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January 31, 2006
...
I hurt so much this morning. Quads, check. Glutes, check. Delts, check. And my abs ache in such a way that I am certain I won't be able to bend over this afternoon. Oh boy!
It's currently not raining. I wonder if there is any chance of that holding until lunch time??
January 30, 2006
good day
It's been a good day. It's 9pm and I'm exhausted, probably both from travel and exercise. Today I have done some housecleaning, walked most of the way to work, brought a snack and lunch so I wouldn't eat out, went to the killer Monday pilates class, learned some furious gossip from a coworker, broke down and brought Pinky home in Sweetie's truck, made a yummy pasta and salad for dinner, hung out with Sweetie while he brewed beer on the back porch, and went through a bag of stuff from the Computer Lab/Festival of paper products.
Walking in was lovely. It had rained, it was going to again, but momentarily, it wasn't. There's nothing to really write home about in the walk—it was pleasant and made me feel good.
One of the cats has suddenly become a dramatic hairballer, made even more dramatic by coming home to piles of it everywhere. This morning, I threw on my yellowjacket, and I was halfway to work before I realized that I was wearing a dried-up hairball on the jacket. No, really, not making that up.
Pilates was another thing altogether. Exhibit A, the sadist instructor. I like her cuz she gives a hard class, but, you know, sometimes it can be a bit much. Exhibit B, my sudden awareness of flab. I know I might I have gained a few pounds from all the good tex-mex I ate at J. and A.'s, but as I looked at my body in the mirror doing plies, I couldn't kid anyone—tex-mex is not my only problem. Yes, I have gained back weight, and sadly, yes, it's visible.
Still, I worked hard, and when I went back to work, I felt absolved of all worry and cares. And I'm going to hurt tomorrow. I hurt vaguely already.
Tonight makes my second day in a row making something homemade for dinner. Yesterday, mac and cheese, today, pasta with garlic-oil sauce with crab (hold on to yer britches, it's from a can) with a caesar salad. I can't tell you how much pleasure I've felt making dinner. Hopefully I'll feel more pleasure about cleaning up the dishes tomorrow morning.
January 26, 2006
a walk in the woods
This morning I went for a walk in the woods. Nice. The sun had just come up, it was crisp (around 30 degrees), and I decided to follow a trail through the woods that surround A's house. I didn't go far before seeing deer tracks and snake holes and coming up upon a house with chickens.
So I backtracked, and went the other way, and came upon a clearing. I got excited when I saw a buck at the edge of the field looking at me. I moved slowly towards it, wanting not to startle it, and I started to get suspicious when I got within 50 yards and it was still standing there. But I continued approaching... and it was a plastic target-practice buck. Sigh!!
A little further along, I met its associate, the plastic target-practice wild pig. I found an occasional arrow. Otherwise, it was just me walking, with the dog sometimes racing by me and chasing down something in the woods. It was nice to just have some time to move and observe and not talk, just listen.
January 25, 2006
Sunshine
The sun has come out, and I feel like a whole new person. Yesterday, we drove around the countryside in the blinding sunlight, looking at the hills and buildings, and we stopped in a little town about 20 miles away which has the area's only yarn store. I picked up yarn for two projects for A., neither of which she knows about: a pair of felted slippers and a fancy scarf. I don't know if I'm going to finish the second, but I'm hopeful.
J.'s socks are something else. I went to unravel the top of the sock to get some yarn to make the patch, and I hadn't counted on them being semi-felted. I know he likes the socks and has worn them a lot. Live and learn. Now that I have also ruined the top of them, I'm going to need to come up with a good plan, quick.
The guys found a brewpub while I was yarning, and couldn't wait to bring me back there. The proprietor was sweet and showed us his whole set-up while Sweetie asked questions. That was the highlight. But we ended up having a couple beers there, cornered by a friendly drunk, and not so far away from someone smoking. It was making me fairly nuts—I have no tolerance for drunks, and I was worried about coming back to the house smelling of smoke—A. has some serious lung problems and this just didn't seem to be a good idea. I was becoming crankier and crankier, as is my wont.
We finally got out of there, and made the drive home. A little bit of time alone, and I was all better. I need to do some walking!
January 23, 2006
White County
Different day, different location, still, it rains! Did I bring this with me? Maybe. It's just funny.
Sweetie and I are hanging with family and trying to adjust to small town life. Well, that makes it sound like we're in the thick of it, and really, we're just hanging at the house or driving around. It's been nice to have a total change of scenery.
I finally finished Devil in the Details by Jennifer Traig on the way here. So today I bought a couple books in case I have downtime: Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, and In Praise of Slowness: Challenging the Cult of Speed.
It's not like I don't have other things to do: finish the red stripey socks, mend the socks I made for J. maybe 4 or 5 years ago, and darn the moth hole I just found in my new Goodwill sweater, but realistically, I have to go to a yarn store to do most of that, and that continues to be deferred. I'd like to make something for A. before I go as well, but of course, that also requires yarn and needles. That's my only real complaint, so life is pretty damn good. I'm just hoping for a little less liquid sunshine so I can do some walking.
January 19, 2006
Singing as a call for attention?
It's probably going to be pretty quiet here for the next week or so. I've been caught up in the flurry of pre-trip activity, and have been really on a treadmill as far as getting things done.
One image to leave you with. Every blog eventually is about cats, and I know that mine is more often than not. Of the three indoor cats, they each have their own personality. Nigella is a slut. Follette is shy and quiet—until you get in the kitchen. And Natasha, Natasha...
She's a strange one, Natasha. When she likes someone, she'll sit in front of them and stare at them. Not a hard stare, but the dreamy, blinky, squinty stare of a very happy cat. She prefers not to be pet, but she will tolerate it. She likes to be in the room with the humans, but not on the humans.
Yesterday, I was washing dishes, and I was alone in the house, so I had the stereo going. I was singing along, merrily scrubbing things, when I felt a tap on my leg. I looked down and there was Natasha, standing on her hind legs, one front leg supporting her on my leg, while the other leg tapped me, like, are you okay?. She was clearly concerned.
I mentioned this to Sweetie, and he's said that the same thing happens to him. She gets very concerned when he sings.
...
Last night, we went out to get some dinner, and the place next door to the restaurant was an office, with a blind over 3/4s of the door. Sweetie noticed a cat inside, and called me back. Immediately upon croaching before the door, we had an audience of 7 cats: 6 white and tortoiseshell, and one sylvester. He opened the mail slot and put his hand in, and all of them that could reach stuck their legs out the door. So damn adorable.
January 17, 2006
ripping it out
This whole four day week thing is a bitch. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love the three day weekend. It's the coming to work on Tuesday, which feels like Monday with a hangover, even if you didn't drink anything the night before.
Oh my gosh, though, what a great weekend. Saturday, we cleaned like fiends. By Saturday afternoon, the house fairly well shined. Then we had a couple people over for a winter beer tasting.
I'm always certain that people find my house a sty, and this is particularly painful given that my mother is so incredibly, insanely clean. And while the house could have been cleaner—I missed dusting around some geegaws on the lintel, and there was a little bit of spilled coffee on the backsplash—I think it was cleaner than it's been in years. No visible fluids of dust, as some call dustbunnies. No huge cobwebs. All neat and tidy. Not like Architectural Digest tidy, but, hey, we live here tidy. I have to admit, I found the cleaning very satisfying.
Also satisfying: I did a bit of cooking. Not a lot, but I put out bowls of munchies, and made both hummus and pea dip. I used to make hummus weekly, I love the stuff, and mine is particularly good. And the pea dip, it's always good to have an excuse to make the pea dip.
I love having people over, and people seemed to enjoy themselves. Yay! And what's more, my sweetie, who frequently isn't so crazy about having folks over, had a wonderful time. Which is a good incentive for me to try to keep up the cleaning.
...
Also on the agenda this weekend: going through my (piles of) pants and making some new designations. Do I have pants that are appropriate for travel? Sufficiently comfortable? Attractive enough to wear near relatives and inlaws? Are they hemmed? I've been on a hemming binge lately, hemming up a couple sets of curtains, and now I'm considering pants! Crazy!
I found the next knitting project that I'd like to do. Knit boots. This is the sort of thing that makes me sad that I have given so many shoes to G8dwill that could now be the base of my knitted boots, those theoretical boots. As it is, I'm sure I can find a pair of shoes that will work for them, and then start knitting. How crazy! I did some swatching, so I'm ready. All I need are the shoes.
In the but VJ, you already have 5 projects going category are those damn scooter gloves. Oh, I am loathe to rip them out, really, I am. I got a copy of Beverly Royce's Notes on Double Knitting, and the book just assumes that you can do your own math. I can do my own math, but I tell ya, it's not pleasure reading. Still. I need to get these gloves right, and I will.
January 12, 2006
fact-finding
Well, as expected, every inch of my body hurts today. I feel like I got hit by a mac truck. Parts of my body that pilates theoretically wouldn't come in contact with hurt. And then there's the headache. And the pukeyness. Oh damn it, have I caught yet another passing bug?
But my sternum and my belly (or core, if you prefer, my powerhouse...hahaha! powerhouse!) hurt like hell.
Yesterday was a fact-finding mission. Over lunch, there was this strange yellow orb in the sky every now and again, and I, like the rest of Portland, ran outside to try to absorb it. I took a walk through our Urban Renewal Zone (it doesn't have a name, which irritates me. Sorry, Urban Renewal Zone does not count as a name!), up to PSU, got some lunch, checked out the student-run everything-groovy cafe, and generally succeeded in being inside everytime there was a major downpour. Pretty damn good.
Last night was fun. We went to investigate a newish place on Alberta, and ended up window shopping. We spotted some Queen Bee satchels in a shop, and just as Sweetie said, look at that one, the lights went off inside the shop. We were laughing so hard that we were still laughing once the shop keeper came out. We stopped at a new pet store, which doesn't carry our pet food but would special order it for us. We stopped at the brew pub, which is finally actually brewing. Dude! We talked about going into CloseKnit or Office, but we showed resounding restraint, and just didn't.
We ended up at Zaytoon, where I've been maybe three times before. I've never seen the place even a quarter full, and that makes me nervous. They have a nice burger, and generally, a good lentil soup, and now they have this crazy happy hour deal where appetizers are a buck off, and entrees $2 off. Considering that everything is fairly cheap to begin with, well, it's insane. The two of us, with two beers, an app, and two entrees, paid $18.50 without tip. Even if Tacqueria Don Pancho has its beer license yet (and it may), I don't think we could get out of there that cheaply. I really want Zaytoon to survive, so please go there.
Tonight, another case of pilates. Dear g-d.
My cow-orker re-turned me on to woot! the other day. Very silly, very very silly. What is this woot, you say? Woot sells one electronics-ish product a day. Starting at midnight Dallas time, running until they sell out, or midnight the following night. Wikipedia, which knows everything, describes their marketing style:
Typically, product descriptions will mock the product, the customer, or Woot itself.
I have to say, the sassy, smartass, irreverent and self-depreciating writing style is something I want to master for the portland guide. Check out the FAQ or the Wikipedia entry on woot. Here's part of their FAQ:
If the item doesn't work, find out what you're doing wrong. Yes, we know you think the item is bad, but it's probably your fault.
Anyways, I was drawn in, not surprisingly, by pictures of kittens. The entry for the product is here, unfortunately, with the product picture so small that you can't see the photoshopped in kittens. The tag line on the item:
So it's come to this. Yes, we're resorting to kittens.
The product in question was a Westinghouse SlicerToaster Two-Pack. Sigh!!
January 11, 2006
more rain
Depending on what you read, we've either had 23 or 24 days straight of rain. Not that it's rained 24/7, but there's been rain every day. People are starting to make jokes about arks. It's not funny. There's standing water everywhere, and I fear going down into the basement because I probably have some puddles. Ugh.
I'm trying to remember the percentage, but I believe David Larkin, the author of Rains All the Time claims that we usually only get rain one day out of three. Sure, those other two days are grey and overcast, but they're dry. Overcast sounds pretty good right now.
I know I'm not the only one wondering if the Willamette will flood again. In February 1996, volunteers sandbagged the seawall, and the lower part of downtown was shut down. I remember moving everything we could carry to the second floor, and everything else we put on top of tables. And then our building was shut-down, the electricity turned off, everybody out.
The next day, when the river crested, and we all had the day off, we went down to the Hawthorne Bridge where we watched entire porches/decks/docks go down the river. One had a refrigerator. Another had a clothes line (but no clothes).
...
Jill and Paula did the Salmon Street Death March without me, yesterday. It was pouring. As usual, I ended up working through my lunch, and getting no exercise at all. I ended up working late too, so I was on a dead run to get to pilates.
Pilates was great. It was like old home day—a bunch of the old-timers were there. The instructor was incredibly gentle on us considering it was the first class, though we did lose one person after 15 minutes. It didn't feel as bad as I expected it to feel, and this morning I am achey, but not sore. I suspect that will come this afternoon.
Sweetie also had an early evening obligation, so we met afterwards for BBQ. It felt so adult to be getting to a restaurant at 7:30.
I think my dog has suddenly become a teenager. He is acting out something fierce. Or maybe he's cabin feverish from 23 days of straight rain? Anyhow, we came home to a shredded roll of toilet paper all over the living room. Adorable. I put the groceries down on the kitchen floor and went to get the door for Sweetie, to see Echo coming out of the kitchen with my ham sandwich (pre-pilates snack, which had been in the grocery bag) in his mouth, which he immediately put in his dog bed in the living room. Then he tried to bury it. Damn thief! Whippets...
January 10, 2006
shaking things up
We had such a windstorm last night. It knocked over the old part of the backyard fence. Luckily, it knocked it into our yard, where it is now leaning against a tree and our flowering tobacco raised bed. It's not a big surprise, as pieces of it have been coming off in other windstorms, but it cracked me up to see this morning.
Well, I'm back on the wagon. Tonight I start pilates again. I'm excited and nervous. I'm hoping it will be dry this afternoon so I can ride the bicycle back home.
The article about the guy who does 100 miles a week is really inspiring. This morning I woke up wanting to walk to work rain or shine. Oh, not only that, but also run some errands along the way! But as usual, I fell into cleaning and decluttering, and that opportunity skated past unnoticed.
Right now, my desire to pare down is really foremost in my mind. I generated a bag and a half of paper recycling last night and this morning, and filled the kitchen & bathroom wastecans. I took a couple bags out to the car. And as I think about it, I really need to do more in the bathroom.
Last night, I went through our bathroom built-in. It's clumsy & giant, and so it's been sort-of a catch-all for anything that might be vaguely bathroom related. And, of course, it was totally full, and not in any sort of useful way at all. I basically did a rough clean on it, pulling out all the empty things like boxes and bottles and travel containers. But it's insane all the crap we, or should I say I (because really, I am the culprit here) have.
When I wear makeup, I wear eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. (Note the word when—it's still a special occasion sort of thing) So why then did I have 5 compacts with pressed powder, a shaker with loose face powder, and maybe 6 or 7 foundations, 10 eyeshadows, and 7 eyeliner pencils? I put all the non-daily makeup into a bag, which I'll sort through later (though I wish that were right now!). Likewise, there were about three thousand of those little dramatically different moisturizers that you get with the cl1nque special gifts, and again as many hotel shampoos and conditioners.
Most throw things out!!!
January 9, 2006
From today's paper
At 94, an avid walker treks 100 miles weekly
About 18 months ago, he decided to walk 100 miles during his birthday week. He made 114. "The more I walked," he says, "the more I liked it and the better I felt, so I kept on walking." He now walks at least 100 miles every week.
Gailey's one-day record is 31.6 miles; his record for a week is 186.2. Last June, he walked 710 miles. He's been known to start at 5:30 a.m. and log six miles before breakfast. "It gives you a good appetite," he says.
— http://www.oregonlive.com/living/oregonian/index.ssf?/base/living/1136602514111400.xml&coll=7
I love the idea of this. But sheesh, that's an average of 14.29 miles a day! I suppose that would keep me out of trouble!!
January 8, 2006
you can't keep an old dog on the farm
That was the line that occurred to me as I was doing the Y2K6 race today. I'm not sure what that means.
Yesterday it poured at points, and we had standing water in the backyard. Yow. So I was a little nervous about the race—like, would it be pouring? We drove the 45 minutes out to Forest Grove, and it rained off and on. I made a joke about staying in the school cafeteria during the race if it rained. Mela made a face that suggested that wasn't a good idea.
But we get there, and while it's overcast and misty, it's not raining. We went inside, saw folks that we knew, and smelled the pancakes being made in the kitchen. Oh! How cruel!
Finally, the race began. It was clear I was going to be the last one, and I had some really mixed feelings about this. On one hand, it's not like I could complain, I haven't trained since August, and I've gained weight. But who likes to be last? I struggled to not speed up.
As we were walking through a neighborhood, I thought about just not doing races any more. Just doing volkswalks and my own longer walks. And then I thought that the races are the motivators for doing the longer walks, and otherwise, I'd be sitting inside watching the rain fall from the safety of my couch.
Once we hit the three mile mark, I looked at my watch. I had guessed I was doing about a 20 minute mile, but in fact, it was more like an 18. Yay!!
It was all foggy, and the landscape was beautiful. At one farm, I watched sheep run with their full shaggy coats, and a calf with its shaggy coat, and some black chickens that seemed sure that these larger animals would scratch up something good to eat.
I was feeling great. It was perfect weather for a walk, and my body just felt right.
At some point between near mile marker 5, it became obvious that I could pass the woman ahead of me if I wanted to. I knew the last .4 miles is straight uphill, and I had some fear that we would do the "I speed up, and then she speeds up" thing, and I didn't want to waste my energy on that. So I thought about waiting until we hit the hill to pass, but I ended up passing her before that. I think for the first time ever, I felt bad—this would make her DFL. I've been DFL so many times now, it just doesn't even matter.
I chatted with her, asked her how she was doing. And then I passed her.
I ended up coming in at 1:48, a 17:29 minute mile. Last year, I came in 5 minutes faster. All things considered, I am very happy. I ran inside, collected some pancakes and OJ, sat down and chatted with friends, and then we took off. Very good!
January 7, 2006
Wuhoo! Movement!
I feel like I am on this wave of momentum. It's incredibly pleasurable!
Yesterday, I applied for a job. I know, it sounds kinda dumb, but really, it's huge. I haven't been able to apply for anything, mostly because I've felt like my current work is so ugh, and any new work would be more of the same, except with less days off and less retirement contribution. But in working with career dude, I've kinda resuscitated this job and made it much more enjoyable, as well as getting me in touch with my incredible anger. I've been shooting off my mouth, and no one seems to hate me or want to bring me down a notch. I feel like I've been becoming more me.
I mean, I think this has been a theme for the last few months. I am becoming more me. I am holding back less, and in some ways, the noose of pleasing others has been loosened. I feel like I felt about a year after breaking up with my ex, rediscovering what I loved doing, except I'm still in a relationship, and still pretty pleased about it.
By 9 am this morning (a Saturday), I had showered, started laundry, changed some lightbulbs, cleaned off a couple lamp shades, and vacuumed the ceiling. I was loving it! I suddenly think I was able to feel the sort of satisfaction that my mom feels with cleaning—except, she, of course, would not allow a ceiling to wait eleven and a half years before vacuuming it.
January 6, 2006
doing it vs doing it right
Well, I am so ready for this week to be over. My insane deadline project got done, and got kudos. Essentially, my deadline kept creeping towards me (close of business, 3pm, 1:30pm, 12:30pm, 11am), and I was triaging, grabbing data, not checking it, and chucking it together. While I'm pleased that I was able to get it together, it just sucks to have had to do it so haphazardly and with so much pressure.
So after 11am, and I turned the damn thing in, I tried to decompress a bit and figure out what the next project was, but I was shaky and my heart was racing. I felt okay when I was eating lunch at the Red Coach (20 minutes, start to finish, and I was eating slow), but then I went out for a stroll and was still feeling like the world was pressing down on me. I figured walking would cure it, walking, it seems, cures about everything for me except rain, but no.
I walked for about a half hour. I wish I had had more time!
...
This morning's discussion with career guy included some talk about tough love. It seems that it is time for me to get my act together and get it on the road. Ack. While parts of me have been responding to the whole nurture and grow environment, it appears that that is not enough to make me actually revise my resume.
...
I have big plans for the weekend. I have the Y2K6 on Sunday, a 10K race in Forest Grove. We are supposed to have showers then, oh boy. I just need to get the walk in, then I get pancakes. Really, they serve pancakes after the race. That isn't always the best part, but it is a damn fine incentive.
I am hoping to get a couple good chunks of time to clean and declutter. I have to admit, I am much more interested in the decluttering, but the cleaning needs to happen as well. I am lovingly thinking about filling my car with stuff to go to charity. Here's hoping!!
I heard something I really liked yesterday, about getting rid of the old so that the new can come into your life. I like that idea.
January 5, 2006
My strange dreams
Outside there is a very lovely and dramatic sunrise.
It seems that the rains are letting up for a few days. My bike is still in the garage downstairs, waiting for me to ride it home. Maybe tonight.
Work is draining me. It's been a rollercoaster. Need. More. Exercise. To try to work some in, I've been trying to drink a lot of water (so I have to at least walk to the washroom), and I've been trying to run a flight of stairs or so every couple of hours. Just to get the blood moving. Still, we haven't got official word that we're not going parttime next Monday, and I got assigned a task last night that there is no way in hell I'll be able to get done today. Interesting times.
But I had a crazy dream the other night. I dreamt that someone wronged me, and I sought justice and prevaled. Then, I was somehow in hiding, but was running a marathon as a heroic figure. Yeah, go figure that one out. I'm sure there's a crystal clear explanation for my neuroses somehow contained in that phrase! So yes, I was running this marathon—weird, huh? Okay, it gets weirder, of course. The marathon crosses the border from Austria into another country. (I'm guessing Switzerland, but it really wasn't ever evident in the dream. But I'm guessing Switzerland because I asked someone in French and then German about something [and those are two of the four official languages of der Schweiz]). And, you are expected to stay the night at the border.
So, the marathon starts midafternoon, or maybe evening. We run through the jungle (yes, I asked someone as I didn't remember Austria having jungle. Global warming, sheesh!), and get to the town where everyone must spend the night. I go to a movie (huh?), and then the next morning, I start running again, and am guided by a deaf or blind bicyclist (what does that mean?). I woke up just before the end, though it was clear that I was going to finish and be triumphant. In deference to real life, however, I was very slow.
Last night's dream was not so interesting. I dreamt I was studying volcanic systems, and that there was a huge volcanic system in the midwest. Like, centered in Chicago. I dreamt there was a road trip to see the mountains, calderas, etc. Lots of map-making. Oh, and I fell madly in love with a cat at library school. I just adored this cat. What the hell?
January 4, 2006
Lucky?
Fortune favors the prepared mind. —Louis Pasteur
January 3, 2006
beginning, again
So, we did go on the Death March. It was raining, and I was soaked through before we made it to the park. Waterproof jacket my ass! So even though I was running horribly late, I went to the gym, took a hot shower, and sat in the sauna for awhile. I weighed myself—now that's a bummer. Nothing like getting soaked to the skin to make a person irritated.
Here I am, trying to be good. I bicycled in this morning, which was lovely and beautiful and altogether splendid. It "felt like 36" degrees this morning, and I was just in a tank, a dri-fit shirt, and my favorite oversized wool sweater. I was chilly but not in a bad way. Just in a, well, I am chilly way. Not in a I am freezing!! way. Not like I was, um, soaked to the bloody skin! Ahem.
I signed up for the Tuesday-Thursday pilates class. I told Jill and she laughed—we complained all the time about that class, but I need to do it again. I need to have that discipline.
I had big plans of trying to get up and walk around between tasks this afternoon, or run the stairs, but I'm in stocking feet hoping that someday my socks will dry.
Death march??
As I look out the window, I see it's drizzling. We're supposed to do the Death March* this noon. Will it happen? Do I have enough clothes?
* The Salmon Street Death March, that is. It's walking from the Salmon Street Springs (at the Waterfront) up the hill to Washington Park, a little more than 3 miles round trip.
January 1, 2006
Change alone
Change alone is eternal, perpetual, immortal.
—Arthur Schopenhauer
