Entries Tagged 'neurosis' ↓

Thursday Brain Dump

Dan Tennant and I are forming a team of bloggers and tweeters for the i5k. We need two more for our official team of 6, Jared and Eugene have agreed to join in. If you are a real runner, you are more than welcome to keep up with Dan, otherwise you can shuffle along with me toward the back of the pack. There is a $25 registration fee, but there is an after party. I believe we may have t-shirts made. I’m picturing the state logo with a Twitter bird instead of a crescent. Jared suggested the text hint that we’re making up for all of our time sitting at the computer.

It’s my first 5k and I’ve been using a treadmill to train. I am being assured by various sources that I’ll be faster on the street, but time will tell.

I think I may be getting a little better at managing my time, either that or the kids are moving out of less needy phases and I’ve suddenly been able to get more done.

If I knew the right people to ask, I’d beg Libman to make a mop designed for people 6′ and taller. We have needs too. The bent handle design is awesome, except for the whole aching back part.

Provided I make it to the gym tomorrow, it’ll be the first time in several months I have managed to go consistently two weeks in a row. #15byjune That is the hashtag for a group I’ve joined that has committed to making small changes to lose 15lbs by June. I’m not looking for 15lbs on the scale, my goal is to gain better consistency in going to the gym.

Aidan’s reading is improving dramatically day by day. Each night before bed we read a chapter from a book and he begs for his turn to read a few paragraphs. Right now we’re tackling Beverly Cleary and the Ramona series and I love how she doesn’t dumb down the language just because she writes for children. He’s having to tackle difficult words and is doing very well and enjoying it.

This will be the first year I truly observe Lent. As a child I’d give up random items, in my young adulthood I had wandered away and gave the practice little, if any thought. I suppose I’ll need to organize my time well so I won’t be forced to write about food while hungry.

Now that I have photo editing software again, I need to get back in the habit of using my camera.

Creature of Habit

It’s funny how an old household appliance can illustrate the idea that I should spend more time exploring the options I already have. Last night I was cleaning the kitchen and getting ready for bed a little earlier than usual, when the coffeemaker caught my eye. Arguably the most important tool in our kitchen, the appliance sits wedged under a cabinet with a spool of thread holding the lid on tightly. Without the spool it sullenly blinks “Lid Open, Lid Open.” We’ve had this Wal-mart wonder for over a year and I can’t remember ever actually setting it.  Today I’m enjoying coffee without measuring half-blinded by sleep. I didn’t bang the filter on the trashcan and hope the kids were sleeping soundly. I should have taken advantage long ago.

Someone Has a Sense of Humor

I belong to a women’s group and at the close of each gathering there is an opportunity to state any prayer requests. The usual issues are brought up, someone is sick, somone needs clarity in a decision. In November of ’06 I requested that they pray that I might have more patience another child later, it dawned on me exactly what patience is and is not.

More recently, during my husband’s outage early in November I requested rest, a respite for our family as we had been busy and I was tired.

Were you aware that like chickenpox, mono can recur? Yep, if you’re one of the lucky few, it seems a virus or simply being rundown can bring it on.

Remember Waynes World?

I once thought I had mono for an entire year. It turns out I was just really bored.

It was something like that, but in reverse. I’d start to get the kids ready to leave the house and two hours later I’d give up in disgust. I thought I was struggling with depression or just turning incredibly lazy.

For a little while life was cut down to the musts: children must be fed 3x a day, they must be bathed, and that was just about it.

Today I’ll be heading back to the gym for the first time in well over a month.


To Sleep Perchance to Breathe

I’ve dealt with typical hay fever my whole life.  Occasionally I’d wheeze, but I never really ventured into full blown asthma territory.

For an unknown reason I broke out in hives on Thursday. I had meetings and music lessons and too much life happening to do anything but wander through the day in a benadryl haze and hope things got better. They didn’t.

It’s never a good thing when someone winces as you remove an article of clothing.

It’s also probably not good when you don’t ask what shot is being administered.

I was also prescribed something along the lines of Benadryl on Steroids. The label on the bottle doesn’t mince words DO NOT DO ANYTHING DANGEROUS while on this medication. For some reason this tickles me as I zombie my way through the day.

The one thing my doctor and I agree on is that we don’t know what caused the problem in the first place. It could be viral, could have been something environmental, and I hope it’s not due to stress. I’ve been in more stressful situations in the past with no extreme reactions. I know I’m a little neurotic, but I don’t think I’ve ever caused a full body meltdown.

Sushi and Scoble

If those active in the Friendfeed arena can feel free to blame Robert Scoble for contributing to the doom and gloom that is fueling the downward spiral of the US (and world) economy, then I should feel perfectly validated blaming him for my own uncomfortable situation.

It all started with a sushi dinner on Saturday night, closing the ConvergeSouth weekend. I have fondness for sushi that borders on obsessive; I can daydream about it for months on end silently trying to outlast my husband’s willpower. (Have I ever mentioned I’m neurotic?) Once the magical night of sushi arrives, I gorge and leave sated with a touch of guilt. Saturday was no different.  Robert and a lady I don’t know well assumed the role of sushi selectors. This was fine by me, I always take the easy road and leave it up to the chef.

I nod sagely as I am told what each piece is, but my greedy American nature always wins. When no one is staring to see me fumble with my chopsticks I stuff my face and moan inwardly with delight.

Plate after plate of jewel colored fish arrived. I bemoaned leaving my camera in the hotel room as I sampled and asked for the plates to be passed down to my end. I’m somewhat convinced that most of the guests will gladly blame the gentleman across from me for the rapid disappearance of food, but I can assure you as sake toasts were raised I was reloading my plate.

But Heather, that sounds like a lovely evening, why are you blaming Robert Scoble for all the whining you’ve done over the past few days?

Have patience my dear readers, patience.

Monday evening it was my mission to atone for my sushi sins with a productive session at the gym. Near the end of class I was lying on my back, scissor kicking with my heels six inches off the floor, silently cursing my instructor and his future descendants when I felt a subtle pop. A twinge. Not the sweet relief of a joint cracking, just a feeling of something giving way.

As I walked to the parking lot, pain was shooting down the back of my leg and my calf was tingling.

Yes, it’s a minor injury, simply a pulled muscle that is affecting my sciatic nerve, but as anyone will tell you back injuries rarely feel minor and the past two days have been dulled by the haze of a prescription muscle relaxant and the soothing warmth of a heating pad. This my friends is why I have neglected to share stories of those wondeful people with whom I basked the flourescent glow of geekery.

It’s all Mr. Scoble’s fault.

Confession Time

I’ve been working out at the gym for a few months now and some of my motivations are healthy.  I would like to increase my strength and endurance, tone up, and generally establish an example of healthy habits for my kids. But, I must admit I have a few selfish and vain reasons for motivating myself. It gives me time away from the kids. When I’m on the treadmill or lifting weight no one is whining. My internal monologue doesn’t count. 

The other reason is worse, pure vanity.  I want to be in better shape for the upcoming ConvergeSouth conference and the hosted dinner. I know it’s silly, but I’ll be meeting a lot of people and well, there you have it.

Once the conference is over I wonder how I’ll convince myself to load all the munchkins into the car when I’d rather sit on my behind. I’m currently operating under the assumption that it will be a habit by mid-October.

Working It Out

I wonder if all fitness instructors are immune to the passing hatred I feel for them during our fifty minute sessions.

“OK, now we’ll just hold the plank for one minute.”

“I. hate. you.”

It’s reflexive and temporary, but my inner monologue isn’t very genial at the moment.  I have been saving to join the new gym in town, as their childcare room isn’t relegated to a closet like the local Y.  Consequently I’m stiff, sore, and popping Motrin.

Under normal circumstances my slacker side reigns supreme.  However, place me in a classroom of any sort and my competitive nature comes out of hibernation whether or not it is in my best interest.  Tuesday night I changed into my workout clothes with a little trepidation. The limited schedule loosely described the class as cardio-dance.  While, at times, I have the coordination of  drunken adolescent giraffe, I used to be able to muddle my way through an intermediate/advanced step class without causing injury to others.

Slowly we filter into the studio, all true suburbanites, nine women of varying shapes and ages and one straight male.  The instructor arrives, gorgeous, petite, and comfortable in her graceful dancer’s body.   She turns the music on and announces that this week she will be introducing Afro-Caribbean dancing.  Is this a good place to note that the dances with which I’m familiar are generally named the two-step, the waltz, and East Coast swing?

I  believe at some point during the class we all melted into a puddle of self-mortified goo.  Perhaps it was as we followed her across the length of floor leaping, flinging our arms with stiff-jointed imitations of abandon and joy.  Perhaps it was the one-on-one help with the suggestive roll of the pelvis that is now causing me to creak like an old lady in need of a new hip.

Five years ago I may have walked away, but three children have robbed me of most of my dignity and I will be returning for next week’s class.

Full of Awesome and Win pt 1

In a strange ironic twist, I spent the weekend of CREATE South almost completely disconnected from the net.  There was no wi-fi in my hotel and I could not connect to the makeshift network at the conference itself.  This was definitely a benefit in some regards, but not having our power point was a little frustrating.

My first true public speaking appearance is over.  I completely forgot to pick on Joan as I had planned.  I was going to ask her to lead folks in the chicken dance, as she so truly appreciates mediocre speakers who try to  improve their appeal by humiliating audience members.

I thoroughly enjoyed meeting Ed Cone and hearing him speak.  He reminded me of a cross between Steve Carell and a dear friend of mine Fr. Bart.  I appreciated his comment, at dinner, about parenting becoming easier as the kids become self-sufficient.

More to come.

Hey Look

I’m not hideous after all.*


*Dear Mom and all others concerned about my self-esteem.  I really don’t think I’m hideous, it’s just a rare day I can get a decent picture of myself, when I’m trying to show someone something.  In this case I was trying to show my hair.  I just happened to notice I look a lot healthier since my surgery.

Amusing Anecdotes from Pre-Op

I understand the purpose of the questions, but seriously folks, these border on the ridiculous and when you ask me a series of crazy questions, eventually my self control will wear out and you will receive some ridiculous answers.

Have you fallen in the last month?

– Do you mean a significant fall, because I’m always tripping over my own feet?

Have you broken your pelvis in the last month?

– Oh gee, now that you mention it. . .

Is someone trying to control you.

– My son, but he’s two, he tries to control everyone.

Has someone threatened you?

– My son said he was going to throw fireballs at me after I sent him to his room.

They probably weren’t as amused as my mom and I were.