Wicked 10K Ramblings

Whoof, I'm tahred, as they sometimes say down here...

I just got done running a 10K (that's 6.2 miles for you civilians) and learned two important lessons in the process:

1) I cannot hang out with people who smoke. I know this is incredibly hypocritical since I smoked for nearly 20 years, but since I've quit and developed exercise-induced asthma, running after being around smokers is absolute torture. I use an inhaler before races when I think I'll need it and sometimes carry it around during the race (mostly in the humid summer) but didn't think I'd need one today. Whoops.

Thanks to our crazy weather down here, it was actually pushing 80 degrees earlier today. Great weather, not great for my lungs. I struggled through much of the race, but was doing ok until I decided to sprint at the finish. I crossed the finish and nearly collapsed. I could not breathe. I was sucking wind but it wasn't really going past my throat. I saw a friend who was working the beer tent and managed to choke out, "INHALER?!" but no one had one. So I covered up my face to breathe in some carbon dioxide and just walked it off. But I'm not willing to go through that again. So if my friends can't quit smoking, I'm just going to have to quit them while they do....

2) My recent weight loss has led to a lowering of my alcohol tolerance. I could not figure out how I had gotten drunk Thursday night when I really only had a handful of beers and then this afternoon I was pretty well gone after 4 beers following the race. And then I remembered -- I've dropped some weight and I'm guessing that is the reason. So I guess I'll have to start sucking down waters with my beer. Which will require me to socialize a little less and pay attention a little more. I think I can do it. :)

Hope you're all having a great Saturday. I'm off to another ODU football game which unfortunately have been somewhat dramatic in the past (off the field among me and my friends) but at the very least maybe I'll get some material out of the evening... :)

Oh! Someone remind me to write about families and drama and how life's too short. It came up today and I'd really like to talk about it. OK, as you were. :)

Moomoirs of a Gay-sha

As if my mother's internet struggles weren't already enough (she still has dial-up and is waiting and waiting and waiting for her development to upgrade to FIOS), she has somehow lost the ability to sign in to Blogspot and leave comments.

This may be a good thing for me, however. ;)

I've mentioned a couple times that I crashed and burned on a kickball field two years ago and knocked myself out. My head hit the ground so hard at second base that people on the sidelines heard it. I had a nice bout of amnesia for the rest of the evening and never regained any memories of the actual accident or most of that night. And that was after one beer.

Unfortunately, there seems to have been some permanent damage. My memory was getting a little fuzzy anyway, but it has been markedly worse since then. One of my best friends has a pool going at work as to when the full-blown dementia kicks in -- I believe she's given me less than two years.

I'm beginning to think I'll be lucky if I last that long. I was re-reading some old blog posts on here and had COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN that I had an ulcer issue last fall and a misdiagnosed ovarian cyst that wound up being a mystery pain. Seriously. And that was only a year ago.

Sigh.

So I guess I shouldn't be surprised that I received the following email from my mother:

"Just read your blog. OMG, you are tired. It was Mom he told to keep buying lottery tickets, which you have mentioned many times over the years, and she did as she was told until she couldn't remember what the lottery was!!!!!! Sleepy [AJ]...Ha.

Love,
Moomories Are Made Of This"

Ah, so much in one little email. "Mom" is my maternal grandmother. I overheard my mother calling her parents "Mom" and "Dad" as a baby and I guess decided to do the same. We got some curious looks when my grandmother, mother, and I were shopping together and I'd ask my mother, "Where's Mom?"

The reference to my grandmother forgetting what the lottery was is because she unfortunately developed Alzheimer's. I believe that's Strike 2 against my poor noggin'.

And my mother's signature is a little game we've played forever. I had a history teacher in high school who used to talk about whiny kids who went crying to their "S'Mum-Mums." I began calling my mother "S'Mum-Mums" which eventually morphed into "S'Moo," and then finally, "Moo." (I didn't escape unscathed, by the way. I became "S'Aim-Aims"...)

I started working Moo into her name on card envelopes that I mailed to her and occasionally she'll bust one out on her own. Excellent work, Moo!! :)

Guess I should be thankful for NaBloPoMo. Maybe if I get enough of these stories out, my mother can correct the ones from my childhood and I'll have the current ones to review in the years (months? weeks?) to come when I don't remember them anymore.

Wonder if I can mainline ginkgo?

Desperation blog!!

I'm exhausted and went to the kickball bar anyway -- and am nearly the last Hi Baller standing. Woo!

And now I've satisfied my blog obligation! Whew! :)

Yellow Roses

New feature at Cranial Vault! New feature at Cranial Vault!!

Whew, now I'm exhausted!!

It's late, it's been a long but amusing day and unfortunately, that's all I can say about that. So here I am under the gun and without a topic. I decided to try something different and am introducing "Improv Blog"!

I know, I'm all atingle too...

The rules are simple: I have no blog topic, I turn to my friend and ask her to pick something random, and then I write about it.

And so, here we are at "yellow roses."

My immediate thought was about my maternal grandfather, Joe. The only flowers he wanted when he died were yellow roses. I was born on my grandfather's birthday and was named after him. I have far more to say about him, but it's late and I'm exhausted, so I'll just cut to the chase.

My grandfather was diagnosed with lung cancer, cancer of the liver, and cancer of the adrenal glands during the fall of my senior year of high school. Of course, my grandfather's illness, rapid decline, and death were awful enough, but my reaction to it all was magnified due to my age. Why is everything we experience as teenagers so much more intense and melodramatic?

I do want to tell this story in more detail down the road, but I literally can't keep my eyes open right now. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

What I'd like to share with you tonight are my grandfather's dying words to my mother. I had expected him to tell her to look after my grandmother and herself and me, but should have known better. He had far more serious words to impart with his last breath......

"Keep playing my numbers."

Yeah. That's right. My grandfather's last words to my mother were for her to keep playing his lottery numbers!!

I have to wonder if he had some sort of message from the other side and we totally blew it. 'Cause last time I checked, not only did we not keep playing his numbers, my mother doesn't even remember what they are anymore!!

And there, in a nutshell, is "yellow roses."

Thank you...........and good night. :)

Count Your Blessings Before They Hatch

Driving home after a long, tiring day, I was reflecting on my evening and its inherent and unfortunate drama. More of the same, but I'm feeling growing pains. Not to leave, no not to leave, but to change. Say it with me -- the only thing I can control is how I react to things...

I popped in Stevie's Innervisions and listened to Golden Lady for the 20th time since Sunday. And I couldn't help but smile. This is going to sound horribly narcissistic, but when I heard it at the concert, I didn't think of my crush. I didn't think of past loves. I didn't think of my future love, whoever she may be.

I thought of myself.

And I did so again tonight and I smiled. I can't shake the feeling that someone out there will one day think of me -- or maybe already does -- when she hears that song. The thought of it brings me an immeasurable amount of calm.

And then I thought about all the wonderful, unexpected things that happened to me today. Bert sent me an email containing some words of encouragement and love and song lyrics. (He also posted another beautiful song after yesterday's blog). My dear friends Anne and Don surprised me with a mug they hunted down in Disney World because they knew it would make me laugh and according to Don, "We just wanted you to know we were thinking of you." And then Michelle, my crazy hairdresser, called out of the blue and left a message because she got a feeling that something was up and she should call me. And as usual, her rambling message contained at least one moment that made me laugh out loud, literally.

There were many such moments of laughter and underlying love (not the least of which was Anne, Don, and me crying with laughter over the latest "People of Walmart" photos...) throughout the day.

And so, I wrap up my long and tiring day thusly: thank you -- all of you -- for making my life lighter and happier and warmer. I just told a friend earlier tonight that the beauty of aging is that you come to a point when you get to pick the people you hang out with and how you spend your time. You're less inclined to do things just for the sake of doing things. So for those of you who enrich my life, I thank you. I hope I do the same for you -- at least occasionally! :)

Sweet dreams, all.

I Sing the Body Electric

Well, I'm at a loss.

As has become customary of late, I've got a ton going on in my head and heart, but nothing I'm prepared to put out there for human consumption. Huh, some writer I'll turn out to be!

It's days like this that I long for my super-secret blog. I've got all sorts of things going on -- some good, some bad -- and in the meantime I feel like I've somehow absorbed the universe and it's screaming to come out.

And no, I haven't taken any drugs to achieve this feeling. It's hard to explain, quite frankly. All I can say is that it stops me in my tracks and makes my want to scream at the top of my lungs at everyone and everything. It makes the commonplace business and minutiae of everyday life almost excruciating. It makes me want to climb the highest mountains and dive to the deepest depths of the sea and just LIVE.

And instead, here I sit. Struggling with things that shouldn't warrant struggling and just suffering.

All suffering is desire. Eliminate the desire, eliminate the suffering.

Where's my saffron robe and wooden bowl?? :)

Fingertips Part 1 & 2

Someday I'll hopefully understand why I was made this way. In the meantime, I'm glad I can provide the universe with so much laughter at my expense...

Blue mood today, but trying to rally for a Stevie Wonder concert tonight. I love, love, love him and I'm beyond irritated that I'm sad today. Guess I should have taken steps to avoid getting to this place. But if you know me and/or are a regular reader, you know that I'm a fully-fueled train without functioning brakes on a slick set of tracks...

So let's just fall back on one of my favorite Stevie songs, shall we?

"Everybody's got a thing
But some don't know how to handle it
Always reachin' out in vain
Accepting the things not worth having but

Don't you worry 'bout a thing
Don't you worry 'bout a thing, mama
Cause I'll be standing on the side
When you check it out

They say your style of life's a drag
And that you must go other places
But just don't you feel too bad
When you get fooled by smiling faces but

Don't you worry 'bout a thing
Don't you worry 'bout a thing, mama
Cause I'll be standing on the side
When you check it out...
When you get off... your trip
Don't you worry 'bout a thing...
Don't you worry 'bout a thing...

Don't you worry 'bout a thing
Don't you worry 'bout a thing, mama
Cause I'll be standing on the side
When you check it out...
When you get off... your trip

Everybody needs a change
A chance to check out the new
But you're the only one to see
The changes you take yourself through but

Don't you worry 'bout a thing
Don't you worry 'bout a thing, pretty mama
Cause I'll be standing in the wings
When you check it out

Don't you worry 'bout a thing."

Have iPhone, Will Blog -- Poorly...

It's another blog-by-phone, I'm afraid. And you know what that means... Sucky blog post!! Wah wah wahhhhhh.

Yeah, sorry about that folks. I'm back at the patient's house and I think the incarceration of her right arm is -- understandably -- starting to get to her. I remember the feeling well from when I broke my arm. Normally I'm a slug, and a happy slug at that, but as soon as I was told I couldn't do anything I was all motivated and frustrated...

Well, I've fulfilled my NaBloPoMo obligation and am going to skedaddle. I should be back on a computer tomorrow, so hopefully that entry will be better. But remember, no guarantees!! :)

She Keeps Going and Going and Going...

Greetings and Salutationzzzzzzzzzzzzz...........

Please forgive me. After not sleeping well Wednesday night and only being in bed for about 5 hours, I had a pretty similar night's sleep last night. My Friend with the Dislocated Shoulder (FWDS) decided to defy medical convention and stay wide awake pretty much all night even though she was hopped up on pain meds. I think I got about 4 hours of sleep and it was pretty shallow since I had one ear perked in her general direction in case she needed anything.

But off we went to run errands and get breakfast at 7 this morning. And she still hasn't stopped. She's pretty much an Energizer Bunny in an arm sling. Picture him thumping that big bass drum with one arm and you get the general idea. I probably shouldn't tease her this much though since I know part of the problem is that her shoulder is so uncomfortable. Hopefully she'll start healing soon and will get some relief.

And as much as I tease her about being an independent, obstinate patient, I am the same exact way -- as my mother can attest to anyone within earshot. My poor mother drove all the way down here to take care of me when I had surgery on my arm two years ago (broken during kickball -- such a dangerous sport!) and I don't think I let her lift a finger to help me the entire time.

But what I did appreciate (and I hope she knows) is that she was here. That she was here if I did need something and that she loved me and cared about my well-being. And that's what I think I did for FWDS. Yes, she could do 95% of the stuff herself, but I think she was relieved to know that someone else was around to help with the other 5% if need be. And I'm really happy that she knew she could depend on me and that she had her friend call me when she was injured.

I wanted to wrap this up with something mildly profound, but I'm fading fast. Have a good night, folks, and keep taking care of each other. It's win-win all around! :)

The Return of ER on Thursdays

And just when I thought I'd have nothing to write about today....

I was on my way to our very late kickball game tonight when one of my friend's teammates called to say she was in the emergency room. Caller failed to mention WHY my friend was in the emergency room, so I quickly went through the various kickball-related injuries I could think of. Unfortunately, I was on my scooter and had to run home, ditch it, grab the car, and then blow through any number of stop signs on my way to the ER.

Well, Friend dislocated her right shoulder. She had injured it slightly during her game and for some unknown reason, one of her teammates high-fived her as if he was knocking down a tree and popped her damn shoulder out!!

After some nice drugs, two rounds of x-rays, and several hours in the ER, we're home at last. Her boyfriend and I are hovering off-and-on and she's trying to be a good patient, while also asserting her independence, albeit an independence soaked in pain killers.

I was pretty damn impressed with her doctor, though. He bypassed the old "tie a sheet around the victim and pull with all your might" routine and gently finessed her shoulder back into place. I'm pretty sure she'll survive.

As for me, I'm exhausted and mildly worried and fighting my natural tendency to take care of her. Between her self-reliance and her boyfriend's presence, I'm not entirely sure why I'm here. Except that I know I'm supposed to be and I can't imagine being anywhere else. You know me, it's always complicated! :)

Until tomorrow, my friends. Be well and watch out for large kickballers attempting to high-five you -- they can be dangerous!

Communal Shower Roulette

Dang it!! Just when I begin to forget that God's got a wicked sense of humor...

I go cruising into the shower at the Y this afternoon and discover I'm not the first one in this time. AND there's someone standing in the middle of the warm wall o' three! (See Communal Shower Etiquette Lesson #1 for clarification).

So where do I have to go? To my usual spot, but right next to her. So now I'm the inconsiderate biznatch who takes the shower head right next to the other person. Curses, foiled again!!

I'm sure you're all finding these shower updates absolutely fascinating...

Volvo Day

Very quickly, let's continue where we left off last night. And just for the record, even though this is a continuation of a thought, it counts as today's blog post. Let's not forget that I'm not just being productive this month -- I'm actually embroiled in October's NaBloPoMo, even though I abandoned the theme of "haunted" quite a few blog posts ago....

So the afternoon was fairly quiet. I'd elaborate more on work, but I'm not allowed to... This should make for an excellent stand-up career if I ever start putting stuff together:

Work? Interesting, great stories, some incredibly stupid/funny people... Can't talk about it.

Relationship? Not in one.

Children? Nope.

Huh.

You see why I'm stuck, don't you?? :)

OK, let's get back on topic, shall we? (As if this little detour was your fault...)

I had to hit Walgreens after work yesterday to pick up a prescription. I took the Vespa on a bike path leading from work, cut through West Ghent, and got spit out a couple blocks from Walgreens. On my way there, a Volvo ran a stop sign and cut me off. As I approached Walgreens, he got stuck waiting for a light and I was pulling up next to him to make the left into the Walgreens parking lot. It was then that I noticed he was digging in his left nostril. Fortunately, his window was open and I was on my scooter, so I was able to yell,

"Thaaaat's right. Run that stop sign! Pick that nose! GIT IT!!" as I turned into the parking lot.

I'm not sure why that brought me so much pleasure, but it did.

I pulled around to the drive-thru. There were two cars in the left lane and none in the right, so I pulled in to the empty lane. The first car on my left pulled away at that moment and the guy who had been waiting pulled up in front of the window. And we sat. I thought for a second they might try to help me first and I was going to tell them that window guy was here first. But I didn't get the chance. We just sat. And sat. And sat some more. We looked at each other. I checked Facebook on my beloved Mildred. We looked at each other again. And sat.

I considered going inside, but I had gotten in a fight with one of the cashier's the last time I brought my backpack in with me and didn't want to go through that again.

After what seemed like 5-10 minutes, someone finally appeared at the window and offered help to dude-man. I heard him say his name and then after a minute or two, the pharmacy worker asked if he had a new insurance card. And that's when he said, "No. It's my Cialis. It's not covered."

I must be five. There's no other reason to explain why knowing he was picking up a prescription for a male enhancement drug would tickle me so. But it did. Maybe it was knowing that he knew that I heard. I don't know. It's just stupid. I'd probably giggle if I had to buy condoms...

And I'm ok with that. More laughter, people. That's my prescription for every day.

So I finally get helped at Walgreens and leave. I'm now making a left at the very same traffic light Nose Picker was sitting at earlier. And I hear, "Excuse me, Ma'am?" from my right.

I've become accustomed to people asking me about the scooter, so I turned and smiled and saw an older woman in a 1970s Volvo (because Volvos outlive their owners 10-1). I was expecting a question, but instead got, "Turn your lights on!"

"I'm sorry?"
"Turn your lights on! You should turn your lights on so people can see you better. I took a class once."
"My lights are on. I can't turn them off."
"Oh. I couldn't see them."

Fortunately, I got the green arrow at that point and was able to turn. I really don't know where we would have gone from there.

Have a great day!

Et Tu, Nekkid Woman?

The dog is asleep in my lap (dreaming and therefore twitching wildly) so it's going to be another short, literally phoned-in blog post tonight!

Couple things from today...

Yet another woman entered the showers at the Y today and chose the spot immediately next to me when there were 5 others available!! What the deuce?!

Of course, I forgot to point out something in yesterday's blog that should be obvious: my disdain for this practice does not apply to cute chicks. :)

Shoot, I have a couple other things, but it's just too hard on the phone. If you'll be patient, I'll bang them out tomorrow morning.

Have a good night, everybody!

Communal Shower Etiquette Lesson #1

Let me just take a moment to clear something up for any of my readers who may find themselves in a similar situation. I've been an avid Miss Manners reader for ages and have never seen her address this, so it would be my honor.

When entering a communal shower (for example, at the Downtown YMCA) which contains 7 shower heads -- 4 on one side of the 'room' and 3 on the other -- try to not plant yourself next to the only other person in the shower. It's more than a little skeevy.

Now I understand the other bather's desire to get on the wall of 3 where I was standing. If she's a regular, she knows that the water on that wall gets warmer much more quickly than the other wall because it shares the adjacent steam room's pipes. But seriously, I was the only person in there. Was it really necessary to take the spot immediately next to me?

There's got to be some etiquette book somewhere that would advise leaving a shower head in between each person until it becomes absolutely necessary to fill in. This just seems like common sense to me.

If you crowd me in the shower, I will fight back the only way I know how -- I will place excess shower gel on my puff, lather the hell out of myself, and fling it all over you in the process.

Bert, this is not supposed to be an appealing visual. Stop that.

Be My Little Baby

Less than twelve hours after writing my Getting Ready to Piss blog, I found myself having a mini panic attack over the prospect of not having children. Strange. They just hit me completely out of the blue sometimes. The whole point of the blog was that I was ready to move forward with my life and what I think is my real 'career,' and then here I was having an unexpected, infuriating Ally McBeal moment.

I was thinking about it at our kickball bar that night and then I had a flash of inspiration. One of my friends is a perfect sperm donor candidate and he didn't hesitate in saying "Yes," as long as he has absolutely no legal or financial ties to the child. His girlfriend, my good friend Michele, laid down the law and said there was no way this was occurring the natural way unless there was a sheet between us with a hole in it and her face plastered on the sheet where Greg could see it...

I have no idea where this leaves me. I'm still not 100% sure I want children -- especially alone -- but I'm terrifed I'll wake up when I'm unable to have children and know at that very moment that I really do want them.

We were talking about it at the wedding and my friend Weeble was getting ticked that he wasn't asked. Then he told my Fest Husband, Jack, that he wasn't asked either and a ridiculous conversation ensued, with the boys all arguing about the benefits and strength of their sperm.

So I proposed that we make a sperm cocktail from the three contributors -- Greg, Jack, and Weeble -- and then we could take bets on who the best swimmer would be! We could open it up to everyone and have a pool going and maybe get some sponsors. I'm thinking reality show... I'd also like to see Michael Phelps' swimmers get in there to give the boys a dark horse challenger. We're thinking Vegas might get involved in the betting as well.

Doesn't this all sound like a beautiful way of bringing a baby into the world?! ;)

Illuminate Their Way Home

Morning! Hope everyone is feeling fine. I'm trying to rally for a cold, wet, and blustery Wine Fest this morning. I'm supposed to be there by 11am, so I've got to get a move-on...

I attended the wedding of two kickball friends last night. The groom is new to our circle of friends and I don't really know him that well. He's a Senior Chief Petty Officer in the Navy and had an enormous number of medals on his uniform -- I was afraid he was going to tip over at one point. It was a beautiful ceremony and reception, with many men and women in various Navy uniforms. Living in this area, I really should learn more about this stuff.

Before the reception began, one of Jayson's groomsmen took to the mic and said the following. By the time he finished, there wasn't a dry eye in the house among the civilians. I thought it was worth passing along.

"Before we begin our activities this evening, we will pause to recognize our POWs and MIAs.

We call your attention to this small table, which occupies a place of dignity and honor near the head table. It is set for one, symbolizing the fact that members of our armed forces are missing from our ranks. They are referred to as POWs and MIAs.

We call them comrades.

They are unable to be with their loved ones and families tonight, so we join together to pay our humble tribute to them, and bear witness to their continued absence.

This table, set for one, is small, symbolizing the frailty of one prisoner, alone against his or her suppressors.

The tablecloth is white, symbolic of the purity of their intentions to respond to their country’s call to arms.

The single red rose in the vase, signifies the blood they many have shed in sacrifice to ensure the freedom of our beloved United States of America. This rose also reminds us of the family and friends of our missing comrades who keep the faith, while awaiting their return.

The yellow ribbon on the vase represents the yellow ribbons worn on the lapels of the thousands who demand with unyielding determination a proper accounting of our comrades who are not among us tonight.

A slice of lemon on the bread plate reminds us of their bitter fate.

The salt sprinkled on the plate reminds us of the countless fallen tears of families as they wait.

The glass is inverted - they cannot toast with us this night.

The chair is empty - they are not here.

The candle is reminiscent of the light of hope which lives in our hearts to illuminate their way home, away from their captors, to the open arms of a grateful nation.

Let us pray to the supreme commander that all of our comrades will soon be back within our ranks.

Let us remember and never forget their sacrifices.

May God forever watch over them and protect them and their families."

Another Breeder Event

Greetings and salutations! I'm blogging from my beautiful iPhone, Mildred, as I need to get ready for a wedding and don't have time to fire up the 'puter...

Needless to say, this one's-a gonna be-a shortie!

It's cold and rainy here and yours truly is sleeeeepy. I can only hope the prospect of the goofy looks my kickball friends will have on their faces when they see me in a dress will help me rally.

Hope everyone's having a great day and I'll catch ya later!

Shortest Blog Post

Jesus wept.

Hauntingly.

:)

HAUNTED

If you're paying attention, you know that the NaBloPoMo Jingleheimer Schmidt topic for the month of October is "haunted." I've decided to go for broke and see if I can't bust out a blog a day for both the month of October and November. I know, I feel the excitement in the air too... ;)

There's really no guarantee that I'll keep to the topic, but I'm going to give it a whirl.

First off, the "haunted" or scariest part of this is that I'm writing it on a kickball Thursday night. I should be off at our sponsor bar terrorizing the patrons with my karaoke singing, but I'm home doing laundry instead.

Yeah.

I'm road-tripping tomorrow to NJ and realized yesterday that I hadn't done any laundry and I need to pack and not be completely hungover tomorrow, so...coming home after our game seemed like the wise thing to do. Forty years in and I know my limitations. No, I can't just go for a little bit. No, I can't just have a drink or two. No, I can't keep myself off the karaoke stage....

Herewith, today's entry:

It's absolutely beautiful tonight. There's a full moon, the temperature and smells are fall-like and I know exactly where I'd like to be. You mentioned how you see yourself down the road. I can't remember if you asked or if I just offered, but I admitted that I've never been able to see into my future. It's amazing I've gotten where I am in retrospect. I have no five-year plan. Never have. I talked a good game in high school about what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be, but I was really clueless and flying by the seat of my pants the whole time. Most people who knew me then see a direct line between my stated goal and where I am, but it's still a shock to me. And I know it's not why I was put on the planet.

But back to tonight. I'm haunted by a future I want but might not obtain. I may not see who I'll be or what I'll be, but I can see what I want and who I'd like to be with. I wish we were out in the mountains right now, camping under the full moon. It's a beautiful night for stars and dreams and depth. I can think of no one else I'd rather share it with. And it doesn't really matter if you feel the same way or not. Thank you, my friend, for making me see it at all.