I suck at this blogging thing. Truly.
What’s been going on now? You probably don’t care. And I wouldn’t blame you. But if you are still here? LOVE YOU!
I think I told you all about my suspicions that I am bi-polar? (I’m really too lazy to go back and look.) And maybe about my conversation with K2Kid about it, when her response to “I think I might be bi-polar” was “Duh! I thought you were already being treated for that.” It really was kind of funny.
Then there was a strange tingling and numbness in my right arm and a weird pain in my left side. I’m telling you – I’m falling apart.
I went to my doctor. He scheduled an x-ray for my spine/arm and an ultrasound for my side. He also referred me to a local psychiatric practice. We decided that it was unlikely that I a bi-polar, but he would leave it up to the specialist to decide.
The ultrasound for my side didn’t turn up anything so I also got an MRI. That stuff you have to drink? Which “isn’t a laxative”? Yeah. It’s gross and it does. Enough said.
The x-ray? I have arthritis in my spine and my C5-6 and C6-7 are wearing and I have bone spurs and growths and blah blah blah. I am trying physical therapy – which includes traction – first. If that doesn’t work, the next step could be surgery. Awesome.
The therapy? I’ve been twice. The first time? He was a little shocked that I said I wanted to live-tweet the session. It’s like he doesn’t know me. The last thing he said when I was leaving was “Yeah, we have some work to do.” Again, I thought that was really funny. Because, you know. Duh.
The second session was this week. He spent a lot of time talking to me about my lack of relationships with men. What I got out of it is he thinks I need to get laid. Hmmm. Okay. I don’t necessarily disagree, and yet I don’t think having a mate is the be all and end all to happiness. And really? Where do people meet these days? Ugh. This is a whole other post.
Anyhoo. This is what’s going on. I’ll get you caught up on my job search exploits, next time. It seems like I have been all kinds of busy, but really, I have just been wading through a bunch of crap.
Here’s hoping things will look up soon.
xo
So, after such a horrible post yesterday, I thought I would post something mindless and superfluous.
These are just questions that rattle around my brain, in regards to fashion dos and don’ts.
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Why are scrunchies so vilified? I missed the memo about why we hate these. Can someone enlighten me, please? I don’t find them offensive. And I’d let to get on board with the hate.
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If horizontal stripes are such a huge issue, why do designers still use them? (I was going to write more, but really? That says it all.)
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Why, in the name all kittens, are designers making t-shirts sheer? I know I have complained about this before, but jeepers! I don’t want to look at others’ bras, not do I expect they want to see mine. I like to wear them to work under a jacket or sweater, with the knowledge that if it gets hot, I can take the top layer off behind the slurpee machine and not be scandalous. No more, it seems.
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Crocs. Really?
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I don’t understand the people who stretch their ear lobes with those big pipe-like things, where there used to be an earring. And they keep increasing the size of said pipe-like thing. I’ve seen people who, evidently, went too big and the lobe ripped. *hork*
I am all for piercings. Go crazy. I wouldn’t do it personally, but eyebrow, nose, lip, whatev…if it makes you happy, do it. But that stretching thing? Nope. I don’t get it.
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Pantyhose. I *know* many women look better with them. I *know* that many workplaces require them. But, they are SO. PHUCKING. UNCOMFORTABLE. The nylon does not keep it’s shape. They sag. They pull. They snag. They start making your feet burn if you have to walk any distance. The crotch sags. Le sigh. Who made up the rule about hose?
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Short shorts.
Belly shirts.
Micro-minis.
I hate all these trends.
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I very likely have NO business with this query, but WHAT is up with dressing little girls like slutty, 25 year old women?? When I go to Target (a magical place where nothing bad ever happens) and walk by the “Girls” department and glance at what is currently being offered to young girls as fashion?? Oh Em Gee. Mothers? I’m so sorry for you. My mother would not more allow me to wear some of that garb *in* the house, let alone out in public. And I mean NOW. When I was a kid? (Back in my day…). Pants. Turtlenecks. T-shirts – long, NOT belly shirts. Skirts – knee-length or longer.
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That’s all for now. I’m sure I’ll come up with more. (Oh, and an update about my post yesterday. I am seeing my doctor Tuesday.)
So, yeah.
You go to work everyday, dreading it.
While at work, you find yourself crying, at least once a week.
After 2 weeks vacation, you head back to work and the second day back, you wonder if you can call in sick without getting fired.
You know that continually bitching about the situation is not at all helpful, so you keep it all inside.
You have your resume out on the interwebs on every. single. job-related website you can find, but don’t have any bites yet.
You have applied for no less than 25 new positions, internally, and have heard ABSO-PHUCKING-LUTELY nothing on any of them. Yet they claim that they are Pro-Employee and help employees with career development. AND! If they treat actual employees this way, how do they treat potential employees?? (Go ahead and ponder. I’ll wait.)
You are well aware that the job market blows right now, so you should be thankful you even have a job.
You know that you are NOT what you do, but you are so desperately unhappy at your job that you don’t know which way to turn.
You know that changing jobs will not necessarily, nor magically, improve your happiness. But you want to try because staying here won’t help it either.
You know that you choose your happiness but you can’t find even that one thread to hang on to.
You aren’t suicidal, but your doctor thinks you might be.
Yeah. That.
I am…
…a daughter
….a sister
…an aunt
…an adoptive mother to two furry critters
I am…
…a college graduate
…the holder of an MBA
…over-educated for the area in which I live
…employed in a job that does not excite me, nor ignite my passions
…exploring new careers
I am…
…beautiful, outside and in
…plus-sized, in so many ways
…a person who loves to laugh
…very funny
I am…
…a triathlete
…a hockey fan
…a football fan
…a kayaker
I am…
…always looking to learn
…searching for my voice
…a fiercely loyal friend
…a woman who loves hard
I am…
…a rape survivor
…an ex
…a seeker
…healing
I am…
…worth it
…someone you should know
…tremendous
…enough
I’ve read that if something bugs you, you need to either write about it or talk about it – just get it out, or it will eat at you. So here goes….
People. Not *all* people, of course. But the ones who walk around completely oblivious to the world around them. You know who I mean – they cut you off in a store without a second thought; they park their shopping cart randomly in the middle of an aisle and ignore your attempts to get around them; they stay on their cell phone at the checkout line.
What in the world has happened to common courtesy?? I have even tried to act like these people. I was mortified for myself. The total disregard for anyone around me made me feel like I was the biggest jerk. Ever.
Lately, when I go to Target – a magical place where nothing bad ever happens – I leave thinking “I need to not be out among people”. I find myself less and less tolerant of this type of behavior. Thank goat for online shopping.
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Commercials. When did we, as a culture, become so stupid? 98% of the ads I see on television make me cringe. Apparently, ad companies think it is okay to treat consumers as if they have the collective IQ of a dandelion. Cartoon bears to sell toilet paper? Cartoons to sell car insurance? Cartoons to sell *anything* to adults?? I get it if they are using cartoons to sell to kids. (I don’t know that it’s appropriate, but I get it.) But to adults? Really?
And restaurants who show how big their portions are? Do we *really* need a 2 pound calzone? Or tacos the size of a loaf of bread? How about we just get a real portion and pay less?
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As-seen-on-TV-products. Don’t get me wrong – I love me some info-mercials and shopping TV. I am a WEN girl because of the info-mercial. And I got my ped-egg from seeing an info-mercial.
But have you seen some of the other things that are being hawked? The plastic egg cooker things that make it “so much easier” to make hard-boiled eggs? The premise is that peeling hard-boiled eggs is *really* hard. And takes forever. Really? Is that a huge problem of which I am not aware?
And the bags that save you space? On one hand, I do get that. But the ad shows a closet where everything is stuffed in and it seems that they have 4,319 comforters and 80 pairs of pants and 24,941 sweaters. Perhaps the problem isn’t that you don’t have room. Maybe you just HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF!! I’m just spit-balling here.
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Blogs that require a verification every time you comment. I don’t like spam any more than anyone else, but if I comment on a blog frequently enough, I should be “approved” to comment. OR if you don’t like what I comment, delete it.
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There are so many more things. I’ll complain more, I’m sure. But I needed to get that stuff off my chest.
If any of the above hits a nerve with you, I’m sorry. I am fully aware that I bug people. All. The. Time. And I’m sorry for that too.
After 6. Long. Months, it’s official.
I am a triathlete.
Sunday, 7/31, I participated in the local triathlon, Tri-for-a-Cure. It’s a women’s only event and all funds raised go to further breast cancer research. On Sunday, we were told that unofficial totals were that we, the participants, collected over a million dollars for breast cancer research. Go us!!
I’ve written about this before. And if you have spent any time with me at all, I have no doubt that I have driven you absolutely crazy with my stress and worry and fear of not being good enough.
Sunday started for me at 7:30. I got to the venue and set up my transition area – where we dump the swim stuff and pick up the bike for that leg. I met some women and we were all feeling a great anticipation. Those of us who were first-timers had no idea what to expect.
I picked up my timing chip – it was an ankle strap that would record my time for each stage of the race. Then I picked up my wetsuit and wandered down towards the beach for the start of the swim.
I did, though, stop by the medical station to see what was in my eye. It felt like I had a small animal in there. And of course, I kept rubbing it.
I caught sight of my brother. He came to support me and represent the family. Mum and Dad were not able to come, so Bro was there. Then my friend, the K2Kid, and her husband came to cheer me on. It was a HUGE help that they were there. Since I had signed up alone, and trained alone, it was nice to know I wasn’t alone for this day.
All the athletes made their way over to the start area for opening remarks, etc. But since we were all in our wetsuits, we were also all cooking in the sun. It was SO HOT!! The event itself didn’t start until 10am, so the sun was high and hot.
The swim portion was broken up into waves so that 1,100 women wouldn’t be plunging into the water all at once. We were all given color-coded swim caps so that we knew when we had to go. The first wave is reserved for Survivors – women who have won their battle against cancer. It was so cool to see all these incredible women who will NEVER give up. After they go, there is a 5 minute wait before the second wave went. Then, every 3 minutes after that, each consecutive wave entered the water for the 1/3 mile swim.
I was in Wave 3, so thankfully I didn’t have too long to wait. One lady beside me told me to just relax and take my time and look around for the experience of it all. So that’s what I did. When it was my turn, I walked into the ocean with 100 of my sisters, to begin. I didn’t start swimming until I knew I wouldn’t get kicked in the face. Then, I did just what my new friend told me. I took my time. I passed some people. Some people passed me. Despite having a stitch in my side from about 2 minutes in, I finished that portion with ease.
Bro was there to take my wetsuit, and give me a clean shirt. Others were sprinting up to the transition area for their bikes. I was taking it all in.
I got to transition, got my gloves and helmet and an energy snack and started out on the 15 mile bike ride. Bro and I had ridden the route once before, so it wasn’t completely foreign. I was going along pretty well – don’t get me wrong, it was HARD! But, again, I was passing some, and some were passing me. It’s all good.
The volunteers along the route were amazing – yelling encouragement and cheering. There were homeowners out along the route too, yelling encouragement. I don’t care what anyone says, that REALLY helps!
Right about mile 3-ish, I got a flat tire. GAH! I had a spare tube, sat down and started changing it, trying not to get frustrated. A race official stopped to help me and I was on my way in about 15 minutes. Great, yeah?
Jump ahead to mile 7-ish. Flat tire number 2. AYFKM?? There was another route official there, picking up a couple of women with a medical issue – they would not finish – and he stopped and helped me. This almost made me lose it. But, I just kept remembering why I was there. 20 minutes later, I’m back on the bike.
I was cruising! It felt great! I was coming up to mile 12 – almost there!! WOOHOO!!! I look down. Front tire flat. (The first 2 were the back tire). Oh. Em. Gee. WTF is going on??? I found a group fixing tires and made it to them. They fixed that, I get ready to go – Um, did you know that your back tire is flat too??? Flat tire #4. Awesome. Oh! And? At this point, I ran out of water, AND the small animal in my eye? Yeah, that was a torn contact lens, which had scratched my eyelid, thanks to all my rubbing. Let’s tally this up – so far? 4 flats and I’m down to 1 eye.
Assured that I was almost done, and that *this* tire would hold me until the end. The same guy fixed my tire twice so far, and he kept behind me making sure I was okay. Bless his heart, he offered me his water bottle, which I took gratefully! About 1/2 mile from the end of the bike…yup, you guessed it. Flat tire number 5. Even the guy fixing it couldn’t believe it. I carried the bike back to the transition area. It took me FOR. EVER. to finish the bike portion. All that time, sitting on the side of the road, counted against me.
By the time I was done with my bike, I noticed that almost everyone else was done. With everything. I still had a 5k run. I filled up my water bottle, and started out. Bro was there with an icy bottle of water, and an energy bar. Did I mention how awesome he is?? He walked with me a little way and then I got to a “non-spectator” area. I caught up with another lady – we were both walking – so we walked together.
She was from NY and had come up to participate, along with her sister and sister-in-law, in memory of their dad, who died from cancer in February. We walked almost the whole rest of the way together, just chatting. Right at the end, I jogged across the finish line.
The. Finish. Line.
My time was horrible. But that wasn’t the point, right? I, myself, raised $870 for breast cancer research, thanks to the generous support of friends and family. I set myself a goal to finish the race, and I did. And I did it all on my own.
My life will never be the same. I don’t think I can every say “I can’t do that” and really mean it. Apparently, I can do it. No matter what “it” is. I’ll stumble. I’ll end up with 5 flat tires. I will scratch my eyelid with a torn contact. And I will run out of water. And you know what? I will finish. And still be smiling.
I am a triathlete.
This is going to be a very short post because I’m freaking out right about now.
The Tri is in 3 days. And, while yes, I knew it was coming. And I’ve been counting down to it. Somehow it still didn’t feel “real”.
It’s all kinds of real now. I have been assigned a race-bib number (#312). And a swim wave number (#3 with the orange caps). It’s happening, you guys. It’s official and real and OH. MY. GOAT!
If you need me, I’ll be in the corner, hyperventilating. And sobbing.
I’m relatively new to this whole blogging thing. And anyone who stops by here can tell that I really have no idea what I’m doing! 😀
I would love for my blog to look nice, draw people in, and encourage them to stop by more often. Okay, it would help if I actually posted on a regular basis too, but I digress…
Anyhoo, a little event called BlogHer is happening very soon. The way I understand it is that it’s a convention of fabulous bloggers. They all get together and talk about their fabulous blogs, and how to make them better, and they party and get free stuff and meet each other and on and on. I’m really very jealous about the whole thing.
I haven’t been, and financially will likely not be able to go for many years. So I do BlogHerAtHome. (I think last year there was a HomeHer event too. Great fun!!)
I want to enter the BHAH giveaway! You can find details here.
Since the event is BlogHER, I was going to suggest drinks like Vaginal Secretions (SoCo, Lemonade, Squirt, lime juice, triple sec, margarita mix) or Titty-TwisterRita (Bacardi 151, Tropicana, lime juice, Sweet and sour, daiquiri mix, ice), but since I’m all classy up in here, and the ACTUAL BlogHer is being held in Sandy Eggo, I am submitting:
San Diego Seabreeze
1 oz Vodka
1/2 oz Raspberry schnapps
1/2 oz Blueberry schnapps
1/2 part OJ (the juice, not the killer)
1/2 part Pineapple juice
1 tsp Blackberry Brandy
All ingredients in a collins glass, cover, shake, serve, sip.
Sounds good, no?
Please pick me. 🙂
How old are you?
Do you feel that age?
I don’t. I’m 44 and most of the time I don’t *feel* 44. Not that I really know what I’m *supposed* to feel like. But I usually feel younger, in the sense that I imagine I have so much more time to get where other 44 year olds are. Does that make any sense?
And granted, there are many times that I feel WAY older than 44.
I don’t know, but lately, I’ve been looking around at where others are in their lives, and think: I’m 44. Shouldn’t I be married? And in a job that I don’t hate? And with money in the bank? And booking at least 1 foreign trip a year? Shouldn’t I feel more settled?
I don’t know if this is a function of my recent “search” for peace, or if I am just restless, or if I am just in vacation-mode (2 weeks vacation after Friday! YAY!)
I think I am young in mind and attitude. I think I have a childlike naivete about some things. I still make rookie mistakes in life.
But is this normal? What is normal? What should 44 feel like?
163 days ago, I broke my comfort zone. I don’t know what I was thinking of at the time, but it seemed then like a really good idea.
14 days from now, it will be done. My life will be forever changed, for good or bad. I think it will be for good, so that’s how I’m approaching it.
I had such high hopes and grand plans to get ready for this. I started a “Couch to 5K” program, since I HATE RUNNING. I knew it would be my least favorite portion, so I thought I would train most on that. Within a month, I had a beautiful squishy lump on my knee and couldn’t run. It was identified as runner’s knee and was followed by 2 months of PT. I will be walking the running portion.
I’m getting pretty good at the biking portion. For years, I said I was going to start riding my bike to work, since I live only 7 miles away from the Gas ‘n Sip. This gave me an excuse to actually do it. Of course, I am incredible at coming up with excuses to NOT ride, but so far, I have gotten more use from my bike this summer than I have in the past 10 years.
The swimming was the portion I was least worried about. However, putting on a wetsuit? YIKES! I decided that I would deal with it with the same attitude I deal with getting a massage – they have seen bodies FAR better and FAR worse than mine. And after I attended a swim clinic, that is so true! I’m fine.
I have 2 weeks to mentally prepare. I’ll get there.
And thanks to my extraordinarily generous friends (and some strangers) I have managed to raise almost $750 for breast cancer research. That was the main purpose of signing up. I’m very pleased about that fact.
Thank you for your support! I’ll let you know how it goes.
MagAndMoo's Blog 