Today was supposed to be my last walk and blog, but I just can't bear to end it on such an ordinary note. I have some (minor) NY plans which will preclude a night walk, it was raining pretty steadily this morning, as well as over lunch, so I just got back from a five miler starting from the office, down to the trail, then around downtown. It wasn't sprinkling so much as misting, it was damp and cold and uninspiring, and most importantly, Banks wasn't with me. I just can't wrap this thing up without him. Tomorrow morning I'm taking us down to the lake and we're going to finish in style. At least I'm hoping. When I went there this afternoon, the west side was fenced off, and someone told me that was because they're hoping to do a fireworks display tonight (good luck) and that part of the trail is where the ashes are scheduled to drop. Hopefully it will be taken down tomorrow.
Yesterday I had to return Lynn's car, which I'd driven back from Houston, because she caught a ride with others a day later, so I decided to start my walk from there. I don't think we'd ever walked that particular section of Travis Heights, which was super hilly and somewhat stressful on my left knee, so it was a relief to stay on flat terrain today.
Oh, God, I STILL haven't come up with a firm fitness plan. Aimee texted me while I was walking with some brilliant ideas, including pole dancing (POLE dancing?). One really inspired idea was to try something new every week -- there are always yoga, boot camp, TKD or other things offered free for a week, and she thought that could be a good method of cross-training as well. Intriguing, but I am a creature of habit, and I think veering from one thing to another would be jarring for me.
So tomorrow we come full circle. My first walk was January 1, 2012, and my last walk will be January 1, 2013. That feels just right to me.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Ian Bradley Vincent
Friday afternoon Lynn and I left for Houston for the memorial service, and it's a good thing I'd walked earlier; there was no time for it that night. I had gotten up close to 1:00am that morning, and after Friday night's dinner gathering of friends and family, I was so tired that, sitting on my bed in the hotel, I was falling asleep while people talked to me.
Fortunately, there was a gym at the hotel, just as I'd hoped; we were on a street called "Airport Drive" (or Road, or Blvd), and it was pretty commercial and not conducive to a good walk. They kept the gym hot, I guess so you'd feel like you'd worked hard, and there were TVs affixed to the treadmill, so the five miles went pretty quickly. I finished up, went downstairs for the breakfast buffet, and promptly undid everything I'd accomplished in the previous hour and a half.
I had approached Ian’s memorial service with a mixture of dread – dread over witnessing his family’s grief first-hand – and sadness, such sadness, over the loss of this incredible young man. Ian was a fourth year resident in anesthesiology in Seattle. It was beautiful hearing the stories of his fellow residents in that program. I believe Ian was going to specialize in pediatric anesthesiology, and his colleagues talked about the fact that Ian’s easy rapport with the children and their families was something they could only aspire to. One said “He’d go out partying Friday night, then Saturday morning he’d come walking through the door with a little kid in his arms.” In addition to his bedside manner, he was also technically brilliant.
Ian had a heart for those who were suffering, and had participated in medical mission trips all over the world. In fact, he had just completed one of those, in Nepal, before flying to Australia to visit his uncle David (Vicky’s brother) for a few days, and that’s where the surfing accident happened.
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Fortunately, there was a gym at the hotel, just as I'd hoped; we were on a street called "Airport Drive" (or Road, or Blvd), and it was pretty commercial and not conducive to a good walk. They kept the gym hot, I guess so you'd feel like you'd worked hard, and there were TVs affixed to the treadmill, so the five miles went pretty quickly. I finished up, went downstairs for the breakfast buffet, and promptly undid everything I'd accomplished in the previous hour and a half.
I had approached Ian’s memorial service with a mixture of dread – dread over witnessing his family’s grief first-hand – and sadness, such sadness, over the loss of this incredible young man. Ian was a fourth year resident in anesthesiology in Seattle. It was beautiful hearing the stories of his fellow residents in that program. I believe Ian was going to specialize in pediatric anesthesiology, and his colleagues talked about the fact that Ian’s easy rapport with the children and their families was something they could only aspire to. One said “He’d go out partying Friday night, then Saturday morning he’d come walking through the door with a little kid in his arms.” In addition to his bedside manner, he was also technically brilliant.
Ian had a heart for those who were suffering, and had participated in medical mission trips all over the world. In fact, he had just completed one of those, in Nepal, before flying to Australia to visit his uncle David (Vicky’s brother) for a few days, and that’s where the surfing accident happened.
Before the memorial service, Lynn
and I had talked about what to expect, and we both agreed that when someone
this young (Ian was 31) dies, it’s tragic, pure and simple, and there just can’t
be the kind of “celebration of life” aspect to the service that you see with
the elderly or with someone who has died after a long illness. But we were wrong. There WAS humor and laughter interspersed
with a lot of tears. There is no way to revisit a life that well-lived without ultimately celebrating it.
And I have a new heroine. Vicky, Ian's mom. She is one of the most thoughtful, sensitive and soft-spoken people I know, and I foolishly expected her to be in pieces. She was a model of composure and grace, and demonstrated a kind of strength I did not know she possessed. I am in awe.
Below is Ian in Nepal; the photo was snapped by Matt, a doctor friend who also participated in the mission trip and was with Ian in Australia when he died. I love this picture.
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Friday, December 28, 2012
Last 4:00 AM walk, ever
I am fairly confident in making that statement. After December 31, it's difficult to imagine being in the position I was in this morning, nervously chewing my nails, glancing at the clock, mentally rehearsing the things I had to do in order to be ready to leave for Houston at 3:00, including walking five. AS ALWAYS, even on a fairly minor trip like this (two days! and driving!) I woke up about 1:30, overwhelmed with the details I should have taken care of last night but didn't. Getting money from the bank. Getting the house ready for Sam to dog- and cat-sit. Washing the sheets. Packing. I stayed in bed til about 2:00, then gave up and started moving. Slowly. I have learned that I get so much more done when I move deliberately and thoughtfully through my tasks, rather than running around like the proverbial chicken with her mulleted head cut off.
We'll arrive at the pre-memorial service dinner around 7:30; I want to spend a lot of time with the people I love in that setting, and not have to worry about getting back to the hotel gym for an hour and a half workout, so.....off we went. It was cold and a little drizzly, and not for the first time, I realized that as much as I have loved this project, it has a beginning, middle and end, and there are some things about the end that are worth celebrating. Given the time - as I've said before, anything pre-5:00AM feels more like the middle of the night than the morning -- we avoided cavernous, deserted St. Ed's, and instead crossed Congress and walked the residential neighborhoods on that side of the street. It's hilly and the streets are wider and the sidewalks are less cluttered, and I don't know why we don't do it more often. I forgot to bring my phone, so had to guess at the time. When I got back, convinced I'd completed the whole thing, I saw it had been a whopping 45 minutes. Time drags when you're cold and wet and fighting off a sinus infection. I left Banks at the house -- he looked grateful -- and went another 25, but really felt pressured to get back and continue my trip prep. So I have another 20 minutes to make up tonight, but after an Italian dinner, I plan to walk through the hotel halls, up and down the stairs, and I'm actually looking forward to it.
I don't know about you, but I have that blah, post-Christmas malaise. So much build-up, so many Christmas carols, so much good will and cheer, and then -- it's over.
We'll arrive at the pre-memorial service dinner around 7:30; I want to spend a lot of time with the people I love in that setting, and not have to worry about getting back to the hotel gym for an hour and a half workout, so.....off we went. It was cold and a little drizzly, and not for the first time, I realized that as much as I have loved this project, it has a beginning, middle and end, and there are some things about the end that are worth celebrating. Given the time - as I've said before, anything pre-5:00AM feels more like the middle of the night than the morning -- we avoided cavernous, deserted St. Ed's, and instead crossed Congress and walked the residential neighborhoods on that side of the street. It's hilly and the streets are wider and the sidewalks are less cluttered, and I don't know why we don't do it more often. I forgot to bring my phone, so had to guess at the time. When I got back, convinced I'd completed the whole thing, I saw it had been a whopping 45 minutes. Time drags when you're cold and wet and fighting off a sinus infection. I left Banks at the house -- he looked grateful -- and went another 25, but really felt pressured to get back and continue my trip prep. So I have another 20 minutes to make up tonight, but after an Italian dinner, I plan to walk through the hotel halls, up and down the stairs, and I'm actually looking forward to it.
I don't know about you, but I have that blah, post-Christmas malaise. So much build-up, so many Christmas carols, so much good will and cheer, and then -- it's over.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Four to Go
I ended up taking yesterday off, after realizing there would really be no problem fitting in my walk in Houston. The memorial service is at 11:00 on Saturday, I'll be in a hotel, and get up, I'm sure, at my usual 5:00 or 5:30 a.m. It will be a nice change of pace from what I'm sure you're tired of, and what I just got done with: walked Banks to St. Ed's, went around the campus, went around the track, this time populated by three people and one dog, so no off-leash, blah blah blah....
But get this! There was something really special about tonight's ordinary walk! Yesterday I was cleaning out my car, specifically the -- is it called the consule? Something like that? That compartment between the two front seats where you keep things like CDs, receipts, trash? I pulled everything out, and there it was....my long-lost ipod! I know I lost two of these over the past year, but here's where it gets weird. I SWEAR it's the same ipod that I put through the wash and found at the bottom of the washing machine. Even though it was totally broken -- I tested it again and again -- I couldn't bear to throw it away, because it still looked perfect. And that compartment is exactly the kind of place where I tend to keep things like that, things that serve no immediate purpose, but might very well come in handy down the road. And I charged it, and put in ear buds.....and it works! Perfectly!
If it is that ipod, and I really want to think that it is, it lends credence to my long-held philosophy that, if you set aside and ignore a problem long enough, it will resolve itself. That is my Type B, middle child way of looking at the world, and damned if it doesn't work half the time.
But get this! There was something really special about tonight's ordinary walk! Yesterday I was cleaning out my car, specifically the -- is it called the consule? Something like that? That compartment between the two front seats where you keep things like CDs, receipts, trash? I pulled everything out, and there it was....my long-lost ipod! I know I lost two of these over the past year, but here's where it gets weird. I SWEAR it's the same ipod that I put through the wash and found at the bottom of the washing machine. Even though it was totally broken -- I tested it again and again -- I couldn't bear to throw it away, because it still looked perfect. And that compartment is exactly the kind of place where I tend to keep things like that, things that serve no immediate purpose, but might very well come in handy down the road. And I charged it, and put in ear buds.....and it works! Perfectly!
If it is that ipod, and I really want to think that it is, it lends credence to my long-held philosophy that, if you set aside and ignore a problem long enough, it will resolve itself. That is my Type B, middle child way of looking at the world, and damned if it doesn't work half the time.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Yuletide Freeze
Okay. Christmas is over. Here is what I did last night, just before I went to bed, to make it official: I took the Tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies out of the fridge, poured water over it, and let it sit overnight. I am DONE. Done with overindulging, with mindless eating, with the faint headache that comes with sugar coursing through my veins. I'm due to have bloodwork drawn on Friday. Will my daily five-mile walks be reflected in those numbers at all?? I shudder to think what my cholesterol will read. I really don't know how this works -- whether the results are cumulative or can spike alarmingly -- but I do remember way back in my 30s, I had bloodwork drawn, the cholesterol was a little high (it never had been before), and I suddenly remembered my trip to KFC the night before. Well, I'll deal with it. All I can do is just get back on track, starting today.
I had intended to let Christmas day be my day off for this last week, but after dinner, I felt a little stir-crazy, and Banks seemed restless. Not only that, I have to be in Houston for a memorial service on Friday and Saturday, and doing the math, it's hard to figure out where the walk will fit in. The much-anticipated cold front arrived late in the afternoon, and the temperature dropped steadily. I put on my warmest hoodie, but couldn't find my my gloves, so I put on a pair of thick black athletic socks which did a great job.
Somewhere back in the winter days of this blog, I think I said something about how, no matter how cold it was starting out, I always end up taking off my gloves. Not this walk -- oh, it was freezing! Overnight the temps dropped to the high 20s, and I'm not sure how low the mercury was when Banks and I went to St. Ed's around 7:00 last night, but it was as cold as any walk I remember. I knew St. Ed's would be deserted, and it was. I did not see one human walking around the entire hour and a half, and only two cars, one of them a St. Ed's police cruiser. Once we covered sufficient ground, we ended up back at the soccer field, and of course I let Banks go off leash, even during our treks up the steep hill; he happily romped around the street and the yards overlooking the track, occasionally stealing a glance up at me like "Am I really allowed to do this?"
The best part of the whole night was that we -- and apparently we alone -- were the audience at a beautiful bell concert of Christmas carols. It came from one of the buildings, but I couldn't tell which one. How do they do that? It was definintely clanging bells, not a recording. And it was beautiful and magical in the midst of the cold and the dark. A perfect way to end Christmas.
I had intended to let Christmas day be my day off for this last week, but after dinner, I felt a little stir-crazy, and Banks seemed restless. Not only that, I have to be in Houston for a memorial service on Friday and Saturday, and doing the math, it's hard to figure out where the walk will fit in. The much-anticipated cold front arrived late in the afternoon, and the temperature dropped steadily. I put on my warmest hoodie, but couldn't find my my gloves, so I put on a pair of thick black athletic socks which did a great job.
Somewhere back in the winter days of this blog, I think I said something about how, no matter how cold it was starting out, I always end up taking off my gloves. Not this walk -- oh, it was freezing! Overnight the temps dropped to the high 20s, and I'm not sure how low the mercury was when Banks and I went to St. Ed's around 7:00 last night, but it was as cold as any walk I remember. I knew St. Ed's would be deserted, and it was. I did not see one human walking around the entire hour and a half, and only two cars, one of them a St. Ed's police cruiser. Once we covered sufficient ground, we ended up back at the soccer field, and of course I let Banks go off leash, even during our treks up the steep hill; he happily romped around the street and the yards overlooking the track, occasionally stealing a glance up at me like "Am I really allowed to do this?"
The best part of the whole night was that we -- and apparently we alone -- were the audience at a beautiful bell concert of Christmas carols. It came from one of the buildings, but I couldn't tell which one. How do they do that? It was definintely clanging bells, not a recording. And it was beautiful and magical in the midst of the cold and the dark. A perfect way to end Christmas.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Christmas Eve
Did I mention that my niece Allison and her new husband Jason were in town yesterday, on their way to spend Christmas in Houston? When we were all together in New Orleans last month, they were among my most devoted and supportive family members in regards to committing to the five mile walk every day we were there. So I wasn't surprised when Allison insisted that we do the same yesterday.
Our plan was to walk to church, which is 2.7 miles from Lynn's house, and back, for Christmas Eve-eve services. It was a good plan, but we underestimated our ability to get back to the house by 4:00, after a 1:50 showing of "The Life of Pi" at the Westgate. En route, we frantically abandoned the plan in favor of driving to the Wells Fargo parking lot at the intersection of Barton Springs (or is it Riverside?) and South Congress, and then took off. We started off on foot at 4:30 and got there, a little late, at 5:05, and that was going FAST. We walked back, checked to make sure the cars hadn't been towed, and continued walking up the hill to Perla's for a seafood dinner, an extra ten minutes up and back -- a perfect five miles.
Today was a retro piecemeal walk. I walked to Lynn's house and back (two miles) with my laptop, hoping Jason and Allison could help me figure out a softward problem (they couldn't), dropped Banks off at the house, and continued on for two miles around the neighborhood. Today is so beautiful it's a crime to be indoors, especially since the temperatures tomorrow drop to close to freezing, and are going to stay frigid for the rest of 2012.
Have you seen "Pi"? I went into it with no expectations whatsoever, and little interest, and was just blown away. It's been one of my favorite movies all year. Beautifully written and acted, the type of film you find yourself thinking about all that day and well into the next. I don't usually see movies twice, but there was a lot of symbolism that wasn't sprung on you til the very end, and I feel like I need to go back and take it all in again.
After lots of fun and activity over the past weeks, the boys and I are going to have a quiet, low-key Christmas eve and dinner tonight. Merry Christmas to all of you.
Our plan was to walk to church, which is 2.7 miles from Lynn's house, and back, for Christmas Eve-eve services. It was a good plan, but we underestimated our ability to get back to the house by 4:00, after a 1:50 showing of "The Life of Pi" at the Westgate. En route, we frantically abandoned the plan in favor of driving to the Wells Fargo parking lot at the intersection of Barton Springs (or is it Riverside?) and South Congress, and then took off. We started off on foot at 4:30 and got there, a little late, at 5:05, and that was going FAST. We walked back, checked to make sure the cars hadn't been towed, and continued walking up the hill to Perla's for a seafood dinner, an extra ten minutes up and back -- a perfect five miles.
Today was a retro piecemeal walk. I walked to Lynn's house and back (two miles) with my laptop, hoping Jason and Allison could help me figure out a softward problem (they couldn't), dropped Banks off at the house, and continued on for two miles around the neighborhood. Today is so beautiful it's a crime to be indoors, especially since the temperatures tomorrow drop to close to freezing, and are going to stay frigid for the rest of 2012.
Have you seen "Pi"? I went into it with no expectations whatsoever, and little interest, and was just blown away. It's been one of my favorite movies all year. Beautifully written and acted, the type of film you find yourself thinking about all that day and well into the next. I don't usually see movies twice, but there was a lot of symbolism that wasn't sprung on you til the very end, and I feel like I need to go back and take it all in again.
After lots of fun and activity over the past weeks, the boys and I are going to have a quiet, low-key Christmas eve and dinner tonight. Merry Christmas to all of you.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Still Ailing
Whatever has been dogging me for the past few days -- whether it's cedar fever or just a cold -- it's still with me, though it's waning. I ended up skipping Steve's party Friday night, and fun stuff with my niece and nephew-in-law, in town from Atlanta, tonight. I have every intention of keeping up with my social obligations, but then it gets to be around 4:00, and I need to sleep. So that's what I did Friday, and then again tonight.
But of course it didn't stop my walks, which may be why I'm not getting better as quickly as I should. Friday, I got up about 8:00 after several hours sleep, and Banks and I went to St. Ed's, where we made the wonderful discovery that we had not just the soccer field, but apparently the whole campus, to ourselves. We walked the campus grounds just to eat up some miles, then I took him off leash and let him run around the soccer field. I was feeling pretty rested after that long nap, and I think I overdid it. Every trip around the field, I went up the very steep hill and back down -- that was seven or eight climbs -- and I felt it today. I've just been kind of low-energy all day, and once again, required an afternoon nap. Tonight's walk, which we finished about a half hour ago, was perfunctory, obligatory. I only took the steep hill in front of the main building three times, slowly, and took five minutes here and there to stretch out my legs. I even took a ten-minute break to stop at the exercise equipment near the 50-yard mark, mosly as an excuse to sit down for a while. I doubt we made it to five tonight. I just didn't have it in me.
But since I took it easy tonight, and I'm going to sleep a long time tonight, tomorrow it's going to be over. I'm willing it to be over, the physical and the spiritual malaise. I'm going to turn off the TV, enjoy my family, and relish the special warmth and goodwill that permeates at Christmas. It only happens once a year, it's magical, and I'm not going to waste any more of it.
But of course it didn't stop my walks, which may be why I'm not getting better as quickly as I should. Friday, I got up about 8:00 after several hours sleep, and Banks and I went to St. Ed's, where we made the wonderful discovery that we had not just the soccer field, but apparently the whole campus, to ourselves. We walked the campus grounds just to eat up some miles, then I took him off leash and let him run around the soccer field. I was feeling pretty rested after that long nap, and I think I overdid it. Every trip around the field, I went up the very steep hill and back down -- that was seven or eight climbs -- and I felt it today. I've just been kind of low-energy all day, and once again, required an afternoon nap. Tonight's walk, which we finished about a half hour ago, was perfunctory, obligatory. I only took the steep hill in front of the main building three times, slowly, and took five minutes here and there to stretch out my legs. I even took a ten-minute break to stop at the exercise equipment near the 50-yard mark, mosly as an excuse to sit down for a while. I doubt we made it to five tonight. I just didn't have it in me.
But since I took it easy tonight, and I'm going to sleep a long time tonight, tomorrow it's going to be over. I'm willing it to be over, the physical and the spiritual malaise. I'm going to turn off the TV, enjoy my family, and relish the special warmth and goodwill that permeates at Christmas. It only happens once a year, it's magical, and I'm not going to waste any more of it.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Cedar Sick
I thought I had the most brilliant idea yesterday -- to take my walk over the lunch hour, when it would still be cold, but not bitter cold like first thing in the morning. I walked to the lake, did the whole four-mile loop around it, and walked back to the office, and it was a good thing I came in at 7:00 that day, because I was gone for close to two hours. There were times when it was pretty sedate, and times when I almost got blown off the trail and into the water.
All in all, it was a pleasant but ordinary walk. Then about 3:00, I started asking people around me if they were cold. Everyone said no. About 15 minutes later, I was shaking and couldn't stop. I put my jacket on, and it didn't help at all; I still felt the chill in my bones. By 4:00, I was emailing my book club and telling them I was coming down with something, and there was no way I could join them tonight and infect them with whatever was fermenting inside of me. All I could think of was getting home, getting under the covers and sleeping it off.
On the way out, Michelle told me it sounded like cedar fever. Really? My reaction to cedar has usually just been headaches, and besides, cedar wouldn't create the fever that was already starting, would it? She said these sound exactly like cedar reactions. She reminded me that I'd walked around the lake, with all of those trees, and that's probably what accounted for the shape I was in. Add to that the high winds which were blowing the stuff around like crazy.
I think she was right. I slept it off -- well, most of it, my throat is still a little scratchy today, and sleeping from 4:45 to 1:15, then from 3:00-6:00, has thrown my schedule off a bit. Tonight is Steve's (Chicago Steve) annual Christmas party, and I want to go. I'm going to take my walk after work, with a diaphnous scarf around my neck to block out most of the pollens, and take my chances.
Three hundred and six walks down, seven to go.
All in all, it was a pleasant but ordinary walk. Then about 3:00, I started asking people around me if they were cold. Everyone said no. About 15 minutes later, I was shaking and couldn't stop. I put my jacket on, and it didn't help at all; I still felt the chill in my bones. By 4:00, I was emailing my book club and telling them I was coming down with something, and there was no way I could join them tonight and infect them with whatever was fermenting inside of me. All I could think of was getting home, getting under the covers and sleeping it off.
On the way out, Michelle told me it sounded like cedar fever. Really? My reaction to cedar has usually just been headaches, and besides, cedar wouldn't create the fever that was already starting, would it? She said these sound exactly like cedar reactions. She reminded me that I'd walked around the lake, with all of those trees, and that's probably what accounted for the shape I was in. Add to that the high winds which were blowing the stuff around like crazy.
I think she was right. I slept it off -- well, most of it, my throat is still a little scratchy today, and sleeping from 4:45 to 1:15, then from 3:00-6:00, has thrown my schedule off a bit. Tonight is Steve's (Chicago Steve) annual Christmas party, and I want to go. I'm going to take my walk after work, with a diaphnous scarf around my neck to block out most of the pollens, and take my chances.
Three hundred and six walks down, seven to go.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Six
I finally got up the courage to step on the scale at work yesterday, and I've gained six pounds between Thanksgiving and today. Aaagghhh! I'm disgusted with myself, but I can't say I'm surprised. What is the statistic? I think I've heard that the average person gains seven pounds over the holidays, or maybe it's 11. But I think it's the kind of weight that comes off easily. It comes from uncharacteristically eating more (especially sweets), my body kind of goes into shock and overreacts, but then it self-corrects after a few days of proper eating. At least that's how it seems to go with me.
Yesterday I did not have once piece of sugar, and I didn't eat one thing between meals. In other words, the way I usually eat. It is amazing how much better I feel today, not just my body but my mood. Garbage in, garbage out.
There is apparently a ton of cedar, or something like it, in the air. I don't know if I'd call myself allergic, but my reaction to that stuff is not watery eyes or stuffed-up sinuses, it's bone-weary exhaustion. I came home from work yesterday and wanted to just fall into bed, but there is no way, this close to the finish line, I'm going to blow it. So I took Banks on exactly the same walk I'd gone on the night before, because it ended up being exactly an hour and a half, but of course with Banks it was slightly longer than that. And hot. Once again, I kept on my work clothes, which yesterday included a long skirt, tights and boots. I walked in those! I don't know why, but just like the night before, I guess I wanted some variety, and I wanted to sweat. The cold front (it's blustery and loud outside right now) came in overnight, and I am praying that we'll have this kind of weather through the end of the year.
Don't you hate when you have a dream when you can't breathe? I dreamed last night I was visiting someone at a school, and I couldn't get my breath, and I went to find the school nurse, who told me it was allergies. I had to wake up to get a full breath!
Today is yet another full-on potluck (office-wide, not just our smaller group) and white elephant. I swear I am not going to take one bit of anything, because, like an alcoholic, my problem is stopping once I've started. Never got the hang of that "just take a bit or two" of something high-calorie and delicious. And I think you know my policy on the white elephant thing.
Yesterday I did not have once piece of sugar, and I didn't eat one thing between meals. In other words, the way I usually eat. It is amazing how much better I feel today, not just my body but my mood. Garbage in, garbage out.
There is apparently a ton of cedar, or something like it, in the air. I don't know if I'd call myself allergic, but my reaction to that stuff is not watery eyes or stuffed-up sinuses, it's bone-weary exhaustion. I came home from work yesterday and wanted to just fall into bed, but there is no way, this close to the finish line, I'm going to blow it. So I took Banks on exactly the same walk I'd gone on the night before, because it ended up being exactly an hour and a half, but of course with Banks it was slightly longer than that. And hot. Once again, I kept on my work clothes, which yesterday included a long skirt, tights and boots. I walked in those! I don't know why, but just like the night before, I guess I wanted some variety, and I wanted to sweat. The cold front (it's blustery and loud outside right now) came in overnight, and I am praying that we'll have this kind of weather through the end of the year.
Don't you hate when you have a dream when you can't breathe? I dreamed last night I was visiting someone at a school, and I couldn't get my breath, and I went to find the school nurse, who told me it was allergies. I had to wake up to get a full breath!
Today is yet another full-on potluck (office-wide, not just our smaller group) and white elephant. I swear I am not going to take one bit of anything, because, like an alcoholic, my problem is stopping once I've started. Never got the hang of that "just take a bit or two" of something high-calorie and delicious. And I think you know my policy on the white elephant thing.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
The White Elephant Thing
After taking the day off yesterday, I was ready to jump back into it today. Warm ONCE AGAIN, I left Banks at home because I've been eating crappily the last few days, and really needed a good hill workout. I got it. But it's not enough. Seriously, would people PLEASE stop bringing stuff into the office to eat? I want so badly to finish this thing strong! I wanted to try to lose eight pounds this month, and honestly, I've been afraid to get on the scale the last two weeks. Hope springs eternal. I have two weeks left.
Friday was our office's informal Christmas lunch (Home Slice Pizza and salad) and white elephant gift exchange. Do you hate that tradition as much as I do? I mean the white elephant thing, not the lunch. Maybe I'm a little on the sensitive side, but I have always found the routine of scheming for gifts, stealing away ones you like, discarding the ones you don't, and getting hyper-competitive in the process, to be off-putting and SO not in the Christmas spirit. I know others don't see it that way. Where I see grabbiness and greed, they see hilarity and high spirits. Whatever. So I told our admin, who arranged the whole thing, that I was going to opt out of the gift exchange. No big deal, right?
But it turned into a very big deal, where I was apparently the only one not participating, and that was going to throw off the numbers, so someone was sent to fetch me, and I politely declined, which provoked great consternation back in the conference room......aaggghhh!!! And I somehow ended up looking like a condescending prig, when all I was trying to do was avoid a situation that I know from experience is uncomfortable. I probably didn't help matters any by trying to convince everyone that maybe next year we could consider the type of gift exchange my GNO group does, or better yet, adopt a family or a foster child. Sure, they nodded, but I sensed some internal eye-rolling. Party pooper.
So in hindsight, it wasn't a big deal, it's over and forgotten. But it won't happen next year because I'll be totally clear about it and unflustered and unapologetic about my stand on white elephant. Which is that it's kind of sucky.
Friday was our office's informal Christmas lunch (Home Slice Pizza and salad) and white elephant gift exchange. Do you hate that tradition as much as I do? I mean the white elephant thing, not the lunch. Maybe I'm a little on the sensitive side, but I have always found the routine of scheming for gifts, stealing away ones you like, discarding the ones you don't, and getting hyper-competitive in the process, to be off-putting and SO not in the Christmas spirit. I know others don't see it that way. Where I see grabbiness and greed, they see hilarity and high spirits. Whatever. So I told our admin, who arranged the whole thing, that I was going to opt out of the gift exchange. No big deal, right?
But it turned into a very big deal, where I was apparently the only one not participating, and that was going to throw off the numbers, so someone was sent to fetch me, and I politely declined, which provoked great consternation back in the conference room......aaggghhh!!! And I somehow ended up looking like a condescending prig, when all I was trying to do was avoid a situation that I know from experience is uncomfortable. I probably didn't help matters any by trying to convince everyone that maybe next year we could consider the type of gift exchange my GNO group does, or better yet, adopt a family or a foster child. Sure, they nodded, but I sensed some internal eye-rolling. Party pooper.
So in hindsight, it wasn't a big deal, it's over and forgotten. But it won't happen next year because I'll be totally clear about it and unflustered and unapologetic about my stand on white elephant. Which is that it's kind of sucky.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Worlds Collide
Today was such a busy day -- nursery duty (the college kids are all gone), church, my bro-in-law in town (right now he and Sam out are having a drink, and when that's over, the three "grown-ups" are having dinner together somewhere) -- that I had to just fit my walk in where I could, in street clothes. I gave Banks a treat and we cut several times through the woods, then back to St. Ed's, where I noticed two things: 1) the track around the soccer field was devoid of ANY people or canines, and 2) it was a mess. There had been a soccer game there yesterday, and the fans left coffee cups, water bottles, McDonald's wrappings and lots of other disgusting things lying in the stands and around the field.
So in honor of #1, I did something I've never done -- I let Banks off-leash. There was just enough nip in the air that that, combined with this unexpected freedom, sent him into a frenzy of galloping and snorthing around the field. It was a beautiful thing to see. And since I've spent so much time at that place that I've started to feel a sense of ownership, I decided to combine my walk with a community service project, and single-handedly cleaned the field. Yes, the whole thing. Banks and I walked around and around the field, and each time I gathered as much as I could in each hand. It took about four trips around the perimeter, as well as several vertical detours into the stands, but the place looked really good when we left.
Last night was Sam's graduation celebration at Fogo de Chao, and it included him, Lynn, Jackson and me. This is a relatively new thing. For the past several years, our boys' birthdays and other events have been celebrated jointly with their father and stepmother and me. We all get along great, and I loved all of us being together for these special occasions. Then earlier this year, I had an interesting conversation with a friend, also divorced, who had suggested to her teenage girls that their father come over for dinner one night. Horrified, they let her know in no uncertain terms that "There is no WE anymore!" That his house represented one family, and her house represented another family, and never the twain should meet.
I mentioned this to my boys, and said something like, Wasn't it great that their dad and I had such a good relationship that we could still do things as a family? I was not prepared for their answer. They let me know that, as much as WE may have enjoyed those dinners (me in particular, since their dad always picked fancy places and picked up the bill), it was awkward and uncomfortable for them. WHAT??? I thought we were all having so much fun!! Wasn't this the way it was supposed to be? Isn't that what all the experts, Oprah, the "Modern Family" writers told us we should strive for?
It was an eye-opener, that conversation. We thought we were doing the right thing, but their reaction tells me that the pain of divorce is deep, deeper than we might want to admit to ourselves. Maybe for some kids, it will never get to the point where they're blase about it. Maybe the best you can do is maintain a cordial friendship, respect those boundaries, and not make a display in front of your kids that their parents' marriage did not last, and that they've moved on.
Maybe it's not that way for everyone, but I've done a little more informal, anecdotal research on the subject, and apparently my boys, and Cathy's girls, are not alone in their sentiments. Lesson learned, humbly processed.
So in honor of #1, I did something I've never done -- I let Banks off-leash. There was just enough nip in the air that that, combined with this unexpected freedom, sent him into a frenzy of galloping and snorthing around the field. It was a beautiful thing to see. And since I've spent so much time at that place that I've started to feel a sense of ownership, I decided to combine my walk with a community service project, and single-handedly cleaned the field. Yes, the whole thing. Banks and I walked around and around the field, and each time I gathered as much as I could in each hand. It took about four trips around the perimeter, as well as several vertical detours into the stands, but the place looked really good when we left.
Last night was Sam's graduation celebration at Fogo de Chao, and it included him, Lynn, Jackson and me. This is a relatively new thing. For the past several years, our boys' birthdays and other events have been celebrated jointly with their father and stepmother and me. We all get along great, and I loved all of us being together for these special occasions. Then earlier this year, I had an interesting conversation with a friend, also divorced, who had suggested to her teenage girls that their father come over for dinner one night. Horrified, they let her know in no uncertain terms that "There is no WE anymore!" That his house represented one family, and her house represented another family, and never the twain should meet.
I mentioned this to my boys, and said something like, Wasn't it great that their dad and I had such a good relationship that we could still do things as a family? I was not prepared for their answer. They let me know that, as much as WE may have enjoyed those dinners (me in particular, since their dad always picked fancy places and picked up the bill), it was awkward and uncomfortable for them. WHAT??? I thought we were all having so much fun!! Wasn't this the way it was supposed to be? Isn't that what all the experts, Oprah, the "Modern Family" writers told us we should strive for?
It was an eye-opener, that conversation. We thought we were doing the right thing, but their reaction tells me that the pain of divorce is deep, deeper than we might want to admit to ourselves. Maybe for some kids, it will never get to the point where they're blase about it. Maybe the best you can do is maintain a cordial friendship, respect those boundaries, and not make a display in front of your kids that their parents' marriage did not last, and that they've moved on.
Maybe it's not that way for everyone, but I've done a little more informal, anecdotal research on the subject, and apparently my boys, and Cathy's girls, are not alone in their sentiments. Lesson learned, humbly processed.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
The Very Last (I think) 10-Mile Walk
It's been a while.
After work I had two home visits last night. Traffic was horrendous, and I was dead tired when I got home, close to 8:30. Did I not remember how I almost never plan anything for Friday for this very reason? That the cumulative effect of 40+ hours of work, socializing, meetings and lunches make this introvert very much ready for a solitary Friday? Driving home, already tired, I knew I could not face a five-mile walk, not only because of the above reasons, but because I knew I'd be glued to CNN's coverage of the school shooting in Connecticut. Do not get me started.
So I did what I've done, I think, four or five times, and skipped the walk in favor of 10 miles the next day. Which was today. I had a self-indulgent morning, then a Christmas luncheon, got home around 1:15 and was out the door by 2:00. It was unseasonably warm, even muggy today, and Banks was not into it, so I brought him home at 3:15. That left an hour and 45 minutes. I crossed over St. Ed's campus, wove through the neighborhoods on the other side of it, came back, make ever-tightening concentric circles around St. Ed's, and confidently approached a guy wearing a watch and asked for the time. "Ten after four," he responded. That couldn't be right, I thought. Five minutes later I asked a guy staring at his phone. "Four-fifteen," he said briskly. Okay. My knees were aching and I was starving, but I soldiered on. The time crept by, because I was sure I'd been gone longer, but got home at 4:40. No problem I'm going to Fogo's tonight (Sam's college graduation and late birthday celebration), I always park a few blocks away, and I'll neet to take Banks for a fast potty walk afterwards, to I'll make it up.
I dreamed last night that I took Banks to Lady Bird Lake, and someone stopped us and said it'd be $4.95 for access to the trail.
After work I had two home visits last night. Traffic was horrendous, and I was dead tired when I got home, close to 8:30. Did I not remember how I almost never plan anything for Friday for this very reason? That the cumulative effect of 40+ hours of work, socializing, meetings and lunches make this introvert very much ready for a solitary Friday? Driving home, already tired, I knew I could not face a five-mile walk, not only because of the above reasons, but because I knew I'd be glued to CNN's coverage of the school shooting in Connecticut. Do not get me started.
So I did what I've done, I think, four or five times, and skipped the walk in favor of 10 miles the next day. Which was today. I had a self-indulgent morning, then a Christmas luncheon, got home around 1:15 and was out the door by 2:00. It was unseasonably warm, even muggy today, and Banks was not into it, so I brought him home at 3:15. That left an hour and 45 minutes. I crossed over St. Ed's campus, wove through the neighborhoods on the other side of it, came back, make ever-tightening concentric circles around St. Ed's, and confidently approached a guy wearing a watch and asked for the time. "Ten after four," he responded. That couldn't be right, I thought. Five minutes later I asked a guy staring at his phone. "Four-fifteen," he said briskly. Okay. My knees were aching and I was starving, but I soldiered on. The time crept by, because I was sure I'd been gone longer, but got home at 4:40. No problem I'm going to Fogo's tonight (Sam's college graduation and late birthday celebration), I always park a few blocks away, and I'll neet to take Banks for a fast potty walk afterwards, to I'll make it up.
I dreamed last night that I took Banks to Lady Bird Lake, and someone stopped us and said it'd be $4.95 for access to the trail.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Detour
Well, tonight was an interesting choice in walks. Maybe it had something to do with the glass of wine I had with my burrito tonight. After a very early dinner, I chose to get the walk done fast, so Banks and I left the house at 6:05, with no real plan. But I felt myself drawn toward the lights and smells and activity of South Congress, and went with it. I assumed we'd do the usual -- get to the bottom of the hill and start the long climb back home -- but as we got closer to the Congress Avenue bridge, it occurred to me that we hadn't been on the Town Lake trail in a very long time. It was dark, but still relatively early. So we crossed the bridge, took a left until we got to the 1st St. bridge, and there was our beloved trail, just down the hill. It was about 7:00 pm at that time, and there were still plenty of joggers out. Since we'd already taken 2/3 of the walk, I didn't feel the need to stay on the trail a terribly long time, just felt the need to touch base after so many weeks. On the way back, just for variety, we kept to the residential streets east off Congess, and got home at 7:45, an extra half-mile or so.
I've made numerous references to my recurrent insomnia here, so let me report some good news for a change. For the past 4-5 nights, I've kept a radio at my bedside with classical music on, VERY softly, all night long. I've woken up a couple of times, as I always do, but go right back to sleep. Honestly, I feel like the music -- which I think they deliberately keep low-key during the overnight hours -- seeps into my subconscious and lulls my brain into sleep. Might want to give it a try.
I've made numerous references to my recurrent insomnia here, so let me report some good news for a change. For the past 4-5 nights, I've kept a radio at my bedside with classical music on, VERY softly, all night long. I've woken up a couple of times, as I always do, but go right back to sleep. Honestly, I feel like the music -- which I think they deliberately keep low-key during the overnight hours -- seeps into my subconscious and lulls my brain into sleep. Might want to give it a try.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Up with People
On the way home last night, climbing southward on Congress, traffic was particularly slow, so I had plenty of time to study the, shall we say, aggressive bumper stickers on the car in front of me. The most in-your-face was "Practice safe sex. Go f--k yourself." Is that even legal? Isn't there something on the books about public obscenity? Imagine having an eight-year-old in the front seat with you, reading that. And how about this one: "Nice truck. Sorry your penis is so small." Okay, that one was funny. I tried to maneuver my car to a parallel lane to catch a glimpse of the misanthrope inside, with no luck, but I am going to assume it was a male. A male who has suffered a great deal of disappoinment in his life. A male who keeps the world at bay with a force field of hostility and antagonism. A male who -- okay, I'm getting carried away here, but dude, WHAT is your problem?
I thought the cold weather was going to be a catalyst for my night walks -- and it is invigorating, once I actually get started -- but I'm finding that all I want to do when I get home is get into my jammies and settle in for the night. Remember when I went through that phase, several months ago, when I would come home, take a nap, and THEN do my walk? There is no way I could pull myself out of that warm bed at 8:30 or 9:00 pm, like I did over the summer, so that is not even an option. Tonight Banks and I mixed Congress Avenue with the Stacy Park Hills, no music, no clock, and came home EXACTLY 1 1/2 hours later. And here I sit watching "Top Chef," once again pondering the mystery of how such a terrible cook can find so much pleasure in WATCHING what is so stressful to actually DO.
I thought the cold weather was going to be a catalyst for my night walks -- and it is invigorating, once I actually get started -- but I'm finding that all I want to do when I get home is get into my jammies and settle in for the night. Remember when I went through that phase, several months ago, when I would come home, take a nap, and THEN do my walk? There is no way I could pull myself out of that warm bed at 8:30 or 9:00 pm, like I did over the summer, so that is not even an option. Tonight Banks and I mixed Congress Avenue with the Stacy Park Hills, no music, no clock, and came home EXACTLY 1 1/2 hours later. And here I sit watching "Top Chef," once again pondering the mystery of how such a terrible cook can find so much pleasure in WATCHING what is so stressful to actually DO.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Blue Santa
It was still warm when I wrote on Saturday. On Sunday, the day the front was supposed to move in, I kept waiting and waiting til it got cold (it was supposed to happen sometime late afternoon), and finally around 8:00PM gave up and started out. It was JUST starting to get a little windy out there, and my neighbor John cautioned me that he's seen a few bolts of lightening. I like to live dangerously, and I cheerfully waved him off. But I did take the precaution of tying a sweatshirt around my waste, just in case, and boy did it come in handy! The front was in full force about 45 minutes in, and it was glorious. The wind really picked up as Banks and I went north on Congress, down the loooong hill, past all the outdoor restaurants and clubs (Banks tried to crash the Continental Club, and the bouncer said "Sorry, Petie, it's a $15 cover charge"). The trip back uphill was exhilarating. Those of you in the north or the east just cannot understand how wonderful it is to finally get Christmas weather after eight months of 80 degrees.
So Monday was my day off, and then this morning -- whoa! A scarf-wearing, face-chapping, nose-running gallop around Stacy Park. Banks absolutely goes crazy in weather like this. It brings out the puppy in him, and is such a far cry from the indifferent, lethargic summer companion who really starts to show his age around mid-June.
I've been holding off posting today because I was holding out for a picture that Cindy snapped of our GNO group last night at Chuy's, which she hasn't been able to forward to me yet because she's having problems with her new phone (tell me about it -- mine is so antiquated I can't even figure out how to retrieve my voice messages), so I'll get it to you later. But about four years ago, we started the best Christmas tradition. We decided that, as all of us are adults with decent jobs, and do not really need another bracelet, or gift card, or book for Christmas, we would draw names, and each buy what we thought that particular woman's childhood self would have wanted for Christmas. We wrap our presents, take them to Chuey's, present them to each other, and then place them in the Blue Santa gift bin. It is SO much more fun that the usual, sedate gift exchange. Whoever gets Brian's name always goes for the tomboy toys (like a tool set or a fire engine), Janette's gifts reflect her show biz/drama queen future, Cindy's are the traditional girly things like dolls and child-sized kitchens, and I'm not sure anyone knows exactly what to do with me. But it's a blast and it gets more elaborate every year. Janette is going to do a short write-up and hope to get it published in Guideposts magazine next year.
Try it!
So Monday was my day off, and then this morning -- whoa! A scarf-wearing, face-chapping, nose-running gallop around Stacy Park. Banks absolutely goes crazy in weather like this. It brings out the puppy in him, and is such a far cry from the indifferent, lethargic summer companion who really starts to show his age around mid-June.
I've been holding off posting today because I was holding out for a picture that Cindy snapped of our GNO group last night at Chuy's, which she hasn't been able to forward to me yet because she's having problems with her new phone (tell me about it -- mine is so antiquated I can't even figure out how to retrieve my voice messages), so I'll get it to you later. But about four years ago, we started the best Christmas tradition. We decided that, as all of us are adults with decent jobs, and do not really need another bracelet, or gift card, or book for Christmas, we would draw names, and each buy what we thought that particular woman's childhood self would have wanted for Christmas. We wrap our presents, take them to Chuey's, present them to each other, and then place them in the Blue Santa gift bin. It is SO much more fun that the usual, sedate gift exchange. Whoever gets Brian's name always goes for the tomboy toys (like a tool set or a fire engine), Janette's gifts reflect her show biz/drama queen future, Cindy's are the traditional girly things like dolls and child-sized kitchens, and I'm not sure anyone knows exactly what to do with me. But it's a blast and it gets more elaborate every year. Janette is going to do a short write-up and hope to get it published in Guideposts magazine next year.
Try it!
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Real grief. Genuine loss.
Sometimes you write something, and end up feeling like an idiot. Today is one of those days. I look back at my whiny obsessive posts about my lost iphone, where I actually use the word "grief."
A good friend's son was killed while surfing off the coast of Australia yesterday. One minute you're obsessing over whether you've bought enough for Christmas, or whether to get a new car or pour more money into the old one, and the next you're staring mutely at your computer screen, reading words like "talking with the U.S. consulate" and "trying to figure out burial arrangements." This will knock you off your self-pity pedestal and bring your world into crystal-clear focus, I assure you.
Yesterday I had a quick turnaround trip to Houston. I got the news upon my return. The last thing I wanted to do was go for a walk, but a few hours later, that's all I wanted to do. There was no way I was going to get any sleep if I didn't. I was tired of crying in my house, and felt like crying outside, in the dark. It was still warm, and I wore shorts, and I didn't even have the energy to put on socks under my walking shoes. But as Banks and I circled the neighborhood, I found myself picking up speed. When we returned, it had been an hour and 15 minutes, but I was confident it'd been five. I had walked as fast as I ever had, faster than I usually do even without Banks, and when I walk at that pace, it's a 15 minute mile.
Today a cold front is scheduled to come in sometime in the afternoon -- temperatures are supposed to drop 40 degrees within just a few hours. Welcome to our world. I am holding out for that weather, for a hoodie-and-scarf walk later this evening.
Love you Vicky. Godspeed, Ian.
A good friend's son was killed while surfing off the coast of Australia yesterday. One minute you're obsessing over whether you've bought enough for Christmas, or whether to get a new car or pour more money into the old one, and the next you're staring mutely at your computer screen, reading words like "talking with the U.S. consulate" and "trying to figure out burial arrangements." This will knock you off your self-pity pedestal and bring your world into crystal-clear focus, I assure you.
Yesterday I had a quick turnaround trip to Houston. I got the news upon my return. The last thing I wanted to do was go for a walk, but a few hours later, that's all I wanted to do. There was no way I was going to get any sleep if I didn't. I was tired of crying in my house, and felt like crying outside, in the dark. It was still warm, and I wore shorts, and I didn't even have the energy to put on socks under my walking shoes. But as Banks and I circled the neighborhood, I found myself picking up speed. When we returned, it had been an hour and 15 minutes, but I was confident it'd been five. I had walked as fast as I ever had, faster than I usually do even without Banks, and when I walk at that pace, it's a 15 minute mile.
Today a cold front is scheduled to come in sometime in the afternoon -- temperatures are supposed to drop 40 degrees within just a few hours. Welcome to our world. I am holding out for that weather, for a hoodie-and-scarf walk later this evening.
Love you Vicky. Godspeed, Ian.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Disconnect
The weeks-long absence of my car left me feeling disconnected from my blog in a way that I hated. My walks had become frantic darts between poimts of transfer -- in street shoes -- with no time to ruminate or spend much time with Banks. And now, of course, I've lost my phone, and all the tunes I had on it. But I really wanted last night to count, so I dug out my old radio headset and took that along. I'd forgotten how pleasant it was to be accompanied by blaring classical music. I took Banks with me, but Jackson had taken him for a long walk earlier, and he started his let's-roll-in-the-grass routine early on. I took him home after 25 minutes, and headed grimly for the Stacy Park hills. Up and down, up and down, until my knees ached (worse than usual) but I didn't care. It is still warm enough in Austin, Texas, to work up a sweat during a night walk, in shorts, on December 7.
No more word from my phone kidnappers. I went to the AT&T store and bought a cheap Go Phone to see me through the next week or so while I decide whether to buy a 5. Replacing my beloved phone after two days would feel like buying a new dog after the last one's barely cold. I need time to think. Mostly I need time to think about how to avoid losing the next one.
No more word from my phone kidnappers. I went to the AT&T store and bought a cheap Go Phone to see me through the next week or so while I decide whether to buy a 5. Replacing my beloved phone after two days would feel like buying a new dog after the last one's barely cold. I need time to think. Mostly I need time to think about how to avoid losing the next one.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Grief and Loss
I lost my iphone today. Or more specifically, I lost it last night, somewhere between the Starbucks on Exposition, and the HEB on Oltorf. I've called both places, turned my car and my house upside down, had people call my phone while I did both things -- it's gone. All day I've had this sick feeling, which I just recently realized was grief. I've had that thing --
That dash was exactly how far I got when Aimee called on Jackson's phone. She had texted my phone saying "Please call this number if you find this phone," and I asked her to call me via Jackson's phone if anyone contacted her. Someone just did -- from a blocked number -- and asked her how much money she would be wiling to pay to get her phone back. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT??? They said they found it at HEB. Thinking quick, she said $50, which is exactly what I would have said. But how in the world would such a thing be arranged? My guess is they'll figure that out and I'll never hear from them again.
It is ridiculous, the kind of pain I'm feeling at the thought of my beloved iphone in the hands of such a lowlife.
It was so hard walking tonight without it. No way to monitor the time, no tunes, no podcasts. Banks and I walked all the way to 35, then back through St. Ed's, thinking at least I could use the tower clock to gauge my time, but I never heard it go off. As we walked, I composed some thoughts in my head, trying to be philosophical about my loss. Maybe I could blog about how freeing it felt to be unwired for a change! Or how "in the moment" you have to be when there's no way to reach out to anyone else. But I couldn't do it. Well, I could have, but it would have been just so much b.s. I love my phone. I miss my phone.
It's going to be hard to sleep tonight.
That dash was exactly how far I got when Aimee called on Jackson's phone. She had texted my phone saying "Please call this number if you find this phone," and I asked her to call me via Jackson's phone if anyone contacted her. Someone just did -- from a blocked number -- and asked her how much money she would be wiling to pay to get her phone back. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT??? They said they found it at HEB. Thinking quick, she said $50, which is exactly what I would have said. But how in the world would such a thing be arranged? My guess is they'll figure that out and I'll never hear from them again.
It is ridiculous, the kind of pain I'm feeling at the thought of my beloved iphone in the hands of such a lowlife.
It was so hard walking tonight without it. No way to monitor the time, no tunes, no podcasts. Banks and I walked all the way to 35, then back through St. Ed's, thinking at least I could use the tower clock to gauge my time, but I never heard it go off. As we walked, I composed some thoughts in my head, trying to be philosophical about my loss. Maybe I could blog about how freeing it felt to be unwired for a change! Or how "in the moment" you have to be when there's no way to reach out to anyone else. But I couldn't do it. Well, I could have, but it would have been just so much b.s. I love my phone. I miss my phone.
It's going to be hard to sleep tonight.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Blistering
I took off yesterday mostly just to give my blistery feet a rest. When I woke up this morning, they still hurt, so I took a novel approach to my walk: I wore my Earth Shoes. I think I did that once before, not intentionally, but just because I'd worn them to work, they were comfortable, and I decided on a whim to go for a walk over the lunch hour. This time I put more thought into it. The shoes are made in such a way that they sort of distribute your weight; there's support built into the arch, so you're putting less pressure directly onto the balls of your feet. That's exactly what I was looking for, because the balls of my feet are exactly where my big, watery blisters still reside. Over the lunch hour I walked around the downtown area, trying to fit some hills in, for the whole hour and a half, knowing that I wasn't leaving work today until 6:00. It was a good move. My feet feel fine.
I think tomorrow I'll be ready to get back to my walking shoes, hopefully in the morning.
Remember a few weeks ago, when I emailed Pam LeBlac from the Austin-American Statesman with a submission for her "Fit Folks" column? And I was upset because she wouldn't run it immediately? This past Sunday I had some serious anxiety about that decision. The whole purpose was to publicize my blog, but the more I got to thinking about it, the more that prospect seemed worrisome. As it is, only my first name is on the blog. If it were linked to a piece on me with my full name, anyone I ever met who googled me would find out all kinds of things about me. Especially I got nervous at the prospect of some of the people I encounter in my work, who see me as an adversary. Mark reminds me of how easy it would be to take something that I wrote, twist it into something it isn't, and use it against me.
So on Sunday I emailed Pam that I'd changed my mind. She wasn't happy about it, said it was scheduled to run the following Monday, and that now she'd have to "scramble" to undo it. Crap. I wavered for a little while, and then decided I had to trust my instincts. Don't get me wrong. I still want to publicize this thing and try to figure out how to market it, but this just didn't seem like the right venue. The quest continues.
I think tomorrow I'll be ready to get back to my walking shoes, hopefully in the morning.
Remember a few weeks ago, when I emailed Pam LeBlac from the Austin-American Statesman with a submission for her "Fit Folks" column? And I was upset because she wouldn't run it immediately? This past Sunday I had some serious anxiety about that decision. The whole purpose was to publicize my blog, but the more I got to thinking about it, the more that prospect seemed worrisome. As it is, only my first name is on the blog. If it were linked to a piece on me with my full name, anyone I ever met who googled me would find out all kinds of things about me. Especially I got nervous at the prospect of some of the people I encounter in my work, who see me as an adversary. Mark reminds me of how easy it would be to take something that I wrote, twist it into something it isn't, and use it against me.
So on Sunday I emailed Pam that I'd changed my mind. She wasn't happy about it, said it was scheduled to run the following Monday, and that now she'd have to "scramble" to undo it. Crap. I wavered for a little while, and then decided I had to trust my instincts. Don't get me wrong. I still want to publicize this thing and try to figure out how to market it, but this just didn't seem like the right venue. The quest continues.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Bus Stop
Three days -- that's the longest I've ever gone without posting anything. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I made the decision to stop borrowing people's cars or bumming rides from them, and instead to use Jackson's bus pass while I waited for Steve, my lovable, disorganized hermit/mechanic, to fix my car. (Something about struts leaking. Took him 12 days. At least I got to spend five of them in New Orleans).
Who needs to plan a five-mile walk when you don't have a car? I know I've put in that, and more, every day for the last three days, all of them in regular shoes. Sunday was a particular nightmare of transfers, miles-long walks in a residential neighborhood and to the next stop. I got two huge blisters (at least they were water, not blood blisters) on the pads of my feet. Yesterday I had one meeting far south, all the way to Slaughter, walked a half mile to what I thought was my destination, could not find the office I was supposed to be at, my phone was dying and I wandered for a half hour throughout a busy commercial district. Then back to the bus stop, take another two trips with sizeable walks between transfers to get to the Chase bank building at Capital Plaze for yet another meeting., which lasted SEVEN HOURS! The highlight of the meeting was getting a cheerful text from Steve announcing that my car was ready. This meeting was supposed to be over by 5:30. Lynn had graciously planned to pick me up and take me to Bastrop. She waited in the parking lot for three hours. I owe her.
What did I learn from all this? Several things. Life without a car is tough. There is nothing more undignified than running for a bus. You can overhear some hilarious conversations. The concept of men offering their seats to woman on a packed bus has disapppeared.
But you know what? It was also very cool, in a way. If I didn't have a job that required a car, I would seriously ride the bus to work, at least some of the time. I liked how un-sedentary I felt, I liked knowing I wasn't contributing to the crap in the air, I liked the camaraderie I felt with some of the chattier riders. I just liked not feeling tethered to a car. I liked getting my walking in naturally.
I also realized how much I love my car, my nine-year-old, seen-better-days Prius. It had been feeling a little rickety, but now feels smooth and sturdy. Thanks, Steve. For the good work, AND for the fun (in retrospect) experience.
Who needs to plan a five-mile walk when you don't have a car? I know I've put in that, and more, every day for the last three days, all of them in regular shoes. Sunday was a particular nightmare of transfers, miles-long walks in a residential neighborhood and to the next stop. I got two huge blisters (at least they were water, not blood blisters) on the pads of my feet. Yesterday I had one meeting far south, all the way to Slaughter, walked a half mile to what I thought was my destination, could not find the office I was supposed to be at, my phone was dying and I wandered for a half hour throughout a busy commercial district. Then back to the bus stop, take another two trips with sizeable walks between transfers to get to the Chase bank building at Capital Plaze for yet another meeting., which lasted SEVEN HOURS! The highlight of the meeting was getting a cheerful text from Steve announcing that my car was ready. This meeting was supposed to be over by 5:30. Lynn had graciously planned to pick me up and take me to Bastrop. She waited in the parking lot for three hours. I owe her.
What did I learn from all this? Several things. Life without a car is tough. There is nothing more undignified than running for a bus. You can overhear some hilarious conversations. The concept of men offering their seats to woman on a packed bus has disapppeared.
But you know what? It was also very cool, in a way. If I didn't have a job that required a car, I would seriously ride the bus to work, at least some of the time. I liked how un-sedentary I felt, I liked knowing I wasn't contributing to the crap in the air, I liked the camaraderie I felt with some of the chattier riders. I just liked not feeling tethered to a car. I liked getting my walking in naturally.
I also realized how much I love my car, my nine-year-old, seen-better-days Prius. It had been feeling a little rickety, but now feels smooth and sturdy. Thanks, Steve. For the good work, AND for the fun (in retrospect) experience.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
At Long Last, Knee Relief
I finally, finally took a day off, but it wasn't yesterday, it was today. Yesterday, it was planned, as usual, but I was meeting some friends after work at Fair Bean Coffee on South 1st, almost exactly three miles from the office, and once again, I couldn't resist that ideal, uphill walk. I get in a zone when I walk uphill in traffic. I walk fast and I focus straight ahead. After that, I walked to my house, a mile away, and then took Banks on another mile. My knees were really beginning to rebel after nine straight days of more like 50 miles than 45 (all those New Orleans walks), and I decided that come hell or high water, I was resting them Saturday.
Today I had work in San Antonio, and no car, so I took the bus to a car rental place 6.2 miles away. I wasn't even tempted this time. My bus driver was an exceptionally chatty guy, and since the bus was mostly empty, and I was sitting right behind him, I was the recipient of all of his wisdom on fitness. And he had a lot to share. He bikes, mostly, and is especially conscientious of his health due to his very sedentary job. We were running ahead of schedule, so at one of our stops, he apologized and said we'd have to sit for about five minutes. Not a problem, I assured him. He got off the bus and stretched his legs against a stone wall. Then he got back on the bus, and with no warning, grabbed the railings and did a "skin the cat" move -- first backward, hold it for a few beats, and then slowly rewind to the standing position. Okay, that was a new one. I begged him to repeat it at the next stop so I could take a picture, and after I gave him my word that I was not a company spy, he obliged.
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Today I had work in San Antonio, and no car, so I took the bus to a car rental place 6.2 miles away. I wasn't even tempted this time. My bus driver was an exceptionally chatty guy, and since the bus was mostly empty, and I was sitting right behind him, I was the recipient of all of his wisdom on fitness. And he had a lot to share. He bikes, mostly, and is especially conscientious of his health due to his very sedentary job. We were running ahead of schedule, so at one of our stops, he apologized and said we'd have to sit for about five minutes. Not a problem, I assured him. He got off the bus and stretched his legs against a stone wall. Then he got back on the bus, and with no warning, grabbed the railings and did a "skin the cat" move -- first backward, hold it for a few beats, and then slowly rewind to the standing position. Okay, that was a new one. I begged him to repeat it at the next stop so I could take a picture, and after I gave him my word that I was not a company spy, he obliged.
The logistics of turning in my rental car tomorrow by 9:00 am, and getting a ride to Bastrop to pick up my car (if it's ready), are about to undo me.
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