Race for the cure was INSANE! So many people, which is great for the cure, but hard to run in! My hips hurt all day on Saturday, from all the weaving and jumping over stroller wheels! I thought for sure I'd be sore on Sunday (hips and knees) but I felt great...this body must be getting used to running after all! St.Louis bread company was there with cranberry bagels shaped like a ribbon...delish! The girls I ended up going with were really fun, even though they all run a lot faster than me, so I felt like I was either going to throw up or my heart was going to explode the whole time. We talked last night at volleyball and decided to do the local Fourth of July 5K...now I just have to work on getting a lot faster before then! I'm having second thoughts about doing the marathon in Oct...truth be told, I've been having 2nd thoughts for months now. It just feels "lonely" to me, going by myself and all...at first my dh was going to go to watch and we were going to make a long weekend w/out the kids, but now that he's changed jobs, he won't be able to get the time off, so it'd just be me. And though I'm sure I could do it, now it doesn't seem like any fun to me, and it's been difficult to motivate myself to go do those long lonely weekend runs. Especially after my dog decided she doesn't go any farther than 6 miles! So, I don't know. I really feel like it'd be more fun to just stay around town and keep doing little races with my new friends, or even by myself, if they're local. That seems like FUN, and not so much WORK, you know? I don't know what to do, and I'm getting all stressed, and my stomach is in knots...I'm afraid to make a decision either way. Ugh.
dh is off early tonight, and there's no kids sports on the schedule, which means I may be able to go back to kickboxing tonight! It'd be my first time back since I started having all the shoulder trouble in Feb. Hopefully I'll get to go and the arm will hold up just fine.

I hate junebugs. No really, I hate them.

Normally I'm a live and let live kind of gal...except mosquitos. I hate them too. And flies, but only when they're in my house. Oh, and also ants. Okay, maybe I'm not such a live and let live, but that's not my point. My point is, I hate junebugs. They give me the heebie-jeebies like you wouldn't believe. I'm not sure if it's the noise they make bouncing off my windows, or if it's the fact that they divebomb me at 45 mph, or if it's just because they look like they just climbed out of some pre-historic swamp and want to bite me. They're icky. I tell you this only because I was attacked last night by a swarm of junebugs. Do junebugs swarm? I'm pretty sure junebugs swarm. Anyway, we got a new storm door, and as it turns out it's apparently big and scary when you're a dog. So I've been trying for two days to convince my dog that the door is, in fact, a door, and not some horrid monster attached to the house, waiting to pounce and suck her heart out. So, yeah, that's going really great, and I spent 30 minutes holding the door open last night speaking in my stupid dog voice, when the junebugs attacked. The first one landed in my hair...which, frankly, is enough to send me into seizures, and then all his brothers joined in. One hit my neck, one on my upper back, one on my left cheek. So, I did what any rational person would do, ran across the back yard screaming and flailing my arms. Then I picked up the dog (I give up, really I do...she won't use the door on her own) and went inside. About 20 minutes later, I was laying on the bed flipping through the channels when I felt something crawling inside my shirt. Yep, you guessed it. JUNEBUG! I swear I almost had to go to the hospital.

In my research this morning I discovered that "When toasted in hot ashes, the internal body parts and juices of the bug congeal into a nugget of pure golden nutrition. After peeling off shriveled legs, wings, and wing case, the remaining orb of nourishment can be eaten one at a time or by the handful.
Toasted June bugs have a surprisingly sweet delightful taste. The flavor closely resembles thick raw molasses or crudely made ribbon cane syrup. It is difficult to eat just one.
Crushed into fine powder, bug-flour added to hot water forms a rich nourishing drink perfectly suited to victims suffering from anemia, dehydration, and other maladies. If mixed with warm milk, it has a malted milk taste.
However, toasted June bugs should be consumed in measured proportions because of the heavy concentration of protein and fat. If eaten in large amounts, the rich oily meal can result in stomach ache or mild diarrhea." from this really disturbing website. I find it interesting that they claim that it's difficult to eat just one. Mmmmm...Junebug flavored Lay's Potato Chips....

The thing is, looks can be deceiving. I LOOK like I’m in shape. I’ve got nice muscles, an okay body fat, and I’ve used up more of my available brain space on exercise facts, nutritional nuggets of info, and transformation techniques then, frankly, I care to admit. But here’s the thing…my cardiovascular level of endurance is totally in the toilet. It’s a fact about me that I try desperately to hide. I even lie about it, sometimes.

I claim I “used to” run miles at a time. LIE.

I claim I love to run. LIE.

Truth be known, I’m the slowest, most irritable “runner” you’ll ever come across. So it makes perfect sense, then, that I’ve registered for a marathon. Right? Right. See, I was feeling kind of blue the other week, getting close to my birthday, feeling kind of goal-less and plan-less, bummed about my shoulder keeping me from working out, ashamed that I was supposed to be starting a running program months ago w/my friend far far away (we decided to do the same “starter” program on the same days and check in with each other as to our progress), and while she’s on week 6, I’ve not really yet started. Blue. Out of sorts. Crabby. And I’ve secretly always wanted to be good at running. You know, not bad enough to actually work at it, but it’s always kind of been there hanging around in my brain, that I’d like to one day be good.

So, screw the 5K…why give myself a reasonable goal when I can completely obsess and torture myself over a looming deadline and 26.2 miles? That just wouldn’t be me. Unfortunately.

So, it’s kind of strange, this new deadline of mine. I’ve never really (in my adult life) had a “performance” goal. I mean, I’ve had improvement goals (increase my bench press), transformation goals (drop some body fat) but I’ve never had a “by this time I have to run this far” type of goal. And it’s kind of freaking me out. It’s kind of a long time for me to try and patiently, intelligently, improve my performance, week by week, mile by mile. I’m an instant gratification kind of gal. I want it done yesterday. It’s hard for me to wrap my little pea-brain around the concept of today I can run to the mailbox and in just this many baby steps I will be running farther then I commute to work each day. So, the point is, today was day one of my new training program, which at this point consists of running as far as I can without wanting to throw myself into oncoming traffic. Which is not that far, as it turns out. And I’m not yet brave enough to tell anyone that I’m “training” for fear that they might want to run with me one day, and, as anyone who has seen me run can attest, I’m less of a runner than I am an old-man-shuffler. So, do me a favor and don’t watch me run, and if you see me, don’t make eye-contact, and please don’t mention it again, because I’m feeling kind of intimidated and insecure and I don’t need you telling me I should lengthen my stride or turn my feet over faster or stop running on the outside of my foot, because I will curl up into a ball and die if I know that you saw me struggling to catch my breath and trying not to trip over the dog leash and leaving one of my lungs in the gutter on the side of the road.

Aside from the BIG AND LOOMING deadline, I’ve made two other goals. After, of course I figure out #1 how to run without looking like a complete jackass, and #2 I figure out how to swallow my feelings of intimidation. One is to, after being able to completely run 6 miles without dying, is to do a HHH run, and the other is to be in good enough shape to attend the speed clinics my local shoe store puts on over the summer, both without totally embarrassing myself.

does anyone else find it incredibly stupid that I've spent over $200 on seeds to plant in my yard this year and it's not even planting season yet.

I need a seed intervention.

I sold my jeep today. Really, it was silly to hold onto it for so long, I mean, it's not very practical to have a '95 Jeep when, the majority of the time, you're carting around 4 little ones. I guess a part of me held onto it because it was my "toy", and the other part was because it reminded me of the past. I bought it back when I was seperated from my husband. It wasn't a pretty seperation, and none of it was my idea at the time. I was devastated. I was hurt. It was horrible. I had wrapped my whole identity up in being "the wife of" and I had basically lost myself, so when the seperation happened, I fell apart. It was ugly. But, after some time had passed, I started to get my act together. I started taking care of myself. I made some new friends, I re-kindled friendships long forgotten, I learned how to laugh. And I made an astonishing discovery...I'm a good person. I'm a worthy person. I am smart and funny and kind, and I didn't deserve the shit I'd been putting up with. And I didn't deserve what it did to my self-esteem. And I didn't deserve being last in line. And most importantly, I didn't deserve to lose myself. And I started getting better. I started laughing more. I made big and important plans. I made silly jokes. I made lots of cookies. I made my kids laugh and sing and dance. I found myself, and I liked what I found. And that's when I bought the jeep. So I think I've been scared. Scared to let go of the tangible reminder of that time...the time that started off as the worst in my life, but ended up as the best thing that ever happened to me. I've been scared that by letting it go, I'd be giving up the lesson. Scared that I'd be selling my soul in the front seat of a '95 jeep. And it seems so silly, really. To identify so much with a kicky little car that you're scared when it leaves, that a piece of you will follow. So, today, I say goodbye. And I hope the memory I have is enough to keep me from forgetting what terrible and horrible things can happen to a person when they forget to care about themself. And I hope the memory I have is enough to keep me from forgetting how I felt with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair, after spending so much time in the dark. I hope I remember that I'm good and kind and funny. I hope I remember to bake cookies with my children and to dance around the kitchen table. I hope I remember to take long walks in the sun and to run so fast I can feel the wind in my hair. I hope.

Oh my god, I'm getting an ulcer. DH is off today and he wants to drill a new hole in the house (our dryer venting is set up really stupid...like it travels 300 feet and makes 14 turns, and is all clogged up and overheated my dryer, so instead of taking it all down, cleaning it and replacing it, and having to repeat the process every 4 months, we decided to just run a vent out the near side of the house, where it should have been done in the first place). Here's the thing though...he's going to screw it up. I hate to say that, but he will, and I asked him not to do it until I'm there, and he's all offended and screaming "I can do it", but he can't. he really really cant. this is totally my department. I mean, last night he came in the house and said "The motor in the miter saw just burnt up right in the middle of a cut" (he was cutting firewood). 10 minutes later my son said "the tv downstairs won't turn on"...DH gets all fired up that everything's burning up, having a total fit. so I said "umm, two things not working at the same time could mean you popped a fuse...did you check the breaker" to which he replied "where's the breaker?" Seriously. this is my department and I don't want him doing this. it's gonna be so screwed up and now my belly's upset cuz it'll take me $200 and 3 weeks to fix whatever he's going to screw up. I need to go cry now.

I got tanked on Friday. I've found that after 4 or 5 vodka's you care substantially less about the pain in your shoulder, that just refuses to go away. At 4:00 in the morning, I got up, took some Tylenol, drank a water and ate a Cadbury Egg. You know, cuz there's nothing better when your stomach is threatening to revolt, then a sugary glob wrapped in a chocolate shell.

So I'm standing at the checkout of Walgreens with a super econo sized box of feminine hygiene products, a diet coke, and a Take 5 candy bar. Now, personally, I would see the hygiene products and the chocolate and figure "well, yeah, that makes perfect sense", but apparently not everyone knows that chocolate is the cure for the pms that ails ya. The lady behind the counter said "oh, are those Take 5's any good" to which I replied "they're my total favorite!". So she says to me "are they like a diet bar?" and then I had to kill her.

First, I thought, maybe I should explain to her that I was going to eat it with a balanced portion of protein so that it would still fit into my nutritional plan, and then I thought, why the hell do I have to rationalize my candy bar to her? Who is she? The calorie police? Bitch.

On Friday I flew into Michigan and spent most of the day at the corporate headquarters of the company I work for.

I haven't been there in a long time...a really long time. And, I think the last time I was there, I was fully and quite obviously knocked up.

Still, exactly how many people can exclaim "you look SO thin!" before you start to think to yourself "why didn't anyone tell me I was a huge lard-ass?"

answer? approximately 18.

This just in: Zicam Nose Spray makes me sneeze. A lot.

That is all.

I seriously cannot stop eating this fucking trail mix. good thing I have like 14 more pounds waiting for me at home.

And seriously? Otter made me pee in my pants just a little. Crop circles and #9 on the top ten list...so funny.

People make things harder then they need to be.

I found the dog a great home...this guy just had to have his french bull put down after 12 years, and has been SO lonely without him...met the dog and in 2 seconds was telling her "come here so daddy can take a look at you"...absolutely fell in love.

So, I called the adoption agency, and he wants me to arrange a time that the guy can come to his office (50 minute drive) to fill out the paperwork. Ok. No. There's got to be a different way. I mean this guy is recovering from a bout of gout (look at me! I'm a poet!), and, frankly, making an appointment an hour away to fill out paperwork is not going to happen. I offered to take the paperwork out to him and then return it to the agency on the weekend when they're here for an event, but the adoption guy is being a jerk about it. Doesn't he want his dogs to go to a good home? You can drive out here to the petstore every weekend, and beg people to take your dogs but then when someone wants one on a Thursday you make him jump through hoops? Oy.

SUCKER.

It's written on my forehead in big black bold indelible ink. I ran into the lady I used to foster dogs for and, of course, they're short foster parents, and, of course, she talked me into keeping a dog until she could find a home. But, damn. She's so flippin' cute!

Is there a particular reason that nine year olds argue about EVERYTHING? It's fucking exhausing.

You know, normal people, when told they'd better hurry up or they'd miss something (say, oh, the bus) would shut up and put on their damn shoes. Nine year olds? They find that a perfectly reasonable time to throw themselves into a frenzy..."I'll never make it in time, you'll be mad at me, I'm gonna get in trouble, I'll be grounded for a year, it's all my sister's fault, she touched my toothbrush, someone messed with my jacket..." in one of those horrible tight whiney voices...

And I woke up this morining thinking it was going to be a good day.

I've watched this 8 times so far this morning. and I'm not done yet.

http://www.planetdan.net/pics/misc/georgebushdrunk.mov

Last night I killed a bird.

I was driving along, minding my own business, 1/2 way through my drive home, and I saw something out the front window. I had enough time to think "what the he..." and BAM it ran right into my windshield. Of course I freaked out, crouched down with my eyes shut and had a little panic attack, because, obviously, I'd completely forgotten about the large piece of glass that would actually keep the bird from hitting me in the head.

It took 10 minutes for my heart beat to return to normal.

You know what they call it when you stand at my front counter and bitch about how our catalog is old and that we don't have a new one out yet and then you give me your credit card to pay for your stuff and the card is declined?

Karma, bitch.

here's a fun little quiz for you...

Q: How stupid does a person have to be to pick up the phone, accidentally let it slip out of their hand, manage to grab it by the cord, swinging it madly in some sort of twitching over-correction which then bonks them in the side of the face right on the eye socket, hard enough to give them a black eye?

A: About as stupid as me.

Just returning from 7 days in Michigan with my family, so my house is trashed with leftover Christmas wrapping and toys galore and now unpacked clothes and snow pants and sleds, and I was just so happy to be home that I left it all and went to bed. Of course, working today, and hockey game tonight, so it may stay a wreck until I get off work tomorrow. At which time I WILL be going to kickboxing, as I haven't been there in two weeks and will miss all of next week as my hub goes to Florida for a seminar.

I think I left Michigan at least 2 pounds heavier then when I arrived, though with all the sodium and none of the water and all of the cookies and cakes and pie and lasagna and more cookies, it feels more like 10. Then today was my day to get back on track, only I remembered that it was the company holiday eat-fest, so, yeah, not so good yet today either. I'm going to attempt to treadmill it tonight, as I've gotten much less brave about running late at night, but we won't return from the hockey game till 10, so I may have to hit it before the game, which means right after work, which is never a good plan with all the kids and the dogs (well, dog, as my other dog had to be put down the week before Christmas) and the kids and the cooking of dinner, and the kids. I was going to hit the gym at lunch, because with all my complaining about how I'm wasting the money and have to cancel the membership and put more into my little collection in the basement, I've yet to actually cancel the membership. But, eat-fest was in full swing and we're a small group and my absence would have been noticed and everyone would call me a scrooge and there's nothing I obsess over more then what people think of me. I know, I know, I'm working on it. Like everything else in my life, it's a work in progress.

So now I've got 3 hours and a little more of work left, and still need to work out and go to Costco and cook dinner and scrape the algae off the fish tank and be done and at the hockey rink at 7:45. Maybe I'll get lucky and the baby will take a late nap and hub can take the boy to hockey instead of it being a family affair. Though then all the hockey mom's will talk about how I'm a terrible mother for missing my son's game. But sometimes you just can't win for losing, you know?

I did something terrible and also awful to my back. And I am MAD MAD MAD, and did I mention MAD. Bah. I've been on a, well...let's call it a "break", since I hate to say "complete binge fest coupled with complete lack of motivation", and was all fired up to be back in the gym this week...workouts planned, goals written, and then BAM. Out goes the back. Bah again.