alyssa likes to mess around with it. So instead of saying "ow" like she KNOWS she's supposed to, she'll sub in the word "hit." I guess that's because I'm hitting her on top of the head. So instead of "h-ow-l" it becomes "hhh-hit-lll," or for mouse, "mmm-hit-sse."  Yeah, a BIT on the frustrating side.

I made the mistake last night of suggesting she use that reminder on the word "shout."

So from our room, you hear the 5 year old saying...

shhh-hittt.
giggle giggle
Shh-hit!
giggle giggle
Shit!
Laugh laugh

Me:  CRINGE CRINGE CRINGE - change subject.  Look, Alyssa - there's something shiny!

Overdone

I might've overdone it a little this week on the exercise. On Tuesday, I ran 5 miles. Last night, I ran 3 more miles at a fairly rapid pace. Then I played a singles match against a junior player who kicked my ass all OVER the court. This morning? I hurt. You'd think I would know better than to run before playing singles, but sometimes I'm not so smart.

The best part of this? I have another tennis match in an hour. At least this one is just doubles, thank god. I'm not sure I'd survive another singles match.

Unrelated

I'm SURE the following two truths for the day are unrelated:

1. My chocolate chip cookie recipe did not make as many cookies as usual.

2. I have no appetite for dinner at all.

Blood Sugar Low...Danger Will Robinson...

Scene: Kroger parking lot.
Time: Yesterday afternoon, 5pm, approximately 2 hours after I finished my 10 mile long run. 

Me:  You know, my friend and exercise guru Anne told me that about two hours after a long run, your hormones peak and your blood sugar is at its lowest. This might explain why I turn into a bitch from hell for a little while, regardless of what I eat or drink after a long run.

J:  Huh. I didn't realize you ran so many long runs.

He barely survived.

Maintaining

I don't know how many folks have asked me this week whether I'm looking for a job yet. It's not annoying, just - strange. I haven't started looking yet, in part because I feel like there is still a lot at home I want to get done. And yet, at the end of the day, I haven't gotten anywhere nearly as much done as I'd hoped, and I'm still pretty tired most days. I just can't figure out what's going on.

I'm pretty sure it's not the fact that I've played tennis three times this week. That definitely has nothing to do with it.

Or the fact that both kiddos have homework at night now, which pretty much means that from the time they hit the door after school until they are in bed, I need to be somewhat engaged (snack, more snack, dinner, homework, homework, showers, teeth, bed).

Or the fact that I seem incapable of getting anything done before 10am, besides sitting on my ass in front of the computer, drinking coffee and figuring out all my ambitious plans for the day.

I'm sure there's a reason for my not getting stuff done...I probably just need to think harder about it. Maybe I should sit at the computer until 10:30 every morning, thinking harder. That might help.

(Tooth) Fairy Tales

Saturday night, J and I went out to dinner while the kiddos stayed with my mom. At some point in the middle of dinner, Benjamin called us. He was terrifically excited because he had his First Loose Tooth. He had just discovered it while brushing his teeth, and he had to tell J and I about it immediately. Another reminder about how big he is getting.

He showed me the tooth on Sunday when I picked him up, and I had to agree - it was quite loose. How we'd missed it until Saturday is beyond me; that thing wasn't hanging on by much.

Aaaaand sure enough, the first thing he said in the car yesterday was that he'd lost his tooth while he was in Spanish class. And that he had to go to the nurse, and that it had bled a little but hadn't hurt, and here was the tooth, and wasn't he going to get a visit from someone that night? 'Cause you know, he gets money for this tooth!

Sure enough, the tooth fairy came through (not without a little angst between J and I on the subject). B came downstairs this morning and told me that he'd gotten a bonus last night from the tooth fairy. Not only had the she left him a few dollars for his tooth, but she'd left the tooth, too!

The tooth fairy remained conspicuously silent on the issue. Indeed, when the kiddo's head is firmly nestled on the pillow under which said tooth rests, and it is 11:30 at night, and the tooth fairy is dead ass tired, she's not about to risk waking up the kiddo with a few bucks obviously showing in her hand. Instead, she's just going to put the money under the edge of the pillow as gently as she can, make up a story about why the tooth might have stayed behind in the morning, and get the hell to bed.

But let it be known - had J not remembered to call (ahem, wake up) the tooth fairy at 11:30 last night, there would have been a LOT MORE STORIES made up this morning.

$%##@#%

Well, dammit.

The wrist has not healed. Three backhands into warmup last night, my left wrist was screaming bloody murder, even though I've done nothing with it since I injured it nearly three weeks ago. Dammit. Time to go see the doc, I suppose. Crap crap crap. It's nicely swollen again this morning and hurts to move. Back to advil and wrapping it; doc's appt next Thursday. Dammit dammit dammit.

On the plus side, my mixed partner played the backhand side terrifically well last night, I played forehand decently, and we managed to pull out a win even with my crappy, ineffective one-handed backhand slice.

I also remembered one of the reasons I do NOT enjoy mixed doubles - male egos and attitudes. Sorry to generalize, guys, but it's usually the males that make these matches difficult. I can remember lots of male temper tantrums on the court, but very few (if any?) female temper tantrums during mixed doubles matches. I've damn near walked off the court on my own partner when he was being too much of a dick. I'm NOT saying they are all like that - the partner I'm playing with now is awesome. But the few that are pains? Are serious pains. Lucky me, we played one of those last night. Joy.

I've played a lot of matches this year, and I don't remember verbally questioning a single call. It's just not that big a deal to me most of the time, and the match shouldn't hang on one point; one bad call should not change the outcome. But last night? Holy shit. The dude on the other side called one of my shots out (in the middle of a tense game, at deuce) that was oh-so-clearly on the line and in. Serious jackass.  I questioned it and he completely ignored me. Obviously he wasn't going to change his call, but from his behavior, he knew he'd made a shitty call. Not that he was going to change the call or anything - that'd have too much sportsmanship to it. So yeah, an obviously crappy call, after my partner and I had been overly generous with our calls throughout the match. This guy had even complimented a call I made early on, where I SHOULD have called a ball out but it was just too close to feel ok calling it out. Really dude? Really? This is repayment?

I think he just got tired of me making him look bad. I'd passed him while he was at the net more than once, and he couldn't win a point off my serve to save his life. So maybe he just didn't want to get passed yet again. Whatever. My partner and I won, crappy call and all. That's always the best revenge.

Dragon Tails and Other Assorted Nonsense

I managed to get in a four miler yesterday at the community center before I picked up the kiddos. It was a terrific run, with the third mile at an 8:34 pace, which is fast for me. I'm sort of tempted to try out a 5K somewhere in the near future, just to see what I can do. When I started running, breaking 30 minutes for a 5K (3.1 miles) seemed laughable; that would mean running under 10:00 miles, which is daunting when your average pace is between 12:00 and 13:00 minute miles. But now, sub 30 minutes is virtually guaranteed. I'm not sure exactly how fast I could run one, but breaking 27 minutes would be fantastic.

Anyway. It was good to shake out the legs, and the Shuffle cranked out some stellar tunes. Rage Against the Machine, The Veronicas, Silversun Pickups, and other assorted crazy loud music with a fast beat - awesome.

I've got just a bit more to write about North Carolina, before I leave it alone. I managed to get the kiddos to go on a hike Saturday afternoon - we did a three mile walk with our friend Chris and the four of us. I use the word "hike" loosely, because it really was just a mildly hilly walk on a well groomed dirt path. The kiddos did a lot more strenuous hiking when we climbed Pinnacle, but it was still fun to get them out there. Alyssa gathered flowers along the walk, we stopped and threw rocks into the lake we were walking around. We looked at spiderwebs, leaves, kayaks, boats, and other assorted things nature throws at you. All in all, a nice quiet afternoon, followed by some outstanding barbecue - yummy!

Other than hiking and playing on the deck, there wasn't necessarily a ton of stuff to do. The kiddos were all too young for rafting or anything like that, but when they get a bit older, I think they'll enjoy the hell out of something like that. We did a lot of eating, a lot of drinking, and a decent amount of sitting around talking. The weather was really nice, the kiddos all behaved, and it was actually pretty relaxing. The 10+ hour drive back on Sunday was uneventful and fairly easy, with no hiccups or bumps or anything.

OH! I almost forgot. On our drive out to the mountains, I let google maps choose our route. The one it chose looked a bit mountainous on my small blackberry map, but I didn't really look too hard at it, thinking that all of the routes were gonna be hilly and curvy. Yeah. Should have looked a little harder, maybe.

We turned off I-40 somewhere south of Knoxville, and started what looked to be a 2 hour trek through mostly two lane roads that had lots of curves. About an hour into it, we started seeing shop and gas station signs that had the word "dragon" in them.

Dragon. Hmm. J starts wondering whether this is a section of road that is notorious among motorcyclists for an ungodly number of twists and turns (I had never heard of it). As we went further along, we figured out that we were, indeed, on the "Tail of the Dragon" drive - 318 curves over 11 miles. Fucking insane.

J eventually said he felt like one of those drivers in the old movies who just moves the steering wheel back and forth but couldn't possibly be really steering - except he was. The switchbacks and curves and hills were incredibly beautiful and amazingly NONSTOP. We kept telling the kiddos to look out the front window - so the only one who seemed to get even mildly nauseous was me, and I think that was because I'd looked at the map so damn much. But holy hell it was a crazy ass drive.

Needless to say, we took a very different route on the way home. I'm not sure it was any faster, and it was definitely longer in miles, but the puke factor was drastically reduced. This is always a good thing, but especially so when you have someone who might or might not have woken up that morning with a slightly upset stomach. Can't imagine how that happened...

Some Days...

Ya know, I woke up this morning feeling pretty damn good. We're spending the week at the beach with some other families, so we're being lulled to sleep with the sound of the waves. This morning, I slept until around 8, which was heaven. I didn't realize how crappy I'd been feeling the last few days until I woke up and felt decent this morning. The tennis matches I played over the weekend took a pretty good toll on my body, which was not unexpected - post tournament days are often challenging. I just remember it usually lasting for a day or so, not THREE, but whatever. I felt better this morning, and then it sort of went downhill from there. Should've just stayed in bed...

Started out the morning with a slight confrontation with some friends, which was not a big deal in and of itself, but still stressful. I suck at confrontation, and anything like that just stays with me for a day or two. It also reminded me of how frustrating life can sometimes be. Balancing self, kids, spouse, and friends is just challenging all around, no matter what you do.

Then I managed to get myself stung by a jellyfish while wading in the ocean. I wasn't even in over my knees! I sat down in one of our beach chairs, cussing like mad at the sting, and promptly got whacked on the head when the tarp we've got set up on the beach blew down. There's a rather large, painful bump on the top of my head now, but at least it didn't bleed, right? Sheesh.

And this evening, I totally lost it after the girl had one too many arguments with another kiddo in the house. In truth, there probably wasn't any great reason for me to lose it - I just ran out of patience and energy, and the day's frustrations built up to the point where I just was done.

I hate days like this. I know that they are gonna happen, and it's just part of life, but they still suck.

Tripping

Holy crap. Ireland on Friday. Kids that can't get along to save their lives. A birthday party at my house Thursday night, right before I leave for Ireland. Hosting several people I've never met. Several commitments in the meantime, and a yard that needs mowing. Not to mention a house that will need cleaning by Thursday night.

Slightly stressed? Who, me? 

If I make it out of town with most of my hair still attached to my head, it's gonna be a miracle.

Things We Have Learned

In the time BC*, back when we lived in Houston, J and I fell in with a group of friends that liked to get together pretty regularly. Over time, and with some practice, J and I developed a pretty good formula for throwing parties. There are a couple of required elements that go something like this:

• Interesting people;
• Decent music; and
• Drinks. The earlier, the better.

Last night, we threw a poker party at the house. Surprisingly, it's one of very few completely adult get togethers that we've thrown since moving here. Some of it has been because we have the kiddos now, but another large part has been getting to know enough people to put something like this together. Don't get me wrong, we do know quite a few people at this point. But combining a group of people that don't necessarily know each other is sometimes a little tricky.

Last night, everything seemed to gel really well from the very beginning. We had some people who had never met each other, but when they immediately started finding common ground with each other, I figured we were in for a good night.

We played poker, made margaritas, and drank good bourbon and red wine until sometime after 1am. There were a lot of bad jokes, some really bad singing (thanks rock band), and some hilarious poker plays ("yeah, I thought three of a kind and a pair seemed like a pretty good hand, but I wasn't sure"). Of course, a couple of us had tennis this morning at 9, but we didn't let that get in the way of a good time. In fact, I think we learned a valuable lesson last night - and J gets total credit for this one.

I left him in charge of the food for the night, and he came home from the store with a veggie tray, chips, dips, some milano cookies, and ... pizza rolls.

Me:  "Um, frozen pizza rolls?  REALLY?"
J:  "Yeah, they'll be great!"
Me:  "I could've made a really yummy artichoke dip, you know..."
J:  "Nah, these will be even better!"

I have to say, based partly on how awesome those pizza rolls tasted at 10:30 last night, I'd already consider adding them in to whatever food we have at the next party. But the cherry on top? Apparently eating around a third of a large bag is a great hangover deterrent, because I woke up feeling fine this morning. Next time, bring on the pizza rolls sooner rather than later.

*BC = Before Children.

Productivity

There's just something about frantic weekends.

It was one of our normal busy holiday weekends. We cooked (and ate) more food than should be legal.

Friday night: Dinner out at a Greek restaurant with friends.
Saturday: Burgers and Dogs for the girl's birthday party, followed by drinks and dinner at the Capitol Bar downtown.
Sunday: Fajita extravaganza at my in-laws. Practically the entire in laws side of my family are phenomenal cooks. We eat WELL on holidays.
Monday: 6 fajita and other assorted pizzas to use the leftover fajita meat.

I think I'm done eating for a while.

It was just a crazy weekend where I barely managed to keep up with my kiddos, let alone get anything productive done (other than feed my gullet that is).

And while I enjoy the hell out of those weekends, Sundays (or Mondays in this case) sometimes find me a little down. I spent a lot of time getting stuff together and ready for A's birthday party last week, and pretty much wore my ass out. So I'm sure some of it is just letting down from a crazy week.

But more than that, I feel like I should have my to do list ready to go on Monday (or Tuesday) morning. And I don't really have one of those lists right now. Ok, I have one thing on my agenda today, but "play tennis" doesn't feel exactly productive. The house is a wreck, I have a trip to Ireland coming up in about two weeks, and I left my motivation at the pool last week.

I did manage a 4 mile run on Saturday (it was only 98 degrees...). It has been a LONG time since I've needed a run like I needed that one. And now I need a housework fairy to take care of all the crap I don't wanna do. Thinking I may be out of luck on that one. Maybe I'll just bribe the kiddos...

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.

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.

Oh, and One More Thing...

Sandals! Two pair! Score!!! I'm officially ready for Vegas, baby!

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.