Trying so very, very hard to maintain a level of calm and predictability around this place, even as little complications creep in. Sam has a trip to one of the hippie-dippy middle schools tomorrow morning (and the other one next week), to shadow an older kid around the place and get a feel for things, in the ever-tense situation of “where the heck will I be next year?” Gabe is going through another bout of separation anxiety, with tears and pleas for hearts drawn on his hand before he leaves for school every morning. Swimming lessons are going, well, swimmingly for Sam, not so much for Gabe, though I may go broke on Pokemon cards, since they seem to motivate cooperation in Gabe more than anything else I’ve tried.

Sam’s officially signed up for a junior triathlon this summer. I took him with me to an expo this weekend, where he tried on a pair of little tri shorts and was immediately struck with a rip-roaring case of Quaker-level appalled modesty. Too short! Too tight! Not in public! We ran into a church friend a few minutes later, a man who does tris, and he tried to encourage Sam to “just do your thing, and nobody’s going to care what you’re wearing!” A friend of the man was there, and he offered to sell us a pair of knee-length jammers he’d bought for his grandson that hadn’t been worn; Sam seemed almost okay with that, so I agreed.

Carl, our friend, handed them off to us last night, and Sam tried them on in his room. For a moment, there was a strong sense of

So, I hear there’s a football game this weekend. Since there are no Mountaineers or Packers involved, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t care less. You?

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Of course, this week, I’m taking things really easy, running-wise. I think I’m putting the kibosh on the Newton running shoes, once and for all, or at least for the foreseeable future. Every blasted time I put them on, my peroneal tendon – which developed tendonitis years ago, and that stuff is chronic – starts complaining, and it takes a solid period of babying it to get it to shut up again. I swear, I only went on a few very short runs this time wearing them, two weeks ago, and I’m still with the icing and resting. So this week I’m going to stick to other cardio for the most part and just let it be completely. I’m not a “Newton runner,” I guess.

Anyway, this week is already going to be goofy. The kids are off school today, which meant I had to go to the Y early to be home in time for Eric to head to work. Then on Wednesday, Eric’s got some medical tests for which I need to be on hand to help chauffeur him; might be able to get a workout in around it, but also possible I’ll want to be at his beck and call, so I’m not counting on anything. Saturday night is his company’s holiday party – a bit late, but nice to have, nevertheless. Lots going on, so juggling will have to happen.

Honestly, though, I have to say that probably the main reason I’ve had success with fitness since I started running (five years ago in June!) is that I decided it wasn’t going to be “optional.” Exercise had to be non-negotiable, like a medication I need to take on a regular basis. It’s not something I allow myself to skip on the basis of “I don’t feel like it” – that way leads to more skipping, and more skipping, until I’d have completely fallen off. I know myself well enough to accept that. I try to plan no later than the night before for the following day’s workout; early morning sessions necessitate having the gear and clothes lying right beside my bed, so all I have to do is step into them and go. It took a long time to become habit, but now it is, and I’m happy about that.

Speaking of habits, housework calls. Trying to make Mondays “Kitchen Days.” Rockstar life!

Sundays are for bathrooms. I think I got more satisfaction from this than from the Packers game...

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But the only thing sore this morning are my calves, which is completely unfair. I broke out my Newton running shoes again yesterday for another try at adjusting my form (I got them in June but quickly decided I didn’t have time to deal with a slow adjustment period before gearing up for JFK), and I did exactly what was suggested in Natural Running, right down to only a “slow, ten-minute jog to warm up.” Well, ouch. Darn it.

Side note: I did the workout in my “prison gym,” which is the dismal, run-down basement of the Y where they keep the indoor track. I wanted to jump rope and do the form drills, so it seemed the best place, but it was hilariously awful; I half expected to hear wardens yelling at inmates around me. Also, when’s the last time you jumped rope? I hadn’t since perhaps middle school, so that, too, was hysterical. I think I made it up to 45 jumps once before my wrists and feet got off-track from each other. Perhaps that lack of coordination, plus the balance problems revealed sharply as I was doing the form drills, explain why I fall down so much?

Anyway, going to be a slow run today, and in my regular shoes. Baby steps, y’all. On the plus side, my shoulder feels much better; I think I’m almost getting to the point where I could consider swimming again! Not now, but maybe in another week or two…

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Sometimes, I just don’t know, and exploring deeper seems like a bad idea.

I have a race tomorrow morning, which completely just registered in my brain as something that’s happening. Just a 5K, but still. Like, “Holy crap, I have to go pin on a number.” Not looking to PR, with my knee still playing games with me (bone bruises are a pain, literally and figuratively), but it’s still a fun way to end the year.

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On the other hand, we did get to that basketball camp, and Gabe is in love. Love, love, love. He’s decided that he wants to be on a basketball team NOW, and since we grabbed a basketball from the toy store when we were out spending Christmas gift cards, he’s been dribbling it all over the house, demonstrating his Mad Skillz, yo. I mean, he’s still very much a seven-year-old beginner, but as far as he’s concerned, he’s Michael Jordan. (Sam participated and had fun, but he wasn’t as taken by the sport as his brother. He wanted to get back home and wire things. I kid you not, yesterday he and Eric built a freaking theremin with his electricity set.)

But then Gabe’s ear started throbbing, and he burst into a monster fever last night as he wailed, so we took him into our bed and cuddled him throughout the night until we could get him seen by our wonderful doctor this morning. He feels much better now, thankfully, and the doctor gave him her blessing to attend basketball camp tonight if he’s feeling well (he’s not coughing or sneezing, thankfully), so he’s happy. Hopefully, tonight will go better than last night; nighttime is always the hardest for him.

Enjoy your Wednesday!

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Low-key sort of day. Goose is in the oven – yes, it should have been for Christmas, but when I started to prep it yesterday, one of the initial instructions said to “scald and dry it,” which involved a 24-hour rest period afterward – and quite a lot of Eric’s prized “schmaltz” has already been collected from it. The kids spent a good amount of time destroying various things on their video games this morning, and now they’ve switched over to build mode, having unboxed their electrical sets. (I’ve teased them that when they get all that figured out, they can repair the poorly wired light switch in the upstairs hallway.) Amazing; I don’t understand a lick of it, beyond “must go in a complete circle.” Gabe knows more than I do at this point.

I wanted to get to the gym today, but I’m waiting on a call back about a program happening there for kids later this afternoon; if there’s space available for the kids, I’ll just go work out then. Hope there is. These holidays result in a sudden decrease in regularly scheduled and enforced large-motor-skill time that aggression builds up pretty quickly. I’ve taken to sending them out for runs around the block when they start going for each others’ throats. (Gabe, naturally, has embraced this idea; Sam has a horror of it.) Another session might be approaching soon, from what I’m now overhearing. Maybe I can con convince Sam to take another try on his Ripstik; he was frustrated yesterday by being unable to hop right on and ride, so he decided it was “too cold” and came in after a few minutes.

Goose is done. Smells awesome…

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The PT actually scolded me a little at the last appointment, telling me to grab some “me time.” Well, ordinarily, that’s my run, but my knee is still grouchy. Had an MRI that showed just a little superficial swelling, and they said I could run “as tolerated,” but since I know I could easily “tolerate” myself into a major injury, I’m still being stingy with the mileage. Makes me grumpy to look at running logs of other JFK participants and see how quickly they bounced back.

At least I’m mostly done holiday shopping,  except for a couple of things…including for Eric. Is it me, or does shopping for a spouse gift get harder every year?

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Anyway, I also bought a bunch of mixed nuts today, out of some sort of weird sentimental urge; my grandpa always had a bowl of mixed nuts out during the holiday season (or was it all the time, and I only associate it with now?), with one of those cheap metal nutcrackers in it. Had to buy one of those, too, and the little metal picks that come with it. Gabe is entranced. He doesn’t particularly like nuts, mind, but he’s very impressed with his ability to smash open walnuts. “I must be the strongest person on the planet!” he says, cracking open the nuts and handing over their contents to his brother, who doesn’t like cracking nuts but who finds them tasty. He calls the walnuts “Boss Nuts,” and he defeats them handily, crowing his victories loudly.

Neither child likes the cinnamon candies I got to put on the cookies. So, yay for pork chops, boo for cinnamon, and a mixed judgment on nuts. I’ll take it, I suppose.

Send more walnuts, pork chops, and wine! And pray for Saturday, and Eric’s plane to get here soon.

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Yawn. “Sure, Gabe…”

“And my whole group was supposed to be working on it, and they’re all fighting. So I went ahead and did the work by myself, but that’s bad, too, because we’re all supposed to work together, right? Right?”

Yawwwwwwwwwwn…

I feel so completely wasted right now, exhausted because I didn’t get a run in today or yesterday. My knee has been bugging me, and since pain three weeks out from the original fall is probably not good, I went ahead and called the doctor again, who sent me for an MRI and said not to run until we got results. So I’m not, but, man, do I ever miss the energy I take from a good run. Sleeping in would have helped, a little, but Gabe doesn’t see it that way. (“…pshew, pshew! Aaaaaaaa…boom! Ch-ch-ch-ch…” Battle sounds in my ear, from where he lay in bed between Eric and me, wide awake and imagining soldiers and monsters at war.)

Eric left for Germany this afternoon. He’ll be gone for a week. The boys didn’t much care for that.

I’m not pleased myself, come to that. Miss him already.

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Been some confusion about where, who, and how it’s happening this year; there was no news at all, and some folks said the original maintainers weren’t doing it (I messaged and heard nothing). I thought maybe Facebook, and then Kat asked me to join in on a standalone site, so there was that, and then other people started saying that other folks were doing it, and…well, somebody’s doing something, and since the WHOLE POINT is to write entries on your own site anyway, I figure I’ll just do that and just wait for somebody else to tell me where to put the links when it all gets decided.

Not that it matters to you. You obviously got here via other resources. So this is just all behind-the-scenes stuff that can safely be ignored, other than to say: this is what is irking me. A little. But not nearly as much as my annual irritation:

I know. I know. I’ve said it before, but every year the radio starts playing overly ornamented versions of the carol from various pop singers, and they’re all doing it wrong, and GAH. If Santa wasn’t staring down my chimney, that darn list of his in hand with pen poised at the ready, I’d be tempted to start throwing elbows.

But I’ll stay somewhat cheerful today, because my physical therapist was happy with me again. I’ve got lots more range of motion in my shoulder than when I started, and she gave me more strengthening exercises on top of the ones I have, and I feel optimistic that this whole thing will be a memory sooner rather than later. Of course, I did try swimming with a kickboard this morning, and that was a failure after only 400 yards, but I’ve got patience. No rush.

Also, cheerful because my kids are now happily enjoying me reading to them each night from the Wee Free Men books which…just YAY. So glad to have them liking good, fun books that don’t pander. Thrills my heart.

What’s making you happy tonight? If nothing in particular, try this:

Helium walks into a bar. The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve noble gases.” Helium doesn’t react.

Ba-dump bump.

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Should get my toenails tattooed back on. I’ll bet there’re a lot of nerve endings in nailbeds, though. Hmmmm.

Here, have a picture of the ornaments my children made at the company Christmas party. A snowman and a star. I’ll bet you’ll never guess who made what…

Bonus: their letters to Santa.

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– It’s good when the forgetful child is old enough that, say, when he forgets until the morning before school to tell you that he needs an all-disposable lunch, you can stick a couple of bucks in his hand, point him toward the corner store, and say, “Run.”

– Gabriel informs me that his class is making Christmas ornaments with clay, and he’s opted to make a dreidel. Combine this with how, since he can’t draw ordinary stars, he’s been scribbling Stars of David on everything lately, and I wonder if we’re going to end up in an interesting conversation with a confused teacher one of these days. (No, we’re not Jewish.)

– Second PT appointment this morning. I ran yesterday for the first time since JFK, and within a few miles I determined that the shoulder tolerates running, but the knee is dealing with both the bruise and ITBS. Ow! Luckily, it looks like using the foam roller doesn’t put too much strain on my shoulder, either. Freaked myself out reading everybody’s reports online about how their shoulder injury absolutely required surgery, but then I reminded myself that these were dedicated swimmers and triathletes (the only folks I could find discussing it in terms of endurance athletics), and I don’t need to be able to swim hard for miles.

– Tree is up. The boys were both very gungo-ho about that this year, for the first time taking over a major role in decorating it. Nice ages, this holiday! I barely had to do much ornament hanging at all, since they both dove headlong into the boxes and started hanging stuff all over. But, being boys – and strange ones at that – it got weird quickly. Gabe gathered all the wooden Santas and had them stage battles with each other. Sam started perching cars on the ends of branches. Then they both pretended that the ornaments were terrified of being “hanged” on the tree, and I heard a jingle-bell football player squeaking frantically, “Don’t hang me! I’m Aaron Rodgers’ son! And I’m too young!” I’ve said it before: boys are weird.

- Eric heads for Germany again here in a few weeks. So much fun – for him, that is. For us, it’s decidedly less so. But I’m grateful he has such a good job with a stable company, and he enjoys the travel, so I’m happy he gets to do it. Wish he’d blog about it or something, so I could enjoy it vicariously through more than a few camera phone pictures. Some of us have never left the country, other than a brief childhood sojourn across the border to the other side of Niagara Falls.

Gotta get dressed and head out. Does anybody know anything about Holidailies this year?

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Never done the whole “Go Go” airplane wireless thing before. I’m in the air, somewhere over…oh, who knows. Not Wisconsin anymore, probably, and not yet Maryland. On my way, and on a very uneventful flight, so far.

Sam was scared of me flying. Gabe was terrified of me falling off a mountain during the race. Nobody is allowed to give him any more scary race details, at least until after I’ve finished running; he was trying so hard to convince me to find another, less steep, path off the trail tomorrow.

Anyway. What time is it? Phone says quarter after seven, but I don’t know if the time zone has changed yet. Let’s just say we’re about 24 hours away from race time, give or take, and all’s as well as I could reasonably expect. Cross your fingers, wish me luck, and pray that this pilot is good at landing – because a crash right now would seriously torque me off.

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Swimming lessons went poorly tonight. Well, Sam did fine in his class, and I suppose the last third of Gabe’s was not so bad, but compared to the first two-thirds, it’d be hard not to be. Like the sensation you get when you stop hitting your thumb with a hammer, you know. When he stops howling and glaring death beams at everyone, it gets easier to tolerate the rictus on his face every time the water touches his head. (And yes, the cessation of yowling coincided pretty much with Eric’s arrival. That was predictable.)

I need sleep now, and a fresh day tomorrow.

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Gabe’s “reluctance” (yes, let’s call it that) to take his medicine continues. Tonight, flipping Sam took over the role of cajoler, and that worked about as well as it does for Eric or me; Sam pushed hard with the “I’ll play video games with you if you take it,” and eventually Gabe caved. I can’t believe we have to keep this up for about another week…

Spent a chunk of time this afternoon annotating an elevation chart of the JFK course with aid stations, cut-off times, and possible paces. Obsessing? Who, me? I’d say it’s how I’m staying sane, but I’m pretty sure sanity is a realm I left long ago. (A cut-off I didn’t miss.)

Sleepy now.

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Both Gabe and Eric are now medicated, though Eric’s feeling slightly worse now as Gabe feels perkier. Rather unfair, that, as Eric is willingly taking his antibiotic, while Gabe…well, he doesn’t like liquid medicine, and that’s what he is unfortunately been given. Also, it looks like milk, and he HATES milk. So we’ve done three dosages now, and each has required bribing and arguing and deals extraordinaire. Eric really took it on the chin this last time, taking a spoonful of jolokia hot sauce in exchange for Gabe finishing the dose. It was a sight to see.

Sam and I remain healthy, so far, though Sam’s allergies are acting up a bit in the mornings now. Hopefully, that’s all it is, anyway.

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November, finally/already. This whole year has been just bizarre, feeling in turns hurried and crammed, and yet creeping and slow. I don’t think I’ll miss it, though you’ll have to forgive me if I revisit that thought after finishing JFK. Could be a redeeming factor (or otherwise, which I choose not to consider right now). I think I just want to get to 2012 and see if it can be a more consistent year – though I’ll also press my luck and hope for consistently good. Don’t I just want everything?

Halloween was the same mix of strange. On the one side, both boys were in miraculous agreement as to when they wanted to finish trick-or-treating, without one howling at the moon to go home while the other begged for “just one more block.” On the other hand, their agreement stemmed from the fact that rain was blowing in our faces and wind was turning our umbrellas inside-out. Then they happily agreed that they wanted to go to a particular restaurant (a rare non-fighting event!), which was supposed to be letting kids eat free in costume. Well, apparently, that offer was good for actual Halloween night only, and our town’s trick-or-treat was happening the night before. I guess the restaurant got off lucky on that bargain; don’t know too many folks who would have been willing to re-costume the kids for the next night. Oh, well.

Gabe, by the way was “The Dread Pirate Roberts” from The Princess Bride – a choice which, while awesome, would have been obscure enough amongst the first-grade circle, but he made it more so by introducing himself all day long as “Wesley.” Sam went as a World War II flying ace, and Eric said people kept asking him if he was “The Aviator.” He just blinked.

(“Wesley” was wearing a laced black shirt beneath his leather jacket, but it was too cold to forgo the coat. Sam’s coat was part of his costume, so he was thrilled to not need adaptations.)

Gotta go get them from the bus stop!

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What put it into my head was that last night, we were doing our Bible lesson, and both boys are working to memorize Psalm 23. Sam’s pretty much got it, but Gabe…well, he gets the gist of the chapter, but the words are still elusive:
“He makes me lie on the grass and drink the water.”
“He sets a table with presents in front of my enemies.”
“You fill my head with oil.”

Last night, he got so frustrated that he declaimed the whole thing, yelling, “He leads me down the paths! Of righteousness! for HIS NAME’S SAKE!” and he reminded me so much of Homer (“Take thy beak from out my heart…”) that I couldn’t help myself.

They’re so funny, as they gather more and more tropes from which to draw their humor and references. I won’t spoil the surprise for Halloween, but I’m particularly pleased with Gabe’s choice of costume. Sam tried to base his costume choice around a toy gun that struck his fancy, but I drew a line; for one thing, he wouldn’t be allowed to take said gun to school, anyway, and for another, there are way better ways to choose costumes than by saying, “What will match this cheapo plastic Uzi, probably solidly constructed from recycled Happy Meal toys?” So we went head-to-head, and we came up with a costume that’s slightly more creative, while still allowing him to indulge his fascination in all things bang-bang-shoot-’em-up.

Sam’s trying so hard lately, struggling with the whole exit from young kidhood, that I hate, er, shooting him down like that. (Ow, tomato.) His math tutoring is going better than he expected it to, now that he’s seeing that the tutor is a fun young guy, not an extra taskmaster to please. A while ago, we had removed certain privileges, particularly online ones, and he’s trying to bargain to get them back in exchange for bringing up his grades, so I’m interested to see how this goes. In the meantime, though, I see signs of stress weighing on him; he’s becoming rather obsessive, for example, about making sure the last thing we say to each other at night and before he leaves in the morning is “Good night[/bye], I love you.” If I dare insert anything after saying that, it has to be repeated, as though I’ve negated the thought. The same holds for his interactions with Gabe and Eric. But he seems to be biting his cuticles less, so I suppose it’s a tradeoff…

Gabe has discovered Pokémon. ‘Nuff said.

Anyway, they’re off to have their heads filled for the day (with more book larnin’, not oil, Gabe), and as soon as I finish this cup of coffee (and the one after it), I’ll be running four miles in the rain. This is my last “peak week,” and then it’s taper time! Hopefully, this week beats me up less than last, though I’ve technically got more miles; my “Birthday Run” on Friday, at the Ice Age Trail, absolutely annihilated my quads, and they’re still a bit achey. I’ve got so much KT Tape up and down my legs, in various colors, that I look like a battle diagram. It’s sexy. Love the stuff, though. I wondered if it was just psychosomatic, but the times that I’ve removed the tape and delayed putting it back on, the aches that had faded have begun to return quickly, so I trust that it’s doing its job.

Still haven’t picked my own Halloween costume. What should I be?

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I’m running the 6-hour in two days, during which I hope to cover the 50K distance called for in the plan. As things stand right now, I am the only person signed up to do the 6-hour time during the event (everybody else is signed up for the 12 and 24-hour times), so…I’ll “win”? Right. Go me. I’m just keeping my eyes on the immediate finish, because looking ahead of that point is Too Much. When I posted my last entry, I made a critical error; next Saturday, I have to run 24 miles, not 10. When I realized that, I felt like crying, just because it was such a shock to the system. I got over it, and it’ll be okay, but…darn, man.

Everything else is progressing as it will. Sam is handling school okay, with the exception of math, but we’re exploring ways to help that (a teenager from our church will be tutoring him once a week, for one). He switched to trombone instead of trumpet, and he’s all excited over a new unit on architecture they just began in class. Gabe is chugging along, enjoying schoolwork and activities, except for swimming – that’s going poorly at the moment for him, but I have faith we’ll have another upswing sooner or later. He hates the water temperature most of all, despite wearing a shirt over his torso to help it. He’s turning seven in a few weeks, so that’s a big obsession for him, too.

Eric has the patience of a saint, putting up with all of our ups and downs. I’ve promised him less chaos from my end, at least, by mid-November. JFK is only about a month away now, and that just never stops getting freakier.

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Eric has a short business trip this week, but it works out that the only night he’ll be gone is the night he’s typically out past our bedtimes, anyway, with his weekly Scrabble game, so it’ll only be the next morning that we’ll miss his presence. (Well, except for me missing him in my sleep, but that’s understood.) More little trips scattered over the calendar, though, and they do add up over time. Can’t be helped. When I think of friends whose husbands are deployed overseas, or who are single-momming it full-time, I don’t feel like I have a whole lot of room to complain.

I’m blathering. My brain feels too fried to type anything of value.

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Somebody who’s done this, please reassure me on the point? ::Frantically re-reading Running Through the Wall again::

School is progressing normally; due to Labor Day weekend, they’re only on their third day of school today. Gabe’s got his first test coming up at the end of the week, a reading test (small “sight words” that he should be able to recognize without sounding them out), and he’s a little nervous about that. Sam has his laissez-faire attitude going on again, and I hope that doesn’t extend again toward the bringing home of homework, but we’ll see. His new teacher, new to the school, said that he’ll be keeping us up to date on missing assignments (not that they won’t be marked down or even not given credit at all), so I hope that’s reliable.

Labor Day weekend itself was fun. We hit the closing weekend of the Renaissance fair, a bonfire with friends, and had lots of time to just relax and let sore muscles heal. Wait, maybe that was just me. It’s a running step-back week (FINALLY), and my body is thanking me profusely now!

Getting my hair cut now. (Might just get ‘em all cut. Ba-dump-bump.)

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Ah, the faces of the heat wave. The manic, tired eyes and the humidity-wrecked hair…the sweat sheen that never dissipates…the pupils dilated from the sugar rush you get when you try to medicate with ice cream…the brain frazzled from the complaining and whines that inevitably follow said sugar crash…And we’re all snapping at each other for any and no reason. Lovely, right? This was the best of several pictures I tried to snap here before finally giving up and declaring it honest, if not flattering.

School got cancelled today, too. We’re in a nearby hotel, using Rewards Points Eric’s earned from all that travel that I sighed about earlier this year. (I’d say I’ll not sigh again in the future, but who am I kidding? ) It’s a luxury, but probably a necessity, too; Sam started barking with asthma coughs just stepping into the lobby this morning. This air is No Joke for people with breathing issues. Even I had trouble drawing breath during my very brief “run” this morning (which was meant to be in the hotel fitness room on a treadmill, before I found out we didn’t have one), so I have strong sympathy for anybody with involuntarily stressed systems.

Gabe’s having nightmares. Sam’s butting heads with me at every opportunity, and I’m butting back. Eric walked full-force into a door last night. It’s…it’s…

COUNTING BLESSINGS!
1. It’s only a handful of days a year, when you add them up.
2. Pistachio ice cream with almonds.
3. The kids are playing peacefully with cheap plastic army men, and nobody’s arguing!
4. Tomorrow’s a swim workout day, and I’m looking forward to that.
5. Post-sugar crash leading to lethargy now, which feels not unwelcome, all things considered.

Oh, swim workout: forgot to say. My plan for JFK is going to involve Saturday and Sunday long runs (well, long and recovery), sandwiched by cross-training days. Swimming will feature heavily, being so wonderfully non-impact. I’ve been continuing to go for about an hour a couple of times a week, and I think I’m really getting the hang of it now, with the Swimplan.com drills.

Lethargy hitting full-force now. Must lie down.

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I did my run today at 5 AM, hoping to avoid the worst of the day’s heat-advisory-level temps, but I was sticky before I even got out the door. Thank God this is a fall race, so I’m still in the low mileage zone.

This whole basement thing is creating an interesting phenomenon. My elementary school kids are turning into bona fide frat boys down there. They’re hooting and hollering over video games, sprawled out all over the floor (oh, by the way, want to know what’s better than $45 bean bag chairs for which you also have to buy your own “beans” to stuff them yourself? Giant doggy beds. You’re welcome.), completely oblivious to any kind of social mores; last night, unable to fathom cooking, I ordered pizza, and when I went down to check on them later, the scene was so very Animal House that I almost went looking for hidden togas and kegs. Terrifying.

Unrelated, Gabe now says he wants to be a judge when he grows up. This can in no way end boringly.

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Only “down side” this week has been that I haven’t run. On Friday, the slight thigh twinges I’d been feeling on some of my runs began to make me nervous to the point where I decided that rather than risk worsening it, I would take some rest time and swim. So swim I did! I even went so far as to sign up for free swimming plans at Swimplan.com, which generates workouts based on your ability level and goals. It’s been an interesting little sidebar, and I think I’m already beginning to see some improvements in my skills! Not that I’m training to be a real Capital-S-Swimmer, or even a triathlete, but I figure that a thing worth doing is a thing worth doing well, and there’s no point in using swimming as a cross-training activity without working on developing it.

Going to hit a running form clinic tonight, at a brand new running store. Education and information, all around!

Sam had a playground field trip to a water park today, and Gabe had a “mess fest” through his playground program. You may remember when Sam had this experience:

Gabe has stayed home and refused to participate in the activity for the past two years, but this year, he decided to give it a go, reserving the right to not take part in anything too gross. He met with success:

That’s mostly paint, though at one point he sat in a chair, playing Musical Chairs, before realizing it contained spaghetti with sauce. Ewwww!

Back to the regular grind now!

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- Swam 1400 yards
- Washed and dried a load of clothing
- Emptied out a chest freezer full of rotten food, which got unplugged some unidentified time in the past without notice
- Aided Eric in vacuuming out the…liquid, we’ll call it.
- Mopped the floor around the freezer
- Called a haul-away service
- Re-dressed a child who refuses to admit that this weather is what Wisconsinites refer to as “summer” (i.e. not thermal shirt weather)
- Stripped said child’s stinky, sweaty bed linens (he also refuses to go without pajamas, for similar reasons)
- Made and am enjoying what I think is a well-deserved pot of coffee

Coming up next: dropping kids off at school, then mowing the lawn. Whee!

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Gabe is currently out riding his bike along the sidewalk, which…okay, awesome. It’s Sam’s hand-me-down Trek, currently with training wheels, and I’m not at all worried about anything going wrong, since he is beyond cautious over it. It took real strength of will for him to convince himself to hop on, but he’s going at it doggedly, and he’s hit a point where he feels he’s “going really fast!” (swiftly enough to make me break into a power-walk next to him). He did have a crash yesterday, when he tried to make too sharp a turn for his skill level, and, as I predicted, he immediately insisted he didn’t want to ride anymore. Luckily, we’d had that talk already, he and I, and I jumped right in, reminding him that he had to get back on right away and show it who was boss. So he did, and it was all good.

This morning, I discovered that at some point, the chest freezer in the basement got unplugged. The seal on that thing is impressive; I had no clue until I opened it, and then…oh, the humanity. I’ve plugged it back in, for now, hoping that letting it freeze a little bit before cleaning will make the stench a bit more tolerable.

Gabe pulled me over to a framed family photo this morning, propped against the wall where it will hang. “I saw this, and I don’t want it to change,” he said. I told him we couldn’t leave it there, since it would fall over and break, but he stopped me. “I mean, I don’t want that to change. I want us to stay just like that.”

“We look nice there, I know. We’ll have other portraits, though, that look nice, too, as we grow up,” I said.
“But…when I’m a teenager, will I still live in this house?”
“Yes.”
“Can I come sleep in your bed, then, too?”
“If you really want to.”
“I’m just going to miss us all.” Then he ran off.

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And just like that, school’s out for the year, and vacation ends/begins. (How is it that I never fully appreciated just how much of an anti-vacation summer is for parents when I was a kid? Mom and Dad never seemed more stressed than usual during the summer…but, then again, I suppose they weren’t as shy about administering heavy doses of “eat your breakfast, then get outside and don’t come back until lunch.” I’d try that more often, but it seems to end in more tears and recrimination with my kids than I recall it being with me and my brother. I suppose we had more neighborhood foils to stand between us and distract tension than my kids do.)

Luckily, the playground programs began today, seamlessly bridging the gap between when school ends and summer school begins. Both kids enjoyed their programs, so that’ll take care of afternoons for a while. The rest of today was a bit madcap. I spent the morning on the phone with doctors and pharmaceutical providers, trying to argue my way into not having to mail out monthly paper prescriptions for maintenance meds (don’t ask), in between which headaches I managed to get the grass cut and the kids to the library.

Then, when they were at the playground, I got out the bike, intending to top off the tires with air and go on a ride…but after futzing with the valves and the adaptor for a while, I finally admitted defeat and walked the bike to the bike shop, pump on my back, for a lesson in how to do it properly. Turns out, “properly” necessarily involves a pump that isn’t broken. Well, who knew? At least it wasn’t my fault the tires wouldn’t get full. Rode home with a new (heavier, bulkier, pointier) pump in the bag on my back (jabbing me in the ribs with every jounce).

Then I fed the family, scrubbed the stovetop with the assistance of copious scrubbing powder and red wine (the wine for me, to make the task more tolerable), and sent the kids out to play (“and don’t come back until bedtime or until somebody’s bleeding!”). (No, not really.) (Though it was tempting.) Now I sit here, soaking my healing toes, counting down the minutes until bedtime.

I love vacations, don’t you?

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I began calling it “The Weekend of Impossible Things” in my head, what with the flights and the race, but honestly, the flights probably couldn’t have gone any more smoothly. Eric dropped me off early at the airport on Friday mid-afternoon, and I drank a cup of coffee until it was time to board; the plane was a little late arriving, but they got us on as quickly as possible when it did, so I got to Minneapolis almost when I was supposed to. It was much warmer there than it had been in Wisconsin, which gave me some sense of foreboding, but what can you do?

Kelly and Sean picked me up, and we went for dinner at a sweet little Thai place, where I had a delicious curry; then we went home and I got to meet their adorable puppy, Jetta. Make no mistakes, Jetta is a Good Girl.

Got to take lots of walks with her over the course of the weekend, and she’s really taking to training very smoothly!

Next morning, a friend of Kelly’s came in with her mom, and they, Kelly, and I hit the Minneapolis Farmer’s Market. Oh, but before that, I got up and did a quick 3.5-mile shake-out-the-legs run around gorgeous Lake Harriet, which was only a couple of blocks from their house. Talk about convenient…and talk about busy! The paths around the lack were positively packed with runners, walkers, and cyclists. I was amazed at the number of active people out there! And Kelly and Sean told me that every lake is at least that busy on a regular basis! Most impressive! The Farmer’s Market, huge and bustling, reaffirmed the idea in my head that Minneapolis is powerfully focused on health. Wonderful!

After Kelly’s friend left, she and I went to packet pickup, which was quite well-organized and very “green” – no bag full of coupons and junk that would probably go to waste. Got my chip, bib, shirt, and hat, and then we browsed. I knew my New Balances were going to be officially retired after the race, and I scanned the sale shoes available…but then made a last-minute switch.

Baaaaaaa. Let’s jump on the bandwagon, shall we? But I’ve got assurances that should these Newtons not work out for me, I can deal with a local shoe store and head back to my motion-control clompers. Also got a copy of Danny Abshire’s book, all autographed. Neat.

Went home and showed off our stuff to Sean, his dad, and another good friend, Mel. Sean and his dad worked on various house-related projects, and then dinner preparation got underway; meanwhile, after having listened to me bemoan the state of my own house, Sean’s dad actually sat down and helped me sketch out some plans for fixing things around here! I could actually begin to feel optimistic, almost!

Shared a lovely meal of grilled veggies and some lentil soup, then retired early, a bundle of nerves…which somehow evaporated overnight. When I woke up the next morning, I was feeling bizarrely relaxed, not at all afraid of what was to come…

To Be Continued…

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Eep. I’m cleaning my living room in a frenzy (why do we have so many Legos? Where are they all coming from?!) because I can’t tolerate sitting still. Ack.

The weekend’s saving grace: Kelly! Hurray for hosts who are also running, and who have the impeccable manners not to be blissfully on the other end of the confidence spectrum over their own race. On the other hand, she says she does well running in heat, a talent I lack, so we’ll just see. (I keep trying to remind myself that Devil’s Lake was in the 80s and for a lot longer and harder running, but somehow, that memory isn’t comforting me much…

I also screwed up with my shoe rotation this training cycle, doing more runs in one pair than the other, and I just noticed that I’ve got over 400 miles on these New Balances in which I plan to race. Now, I haven’t noticed any problems from them yet, but I’d rather not have had that knowledge in my head at this point, I believe. Fret, fret, fret.

Somebody tell me something cheerful and fluffy?

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Turns out, “lightweight” is really subjective. It’s been a while since I tried to actually run with him in it, and it was an effort. On the other hand, it gave me an opportunity to talk to him about the freshly placed flags, and we took a moment mid-run to read the decorated headstones and think about what it all meant. He was very quiet for a while after that.

The rest of the day has been very low-key, with a brief veterans’ parade in the morning, followed by lunch and a return to home so Sam could finish up his homework. It was warm today, warmer than it has been so far this year, I think. I took advantage of it to go out and finish some yard work, the latter half of which Eric came out and joined me to complete. Thing is, I hate yard work; we both do. Honestly, it’s probably one of the biggest motivating factors which makes us think that our next move might be to a condo. I get no pleasure from trying to tame green things. It’s not that I don’t like them; it’s that I like them best when I can leave them to their own, or someone else’s, resources. I don’t get the idea of trying to grow grass. It’s…grass. Look at a field; it seems to be growing quite well without help. Why does surrounding it with a fence, or putting a house in the middle of it, suddenly cripple its sense of independence? Sissy little plant; I didn’t sign on to be your mother…

I swear, though, the Attack Weed-Trees were in full force. Eric battled them. At one point, I heard a loud crack! and his shout, and I turned around to see Eric lying on his back, triumphantly gripping the tree he’d managed to yank from the ground, at cost to his own balance. Victory! We ended up with four big bags of yard waste of which I now have to figure out how to dispose.

Got to go call my dad now. He’s a veteran, so it’s his day!

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The kids brought home their new school pictures.

  

And I insta-aged about ten years, just looking at them. Seriously, between Sam’s “too cool to giggle out loud” facial expression and Gabe’s Casanova-ish swagger, I just…where did my babies go? I think I’ll just make myself feel a little better:

Ah, yes. There they are.

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(Watch: it’ll pour cats and dogs on June 5th, the day of Minneapolis.)

Wet doesn’t bother me much, but really, the whole point of picking Lake Geneva was to have a pretty race. I’d sort of like to be able to enjoy the scenery, you know? Anyway, it’s still fifty-fifty for showers, so the whole thing is all up in the air figuratively as well as literally.

After the race, I’m supposed to go to a Kentucky Derby party. Tomorrow, I’m heading to some thrift stores to find the base for what will hopefully become a lovely race-day chapeau. Of course, as always, I’m likely overestimating my crafting ability, and what appears in my mind’s eye as a tasteful accessory is probably going to look like a kindergarten craft project. A for ambition; (projected) D for execution. Keep fingers crossed that I at least manage to avoid hot gluing the brim to the coffee table. (I doubt my neck could support dangling furniture.) Gonna have me a mint julep, though, and that’ll take the edge off any fashion faux-pas I’ve made.

Yep, Saturday’s going to be fun. It better be, because it kicks off a two-week stretch without Eric again.

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They go back to school tomorrow. Gabe’s been singing “Monday, Monday, going to school on Monday…”

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I hear there’s a wedding tomorrow. No, really; I’m not as “Get this crap out of my face!” as some folks I know, but I’m not as “OMG PRINCESS!!! (and ponies!!!)” as others. Honestly, what I am is nostalgic – for my high school European History classes. A discussion on Facebook evolved into debate over whether Catherine was going to be Queen one day or not, and I found myself desperately, and futilely, trying to recall that particular lecture for a while before finally breaking down and looking it up. (Answer: Queen Consort, but not Queen Regnant.) I loved that class, with all the tangents and sordid tales of intrigue we soaked in every day.

Spring Break is over halfway over, and nobody’s yet killed anybody else. Been quite a lot of this:

…which is fun, though it inevitably leads to the “Somebody please pick up all these pieces of fort!” stage of battle, which in turn leads to “He’s not helping!” So that’s not as much fun.

Easter was low-key this year; we never did dye eggs, but we did a plastic egg hunt in the house, as well as search for hidden baskets outside. (No snow for Easter this year, but it was too cold and damp to want to spend much time outside searching for much.) Candy was eaten, eggs were pelted at each other (“It’s a grenade, Mom!”), and another year passed without question of whether certain characters were real or imaginary. (Honestly, Sam still seems to believe in everything from Santa to the Tooth Fairy, without a hint of suspicion, but I’m not sure whether that’s genuine innocence or part of his complete refusal to want to grow up in any area of life, ever. )

Spring might finally be here; my bushes are starting to get green at the ends. Miraculously, the cherry tree seems to remain alive, too (the pear tree didn’t survive that summer). Someday, I have faith…it might have a branch. Perhaps two. (I won’t even dare to dream of actual fruit; those are things that happen to other people. )

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The first day of Spring Break has been a bit tumultuous. Sam had a check-up with his doctor regarding a recently-begun medication, and in the course of that check-up, she determined that the cough we’d been writing off as an allergic flare-up was something buried firmly deep in his lungs and needing to be treated in a different fashion. So we had to get those pills, and we had to grab construction paper for a homework project, and we stopped by the bookstore for some “Spring Break Emergency Quiet-Time Reading Materials” (Sam chose a book on the sinking of the Bismarck; Gabe picked a Pokemon handbook), and by the time we finally made it home, the boys were nigh on feral. They’ve been snapping and biting, figuratively, ever since. (And if you think homemade banana waffles would soothe their nerves, you’d, apparently, be wrong.) Eric wisely opted for an outing with a coworker tonight over the waffles, but that’s okay; I’ve got running club tomorrow morning, and he can deal with the early morning bickering.

We haven’t dyed eggs for Easter this year. Not sure we will; it’s one thing, as it was when I was a kid and we did Easter at my grandma’s church, when you’re dying a bunch to take to church for a big ol’ Egg Hunt, but it’s another entirely when the only people to see your eggs are yourselves, and not that many people in the family are wild about hard-boiled eggs, anyway, but it hardly seems worth it to break out the dye for the small number of eggs you’ll realistically consume (and egg salad isn’t a favorite, either)…isn’t there something else we could dye? Hot cross buns aren’t piquing their interests, in the alternative.

The secular celebration of Easter is definitely something that loses its charm on the other side of the adult-child equation, at least for me. Christmas? Birthdays? Sure. Not this one, though. Way more fun to hunt for a basket and squeal over chocolate eggs than to manage the behind-the-scene workings on this one. But perhaps I’m feeling a bit grumbly; I’ll probably be over it as soon as the sun makes another (fleeting) appearance.

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Eric’s home today. It started as a “Man Cold,” but now he’s running a fever and has chills, and his throat is killing him. He’s heading to the doctor here in a bit; they think it might be strep. (So help me, if either the kids or I get it…) Hope he gets better quickly; illnesses tend to linger with him, considering his other, chronic illnesses and the sleep apnea machine that likes to blow congestion into his sinuses.

It’s weird, having this snow and grey weather outside, and illnesses inside, after yesterday’s prettiness. Sam played outside with a friend, and I took Gabe (ostracized by the older kids after an argument) on a long, pleasant walk to a friend’s house. The reason for the visit wasn’t so pleasant; her adult son passed away this week, and I assisted with the funeral just before, so this was the mourners’ gathering. But the spirits were strong, and everybody was drawing comfort from the group. Gabe was very polite, talking with her about her dogs. Easier to think about that than other things, for all involved.

Anyway. This is the last week before Spring Break, for which we’re not doing much; Eric has a business trip, just for a day, in the middle of the week, which precludes any larger plans. Low-key is good, though. I’m learning to appreciate that as I get older.

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It was a swimming lesson night. After discussing the matter with both the boys’ teachers, it’s safe to say that both of them will be repeating this class for another go-around. The upside is that Sam’s teacher says that, with the exception of one little girl, all the kids in the class will be repeating. I’m not sure what that says, but whatever; Sam’s more at peace with the idea of not graduating so long as he’s in the majority. Eric and I are looking at it as though it’s simply a two-semester class; the kids will all come away stronger for it. Despite his best efforts, Sam still sinks and sputters when he tries to paddle for more than ten or fifteen feet, and Gabe has only just screwed up the courage to swim a yard or so using a kickboard, the teacher standing an arm’s length away, in chin-deep water. But there are no more shrieks!

Had a moment of panic trying to leave the Y tonight, when I put my hand in my purse and found my keys were gone. At first, I thought it was just my house keys, and I guessed that I had left them on the table after having them out with me when I went for a run earlier today (six miles, no issues or points of note). But my car key was gone, too, and since I distinctly remembered having driven to the Y in the first place, I was flummoxed. The kids helped me search the ground and ask for help, but no key was found. I nearly dumped my purse in the search…and then I found the small hole in the lining of the pocket that had held my keys. (Oh, Mr. Choo, you let me down. ) Stuck a finger in there, and found both house and car keys. Oops.

Now Sam is working on a report on ancient Roman military, yet another assignment in the long line of growing topics designed to make me feel thoroughly ignorant and uneducated. Meh.

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I also managed, through total fluke, to bring along a book I was idly rereading…having completely forgotten that I’d promised to loan it to the friend I sat with for the meeting. She was all, “Are you reading that again?” and it still took me about fifteen minutes to put two and two together and remember I’d said I’d give it to her. Precious. I swear, the hair is naturally red, not blonde…

Yum, soup.

I’m theoretically racing tomorrow. Ask me if I’ve registered. Part of this brain still thinks that the moment I plunk down the money to run, my leg will immediately implode. Gotta love paranoia, don’t you? I’m also aggravated that new travel has made it back onto Eric’s work schedule, and it’s trying to mess with both the half-marathon I wanted to run in early May and the marathon I planned for June. Not completely, mind you, just nibbling at the edges, coming too close for comfort. Can I make it back from the race in time for Eric to catch his flight, you know? (He says it’ll be fine; I say that it’s not what I wanted to be worrying over as I run…)

Of secondary concern to me is that he’ll be out of the country for Mother’s Day. That’s secondary mostly because we can still celebrate another day, but it’ll be a bummer to wrangle the kids by my lonesome if I try to brave a Mother’s Day brunch. Not a huge issue, though. The biggest issue, beyond races and brunches, is my husband is going away again. At least it’s Germany this time; I won’t be nearly as terrified for his safety. (Note: this is not the cue to start telling me about bizarre violent crime sprees that might be currently happening in Deutschland. Seriously.)

Anyway, might go run in the rain now. Gently – not out of fear, though, of course! No, it’s just…taper! Yeah, taper! For a 5K…

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Then I couldn’t help but return the familial love by picking up Cthulu Dice for Eric. I cannot wait to play it with him, and I think the kids could play, too, though it’s marked for ages 10 and up. At a five to ten minute game time, I know they’ll at least have no problem keeping their attention on the game. I’ll come back with a better review after we have a chance to try it out. (Also got Cuponk for the kids, but I’m not sure if I’m giving it to them now or waiting for Easter.)

While I was out, Eric called to ask if I’d gotten the Vitamix he’d told me to go ahead and buy before he left for China. Now, that’s a whole other ball game, a world apart from little jackets and dice games. I want one desperately, but it’s SO expensive that it well and truly crosses the line of comfort beyond which I have a huge block about spending money on myself. He can say “go ahead” all he wants, but…gah! Can’t! Didn’t! He reminded me that there was a store that sold them right there in the mall where I was, but even then…no. Can’t. (No, I don’t know how this barrier got erected in my brain.)

But I have a berry-colored jacket to console me. It can’t make soup or grind grains, but it makes me smile anyway.

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(Funny story about the purse: at customs, the man asked, “Did you buy any bags?” Eric answered in the affirmative, and the man asked what kind. “I don’t know. Brown,” Eric said. “Not Prada or Coach.” The customs guy let Eric through. I later chided Eric, laughingly, since he’s the one who watched almost every episode of “Sex in the City,” so he’s the one who really should have remembered Carrie Bradshaw’s fondness for the brand. The wallet brand, we both had to Google, though.)

Sam’s back, too, from the Dells. He’s lucky to be alive, that one; I discovered on Sunday night that he had hidden an inch-high stack of late homework assignments in the back of his closet so that I wouldn’t find them and make him work on them before (or possibly instead of) going on the trip. He’s being suitably punished; no screens of any kind until every single assignment has been placed into his teacher’s waiting hands. (She emailed me to check on the stack; that’s the only way I even would have found out about the ruse.) He’s taking it in stride, thankfully, after an initial freak-out and a few minor panic attacks over some of the work that he hadn’t begun because he thought it was too hard. Not that it isn’t hard stuff, some of it; I honestly have vivid memories of tackling some of these specific topics in high school.

Gabe’s bugaboo continues to be swimming. After yesterday’s screamfest, one of the senior teachers approached me and said that next week, he’d like to take on Gabe one-on-one in the therapy pool. Gabe, when he heard that, flipped out and tearfully insisted that he’d be just fine in his regular class (I think he got scared about the idea of not being able to “hide” behind the rest of the class), but he’s come to terms with it and told my mom last night on the phone that he was doing it this way by choice. We’ll see how it goes.

Dragging today. Last night’s thunderstorm got a little bit of an overachiever complex, pelting the windows so loudly that I had to close the doors to the rooms on the windward side of the house or the noise would have been deafening. I think there was hail, too, and the ground had a light covering of snow when we woke. Sheesh. And, yes, I’ll be going out to run in a few minutes, before the “wintry mix” kicks back up again.

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(Unrelated to anything, I woke up this morning with a wretched cramp in my calf that won’t go away. It’s demanding attention right now, pulsing at me. Argh.)

Anyway, it’ll be a quiet weekend here, though Gabe’s now lobbying hard for fun activities to mollify his disappointment. I’m down for some fun, but, sorry, kid, we are not checking into a waterpark hotel for kicks. After hearing the screams at your last swimming lesson (honestly, are you ever going to stop that?), I don’t know why you’d want to go to a water-themed place, anyway. By the way, it’s water in the pool, not acid-laced quicksand; I promise that if you stand up at the shallow end of the pool, you will be able to breathe and not “DIEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Eric gets back Saturday afternoon; I’ll be able to do my long run, but not early with the running club. This past week was a step-back week, and this week I’m back up to a whole (gasp!) nine miles. I’m doing it right, careful and cautious as can be, but a little part of me is so frustrated at the slow increases. Then again, another small part of me is, well, afraid. This year has been one injury after another, and I can’t help but worry that every time I add on an extra mile or two, I’m risking yet another malady. I haven’t signed up for any races yet, even the 5K in a few weeks that I know I’m in fine shape to do. Just can’t wrap my mind around it; something could still Go Wrong. I know it’s not rational; like I said, the rational part of my brain is being patient and calm in the face of the slow-but-steady build-up. Those two little warring factions in the corners of my mind, though, can get pretty noisy.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day. Here’s a question: Lent is considered to be forty days, as Sundays are considered by the church to be “feast days.” But St. Patrick’s Day is also considered a feast day by the church, so why isn’t Lent considered 39 days? Just occurred to me this morning. Then again, I wasn’t raised in a liturgical church, so maybe this is a “duh” question that gets explained easily during confirmation or something.

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Eric just called from a bar in Changzhou, where his work contingency is spending a couple of days at another plant. I heard three women singing very loudly in the background; it sounded like a lot of fun was being had. Eric says that in many ways, it’s not all that different from visiting any other large city (though Changzhou is a little more rural); his hosts took them for lunch yesterday at Papa John’s pizza, and today they were given bao dumplings and Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Today is swimming lesson number three. (Cringing preemptively, I am.) It’s going to be very interesting if/when they get to the end of the class and Sam graduates, while Gabe, if he continues on his current trajectory, doesn’t. I expect fireworks in that “unfair!” situation.

Need more coffee now.

(By the way, today’s the last day of round one voting for my friend’s contest. I’d love to see them advance and get closer to a goal that would help Todd provide for his family when he won’t be able to do so himself any longer.)

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It could have been an evening where Gabe got lots of pleasant, all-to-himself fun time with Eric and me, but unfortunately, his body decided to launch a new gastric attack instead. He spend the afternoon howling and crying and vomiting and moaning, poor kid. I really, really wish I knew how to help him; he’s taking an antacid, as prescribed by the specialist, and he has an endoscopy scheduled for later this week. Praying for an answer, once and for all!

It’s felt like an especially long weekend, anyway, due to both boys being on forced video-game “hiatus” for different reasons. (Gabe threw an epic – even by his standards – public scream-fest over a haircut, of all things, and Sam had an honesty issue.) Tomorrow is Monday, thank goodness, and we can both parole them and be released ourselves from the nonstop complaining. Actually, it’s mostly been Gabe; Sam was upset, but he got over it pretty quickly and found other ways to occupy himself. Gabe, though, has been quite persistent at trying to find ways around his punishment, with semantics and loopholes and attempts at trickery. No outright sneaking, though; at least he hasn’t gone that far.

Tomorrow is Empty Bowls! Eric can go with us this year; last year he was away, but this year he won’t be leaving for another trip until next weekend. Sam’s supposed to have Scouts, but when I mentioned that to Eric, he firmly said that Empty Bowls was more important. I tend to agree.

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Kids have no school today, so at least there’s that. I cannot even imagine him putting a teacher through that experience.

Also thankfully, Eric comes home tonight. (And there was much rejoicing.) Then we have two blessed weeks before he heads off to Freaking China. This’ll be a new one; he hasn’t gone there before. I suppose it’s more of the same on our end, with the exception of having to figure out yet another time zone difference for phone calls. Souvenirs for the family will be different, too.

The boys’ swimming lessons start on Tuesday. I can’t decide if I’m looking forward to that with optimism or with the part of the brain that just likes to watch things burn.

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But I think it is getting better. I didn’t feel any twinging yesterday, and I began doing some gentle stretching, which is supposed to be the next step. We’ll see; I’ll try a gentle test run tomorrow, and if there’s no pain, I will not push things. Not that I think I did last time, but you just don’t know. Ugh. I also intend, no matter how much I hate it, to stick to the treadmill until I’ve eased my way back into regular running, so as to avoid the icy spots that might have encourage the groin pull in the first place. Yuck.

But I don’t want to have another bad day, so I’m combating it with my usually successful strategy of Getting Stuff Done. I signed both boys up for swimming lessons at the Y, starting in a couple of weeks. See, Sam’s Scouts den is going to be working on an Aquatics belt loop, and the den leader blithely suggested that the boys “brush up” on swimming skills before that. Sam’s skills = nonexistent, beyond splashing around in chest-deep water. Feeling like a rotten, neglectful parent, I found the class that actually would accommodate both boys’ abilities and signed them up. This will be interesting; Sam looked horrified until I told him Gabe would be in his class (at which point, for some reason, he began cackling and dry-washing his hands, and I choose not to dwell on the meaning behind that), and Gabe…well, Gabe just looked horrified. This is the kid who only in recent history was willing to wade into water up to his knees. Lord, have mercy on this teacher. (I did warn them while registering. Can’t say I didn’t.)

Also did some tweaking to Sam’s website this morning, fixing an issue with log-in. (Thank you, Andrea!) He’s having a “blog revival,” coinciding with his telling his school friends about it and seeing their interest piqued. Of course, he also inadvertently led them to believe that he could actually code games, instead of just making a link list of his favorite online games, so we had to settle that situation immediately. (“No, Sam, I can’t just help you make a game with helicopters and lots of guns, no matter what you told Tony.”)

Very much looking forward to Valentine’s Day. Remember last year? Eric’s already working up his Super Secret menu plan for Monday night, and the folks to whom he’s told those plans have expressed deep envy. Also like last year, we plan to bribe the boys to go to bed early, so it can be a grown-up meal in luxurious peace. (No holds barred on that bribe. It’s WORTH IT.)

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Sam brought home tons of unfinished classwork and homework this weekend, much of which revolved around the dreaded long division. I booted up Khan Academy, and he and I worked through lots of exercises before tackling the assignments. His sticking point is in looking at two unrelated numbers and trying to divide one into the other when the answer isn’t cleanly even. Nine doesn’t go into sixty-one well, for example, and his brain refuses to put the two together and come up with six. It’ll just take practice, which he dreads.

We’re about to get whomped with a couple of snowstorms over the next few days. I just hope the one starting tomorrow holds off until the afternoon; there’s a funeral in the morning, and though I don’t know the man who passed away, I’m singing at the service, and it would feel sad if the weather kept people from attending. (Actually had to go get a dress for the service; I didn’t really have anything that seemed appropriate. Lots of clearance sales, thankfully.) Anyway, when all’s said and done, there might be a few feet of snow on the ground, which somehow doesn’t bother me so very much. It feels like we’ve gotten off lucky so far this winter, compared to most, and we’re overdue for a whomping.

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My foot is improving. Interestingly, I think I’ve discovered one thing that aggravates it quite a lot: sitting in chairs. I mean, like our computer chair, and for too long. If I’m on a couch, or if I have my foot up, it’s fine, but the desk chair has it aching pretty quickly. Okay, got to remember that! Ran today in the blowing snow, which was beautiful and fun and silly. I looked like a snowman when I finished.

Then I sold popcorn at the kids’ school for four hours. Less fun and silly. (Bag, staple, load into boxes, repeat, repeat, repeat.) The look on Gabe’s face when he saw me made it worth it, though.

Busy weekend coming up, with the Pinewood Derby, an anniversary party for the boy’s old preschool, and a multisport expo that I try to attend every year. Eric has tomorrow off, though, so we’re going to try to go here for lunch. I’m looking forward to that!

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February was about doldrums, which I seem to have dealt with by drinking lots of coffee and eating good food, much of which was prepared by my husband’s loving hands.

In March, Eric went to Germany, and I started training for Devil’s Lake. I also went vegetarian.

April saw more running (a half-marathon PR), another Germany trip, and an Easter trip to Madison.

May was thirteen years married to the love of my life. May was a marathon, the Green Bay one. May was Gabe graduating from preschool.

In June, Sam finished school and turned nine, which was the high point of the month. Low points: the ITBS smacking me in the knee, and then the house burglary. But the knee was fixed by physical therapy, in time for me to have one of the most awesome training runs I’ve ever had, on the Kettle Moraine trail, and, thank God, nobody was hurt when the house was burgled.

July…Devil’s Lake. Yes. Just yes.

August was about parents: mine came to visit, and Eric’s dad got remarried. But then Eric went to Mexico, and my dad had serious health scares, and the whole month spiraled down into bad…

…but Alysia came in September, which helped things improve. Needed that, because then school started and Gabe got sad. I ran a lot. Eric (who turned a year older while in Mexico…again…) started running. It was a whole big thing.

October was birthdays (mine and Gabe’s) and another marathon. Also, holes all over my kitchen (electrical work).

November was more travel! We went to Chicago for a race, Toledo for Thanksgiving, and Eric…went to Mexico a bunch more. We also had yucky medical stuff: Gabe was in the ER for puking, and I had my toenails removed. (Temporarily, alas.) But I got one more race in, even if it was a 5K and I was in pain.

And then we come to December. It’s been a lighter month, mood-wise, I think. Gabe became the object of his first crush; we had parties and relaxation time. Christmas was extremely low-key, too. And I ran my final race of the year, the Run Into the New Year 10K, which I finished in 51:05 (9/37 in my age group) on an unseasonably warm and lovely day. (The forecast rain even held off until the second of the two loops, when the sprinkles were just what I needed to cool me down!) Just a perfect ending to the year.

Tonight, the last night of the year, will be as relaxed as the month has been. Gabe has already staunchly insisted that he does not plan to stay up until midnight (the unspoken, “you freaky, freaky people!” hanging in the air afterward, obvious in his wide eyes), but Sam wants to give it the old college try. We’ll see; New Year’s is so anticlimactic when you live outside the eastern time zone. Who wants to just hang out for an hour after the ball drops in Times Square, watching whatever schmo is emceeing our celebration in Chicago? (I think it was Ryan Seacrest last year.) I bought holiday crackers to pop if we want to, which was a hysterical anecdote; the cashier actually scanned my ID because he insisted the crackers were fireworks. I couldn’t stop giggling. Maybe I should ready a fire extinguisher, just in case the little tissue-paper hats burst into flame…

But assuming your own celebrations don’t explode without warning, I hope you all have wonderful ends to your year, as well as lovely years to come. Smile a lot. I plan to.

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The nice thing about shorter races (ones I can finish in less than an hour) is that they don’t require nearly as much forethought. I don’t taper, and I don’t worry about the pre-race dinner, and in fact, we spent the evening at Dave and Buster’s. What can I say? It’s a fun time. Frankly, it’s a little terrifying to watch Gabe destroy everybody in his path with guided missiles, much in the same way that I get chills over his knack for knocking out everyone else in boxing games on the Xbox. Belly laughs were had, though, and all will sleep well – including me, which can only help my racing tomorrow. I don’t know how much I’m going to try to kill it, thinking about my typical paces of late, but we’ll see.

I need the ego boost, frankly. Today, I made the mistake of venturing back into another makeup store, and while I stood there looking bewildered, I was accosted by an overly helpful woman (customer, not employee) who informed me that the shade of lipstick I was wearing was very wrong and (her words, not mine) should really be worn only by…women of a certain ethnicity. She recommended mauve instead. I just don’t know how to handle that.

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Not too terribly
upset, in fact; it’s not that
I needed to vent

Wasn’t a bad day.
Not spectacularly hard
in any real way

Most days aren’t, I guess.
No huge screaming fits, brawls, blows
Just a steady flow

Of energy.  Out
it goes, patching leaks, filling
empty, hungry spots

Until there’s not much
left.  No reserves to sustain
the sustaining ones.

Sometimes, though, if we’re
very lucky, we find a
spring in a moment -

An unexpected
instance of giggles and love
that refills the soul.

I kiss my babies’
heads, saying, “Good night,” and I
feel God kissing mine.

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That lasted about ten minutes.

After that, we were off to the races, if the racers were Labrador puppies on speed and the event was some sort of mashup of “Double-Dare” and “Jack*ss.” It took until abpu two o’clock to me to hear the first “there’s nothing to do”…which I suppose is what happens when you try to rocket through your day and cram everything into the first few hours.

They made a list, which is shown above, of all they’d like to accomplish before returning to school. It’s actually quite a manageable list, so long as it gets spread over the whole vacation instead of tackled head-on in one afternoon. Tomorrow will be either baking cookies or a trip to Stonefire Pizza; getting them to agree will be the sticking point.

I’ll have to run early tomorrow; Eric still has a day of work before his vacation starts, and I’m so close to my mileage goal for 2010, I can almost taste it. Not giving up or slowing down, no matter how exhausted I already am. (How is it that, for an at-home parent, “break” can mean the absolute opposite? Not that it’s not fun, but it’s certainly no “vacation”! )

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But then I was stupid, and instead of running right inside the moment I got home, I grabbed my own shovel and worked on the driveway and sidewalks. My reasoning was that I was already tired and wet, so there was no point in cleaning up in order to get tired and wet again, but the upshot was that by the time I went in, my feet were numb, and they started to burn ominously as things thawed. Idiocy: let me show you mine. Also, I was tired, as I said, and the added exertion of the shoveling meant that I spent the rest of the day feeling drained.

And tomorrow begins the kids’ winter break from school. Sam whined at bedtime, saying that since there was no school, he ought to be allowed to stay up late, but I rebutted that he had gotten up early today, and bedtimes needed to relate to the day we’re in as well as the one we’re entering. “You want to stay up later tomorrow? Sleep in in the morning!” I suggested. He won’t, though. His brain, like that of most small boys, is hardwired to get as much fun out of free days as he can. This kid actually got up at five-freaking-AM this past Saturday; I found him watching cartoons when I came down at 5:30 to get ready for my run. He’s twisted. At least Gabe will only climb into bed with us when he gets up that early.

Anyway, I don’t know yet what I’m going to do with these boys over break. Luckily, Eric’s company has a very generous holiday shut-down, so only a couple of days will be just me and the kids, but over time, that just means one more person who’ll be counting down the minutes until order and routine are restored in January. I know this, and yet I haven’t made any plans – even tentative frameworks of plans – to stave off that moment. Recipe for disaster, or embracing relaxation in the hopes that being more laidback will pay dividends in lessened stress? You tell me.

Tomorrow, I should really consider wrapping some of these presents. Maybe.

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Tomorrow, we have the cantata performance, and then Eric has promised to take the kids to see Tron in the theater. It’s possible I’ll be pulled along in the wake for that, but it’s also a possibility that I’ll be back at the house, ostensibly wrapping gifts but likely instead wrapping myself in a warm blanket, eyes closed, brain turned off for a spell.

(But the artichoke dip tonight was transcendent. Yum.)

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And I’m pretty beat right now.

But I hope to hit the hay really soon now, which will give me some good quality rest time, which will hopefully let me spring from the sheets feeling refreshed and ready to go. I’ll need that rest, because not only will it be an early day, but a long one as well, with a choir rehearsal in the late morning and a company Christmas party in the evening. I don’t want to go into either feeling droopy. Shouldn’t be too bad, though; today, as a sign of energy to come, I paused at about five and a half miles into my run and dashed into my church, where a few other choir members were gathering to sing carols to a preschool cookie social. I may have been sweaty and freezing, but I could still rock some “Joy to the World.” (Of course, the remaining miles home felt a little off, having been “fueled” with a couple of peanut butter cookies, but still.)

Anyway, sleep. I need it. Honestly, you probably do, too! Go to bed, guys! Those presents will still be there to wrap in the morning, and you’ll feel better for the extra sleep. Say good night, now; pleasant dreams. Wake up and do it all again tomorrow!

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That was many churches ago. Now we attend a Methodist church, and there’s no book juggling or even robes. I miss that part a little sometimes, but the part I love remains: making music in worship, and especially getting to do so with my husband. I have to admit to silliness between us on occasion, but it’s in good fun. Something about coming together in music brings us back to the goofiness of college, and suddenly we’re picking apart bass lines, critiquing voice leading, or making guesses about the arrangers’ backgrounds. (“That’s no Gmaj9!” I heard him mutter behind me tonight. “And would a French augmented sixth kill anybody?”)

We’re working on a Christmas cantata right now. The bug may have bitten us to offer instrumental arranging work for the next cantata on the schedule; eventually, it seems, all things come full circle. Who knows what comes next? Thank you, Dr. Beall, for this, too. In your studio, I gained so much more than just an undergraduate degree. (And my husband. )

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But nothing today is going precisely the way I wanted it to. I ran out when Eric got home, with the earnest intention of using a store coupon to get Gabe’s Christmas sweater. Well, the sweaters weren’t what I wanted…but I suppose that was okay, because the coupon expired yesterday. While there, though, I decided to try on some boots, since my trusty pink skull-and-crossbones casual shoes are pretty much dead now. I tried on a few different ones, but nothing really rang true to me. One pair was all sexiness, with stretchy leather to my knees, but I wasn’t sure whether heels of that nature are a particularly good idea in the kind of winters we get. Another pair was more practical, but I still hesitated. Carrie Bradshaw, I ain’t; the only time I can care about my footwear, it seems, is when it’s meant to carry me over many miles at a brisk pace.

It’s super-cold here right now, speaking of winters. Got more strange looks than usual while I was out running this morning, and my dad actually called later to tell me not to “do anything foolish, like go out running.” Whoops; too late, Dad.

But tomorrow’s another day, and it’s supposed to be marginally warmer, and maybe I’ll find a store that sells Christmas sweaters that meet my criteria (not too ugly; something festive without being explicitly Christmas only; must be heavy enough to get a body through Wisconsin cold), even if I don’t have a coupon. Perhaps I’ll even stumble across a pair of shoes that are perfect enough to turn even my head, though I have my doubts.

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But sometimes showers won’t cut it. I’m still dealing with the aftermath of the removal of my ingrown toenails a bit ago, and soaking my feet was recommended as a healing solution. I tried using a little basin with Epsom salts, but that got to be a pain in the neck. Also, ice baths after a long, hard run are exquisitely, indescribably painful, but they certainly do the job in moderating soreness, so I take them, amidst shrieks and moans. (My kids know to stay out of the way when Mommy comes home filthy, sweaty, and bearing bags of ice. Gabe tried to “help” once or twice, but I just couldn’t fake that it wasn’t so bad, and now he avoids the scene like the plague.)

And then there are days like today, when the winds are howling and the snow is blowing like crazy. I have no idea how much snow we did or didn’t get; they were calling for a bunch, and I don’t think we got half what was expected, but it’s hard to tell when it blows off sideways before even touching ground. It’s freaky out there, and my bones were feeling sore just looking at it. Then I saw an old Lush bath bomb under the sink, and suddenly the idea of sitting in a tub full of hot, hot water, even if my knees had to be bent, was powerfully appealing.

So I lie here, surrounded by tiny paper hearts, for some reason, and I’m remembering that enough hot water will make the ceramic tub warm enough that it doesn’t matter so much if I can’t be completely under water. I’ve only been interrupted a handful of times, but it’s okay, because I wasn’t particularly trying to escape. I just wanted to be warm, and this has worked wonderfully. Now, do I have to get out? Can’t I just conduct my day from here, like the captain of Golgafrinchan Ark Fleet Ship B? (And won’t somebody bring me some jynnan tonnyx, please? )

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I can make Christmas cookies with my kids, even as late as Christmas Eve night, to leave out for Santa. I can let my kids decide what time we wake up to open presents without worrying about how it affects anybody’s sleep but Eric’s and mine. I don’t have to worry about wrapping gifts before we leave. I don’t have to worry about TSA screening procedures if I’m not flying anywhere. We can serve whatever foods we want for Christmas dinner, and I won’t necessarily have to assemble a meal out of side dishes in order to avoid meat. We can go to the Christmas Eve service at our own church, singing Silent Night with the choir while holding the beautiful little candles that make the sanctuary look positively magical.

But…

I miss my family. I want my parents to see their grandkids open presents, and I want them to see them all dressed up in their Christmas sweaters. I want to have Christmas dinner with other people, sharing stories of the past year with folks who haven’t heard them, let alone lived them. I want to sing carols with my mom. I want to share coffee with my dad. I want to go running with my brother. I want to see in person how big my niece and nephew got over the past year.

My childhood home isn’t “home” anymore, either, of course. If we were in Maryland for the holidays, we’d be staying in a hotel room; if we were in Eric’s hometown, it would likely be in a guest bedroom. (His childhood house has been sold, in fact.) Eric and Sam have adjusted to Wisconsin enough to call it home at this point, and Gabe has never lived anywhere else. I’m the only one in the family who still feels like a foreigner here. I don’t know when I’ll ever feel at home again, though I’ll hit the seven-year point early next year, which I’ve heard is the average amount of time it takes (can’t find the reference for that right now).

I feel like I’ve lamented about this a million times. Looking back in my journal, it seems like I mostly do it around the holidays. That’s not surprising, I guess.

Anyway, for now, I’m going to focus on that first list of things. There are lots of advantages to not traveling at Christmas. When I was little, I got irritated at having to make the rounds on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, leaving my turf and new toys for only a few hours. Traveling to far-away places for weeks has got to be even harder on my kids when we do it. We’ll have a little Christmas for our immediate family, right here at our house, and we’ll have our own traditions and our own memories made. It’ll be okay. We’ve done this before.

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Anyway, still had to get through today. Had my first “snow run” of the year, where I took my legs through piles of the unshoveled white stuff along the bike trail. It’s good for building character, you know. Those of us who live in snowy places spend a good chunk of the year convincing ourselves that the extra effort now will lead to bigger payoffs in the spring than if we were to have milder winters. (Might even be true…) While I was in the thick of it, something told me to stop for a moment; I thought it was just weakness, but when I decided to listen to the voice and switch off the music, within five seconds, a car pulled up next to me with a desperate-looking woman in the driver’s seat, hopelessly lost and in need of directions. If I hadn’t stopped, I wouldn’t have been in a position to help her, so I’ll call it a happy coincidence!

Then I cheered myself up further, knowing I’d have to go out for more Christmas shopping, by putting on this authentic 1970s tunic. It was my mom’s, and I liberated it from her when I was in high school and we had a Spirit Week with a “Flashback” day. Haven’t worn it in a long time, but it makes me smile when I do. I get looks from folks, and I enjoy seeing the double-takes. I just need a pair of funky boots to go with it!

So far, it’s working; I don’t feel grouchy at all tonight. Even picked up some pre-made gingerbread cookies for the kids to decorate tonight if they’re well-behaved! Ho-ho-ho! Sometimes, I think, you really do need to “fake it ’til you make it.” The more I pretend to be in the holiday spirit, the more I find that I’m not pretending.

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I have a tree up. (Missing a goodly portion of the important ornaments, since I wanted to do some decorating with Eric when he gets back.) My computer is playing carols. I have seasonally-scented candles sending smells skyward (say that three times fast). Blissfully hot coffee is warming my hands (in my Grumpy Donald mug, but no mind). Sam is doing homework with no complaints at all, because he gets to use the replacement laptop we got after the break-in, and Gabe is contentedly writing new movie scripts.

My back door is repaired, and the wall is getting there. Oh, and we spent the morning Christmas shopping, and I’d say I’m about halfway done, give or take. Not bad. I won’t lie and say that the kids were perfect angels at the mall, but they were at least helpful in parts, and they managed to charm a couple of young salesgirls (or else they were very good actresses hoping for a bigger sale to pad their commissions; either way, it’s all good). I even managed to get them to agree to, and mostly happily eat, Indian food for lunch, so I’m a VERY happy girl about that.

We might just save this holiday season yet!

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Then we went over to Ulta, which was a huge mistake and blow to my ego. All I needed was a blush, since the last one I masterfully picked out (Walgreens, as usual) is somehow the exact shade of my normal skin, so you can’t see anything at all when I put it on. I figured a big cosmetic store would be better, but my brain completely freaked out at all the products all over the place – stuff I’ve never even heard of – that I spazzed and left empty-handed and feeling like I need to turn in my Girl Card.

ERIC: “Didn’t you read ‘Cosmo’ or those other magazines? Didn’t they tell you what to do?”
ME: “When I was a young teen, until Mom made me stop.”
ERIC: “The sex articles?”
ME: “No, the fact that I couldn’t really process any of the beauty stuff very well, and it was becoming…mortifying.”

Oh, I’m such a little lady, with my un-primed (seriously? Primer? Like what you put under wall paint?) face and nailless toes. Why do I even try?

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My toes hurt.  I had the ingrown toenails removed on Tuesday, and I’m still recovering.  No running yet, which really sucks, especially right now when I could very much use a long, long one.

(I know. It doesn’t explain anything.  But it’s something.)

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This weekend was busy. Eric got in from Mexico late on Friday, and we all got up mega-early on Saturday to get to Chicago for my race. (In hindsight, the ER trip on Thursday night wound up working for me and the kids, since we were all exhausted enough to fall asleep early on Friday and be more awake Saturday than we might have been on less sleep.) We drove to Waukegan and took the train into Chicago, where I kissed them goodbye (left them in the warmer train station to kill the remaining time) and found other race-bib-wearing folks who were hoofing it over to Grant Park. Good thing, too; otherwise, I’d have been relying on my phone’s GPS to get me through the streets and to the start.

The starting corral was mega-MEGA-crowded. I couldn’t even push my way up to the conservative pace starting point that I’d intended to follow, so I just hung back with the 10-minute-per-mile folks and hoped that by the time we crossed the actual starting line, things would thin out enough that I could move up. Yeah, ha-ha! I did move up, but it was tricky! The course was completely bottlenecked, and there were plenty of places where passing at all was simply not an option. Also, I don’t mind running on gravel, or even large gravel, but doing it in a packed group where you can’t see more than a couple of feet’s worth of ground in front of you at any moment is really challenging, as far as foot placement. I finished in 1:22:17, which was 163/1193 in my age group. The crowd really held me to the slower pace I’d wanted to hold, being a week out of the marathon (heck, the main reason I chose the 15K instead of the 5K was that I didn’t want to be tempted to push myself), but if I hadn’t had that goal in mind, I’d have been really ticked about it. Many people were, I gather, from reading the race reviews in various places. (Why on earth did they start the 5K race before the 15K, anyway?!)

After that, and after the chocolate (yummy) and the kids’ fair (they liked it), the day went downhill, as everybody’s exhaustion started catching up to them. We did get to see Cloud Gate, which we hadn’t seen before, and we ate lunch at Weber Grill, which would have been good…but Gabe’s belly started to hurt again. Mind you, at his doctor appointment on Friday, we got no answers but a list of labs and tests to do. We’ve done the blood draw, are waiting for him to provide a stool sample, and are hoping like heck that those results come back quickly enough that we can avoid having to do an upper GI exam on him. In the meantime, though, his belly hurts at random intervals. He recovered enough that the trip back to and on the train were fine, but he fell asleep on the way, and when he woke up, he screamed and cried about his stomach until falling asleep in the car. At home…he was fine. Argh.

Anyway, busy week ahead, so I need to gear up. Now moving up my list of priorities are a couple of ingrown toenails than I now have the time to deal with, so wish me quick recovery from that!

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Worried about Sam. He’s such a smart kid, but he’s battling the same stuff I did all through my early schooling years, and I remember just how much that stunk. (Also? Doesn’t stink less from the parent’s side of the equation. )

Worried about Gabe. Yet again, he’s got the pukes, complete with painful gut spasms (and bouts of fist waving, drama-laden shrieks of angst: “Why does this keep HAPPENING to MEEEEE?!”). This time, he sort of felt it coming on, so he didn’t even eat dinner before it all began. I had made an appointment for him to see a doctor tomorrow afternoon, after he had some very strange gastro stuff yesterday, but now I’m fretting about whether we just wait this out tonight or hit Urgent Care (at bedtime, with Sam in tow…). Between feeling bad, he’s positively normal, as he is now, so it’s easier to say, “We’ll wait,” but when he’s howling and wailing, I just don’t know.

Worried about the logistics of getting to this race-thing on Saturday. Not such a big deal, though; I handled the train by myself just fine today; it’s the idea of having the family along, so early in the morning, though they’ve all said it’s fine, and the kids are looking forward to it. They’ll all say something different that morning. I keep saying I’ll just go by myself, but then they scramble to tell me it’ll be good, so…

Worried about other stuff.

Worried about my dad, who’s mostly recovered from the kidney stuff, but whose back is now in need of treatment and who is adjusting to new, stricter dietary rules. Worried about my mom, doing so much to care for him.

I’m a ball of worries, and right now, I just want somebody to tell me it’s all going to be okay.

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Also, cooking for the three of us remains a challenge. Tonight we had three different dinners; I had the base meal I’d intended for all of us (cheesy polenta), topped with mushrooms and onions in balsamic, and Sam opted to cook his own salmon burger. Gabe magnanimously decided to eat the meal he’d refused last night (pasta with carrots and broccoli in a cheese sauce) and that I’d put in the fridge for him to finish later. Oddly, he pronounced that it had turned edible by virtue of being cold. Weird kid. But we had interesting conversation over dinner, discussing the upcoming student council elections and why posters with Star Wars characters didn’t necessarily mean that the candidate was the one best suited for office. Not sure if Gabe even gets to vote, but Sam was strongly in favor of the Star Wars kid.

Had a checkup with Sam’s allergist today, just to tweak some things. When we were finished, I asked the doctor whether my “Where did the air go?” performance after Marine Corps (and which I felt almost start to happen again at Green Bay, before I started wildly walking in tight circles in the confined finishers’ chute area to keep from slowing down too abruptly) could be related to the asthma he’s wondered in the past about me having. He suggested a quick evaluation in the coming week, just to check to see if there could be something we could do to ward off problems in the future, so I might do that. Most of the time, the only real issues I have with breathing involve a few miles of coughing in very dry weather before my lungs adjust. Not usually so dramatic. Still, the return of the fall marathon must be making me paranoid again.

Fun note: the allergist said he’s trying to work up to a 10K himself. I invited him to come run with our group on Saturdays, and he said he might. This madness is contagious.

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Seventeen days.

But I’m tapering, at least, which is a very good thing, especially after this weekend. On Friday, I had a regular ten-miler scheduled, and I decided to sandwich my Worldwide Festival of Races 10K into the middle of it. Ten miles isn’t hard for me at this stage in the game, but I finished those 10K in a personal PR of 49:21 – not crazy fast, but taxing enough to leave me feeling a bit jelly-legged when I was done. (The slight break when my race course got bisected by a raised drawbridge and a slow-moving yacht, however, was an unexpected boost). I was fine, though, until I tried to do Saturday’s last remaining 20-miler several hours later. Ow. Muscling through that was challenging, and I feel nothing but relief to think that now, I won’t have to do another 20+mile training run for the rest of 2010. After the marathon, I could go on cruise control until 2011 if I want! It’s all up to me!

Now I have a very slight head cold, but at least this one is appropriately timed. No more long runs, and enough time before the race for a full recovery. Sure, I can be sick now.

Eric’s in Mexico (AGAIN), so I feel grouchy about that. Miss him.

Oh, postscript: anyone out there doing the Hot Chocolate 5K or 15K on November 6th? I’m doing the 15K and would love to meet up with other runners.

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(And this was after I delivered a lovely little self-righteous lecture to Sam about why he needed to study the Bible, using the reference about how babies have milk, but as we grow spiritually, we need solid food. Maybe Mama needs to put down the bottle sometimes, too.)

(Not that kind of bottle. Shut up.)

I got humbled on the run today, too, though not be any particular failure on my part. It’s just hard to maintain one’s poise while having gallons of water dumped on one’s head from heavy, lightning-streaked, clouds. “Squish, squish, squish” is not the sound of victory…unless you consider victory to be not throwing in the towel as water streamed over our faces. (Ah, running club: where insanity is actually contagious.) In that case, sure, I was successful – and then we all got to sit around looking like drowned rats over coffee mugs, while the other cafe patrons eyed us significantly and not approvingly. “But I don’t want to go among mad people.” “Oh, you can’t help that. We’re all mad here.”

Is there any other way I can have the rest of my self-image shaken today? I’m a little afraid to put that out there…

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Or maybe I just miss my kids a little.

They came home yesterday full of energy and stories. Gabe had brightened up a bit from his fears this morning (fears to which he readily admitted, when I told him I’d seen him), but his bigger gripe was that he hadn’t had enough time to finish his lunch, and when he got up to go ask the lunch lady where a trash can was (ever the proactive kid), the rest of his class got in line and filed out of the cafeteria…without him. He was quite frightened when he found himself alone, but he was rescued shortly with no major harm done to his spirits.

Sam went to school. That’s about all I could get out of him.

They went back again this morning, without needing to be dragged out the door, so I suppose it was a net positive experience for them in the end. I, on the other hand, have discovered in myself a propensity for talking out loud to myself, now that nobody’s around to hear me for so many hours each day. This morning, I had to take Eric’s car to the garage (sway bar bushing needs to be replaced, no big deal), and I found myself blabbing away to the mechanic, as though somebody forgot to shut off the valve to my mouth. Pathetic. Usually, the garage magically transforms me into a bubble-headed Valley girl, twirling my hair and widening my eyes involuntarily whenever anybody starts talking about car parts; I don’t know why, but I do it every time. This was no improvement, I think.

Going to call Mom here in a bit to check in on Dad, but I predict that I’ll hear the same thing – a good note, for a change: his numbers are still elevated, but there’s steady improvement. They’ve said he might be able to come home in a couple of days, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for that.

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Eric’s on his way to Mexico. I’d rather not know about that, either. Mexico is not a nice place to be these days, at least according to news reports, and it’s scary to send one’s spouse to places that require armed escorts as a matter of daily business.

Yesterday wasn’t fun. I had a bunch of mundane, unpleasant tasks to do about the house, and then in the course of peeling a butternut squash for my dinner (while trying hard to ignore the scent of beer-braised short ribs in the crockpot; honestly, vegetarian cooking is delicious, but it just doesn’t have the same olfactory dazzle that slow-cooking meat does, in my opinion), I managed to also peel the tip of my ring finger. Cue bleeding and pain. Cue me, in a brilliant show of calm mind and stalwart will, nearly losing consciousness and winding up flat on my back on the floor while the room spun and turned grey. On the bright side, my sons proved that in situations such as this, they are quite capable of…shooting me with a potato gun and putting me on the phone with a political pollster who happened to call at that moment. (“Mom, it’s Shawn.” “Shawn who?” “I don’t know…”)

So that was delightful.

Sixty-six days until Haunted Hustle. I did 9 miles this morning that would have been more pleasant, probably, without all the wine that didn’t quite save last evening for me, but at least it wasn’t hot. I only looked a little like my bladder had failed by the time I finished.

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Yesterday was sort of a “last hurrah” for the summer vacation, and we went to the local renaissance fair with some more of Eric’s coworkers. The kids were fairly well-behaved, right up until the infamous Mud Show, which was a risky (and risqué) choice that bombed – for Sam, not Gabe. When the actors moved into the audience to kiss folks with their mud-covered faces, I saw Sam draw his knees up to his chest and bury his face in them, hands clamped to his ears, thoroughly disgusted. I took him quickly away from the show, leaving Eric and a fascinated Gabe behind with the rest of the group. (His favorite part: the end, when the “judge” had to eat mud. I think Sam would have spontaneously combusted had he seen it.)

Eric heads out of town for most of this week, which I’m dreading. Glad to have had a great weekend, filling me with a bit of joy and social hum before he leaves, but I wish I didn’t feel like now I need to rest after the activity – I’m not going to get a chance to do that!

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ME: “Gabe, why do I run?”
GABE: “Because you do races.”
ME: “Okay, that’s true. But why do I do races?”
GABE: “Because you’ve signed up for them.”

We had a nice chat about why one would intentionally sweat and work one’s body, as I pointed out to him that all this is supposed to be fun as well as healthy. Growing up, I didn’t really have that perspective on it – exercise was sort of like eating the vegetables you didn’t like: something you did because people in charge said you had to, and you couldn’t wait to grow up and not have to do it anymore – so I didn’t realize that it could be like everything else I was learning. I studied all sorts of maths and sciences in school, and while the basics of those studies do get used on an everyday basis now that I’m grown, the early studies also offered me the chance to see whether I might develop a deeper interest in them that could lead to a career or hobby. (Answer: heck to the no.) We read and discussed novels, short stories, essays, and missives from all eras and on many topics, not simply to become well-read youths, but to open our minds to wide-flung areas of study. We were not all to be professional artists, musicians, or actors, but gentle encouragement toward extracurricular activities (one or two, anyway; my school was heading toward the “that’s all fine and good, so long as you can squish it in between the ‘important’ classes” philosophy as I aged) was beneficial for creating a balanced young adult.

And physical activity should have been handled the same way, not as a gauntlet for elevating the Alpha Children over those of lower tiers.

Oh, it’s an argument for another day; today, I want to focus on what should be, not what, regrettably, was. My kids and I talk, and will talk, about all their avenues for moving their bodies and keeping the systems in top shape. Whether they’re competitive athletes or not, my hope is that they can find enjoyment in movement. I do try to lead by example, but sometimes actual literal discussion helps, too. After all, I wouldn’t want them thinking the only reason I’m out there, day after day, is because some trick of my psyche leads me to compulsively register for races I’d rather not even do, all things considered.

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You let negative feelings about putting off tasks prevent actual work.

For example, if I feel guilt for not updating, it makes me not look forward to updating, and I’m trapped. Or else it’s just that there’s so, so much to talk about…

Mom and Dad have been and gone, and it was fantastic. We did the state fair, we played at playgrounds, Dad went on some of my runs with me (following me on a bike), we ate good food, we played games – just a low-key visit, and it was awesome, every moment of it. (Well, except for the evening when I discovered the soggy spot on the kitchen ceiling, which turned out to be a leaky toilet seal, which turned out to be due to soft floors in the bathroom…but at least I had my folks around to keep me from running screaming over the brink when the plumber delivered the bad news!) I only wish it could have been cooler up here; we’ve had the peak of the season’s warm temperatures recently, and Dad was all, “I thought you told me it didn’t get hot up here.” Sorry, Dad. But, hey, back home for you guys, it would have been over a hundred degrees, and we didn’t reach that point here!

So, yeah, our bathroom is going to need a little work in the near future. But do you know what? I was sort of on a roll with the whole “purge the house” thing, and Eric and I are now thinking we’ll keep it going, fix the things that need fixing, and blow this joint. Sell it, and sell it now. We’ve been dying to do that, but we felt overwhelmed every time we thought of the work it would entail. An emptier house is more quickly sold, so…work ahead. It’ll be easier to do that when the kids start school in a couple of weeks, too. (We won’t talk of those remaining weeks, though, one of which will find Eric out of the country. Bah.) I’m thinking I’ll start with the remaining upstairs rooms, and I’ll try to do a little basement work each day (that’s harder, since there’s so much down there that’s either not mine, or else it’s things that we don’t use often but don’t necessarily want to give up yet).

Anyway! On with the show!

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Ticket to Ride is a very, very fun game. And I’m not just saying that because I won.

(Or because I split a bottle of Lambrusco Rossi with Eric. Yum.)

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I’m not slamming my head into my desk only because somebody better be around to counterbalance this sort of thing in the world my kids inhabit.

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Everything here is…going. Nothing wild, nothing wonderful, nothing much new. I did volunteer at a local half-Ironman triathlon last weekend, which was a lot of fun.

I handed out sports drink at an aid station along the run route and got rather sunburnt. But I looked and felt better than some of those athletes, though; it was super-hot, and some of them were pretty destroyed by the time they got to us.

My running has just about recovered from Devil’s Lake, and I’m ensconced in training for the Haunted Hustle, now that Eric’s fairly certain he’ll be in the country for me to run it. That’ll be fun. I don’t know whether to set a time goal or just have fun; think I’ll leave that decision for a little further out, when I can wrap my brain around it a bit better. It’s only been a couple of weeks, after all. There won’t be pace groups or anything like we had at Green Bay, which was a big help to me. This weekend, I’m scheduled for thirteen miles (already? Again?), and it’s supposed to be flirting with thunderstorms, but I’ll manage. Ran in the rain this morning, and it’s not bad, even if it does slow me down a touch. (That was the dark, too; this morning nearly hit two points of my “Do Not Like” trifecta – heavy rain/snow, dark, and strong winds – that will sway me towards the treadmill when all three are touched. But the rain wasn’t all that heavy, and the darkness was lifting, so there wasn’t really much temptation there – just a slower-than-usual pace.)

The kids are kids. Gabe is doing fantastically in his summer class, with his teachers praising him to the heavens. Sam is doing well, too, though he’s had some issues with the older kids in his class, some of whom are naturally a bit sneery at the younger kid who’s there voluntarily instead of having been placed there for being behind. That’s been hard on Sam, and I don’t know if I’d have made the same decision to put him there had I really anticipated it. (He didn’t make things easier on himself by cheerfully announcing on the second day, “I’m here because I’m really good at reading!” ) His teacher’s standing up for him, thank goodness, but…I’ll breathe a sigh of relief when it’s over next week.

Summer is going quickly. How did that happen?

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Happy Father’s Day, Eric. This morning, we gave you breakfast in bed, prepared by Gabe and me, and a colorful card that Sam made himself. (GABE: “Dad, did you like my card? Sam did most of the work, but I wrote my name.“) We’re all a bit beaten and exhausted from Sam’s birthday trip to Legoland yesterday (oh, and I ran Lighthouse yesterday morning; I’ll do a report later), so now Eric’s relaxing in bed and enjoying a lazy morning that he very much deserves. And yes, that picture up there is two different babies, if you can believe it! It’s hard to believe those two little balls of sleepy newborns grew into this:

And happy Father’s Day to these other two fathers, too! Without you having been the dads you were, we couldn’t be the people we are, and we love you so very much.

 

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/20/happy-fathers-day/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/11/doesnt-feel-like-a-weekday/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/11/doesnt-feel-like-a-weekday/#comments Fri, 11 Jun 2010 21:35:35 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1467 Continue reading →]]> The problem with summer break is that the days lose their sense of identity. It’ll get better when the kids start their summer school classes, but with other major activities also on hiatus, the weekdays just run together into a big smushed-up pile of Life. Today, we had Eric home in the morning for a doctor appointment, to which we drove him, which caused the whole day to feel like Saturday. Now he’s back at work, the kids are outside, and…I have no idea what it feels like anymore.

I know it’s not Saturday, though. If it were Saturday of this week, I’d either be out running 26 miles or exhausted from having done so already. That’ll be a treat; I’ll be all alone for the run, the rest of the running club not having the need to cover as much ground on trails as they can, and there are thunderstorms threatening. Oh, and the matter of my IT band. All told, this could be a real trial of a run. I think I’m already accepting the foregone conclusion that Sunday’s ten-mile recovery is going to involve a lot of walking.

(Side note: Oh, please tell me that’s not Gabe throwing another epic tantrum out there. I had to pull the boys in from playing with friends yesterday when I heard him start screaming in anger from all the way down the block. Mmm, okay, I don’t hear anything else, so if it was him, it was an isolated holler. We’ll just keep listening.)

Especially funny is that we have a wedding reception to attend later in the evening on Saturday. Here’s hoping for plenty of chairs, as well as relief that even if there is dancing, Eric definitely comes down on the side of spectator, not participant. Ordinarily, I try to beg at least one or two turns around the dance floor out of him, but he may get off lucky this time.

Oh, crap! Here’s something that just threw me: tonight is the church’s “School’s Out Bash” (our answer to VBS; the whole family attends a series of evening events scattered over the summer), which I almost completely forgot! See, it doesn’t feel like Friday!

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/11/doesnt-feel-like-a-weekday/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/01/highs-and-lows/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/01/highs-and-lows/#comments Tue, 01 Jun 2010 13:17:30 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1451 Continue reading →]]> Saturday was a high point for me, because I’m completely loony – but in a way that I know many of you will understand. Woke up at 3 AM, picked up my friend Rachel at 3:30, and we were running trails by 4. I’m telling you, there has been little more surreal in my current list of life experiences than running through the woods, shin-deep in wet grass, by flashlight and chest light, seeing glowing green eyes through the darkness as we went. It was a rough run, especially after the water pump we were told would be working turned out not to be, so we both ran out of fluids partway around a large loop, but with a reasonable amount of walking, we did a total of 24 miles together.

  
It was a bit muddy out there.

But the “run” the next morning, Sunday, wasn’t so pleasant. My IT band along my right knee had begun barking a bit at the end of the trail run, and on Sunday, it was miserable from almost the beginning. I tried using a stabilizer band, but it helped not one bit. I stopped and stretched frequently, walked a bunch, but it wound up being a horrible death march home in the end. It’s amazing, too, how one bad run, even a really bad one – in a cycle where you haven’t had a bad run like it in many, many weeks – can make you feel like an abject failure. I spent the rest of the day only a breath away from sudden surges of anxiety and panic, convinced that I was completely broken and in no way able to do this 50K in only a little more than a month. I stretched, I took some antinflammatories, and I stretched some more, but mostly…I freaked.

Monday was Memorial Day, and I wasn’t scheduled to run. Instead, I woke up early to beautiful, cooler weather, and I decided to hop on my bike and enjoy. I rode to several cemeteries, taking in the flags and decorations; at points, I saw people decorating the graves, at least a few of whom appeared to be personally mourning a loved one. The concept of “Happy Memorial Day,” as some folks use it, makes me uncomfortable; Memorial Day is full of mixed feelings for me, as I think of all those souls lost, freely given or not. My father is a veteran, as was my grandfather. The day isn’t about barbecues or the opening of swimming pools; it’s about service and the commemoration of those who’ve served in ways I can’t begin to fully comprehend. Seeing the rows upon rows of flags over burial mounds drives that home, and riding through the cemeteries allowed me to step outside of myself and gain perspective.

And then we went to a parade, where we got a bit drenched with rain. Would have felt wrong to leave, though.

So I was feeling a bit more balanced when I woke this morning, prepared to run, prepared to see where I stood with my IT band. And I was ready to do that, feeling optimistic, right until just before I headed out the door. I checked my email. I saw this. Along with many, many other parents, I’ve been praying for Henry since his overdose and attack – praying for a miracle, praying for strength and peace for his family. Reading of his passing felt like the bottom dropping out of my stomach. I ran out the door. My IT band was fine (oddly, the left one started whimpering a bit on the way home), but my mind wasn’t on it. My legs can run, but another mama’s baby never will again. Perspective.

Hug your babies today. Take time to appreciate what their bodies, and yours, can do. Don’t take anything for granted. This morning, I have life, and I have liberty, and I have healthy children, and…just so, so much, and I am in tears – tears for Katie and for Henry and for other mother of other lost babies, in graves with flags or in coffins so small it shouldn’t be possible.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/06/01/highs-and-lows/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/24/addiction/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/24/addiction/#comments Mon, 24 May 2010 12:45:52 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1437 Continue reading →]]> It can be a sneaky, sneaky thing. Yesterday, due to circumstances, I wound up not drinking any coffee, and my mood went KABLOOEY by 4PM – along with everybody else’s, for some reason – resulting in mass hysteria and early bedtimes for all. Interestingly, the time between the sentencing and the execution wound up being some of the better hours of the day; Sam was “confined to quarters,” so he grabbed a book and read for a very long time, even yelling, “Hey, Mom! Reading is fun!“, and Gabe played happily and (mostly) quietly until bathtime. I, myself, wound up crashing unexpectedly at 7PM, when I couldn’t keep my eyes open on my book anymore.

Today will be better. I have faith. Also, I have a date. Tomorrow marks thirteen years of marriage for Eric and me, and we’re going to relax and enjoy the evening together sans kids. Woo!

Upcoming week’s going to be rough. A total of about 52 running miles, about half of which will be centered on Saturday. (Still waiting to hear from Rachel to see whether we’ll do them with running club or on a trail.) At least the weather will break a little bit; somebody told me that this summer is supposed to be warmer than average, and I ATE THEIR HEAD. Seriously, if I enjoy one thing about this place, it’s that summers don’t get hot, or at least not for more than a couple of weeks. Don’t mess with me, Wisconsin.

Oh, but we booked our Waterpark Hotel for when I’m running DWD. Somebody should be cool and splashy while I’m getting beaten up by rocks, bugs, and mud that morning, right?

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/24/addiction/feed/ 4 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/10/weirdness/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/10/weirdness/#comments Mon, 10 May 2010 21:19:58 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1415 Continue reading →]]> Yesterday, Eric gave me the opal ring, and I tried it on. It fit loosely on my pinky, but it wouldn’t quite go over the knuckle on my ring finger, which is where I wanted to wear it. Oh, well, we thought; my wedding set needs “taken in” a bit, anyway, so I figured I’d take them all to the store today.

Cue me at the jewelry counter this afternoon, taking the ring box out of my purse. “My husband gave me this ring yesterday, and it won’t quite fit on my…” I said, just as the ring easily slipped onto my ring finger. I stared at it. She stared at me.

“Well, it actually looks a little big for you now,” she said. “That’s Wisconsin. But your hands seem to really change a lot!” Gee, thanks for making me feel even more freakish, ma’am.

So we toyed around. My wedding rings turned out to be a size and a half different from each other, which I don’t recall being the case, but I have no clue anymore. They both needed to come down about three sizes, and that was with me being firm that I didn’t want them quite as small as she thought they should be; after all, if my fingers are going to blow up and shrink down like balloons, I’d rather not have my circulation cut off at random intervals. I decided that the opal ring is fine; it might spin a little around the base of my finger, but it’s not slipping back up over the knuckle, either.

(Surreal moment of the exchange: when talking about my fingers, she referred to the base of my finger as “even tinier” than the top. “Tiny” was never a word I’ve ever heard used in reference to my fingers, ever. I recall actually remarking to my mother once that the fake hands used to model rings in the windows of jewelry stores had the longest, most slender fingers ever, and how I wished mine were like that. Now, according to websites for a few stores I just checked, I’m about half a size away from the bottom of what they typically stock. Unless, you know, it’s yesterday morning. Sheesh.)

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/10/weirdness/feed/ 2 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/07/worries/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/07/worries/#comments Fri, 07 May 2010 13:50:15 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1411 Continue reading →]]> …Sam came home yesterday from school, full of anxiety over a friend of his who had collapsed at lunch. Apparently, an ambulance was needed, and the kids were full of speculations and worst-case scenarios. (The little boy was drinking chocolate milk at the time of the collapse; I don’t suppose Sam is the only child who has now decided to never drink the school’s chocolate milk again, “just in case.”)

…Marathon in a little over a week. The weather, at this point, looks to be sunny, but with a high of seventy. That’s a little warm for my comfort zone. Oh, well; it’ll be warmer in July, when I’m running further and harder…

…Sump pump running. Please keep running, little pump.

…I’ve only got two more MOPS meetings (one official, one a “graduation breakfast”) before I’m aged out. What am I going to do without my regular infusion of adult contact next year? I’ve tried the PTA thing, and it doesn’t seem to be a fit for me.

I think I’m just grumpy from being tired, and I’m tired because my ear infection keeps me from getting a good night’s sleep. I’ve had an ear that’s been bugging me for a while, but on Monday, it finally pushed me to the point where I went to the doctor because it hurt so much. Well, I got ear drops for it, but they have a primary side effect of “ear pain,” and, yup, I got that side effect. The infection seems to be improving, but whenever something stirs me awake in the night (last night it was thunder), I become aware of the pulsing, dull ache, and it’s hard to get back to sleep after that. I don’t want to have to keep taking ibuprofen to deal with it, so I’m trying to tough it out…but I’m feeling pretty exhausted now. Yuck. At least it’s not as bad as it was, and I can tell the end is in sight for both drops and infection. In the meantime, I’m pretty glad it’s a step-back week and I don’t have to run so much…but I wish the weather was doing a better job of helping me stay upright and conscious. Thunderclouds and rain showers just make me want to go back to bed, even when I’m feeling 100%.

Somebody tell me something silly, something that’ll restore my bounciness?

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/07/worries/feed/ 7 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/02/its-like-a-heat-wave/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/02/its-like-a-heat-wave/#comments Sun, 02 May 2010 21:57:25 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1407 Continue reading →]]> Lots of people out there running this weekend in warm weather. It was pretty brutal back east, I understand, for a couple of friends I had running races there. In these parts, it was in the 70s, which is bad enough when running for any length of time. My 22-miler yesterday was harder than it needed to be, even, considering that I screwed up hydration again; when I took what I expected to be a nearly empty 64-ounce bladder out of my hydration pack, I found it was still almost halfway full. Gee, no wonder I felt like I was going to throw up around the 20-mile mark. At least I finished, without losing my breakfast and without collapsing. I probably could even have gutted out the extra miles to have made it a full marathon, but I’m glad I didn’t have to put that to a test. I really think carrying a handheld bottle with an electrolyte solution, besides my hydration pack, for Devil’s Lake is going to be a good idea. I don’t really like carrying a bottle, but it does remind me to drink more often, and I can always ditch it at an aid station later in the game, once I’m assured that things are going to be fine.

Just mowed the back yard. Another sign of warm weather’s return, and certainly one I could do without. Yuck. I could so live in a place without a yard, happily and contentedly, for the rest of my life. I don’t like gardening, I don’t like maintaining green space, and I really don’t like getting sweaty and dirty for what I see as a not very good reason. Nature should be able to take care of itself, as far as I’m concerned. But then Eric reminds me of bugs and rodents and other things that would also love for us to just let nature tend to itself around our house, and, well, out comes the mower. (And my bad attitude.)

Hey, speaking of nature, just a little bit ago, Sam and his neighborhood friends started frantically ringing our doorbell; apparently, a “crazy squirrel” was chasing them! And there it was, sitting on the steps of our porch: a baby squirrel, obviously very confused and not at all inclined to scurry off, no matter what noises Eric made at it. (I sat safely on the other side of the porch window, having seen America’s Funniest Home Videos enough to know what could happen next. Wildlife is wild, y’all.) He picked up a chair as though he was going to…bullfight it? Man, do I wish my camera batteries hadn’t been dead. Anyway, the squirrel was even more confused, and it ducked its little head down a step, while still maintaining an obvious curiosity about what this man would do next. A moment later, two neighbors strode up, drinks in hand. One held out an elbow to the squirrel…and it climbed on. According to the guy, this squirrel, among a group of other baby squirrels, was orphaned, so they were gathering them up. He walked away with it perched on his arm. I was too slow on the uptake to ask where he was taking it.

Weird, weird world, come the middle months.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/05/02/its-like-a-heat-wave/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/30/hmph/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/30/hmph/#comments Fri, 30 Apr 2010 20:16:45 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1405 Continue reading →]]> Was gorgeous and warm this morning – upper 60s into the lower 70s, beautiful sun, a nice breeze. I decided, on the spur of the moment, to go for a bike ride instead of heading right to the gym after dropping Gabe off at school. Of course, as it was the first bike ride of the season, I first had to check my tires…which involved a Learning Opportunity for me. Hey, non-bike-riding friends! Did you know there are two different kinds of tire valves? And skinnier bike tires have a different kind than the “regular” (thick) tires you find on kids’ bikes – or, likely, on the kind you probably had on whatever bike on which you tooled around when you were young? Yeah, I don’t know how I’ve managed to go this long without checking the air pressure on this bike’s tires, but I guess I never have, because these were some weird-looking valve stems I’ve never seen before. (Presta, they’re called. The more you know…) I wound up checking the internet for videos and phoning my brother for help.

But once I was out, it was a glorious day for a ride. Did have an interesting moment when I stopped for lunch. I went into a restaurant, and the table kept vibrating unnervingly under my forearms. I remarked to the waitress that I hadn’t thought the roads were that bumpy, that I should be dealing with the reverberations so long after I stopped riding, and she told me that that particular table vibrated, due to something on the other side of the wall.

Now it’s feeling a little chillier, due to wind picking up, so I came home and checked the weather site…and there’s a Tornado Watch until 8 this evening. Yay? Some storms are supposed to crop up around 7, turn into real gangbusters later on, and then (HOPEFULLY!) disappear in time for my friends’ marathon and my own long run tomorrow morning. Going to be a warm one for that sort of running, but that’s better than storms or tornadoes…which will also HOPEFULLY not re-arise tomorrow afternoon or evening and make Eric’s return in any way complicated. Up with that, I will not put!

Trying one of these for the first time, in Cherry Pomegranate. It’s mushier than the picture indicates, with less delineation between the fruit and the crust. I think I like it better this way. It reminds me a lot of Larabars, except that since I sometimes find the dates overpowering in those (except in the peanut butter varieties), this is a pleasant alternative! Go, Clif! (Wish your pace teams were doing Green Bay. )

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/30/hmph/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/24/and-thats-not-even-talking-about-financial-aid/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/24/and-thats-not-even-talking-about-financial-aid/#comments Sat, 24 Apr 2010 20:21:31 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1391 Continue reading →]]> I’m reading Getting In right now, and it’s a really good read. It’s also making my stomach hurt. See, it wasn’t that long ago that I was panicking and frantically searching for hoops through which to jump in order to make sure Sam got into the “right” elementary school, whether it have been magnet, charter, school choice, private, whatever. Every other parent, it felt like, was doing the same thing, and there were only so many “right” spots to go around, so those months before he lotteried into a good magnet school’s kindergarten were frenetic and crazy-making. (Thank God, the school he now attends has a sibling preference program, so we were able to escape the madness for Gabe.)

Now we’re nine years out from college…and this book has me feeling like I could throw up, just anticipating. Don’t wanna go through this! Save me!

To how many schools did you apply? Money was an issue for us, like it is for most folks, so my parents had me limit my choices to five schools. I had the blessed fortune to be born a “good tester,” so my PSAT, SAT, and ACT scores had me getting sheaves of college pamphlets in the mail every day, which eventually took over an entire corner of our living room. Overwhelmed! I first made a short list by geography (Mom wouldn’t let me go further than a few hours away from home), and then I called each school to verify which had A) bona fide music composition majors (as opposed to a few composition classes under an umbrella of “Music Theory/Comp”), and B) large marching bands. (Okay, we all had our own priorities; don’t judge.) In the end, I submitted apps to:

1) University of Maryland (in-state; most likely to fully fund me)
2) Penn State
3) Frostburg State
4) West Virginia University
5) James Madison University

Of the five, JMU was my favorite. Sadly, they were also the only one to give almost nothing in the way of scholarship money, so it was off the table for us. Penn State also didn’t come through with much aid. Frostburg and Maryland offered full tuition packages, but I heard rumors that their music composition major was on the chopping block (which turned out to be accurate), so I nixed them; Maryland’s counselors actively tried to steer me away from music composition and into computer programming at my interview (saying I could then get a Master’s in theory and not do a composition program until the doctoral level…), so I had misgivings there as well.

WVU offered a full ride and no warning bells. Let’s go, Mountaineers! And despite my concerns about the lack of a single, contained campus (oh, JMU was so pretty when we visited!), it was probably one of the best decisions I’ve ever made – and not just because Eric was a student there already, just waiting to meet me.

In hindsight, I probably had it easy with the whole college selection and admission process. My program wasn’t extremely competitive to enter (that was left for grad school), and I knew that Ivy League was financially out of the question before I even entertained the thought. I can only hope and pray my boys have it as easy as I did, with solid test scores and reasonable criteria for their schools. I’d of course love to see them at our alma mater…but it’s up to them. (But I’ll be honest enough to admit that I do pray that they’ll at least go to college. I don’t think I’m unusual in that wish.) I think that’s part of what’s making me antsy as I read the book, though; staying hands-off is sometimes a challenge for me, and that’s a theme for the parents in the story. I can identify with them and their stress far too easily.

Nine years. Six, probably, until the real stress starts. Hold me!

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/24/and-thats-not-even-talking-about-financial-aid/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/23/sigh-2/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/23/sigh-2/#comments Fri, 23 Apr 2010 22:17:25 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1388 Continue reading →]]> ME: “Do you like green beans?”
GABE: “Maybe I’ll have some tomorrow. They’re so last year.”

I’m roasting everything tonight. Honestly, I just looked at my vegetable drawers, realized that not only couldn’t I decide between them, but that some of them were approaching the “use or lose” time, and opted for mass chopping, oiling, salting, and traying. My oven is full. (But not with green beans. )

Haven’t figured out a kid-friendly vehicle for them, though. I have no problem at all with a bowl of veggies, maybe topped with crumbled goat cheese (okay, now I might have a problem if I don’t get said bowl), but it’s a little carb-empty, and the boys will complain (though Gabe picked out the cauliflower and broccoli!). Maybe some bread or noodles.

I feel grouchy and restless. It’s the impending rain; it’s supposed to start soon and continue through Monday night. Now, that’s a mood killer.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/04/23/sigh-2/feed/ 2 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/31/too-many-balls-in-the-air/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/31/too-many-balls-in-the-air/#comments Wed, 31 Mar 2010 17:39:10 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1323 Continue reading →]]> I feel like I’m juggling frantically and SOMETHING’S going to drop! It’s mostly good stuff, and some stuff that has the potential to be freaking phenomenal, honestly, but – augh! I need to sprout another arm or two to handle it all.

Apropos of nothing, my dad gave us some rewards points he had accumulated, and in the epitome of “you are such a grown-up, and a very boring one at that,” I got silverware. Well, my spoons kept disappearing, and I replaced them with cheap ones, and they make me frown. These are heavy and shiny. They arrived today and I lurve them. Shaddup.

It’s the little things, you know, that keep you grounded when you’re going out-of-your-mind insane.

One more day until the kids’ Spring Break! Taking a lil’ trip westward, to which I alluded in my last post. Just a few days over the break, though; nothing major. One of those arm-sprouting things, though; gotta wash clothes, pack, get a hotel, pray loudly and fervently that the potential for any rain disappears and gives us pleasant weather the whole time we’re there…But getting away from the house is good right now, as it’ll keep my mind occupied and off the other things I’m trying to juggle, some of which could require more than a single extra appendage to handle. (I hope. Well, not literally; I don’t specifically wish to turn mutant. It’s just that I hope for fruition, even if it feels like superpowers could be necessary. Maybe I’ll just look into my very own Doc Ock suit; would that work better?)

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/31/too-many-balls-in-the-air/feed/ 2 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/24/this-weekend-is-going-to-be-nuts/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/24/this-weekend-is-going-to-be-nuts/#comments Wed, 24 Mar 2010 13:30:46 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1304 Continue reading →]]> Okay, so check it out. It’s Palm Sunday, which means that our church choir is doing its cantata on Sunday for both services (I guess Easter Sunday’s service is packed too full to accommodate it? I never asked), with dress rehearsal Saturday morning. Saturday night is also when Gabe’s preschool is doing a movie night, which we wanted to attend. Finally, it’s the Midwest Gaming Classic weekend, which Eric missed last year and which he was really hoping to attend this year, particularly as a friend will be traveling up to compete in it. There are also a couple of other events I had thought about attending (a friend’s school’s carnival; a craft night to which I was invited), but I don’t know whether they’ll fit in. Oh, and Sam now has two papers (a book report and a position paper on solar energy) due on Wednesday, so he’ll need time to work on those.*

At least it’s a running step-back week, so I won’t be running for huge amounts of time either day.

I think we’re going to have to split up for parts, with Eric attending the Classic while I take the boys to the movie night. The alternative means running around wildly and crossing fingers that nothing crops up. Of course, we don’t have to attend anything except the choir rehearsals and the performances; nothing else has received our official commitment yet. I think I’ll avoid telling the boys about most of the events; that way, if we have to skip something in the interest of sanity, they won’t be too disappointed.

*I am really not looking forward to shepherding Sam through these. He’s not good about accepting help graciously, but he also gets horribly intimidated by what he perceives as large amounts of work. Either I leave him to his own devices and listen to him complain at the top of his lungs while avoiding putting actual pencil to paper, or else I sit with him and have to repeatedly ask him to quit abusing me and my good graces. What usually happens is an alternation of the two, with me getting up and leaving each time he gets toxic because I’m not doing the work for him, then returning when he panics, apologizes, and freaks out over the whole thing. (I don’t immediately return, mind you; I’m not trying to perpetuate the cycle.) It’s miserable all around.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/24/this-weekend-is-going-to-be-nuts/feed/ 3 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/18/in-bullet-points/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/18/in-bullet-points/#comments Thu, 18 Mar 2010 20:14:00 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1294 Continue reading →]]>

Honestly, if something has to be falling from the sky early this Saturday morning, I’d rather it be snow than rain. (And yes, I realize that half the population of my town would be lining up to pelt me with snowballs, likely packed with solid ice cores, for saying that.) If I’m going to be running 16 miles in precipitation, snow is better than rain; my clothes aren’t going to absorb it nearly as quickly, and it’s not likely to be coming down hard enough, by all forecasts, to accumulate by the time I’ll be done.

Dessert Derby on Sunday. Looking forward to that immensely, even though I’ve gone back into meal and nutrition planning in an effort to get myself in the best possible shape for the upcoming races. One day of All The Desserts won’t kill me, or even cause me to DNF.

Gabe says he wants to invite Mr. Crabs, from Spongebob Squarepants, to his birthday. When I asked him why, he said, “Because Mr. Crabs loves money! And he’ll bring lots with him! So we can use that to buy lots and lots of lemonade.” Logical, no?

I am so procrastinating right now. I’m staring down a pile of dirty dishes on one side and a heap of old clothes to go to Goodwill on the other. Can’t decide which one sounds less irksome yet.

Fairly sure that Gabe’s going to have a complete meltdown and refuse to eat any part of tonight’s dinner (simple chicken kebabs, falafel, roasted sweet peppers), but it’s his turn to do so, since Sam had his fit last night over the cauliflower. (Which, by the way, Gabe gobbled up and requested that we have every night.)

Trying to get into A Thousand Days in Venice, but so far it’s not grabbing me. I intend to give it my customary hundred pages of grace, though. Could be that it just was really, really not meant to follow Bright Lights, Big Ass, which I loved, but which could not be more different in tone.

I got a very, very comfortable sort-of-peasant-type blouse at H&M a couple of weeks ago, and now I want to wear it every single day, which is, of course, impossible, especially considering that it has to line dry. Should have gotten a couple. (Might have done so, had they come in other colors besides ivory.)

…All right. Three bags of clothes first, and then the dishes. Ready, set…

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/18/in-bullet-points/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/02/still-surviving/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/02/still-surviving/#comments Wed, 03 Mar 2010 01:16:51 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1267 Continue reading →]]> Huh. Maybe I am that lucky. Sam didn’t throw up last night, and he continues to feel healthy. I, on the other hand, spent a good portion of this afternoon lying on my stomach in an effort to quell spasms (they thankfully dissipated as mysteriously as they came), and Gabe just came up to me with a look of misery, claiming a massive headache. I feel like the landlord who evicted his tenants and found that they demolished the place as they were leaving. At least the discomforts are coming in waves, with increasing time between them.

Eric called this morning, but the connection was crappy. I could hear him fine, but he could barely hear us unless we shouted. Yelling to Germany: I love you. Come home soon!

Unrelated, for some reason, both boys have lately taken to trying to get me to say which one of them I love more. It doesn’t appear to be something coordinated between the two, as they don’t generally ask in front of the other; Gabe sidles up and coyly asks probing questions while Sam’s at school, and Sam corners me while Gabe’s in another room. The funniest line of questioning came from Sam, who finally asked whether he had been my favorite child when he was a baby and we didn’t know Gabe would ever even be here. Gabe, meanwhile, prefers to take the emotionally-charged route, asking me which one of them I’d miss more if they were both “destroyed.”

I’m weaning myself off the amount of coffee I was drinking. Trying to resume my normal drinking habits since my initial night of illness has proved yucky, and it’s probably a good opportunity to get myself down to a more tempered level of consumption, anyway.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/03/02/still-surviving/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/02/24/yeah-yeah-im-here/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/02/24/yeah-yeah-im-here/#comments Wed, 24 Feb 2010 22:35:44 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1243 Continue reading →]]> Workin’ on somethin’. It’s a little consuming, but it’s almost done, at which point, I’ll be happy to share with the class. At the moment, though, I’ve got to wrap that up, do a quick look-over Sam’s homework with him (which appears to be mostly stuff due next week, thank goodness), and take the kids out to eat, where I’ll go over their Bible Blast work with them before heading to church.

Unrelated, but making me smile: Sam left his copy of The Lightning Thief at school, “where I have more free time to read it!” And I think I believe him. (Little brothers do tend to interrupt quiet reading time around here.)

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/02/24/yeah-yeah-im-here/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/02/21/quiet-sunday-afternoon/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/02/21/quiet-sunday-afternoon/#comments Sun, 21 Feb 2010 22:16:34 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1234 Continue reading →]]> I took an “unscheduled” rest day from running (“unscheduled” because I haven’t started my formal training plan for Devil’s Lake yet); I’ve been very slowly amping up the mileage for the past several weeks, for no particular reason except that I felt like it, and after kissing fifty miles per week for the past three, it’s time to step back. Plus, I sort of felt very slightly hinky (is so a word) in my ankle the past couple of days. I make the best decisions when I pretend that somebody else is presenting my situation to me, asking what I should do, since I’m much better at giving advice to other people than to myself. Anybody else, I’d tell them to take a rest, so that’s what I’m doing. Might do some gentle yoga later tonight. I did a brief “energizing” flow this morning, and, well, it’s a little less than relaxing when two kids are attempting the flows next to you, with limited and comedic results. (Doing some standing pose that the guy on TV didn’t name but which I call “Stretching My Quads Like I Do After Almost Every Run, Go Me,” and Gabe’s hopping back and forth with his ankle in his hand like he’s MC Hammer, while Sam flails and falls and howls with laughter next to me = totally zen, am I right? ) On the other hand, I did head to church in a much better mood than I often am, even running ten minutes behind schedule as we usually are, so perhaps it wasn’t a total wash.

I haven’t the foggiest idea what I’m making for dinner tonight, and we don’t even have much in the way of raw ingredients to begin making it, but the boys are playing happily and peacefully upstairs and I don’t want to ruin it. On the other hand, Eric’s at the gym, and sometimes he comes home from there with some pretty wonky blood sugars (oh, come on; “hinky” isn’t a word, but “wonky” is?), and it might be nice to be able to present food to him. What would be really nice would be to have an idea for a dinner that both boys would enjoy. Sam has been begging for white bean soup for a while, and I’d like some, too, but Gabe would probably eat the bowl and spoon before so much as tasting the soup. (He’s still on a jag of mostly cheese, bananas, and ham, with occasional requests for chicken nuggets and pizza. Only the fact that I know Sam did this, too, keeps me sane.)

Oh, here they are. Playtime has ended; nightly demands for food (“Can we make cookies? Right now?”) have commenced. I guess it’s grocery store time. (And not (just) for cookie-related items.)

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/02/21/quiet-sunday-afternoon/feed/ 2 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/02/11/im-running-low/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/02/11/im-running-low/#comments Thu, 11 Feb 2010 17:53:57 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1226 Continue reading →]]> Low on me. I feel snappish, impatient, unkind, tense. I resent the effort it takes to do almost everything. I’m tired. In trying to remedy this, I’m using entirely wrong methods – junk food, caffeine, quick fixes that leave me feeling worse, and that make even the things that do help me (running, yoga) less effective and more difficult.

Last night, Eric had to work late, so I had to take the kids to church by myself. I growled at them on the way there, and then I sat through choir practice with a sour feeling and, I’m sure, a sour look on my face. Heart-shaped Valentine’s Day cookies had been brought in, so I had a sugar hit that I didn’t need, and then I was sharp with the kids all the way home again. Eric was home by then, and he must have had a premonition, because, God bless him, he was folding laundry when I walked in the door. He assessed the situation, helped wrangle the kids into bed, and then told me firmly that I have Saturday “off”: I’ll go for my run, come home and clean up, and then hit the door and not return until at least dinner. He told me to go to a bookstore, if I wanted, get a book, and then read most of it over coffee (a relaxing mug, not the copious amounts with which I’ve been dosing myself and hardly even tasting). “Relax” was his order.

I don’t deserve this man.

I confessed to him that on an ordinary free day, I’d probably see about asking a friend to meet me, but the only thing I really want right now is an extended period in which I don’t have to open my mouth to talk to anybody. I need peace. I need to be with just me, to refill myself. Then, perhaps, I’ll be able to get back to normal.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/02/11/im-running-low/feed/ 4 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/29/i-think-its-thursdays/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/29/i-think-its-thursdays/#comments Fri, 29 Jan 2010 18:54:20 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1205 Continue reading →]]> SO grumpy yesterday, but I think a big chunk of it was that Thursdays just stick out like a sore thumb for me. Gabe’s not in school, sometimes I have MOPS but sometimes I don’t, it’s a no-running day…I just never have any sort of habitual expectations for the day, so I feel off-balance. Literally, sometimes; Eric went out for an unexpected social night last night (see? Unpredictable!), so I attempted a different yoga workout than the one we’ve been doing together. It was a bit harder (“Falling is normal and part of the workout!” the lady chirped at me while balancing herself on her palms in a straight-legged seated position, legs and bottom suspended in the air between her arms), and “off-balance” was a bit of an understatement for me at times. Boy, I wish there was a way we could take an actual yoga class together, but the only yoga classes our gym offers are during the day when he’s at work, and the yoga studios in town don’t offer childcare. Televised it is, then. At least nobody has to giggle at the sight of me “floating my fingers off the mat!” before landing in a pose I like to call “Crumpled Heap I.”

Today I ran. I didn’t fall down once.

Tonight I have a clothing-swap party to attend, and tomorrow looks to be insanely busy, with running club in the morning, followed by Sam’s Pinewood Derby for Scouts, and then a spaghetti dinner and movie night for Gabe’s preschool. Inhale, exhale. There are no static poses in yoga, and none in life, either.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/29/i-think-its-thursdays/feed/ 6 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/25/new/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/25/new/#comments Mon, 25 Jan 2010 19:25:58 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1197 Continue reading →]]> I’ve been thinking lately about doing and trying new things. This morning, while on a typical, not new in any way, run, I got chased by a dog for the very first time. That wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind. (It was actually a little white, fluffy, yappy dog, tearing off its porch and barking at my heels for about a block, while I sprinted and frantically wondered whether the whole “you can’t outrun a dog!” thing they always taught us in safety lectures applied to little, fluffy, yappy dogs. In retrospect, I must have looked pretty darned ridiculous, but I think I’d have looked more ridiculous had I dropped to a fetal position and attempted to protect my head and neck…)

Better “new”: Eric and I tried a televised, on-demand yoga workout this weekend. I’ve attempted yoga in the past, with little success, and I figured it was one of those things that A) really require a live teacher over an on-screen one, and B) are better left to people without fused-straight lower backs. Still, we did our best, and I found that I’m much better at yoga now that I’ve lost weight and can better support myself on my arms than I could before. I was surprised when Eric informed me that I was, indeed, forming a triangle when I did Downward-Facing Dog; in the past, I was more of a distorted rectangle. We’re going for it again tonight, hopefully. This could be fun, and it might help with some parts of my legs that are less flexible than others, as per the physical therapist who helped me through my ITBS a long while back.

Yesterday, we took the kids to a benefit for Dan DeMatthew yesterday, and Sam spent the whole time staring in awe at the crowd of people packed into the hall. “He must be a really nice man!” he kept saying. “All these people really like him!” Then, because he’s Sam and has his own priorities in assessing a man’s character, “Do you think he likes nature?”

Need to go flip laundry now.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/25/new/feed/ 3 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/21/jumpin-jack-flash/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/21/jumpin-jack-flash/#comments Thu, 21 Jan 2010 14:47:24 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1193 Continue reading →]]> Fact: on MOPS mornings, I don’t ordinarily have coffee, since I know I’ll have coffee there.
Fact: I don’t ordinarily eat breakfast those mornings, either, since ditto.
Fact: I can’t cook without caffeine of some sort in my system.
Fact: I was on tap for a “hot dish” for this morning’s meeting.

Results: I had several large mugs of coffee this morning, with no food to cushion the blow to my system, as I flung together random ingredients and made this:

Red pepper and goat cheese frittata. I think it looks good, but I also think my computer chair is softly bouncing as I type this. Or maybe it’s the computer screen. Bounce, bounce…

Gabe is dressed up for MOPS, for some reason. He wore a necktie last night for our church portraits (side note: it takes a special kind of optimism on a photographer’s part to push forward in trying to sell packages to couples who burst out laughing, harder and harder, with each take shown to them. “I look completely drugged!” “Sam looks like he’s about to barf!” “So…we can do twelve wallets, and a lovely eight-by-ten for you?”), and now he’s taken with the idea. Never mind that one doesn’t usually sport an ivory necktie with a long-sleeved tee-shirt; he thinks he looks “fancy.” Well, I suppose he does, at that.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/21/jumpin-jack-flash/feed/ 3 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/18/updating/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/18/updating/#comments Mon, 18 Jan 2010 23:14:43 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1189 Continue reading →]]> Eric says I should update more, that he liked it in December when I update frequently. Well, okay, then!

Sam had no school today, but Gabe did, which posed an interesting situation. Sam is old enough that I could have been comfortable leaving him in the house (with the internet access disabled, of course) without me while I ran a short while, so he and I agreed to that plan initially. Then, though, I had a bad experience yesterday evening, when a planned two-plus-hour run turned into a less than ninety-minute one, with the last few miles being more of a stumble-lurch. My body felt exhausted, and my left foot was feeling a little achy. I felt okay this morning, but I decided that the run should be in the gym, on a treadmill; that way, the moment I felt any foot discomfort, I could immediately alter the workout into a cross-training session. Sam brought along a book, and we hit the gym after dropping off Gabe at preschool.

Thankfully, my foot was just fine, though I did keep myself to a shorter run than I’ve been doing on Mondays as of late. Better safe than sorry! After that, we met Eric for lunch, got Sam a haircut (church portraits on Wednesday), and then, after getting Gabe again, hit Hobby Lobby for some paint and extras for the upcoming Scouts Pinewood Derby.

[kaltura-widget wid="4g7yawyp6g" width="410" height="364" type="grey" addPermission="3" editPermission="3" /]

(That was “take 2,” after the first attempt got photobombed (videobombed?) by Gabe, as is becoming predictable around here.)

I can hardly believe January is almost over; in Hobby Lobby, I saw the Valentine’s Day stuff was already discounted, and I had a bit of panic, as I haven’t even begun to think about the boys’ Valentine’s stuff this year. Gabe is just fine with that; he’s already begun grumbling about how “Valentine’s is about love, and I’m NOT getting a girlfriend for Valentine’s Day! Yuck!”

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/18/updating/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/15/you-know-you-want-my-sexy-life/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/15/you-know-you-want-my-sexy-life/#comments Fri, 15 Jan 2010 15:01:29 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1184 Continue reading →]]> Hop out of bed at 6 AM; the husband has an early meeting, so breakfast has to be prompt. Throw the oats into the boiling water, and start the coffee maker – a big pot, to accommodate this morning’s mugs and a thermos for him to take to work. At 6:30, call husband out of bed to eat together.

At 7, when he goes down to shower, go to wake up kids – a little earlier than usual, but the older kid has to do some extra homework that he didn’t get done before Scouts the night before. Try to kiss the preschooler awake, and get an (accidental, he claims) elbow to the eye. Retreat; hear the garbage truck coming, and hurry to get the garbage to the curb before attempting to finish your coffee in peace.

Before you can get the coffee down, there’s a crisis: the older kid, despite being told not to, wore his glasses to bed last night, and now they’re “broken.” Examine them and find they’re simply missing a screw on the side. You don’t have a glasses repair kit handy, so you fix it with beading wire and a Swiss Army knife. Insist that he eat breakfast.

Comb the baby’s hair, despite the wriggling. Brush the baby’s teeth, ditto.

Argue over the homework issue (he claims it’s not due today, though the homework planner doesn’t say that, and he’s tried to get out of homework in the past using that route). Don’t yell, and be very proud of yourself for not yelling (so what if your voice started to go up a little there at the end?). Get him situated with his desk and paper. Say goodbye to the husband; feed the baby breakfast and pack two lunches (no apple for the big kid, who just takes three bites and throws the rest away, so he gets the fiber-enriched applesauce instead) while providing helpful haiku-writing tips and spelling assistance.

Go upstairs, and multitask your way through stripping and changing the bed sheets, throwing on running clothes, and coaching the baby through writing the word “SWORD” (it’s the letter S week at preschool) on a piece of paper. (“How do I make a W?” Write it in the air for him several times, then help him fix the “M” he made instead.) The big kid finishes his homework, and he’s on his way out the door when you spy his reading book on the floor; chase him down and cram it into his backpack.

Gather more laundry; brush your own teeth and hair. Discover your half-mug of coffee, now cold. Coach the baby into how to write a 5 (“like an S on which somebody dropped a rock”). Breathe: you have five minutes before you have to leave the house in which to do so.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/15/you-know-you-want-my-sexy-life/feed/ 3 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/14/completely-unrelated/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/14/completely-unrelated/#comments Thu, 14 Jan 2010 18:15:48 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1177 Continue reading →]]> Apparently, it’s National Delurker Day.

So, come out, come out, wherever you are. I’ll even give you a question to answer in a comment, to make it easier! Just something that’s been brewing in my head since I posted a group picture from my high school graduation, and a friend commented how we “thought we were so cool.” I honestly don’t remember feeling cool that day – or many days at all, back as a teenager. Now, looking at that picture, I think I probably was “cooler” than I felt, big hair and all. So, for your own consideration: when in your life was your own self-esteem highest?

If you don’t feel like answering that, say hi anyway. Hello!

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/14/completely-unrelated/feed/ 23 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/11/amazing/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/11/amazing/#comments Mon, 11 Jan 2010 22:48:39 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1170 Continue reading →]]> It’s really something, how much colder you can feel outside when you’re not running than when you are. Seriously, put me out there in running tights, a wicking top, jacket, gloves, and a hat, and I’ll scamper through the snow until I’m sweating and considering removing the hat and gloves. Ten degrees warmer, in long underwear, heavy jeans, thick woolen sweater, and a winter coat, gloves and hat, and I’m shaking so badly I can barely talk. It’s the scampering, of course. The experts aren’t kidding when they say you warm up to the point where it feels twenty degrees warmer out when you’re really moving. Today, I made the conscious decision to not avoid snow-covered trails and paths, and that led to me hopping wildly from foot to foot as I climbed a steep, completely covered hill, with snow up to my knees. And I was cackling as I did it. It felt like being a kid again (had I been the sort of kid who enjoyed that kind of thing, which I wasn’t)! I imagine that I looked positively insane to anybody who happened to be watching – anybody who hadn’t ever experienced the joy of being a snow runner.

And then I came home, showered, dressed, and subsequently felt like a human popsicle when I had to go back out to the DMV. Should have run to there instead.

I seem to recall at least several occasions when I was told to dress preschooler Sam in snow clothes before dropping him off at school, since they’d be going outside to play. I bundle Gabe up the same way: snow pants, boots, etc. Today, they brought in a giant bin on wheels, full of snow for the kids to enjoy in climate-controlled comfort. I’m not sure how to feel about that. (For the record, Gabe has no desire to play in the snow beyond a rough academic sense: “I could make a snowman,” he says, before finding his markers and paper, settling down for the afternoon. He prefers to run and play in the gymnasium. )

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/11/amazing/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/09/one-for-the-bucket-list/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/09/one-for-the-bucket-list/#comments Sun, 10 Jan 2010 03:44:09 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1168 Continue reading →]]> I just won a (non-virtual) game of Monopoly for the first time in my life. To his credit, Sam came in second, after taking out Eric with some very strategic hotel placing. Also to his credit, he shook my hand at the end and told me I’d played a good game.

(I won, I won, I won, I won…!)

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/09/one-for-the-bucket-list/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/04/the-day-2/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/04/the-day-2/#comments Tue, 05 Jan 2010 02:26:21 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1158 Continue reading →]]> Good: solid run, with the discovery that the bike trail near the lake is still mostly free of ice and snow.

Bad: dental appointment. “Just” a cleaning, which is no consolation for a dental-phobe.

Good: homemade bean soup.

Bad: heartburn.

Good: boys in bed early, resting quietly.

Bad: the fact that they’re in bed early because of rampant misbehavior.

Really bad (and the reason I’m doing this entry in bullet-type form instead of prose): a tummy that’s getting more upset by the moment, making me wonder whether I ought to go get a bowl to keep by the bed. Hopefully it’s just stress and the heartburn. I’m going to try to sleep it off now.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/04/the-day-2/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/03/jiggety-frigging-jig/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/03/jiggety-frigging-jig/#comments Sun, 03 Jan 2010 16:45:01 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1154 Continue reading →]]> Ugh and oof. I really do prefer to come home from a vacation/trip to an at least somewhat tidy house, and there is nothing quite like returning home to a house that was apparently bombed with Christmas and then hastily abandoned for a couple of weeks. I sort of want to cover my head and hide until gnomes appear and fix everything – much in the way they really, really didn’t while we were away. Failing that, I want to go for a very, very long run out in the comparatively neat world and regain my mental peace…but now we’re back in The Frozen Tundra, and it is COLD out there. Oh, is it cold! I’m planning to give it until midday, I think, when the wind chills will finally peak at around zero degrees Fahrenheit, before venturing out. I have that luxury on a Sunday, thank God, By tomorrow, when a schedule will poke its nasty head into things, the weather will be back into the teens, which is a bit more hospitable.

So, now that I’m back at my own desk, I can take a moment to think about the past year and the coming one. A recap!
January: The recession comes to roost, and we weather worries about Eric’s job stability. Luckily, he remains employed, though many of our nearest and dearest do not.
February: Like every other February in these parts, it was all about the snow and ice. I ran a lot, trying to keep the SAD away. Also, Sam got his first crush at school.
March: Eric’s dad had quadruple bypass heart surgery, but came through okay. I hit my peak training for my first marathon.
April: Apparently, my mind was on my marathon taper, as that’s just about all I wrote about.
May: I ran a marathon! We went to Chicago for our 12th wedding anniversary! I had the start of my dental badness, but overall, a good month!
June: The start of summer. Did the Lighthouse Run in a heat wave that kicked everybody’s butt, but I came in 2nd in my age group anyway. Sam turned eight, and we learned that low-key parties are the best.
July: Hit a weird emotional low, but my parents’ visit up here resurrected me. More dental badness.
August: Eric’s dad came to visit! Went on a mostly successful family vacation to Green Bay! A good month, all around.
September: School started for both kids, and Gabe loved his new school. Training peaked for my running. Even more dental badness.
October: Ran another marathon, which included a trip back east to enjoy my family. My baby turned five, which made me feel antique.
November: Had a sort-of impromptu trip back to Ohio for Thanksgiving, and I ran a 5K with Alysia, which was phenomenally great.
December: Oh, the holidays! And they felt crammed into a short time this year, with the last week feeling the longest, encompassing the travel and family love.

Nobody died this year, which was a huge thing! A few downs, plenty of ups; it wasn’t what I’d call a “stable” year, but it wasn’t catastrophic, either. I’d love to see 2010 be a slow rise upward, and I’d sacrifice a couple of the elated spikes to avoid the stomach-dropping lows. Not all of them, though. Life needs excitement, even at the price of some scariness. The big theme of the year seems to have been seeing and taking more opportunities to be with our loved ones, which was wonderful.

This morning, I hit upon a good theme for myself over the next year. In honor of the late awesome Urban Couch, 2010 will be the year of “Do you really believe that?” Asking myself that whenever I catch myself falling into assumptions or ruts will help shake me out of dangerous comfort zones and redefine my limits. We want to grab hold of our budget with both hands, for example, and I’ve not got a good history with that. But do I really believe that I just can’t handle money? Do I really believe that it’s beyond me, honestly? No. No more than I believe that 50 kilometers is beyond me, as I’ll prove this summer.

Here we go! Happy New Year!

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/03/jiggety-frigging-jig/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/02/horses-redux/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/02/horses-redux/#comments Sat, 02 Jan 2010 15:47:22 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1151 Continue reading →]]> Also, ditto everything I said a few entries back about the hotels with the oatmeal and peanut butter. Something to be said for known quantities.

It was snowing pretty hard an hour or so ago, but now, as we’re about to hit the road again, it’s tapered a bit. Good thing; we’ve got hours to go before home. Man, I could have used another half-hour of sleep; the boys woke me up early with the old classic “He’s touching me!” routine. Man, it’s funnier when Cosby’s doing it than when it’s being performed live by your own offspring.

Hey, did you know? Some guy told us in the hotel lobby, though I haven’t verified it with my own eyes: apparently, on the old capitol building, the builders originally misspelled the name of the city, in huge sandstone carving: FRANKFÜRT instead of (the Americanized) FRANKFORT. In true Southern practicality, instead of tearing it down to correct it, they shrugged and decided that would be the back of the building. If I can, I really want a photo of that before we leave.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/02/horses-redux/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/01/on-the-road-again-2/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/01/on-the-road-again-2/#comments Sat, 02 Jan 2010 00:42:15 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1149 Continue reading →]]> Weather chased us out of town earlier than we planned, so we’re on our way home now, beating a snowstorm. (Free wifi at the dinner restaurant, woo!) It’s been a good trip, but it will be good to get back home, too. I’m just hoping we cleaned out the fridge thoroughly enough before we left…

Anyway, grabbing dinner with Eric’s brother before officially driving out, so I’ll catch up more later!

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2010/01/01/on-the-road-again-2/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/23/bad-vs-good/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/23/bad-vs-good/#comments Thu, 24 Dec 2009 01:26:20 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1132 Continue reading →]]> Okay, let’s total up the day.

Good: Got my run in, if a little slow, due to ice and darkness.

Good: Sam woke up feeling a little better than he did yesterday, when he came home with a cold.

Bad: We were watching some old movies on the computer, and Sam spotted an old plastic truck that we once had. He asked where it was, and I told him I didn’t know. In a fit of nostalgia and independence, Sam decided then to take it upon himself to go in search of the truck…in the basement. Where I was keeping the Christmas gifts, which were yet to be wrapped. I didn’t realize what was happening until he brought a handful of the things upstairs to show to Gabe; he didn’t even know that they were Christmas presents. I shrieked, and he was horrified. Then we spent the next several hours with him alternately telling me to take them back to the store and then calling himself names. Now he’s just working hard to forget everything he saw.

Good: The boys and I had lunch at a place we don’t visit often, and they had a great cream of mushroom soup. So delicious!

Bad: We went in search of snow gear for both kids, and the behavior was horrendous. We were able to get pants for them both, but we had to head for home before I could track down boots for Sam; apparently, his size is nonexistent, since I couldn’t find them anywhere.

Good:

Bad: It’s all deteriorated from there, and I’m just counting the minutes until bedtime.

So it was probably a wash, all in all, balanced even in the dramatic peak (gingerbread construction, done in complete cooperation and harmony and leading to a respectable-looking house) and nadir (the present fiasco). I’m not left with strongly positive or negative feelings, so much as utter exhaustion. Tomorrow begins Eric’s holiday, and I may take the opportunity to escape!

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/23/bad-vs-good/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/19/jinx/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/19/jinx/#comments Sun, 20 Dec 2009 02:29:13 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1118 Continue reading →]]> I might have jinxed myself a couple days ago, when I posted to Facebook, “Unless something changes in the coming days (don’t bet it won’t), it actually doesn’t look good for having a white Christmas.” At the time, there were only a couple of snowshowers – not even with any measurable accumulation – forecast for today and tomorrow, then nothing. Well, now:

We’re in the 50-75% zone. And there’s snow on the ground right now, with temps in the coming days that don’t look high enough to melt it. Mind, there’s not much snow, but it’s there. It was enough that I broke out the YakTrax for my run this morning, and that I was glad to have them when one of the running club members slipped and rolled down a little hill right behind me. He’s fine, happily, but I’m just as glad it wasn’t me who felt the group’s good-natured ribbing after that!

We went to church for the rest of the morning, preparing for tomorrow’s cantata. Eric and I have a duet in the cantata; he refers to it more as a solo for me, with him accompanying me for the chorus, but that’s neither here nor there. I don’t like using microphones, and these are the sort that basically require you to put your nose directly on the metal in order to work their best. “Pretend it’s an ice cream cone,” the sound folks told me. I muttered something to Eric about having seen Trent Reznor do something similar, but I’m not sure how acceptable that’d be for a church music program.

Anyway! Moving on!

Related to absolutely nothing except that I love soup when things get cold and snowy, I have to highly recommend the Pacific Natural Foods boxed soups. I know! Soup in a box! It’s positively not the sort of thing you’d admit to enjoying, most cases, but these, or at least the ones I’ve tried, are really really good. I had the Roasted Red Pepper and Tomato first, and now I’ve also had the Cashew Carrot Ginger; both are delicious! I had a bowl of it tonight with a wrap sandwich I made (spicy black bean dip, sun-dried tomatoes, pepperjack cheese, sunflower sprouts, roasted red peppers, and spinach), and I feel completely satisfied, both in belly and mouth. And it’s pretty light in calories, for a cream soup, and nutritious, too! Go forth and enjoy.

Bedtime for Bonzos, I think; they’ve begun to chase each other around the house with scary pictures they’ve drawn. As far as play activities go, I’d call that fairly creative, but it’s time to bring the madness to an end.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/19/jinx/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/17/traditions/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/17/traditions/#comments Fri, 18 Dec 2009 04:56:32 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1110 Continue reading →]]> Not a lot of time tonight; I’m getting ready to head to a small gathering with my discussion group from MOPS. For some reason, I volunteered to bring an appetizer instead of wine or a dessert; I’m not an appetizer cook, but thankfully Eric was able to save my tail and whip up some of his steamed dumplings for me.

We had a really good speaker at MOPS this morning, discussing holiday traditions – how the original Christmas was about as simple as it could get, and how we’ve turned it into something too complicated, too chaotic, and way too money-based (apparently about $450 billion dollars in America alone, last year). It was thought-provoking, to say the least. We probably do far less in the way of certain traditions than many folks, due to geographical constraints; it’s easy to avoid running from one house to another on Christmas Eve and Day when your families are almost more than a full day’s drive away. We still spend too much, though. Some years have been better for us, when we’ve gone into it with a coherent plan to which we manage to keep fairly closely. This year hasn’t been that year. And we’re doing the travel thing, too, leaving on Christmas day – not what I would have chosen, but the best way to maximize our available time before Eric and the boys have to return to work and school.

We have only a few traditions, when it comes to it. We put up and decorate the tree fairly close to the day after Thanksgiving, and I like to do it as a family. We go to the Christmas party that Eric’s company holds for employees’ children. I have a wooden Advent “calendar” tree, on which we hang an ornament each day (Sam is very good about remembering to do this, even when I forget). Christmas morning is organized: we hand ’round the gifts in an orderly fashion, and then we take turns opening one gift, letting everybody fawn over it before moving on. Each of us gets a Christmassy sweater as one of our gifts, and (one of my family’s traditions when I was growing up that I’ve decided to keep) each stocking’s assortment of items includes a magazine or comic book. These are simple things, and while some new traditions may also stick (making recipes from Eric’s mom’s stockpile of holiday treats, for example), there’s nothing too fancy or distracting on the horizon.

And then there’s me, who last year went on a neighborhood run late in the morning, enjoying the sights and sounds of the holiday, and who very much plans to do that this year, next year, and every year to come. It’ll be my own tradition – my time to reflect, breathe, and feel the joy that the day is supposed to have. Yes, family; yes, Christ. But yes, too, to blood pumping fast in my veins, letting me feel breathlessly alive and ready for more. That’s my holiday. God bless us, every run.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/17/traditions/feed/ 2 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/15/impatient/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/15/impatient/#comments Wed, 16 Dec 2009 01:13:41 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1101 Continue reading →]]> Gah. I feel like I’m waiting, waiting, waiting, jumping out of my seat. In the immediate future, I’m waiting for Sam to finish his homework so I can go over the boys’ Bible study with them. He’s got a thick packet of poetry-related questions that should have been two nights’ worth of work, but he had so much homework last night that he didn’t get around to any of it then. All for tonight, then. C’mon, kid; analyze those verses…

Further off, I’m waiting to finish the Christmas shopping (a little more when Gabe’s in school tomorrow, I hope), waiting for the actual holiday, waiting for our trip. I’m waiting for another race, waiting for another training cycle. Waiting for spring – oh, yes, definitely that. I could wish I was a more patient person, but, yes, I am the person who eats cookies right off the tray, right out of the oven, with them falling apart all over the place and getting my fingers covered in melty goo.

[kaltura-widget wid="vjsgjv04lk" width="410" height="364" type="grey" addPermission="3" editPermission="3" /]

And too much impatience…leads to silliness.

It’s been a long day.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/15/impatient/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/14/needed-2/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/14/needed-2/#comments Tue, 15 Dec 2009 01:15:12 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1098 Continue reading →]]> …Festive sweaters for Eric and the boys, to keep with our tradition of receiving them for Christmas. Shouldn’t be tacky, but should be wintery and patterned (think Nordic snowflakes, etc.). Need to be obtainable in time.

…A clear-cut plan of exactly what we and everybody else will doing for the holidays. Pretty sure we’re heading for West Virginia at some point, but where and when? And my folks are talking about driving down to see us, details predicated on those other details. And where will my brother be?

…A New Year’s race in West Virginia. (I don’t think Santa’s got one of those for me in his bag. )

…The satisfaction of having my shopping done, minus the actual work of having done it. (Please, Santa? )

…Two dozen cookies for Gabe’s preschool party, and an appetizer for a holiday party I’m attending myself. I’m thinking I probably shouldn’t try to get away with buying something unless things get fairly desperate.

…A way for Eric and me to attend two different events at the same time on Wednesday night (not that our individual conflicts with choir practice are even for the same event, either).

…More coffee. Always more coffee.

…An unseasonal heat wave, so that I don’t have to spend chunks of Christmas break deciding between running in the dark or on a treadmill. I’m not strongly enamored of the jogging stroller, with a bike rider in tow, but at least it would be another option, and one I can’t do in snow and ice.

…Your favorite interesting cocktail recipe. Comment bonanza!

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/14/needed-2/feed/ 2 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/13/wiped-2/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/13/wiped-2/#comments Mon, 14 Dec 2009 03:07:32 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1094 Continue reading →]]> I used to be such a night owl. Now it’s not even nine o’clock, and I’ve been watching episodes of Doctor Who with Eric on the computer, drinking a couple of glasses of Rioja, and I feel absolutely done in. Last night, the family got in from shopping around 6:45, and I packed us all into bed; the boys slept clean through until morning, and I only woke for a little around 2:30, when I was hungry, so I ate a little and went back to sleep until dawn. (Eric tried to sleep then, too, but he tossed and turned for a few hours before getting up, wasting time until after 1, and then finally getting a few fitful hours of rest. Poor guy!) I’d be in bed right now, since Eric just went out to do some late Christmas shopping, but Holidailies calls.

I remember going for days without sleep back in college. Oh, the music one could write without the sanity gained from regular REM cycles! Admittedly, the course work for other classes got a bit sketchier under those circumstances, but it did tend to lend a certain ability to cut through the chaff and say exactly what one meant. Without sleep, while I was taking a self-guided research course one summer, I wrote a positively scathing paper on a particular modern composer who I found (and still find) to be a pretentious lunatic. Turned out that the professor leading the self-guided course had just returned – in time to accept and grade my paper – from a meditation seminar with said composer. Awkward…

Jokes get way funnier when you haven’t slept in a while. Stories get much more entertaining, at least once you get past the initial stage of tired grumpiness, in which you bite people’s heads off if they seem to be straying from a single point. Go beyond that, and the brain becomes far more open to following any tale in any direction. Art is more stimulating – especially when it seems to be moving around inside the frame. And it’s an oil painting. Of still life. Oh, the places you can go!

Of course, there are drawbacks. I’m afraid that Eggs Benedict are on a lifetime ban from my menus, after I ate a plate of them when I came off working an all-night shift at a restaurant and then went to stand in line for financial aid at the student union. I think sleep is required for the digestion of hollandaise sauce, perhaps. I remember that Eric and a friend of ours were having a grand time that morning, having giggle fit after giggle fit over the episodes of “Captain Planet” and “The Head” they’d stayed up watching all night long. One of them would mutter, “‘Man with big head uses secret purple monkey technique!” and they would both be on the ground. I was already on the ground, groaning over the eggs. Perhaps sleep would have been a wise choice for all of us that day.

Earlier than that, back in high school, I remember staying up nearly all night studying advanced chemistry, which I had no business taking in the first place. I understood next to none of it, but I struggled on, and that meant very late hours of rereading the same textbook sections, over and over, as if I’d have a breakthrough moment on the forty-ninth trip through. Oh, I had moments, but only when the words would begin to rearrange themselves on the page and spell out new and exciting messages to me. And I wasn’t even a coffee drinker back then; who knows what I could have managed with chemical stimulants?

Now I am in my mid-thirties, and I could perhaps say that I know better, but the truth is more simple: despite all logic, I’ve become a morning person. Can’t blame the kids; they would prefer to stay up late and sleep even later. This one is all me, and it’s working for now. And so I head off to my comforter, my pillow, and my dreams. Good night!

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/13/wiped-2/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/11/a-few-randoms-before-they-wake-up/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/11/a-few-randoms-before-they-wake-up/#comments Fri, 11 Dec 2009 13:10:07 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1087 Continue reading →]]> I’m using this in my coffee this morning, after I found it at the coop grocery store yesterday. It’s pretty good! I don’t usually drink soy milk (I prefer almond milk, when it comes to alternative “dairy”), but I was in the mood for something seasonal, and you just can’t chug eggnog in any kind of satisfying way without feeling massive bloat and indigestion.

I also replenished my chia stash at the store, which had big jugs of it instead of the little baggies my local natural food store keeps on hand. Making a tiny pot of Irish oats for myself right now, all stirred up with a banana and the chia. Might add some pumpkin butter, walnuts, and a touch of the peanut butter granola I got for crunch. Mmmm!

Gabe was AMAZINGLY well behaved at the grocery yesterday, despite all signs going in that he wasn’t in the mood to be. Seriously, I grabbed a cup of coffee from the counter as I entered, and he was an absolute chimpanzee while I was trying to do that, but then we hit the customer service desk for the “kids’ surprise” before shopping, and he got a mango-flavored fruit leather, which…well, I bet they laced the thing with opiates or something. Not that I’m complaining. “Cooperative” doesn’t begin to touch his behavior for the rest of the time! He walked happily next to me, quietly pointed out interesting things on the shelves, and didn’t even flip his lid when I decided not to get the $20 wheel of goat cheese he thought would be delicious in his lunches.

Sam has “Pajama Day” at school today, but I don’t know how this will work, since all of his pajamas are thin flannel things, not up to withstanding single-digit temps. I doubt they’ll let kids head to the bathrooms to change upon arrival, either. Hmph.

Time to go wake Eric.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/11/a-few-randoms-before-they-wake-up/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/09/wednesdays-bite/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/09/wednesdays-bite/#comments Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:58:27 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1083 Continue reading →]]> Okay, they don’t bite. They’re just busy as all get-out. And it’s not even the whole day that’s so hectic – just the evenings, in which have to cram dinner, homework, and last-minute studying into the hour and a half between Sam’s arrival home from school and our departure to church for choir practice and the boys’ Bible Blast. This week, Eric had other commitments on top of all that, too, so I had to handle it alone, without anybody to run defense against whichever kid wasn’t directly involved with me at any moment. Ugh! Thank God for leftovers, at least.

I’m sort of proud, really; we managed to finish a book report and have both kids ready with their respective memorizations, right on time. No eleventh-hour “I can’t find my shoe!” freakouts, even!

But then we were made late to church by the roads, which required extra caution. We didn’t wind up getting anything close to the Snowpocalypse the weather folk predicted, but we got icy slush and rain (which really made today’s seven-miler entertaining!), and now temperatures are dropping sharply and freezing every bit of that moisture. Slip-sliding away…

I’ve hated winter driving ever since I flipped and totaled my little hatchback in college, heading home from Eric’s house over Christmas break. Black ice caught me by surprise that day, and it had me terrified for ages. I don’t get cold chills when I have to drive in snow anymore, but I wouldn’t call myself relaxed, either – and it doesn’t help when two little boys are yammering about the Ten Commandments from behind me. “At least my mind will have been on my Maker if I have to go meet him now,” I decided as I tried to navigate the sharp turn that would either take me to the church or send me sailing down the hill into Lake Michigan. (As I’m typing this now, I obviously am neither underwater or in the arms of God, but…well, it’s going to be a long winter.)

Wednesdays are busy, and this one is finally coming to a close. I’m in bed with the netbook writing this, trying to stay awake so I can catch the finale of Top Chef with Eric, and then I’ll draw a happy double-bar on the day. Good night!

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/09/wednesdays-bite/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/08/will-it-wont-it/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/08/will-it-wont-it/#comments Wed, 09 Dec 2009 00:35:42 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1081 Continue reading →]]> Well, there’s snow on the ground…sort of…I mean, you can see it there, but it’s not what we were expecting. We’re in Wisconsin, which means that we get Snow, and our weathermen have been salivating like basset hounds under a Thanksgiving banquet table over the signs surrounding today and tomorrow. Huge, heaping whomps of snow! Piles and piles of it! But…not quite. Or maybe we’ll get some, but now it looks like we may or may not get a bunch. Could be a foot; could be a few inches, except that it’ll be comprised of tiny little flakes of wet doom, each weighing as much as a Volkswagen. Gah. Who knows?

All I know is that I’m supposed to run seven miles tomorrow, and I had my fill of treadmilling for the week already. Gabe didn’t have school today, it being Tuesday, and I couldn’t very well push a jogging stroller through the snow, even with only an inch or so. I suppose I could have gone in the wee hours of the morning, before Eric left for work, and I could do that tomorrow if school gets canceled for both kids, but I really hate running in the snow and ice with only a flashlight to light my way. It has to happen on occasion, but that doesn’t mean I don’t dread it.

Might be the last year I can discuss the kids’ Christmas presents on this page (sooner or later, Sam’ll catch onto me!), but I’m considering snowshoes this year. Even Eric seemed intrigued by the idea, so if I can find good enough deals, maybe we can all get some and have some family fun time. I’m not really a fan of extended time in freezing weather, but as we live in the frozen north, we might as well make the best of it, right? We should probably even take the kids sledding; we got them a sled, but they’ve never used to it go down a hill steeper than what gets formed from shoveling our driveway into the yard. Admittedly, that’s pretty darn steep in these parts, compared to what I grew up knowing, but still…

I think I’m just grumpy due to not knowing exactly what’s happening tonight (or even right this moment; it’s dark out there!) or how to prepare for it. If it’s going to snow, I want to see it coming; if it’s not, that’s more than fine, but I don’t want to psych myself up unnecessarily. That bizarre little character in my brain who rejoices in chaos and calamity always gets so disappointed when life continues as usual.

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/08/will-it-wont-it/feed/ 1 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/03/goodies/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/03/goodies/#comments Fri, 04 Dec 2009 00:55:31 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1066 Continue reading →]]> The ThinkGeek paper catalog arrived in the mail today. I mean, I read the website, but something about getting an actual pamphlet in my hands really sets off the urge to spoil my man – all my men! – with little toys and gadgets. Yeah, it’s totally selfless. I’m certainly not craving anything for myself. That would be selfish.

Seriously, though, if I got the kids the Super Mario chess set, some kick-butt Nerf guns, and a Nintendoed-up playroom, I’d be Mother of the Century. And I won’t go into what I’d get for Eric, because…well, I might. Or might not. He’s a sneaky and talented gift-guesser.

Actually, folks keep bugging me about what they really ought to get me for Christmas, as it seems that I’ve finally reached that stage in most of my hobbies where people simply have no idea what I might need. Eric is scratching his head, and if the man who lives with me doesn’t know, it doesn’t bode well for my parents. Honestly? Even I had to stop and think about it, because there aren’t many obvious things that live in the area between the large “Neat, but I really don’t want one” zone and the smaller “Necessary, and I can’t see waiting for some arbitrary day to obtain it” one. I don’t have a lot of use for knick-knacks; we’re up to our ears in blankets; and while I’m always reading, picking out books for somebody is like picking out their underwear. You need to have a very, very intimate knowledge of the person to get it right.

In the end, I just suggest arm warmers, compression socks (ooh, Zensah), and whatnot. So creative, I am. Maybe a subscription to TrailRunner magazine, if I’m feeling punchy.

What’s on your list?

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/03/goodies/feed/ 4 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/01/the-second-thing-at-christmas-thats-such-a-pain-to-me/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/01/the-second-thing-at-christmas-thats-such-a-pain-to-me/#comments Tue, 01 Dec 2009 22:16:30 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1060 Continue reading →]]> I’ve never done the external holiday lights thing before, outside of a Moravian star that was gifted to me two years ago. I thought I might give it a whirl this year, but the universe is conspiring against me. To wit, after I spent an hour wandering through Menards feeling D-U-M, stupid, regarding just how to affix said lights to the house, Eric finally called me and suggested rather firmly that we put them on the inside of the enclosed porch instead. I agreed to that and got some suction cups to hang the lights. The suction cups don’t work, which I discovered about spending about half an hour trying to locate an extension cord in the basement. (Every other cable and cord in existence, yes, we have, but a plug? Hah.) And my Moravian star won’t light up, either. I threw the whole mess down and plan to save it for my loving husband to deal with – or at least until he’s home to administer headache medicine to me as I work on it. That has to be better than trying to do it while Gabe runs in and out of the house, SLAMMING the DOOR every TEN SECONDS.

Why am I doing this again?

Gabe had a checkup today. The doctor pronounced him well. Go, Gabe. Hard to become a successful evil overlord without your health (Davros notwithstanding).

It’s Tuesday, which means Eric’s out late with his Scrabble gang. That leaves the kids’ Bible Blast studying for me tonight, which I’ve taken to doing snuggled up in bed with them on either side of me. It would work better if Gabe was a snuggler when less than 75% sleepy, at which point he’d be no good for studying, anyway. Actually, I’m not sure there exists a point at which he’s “good” for studying. I am so not looking forward to his school years if things stay like they are…

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]]> http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/12/01/the-second-thing-at-christmas-thats-such-a-pain-to-me/feed/ 0 http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/11/30/and-were-back/ http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/2009/11/30/and-were-back/#comments Tue, 01 Dec 2009 02:08:17 +0000 Carrie http://www.redhairedgirl.com/main/?p=1058 Continue reading →]]> First, a few gratuitous photos.