And you may ask yourself, my God, what have I done
I've signed up for a 5K. You know those things where you run? I don't run. I've tried. I just don't do it.
But I got conned into it. A bunch of friends are going and you get a t-shirt. And because it's the Shamrock run, you get free beer. Not that I'm up for a dixie cup of watered down Miller Lite, but hey the t-shirt sounds cool.
And I was promised lunch afterwards. I think I can manage to walk/jog/run a little better than 3 miles if there's the promise of food at the end. At least I hope I can.
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Monday, February 23, 2004
Health nut
I'm back on the fitness wagon, sorry to be a bit repetitive. One of my first blogs was observations about people at the gym, and the statement that onehundredCOUGH-ty-eight pounds was too much weight for my height. Oh what I wouldn't give to be back at 1COUGH-ty8.
So, an increased interest in what I put into my mouth has developed. How much and what type of thing now playing much bigger roles than they used to. I found a terrific tool that's been helping immensely. fitday.com keeps track for you of what everything "costs." You just have to be rather religious about filling it in.
The bad part about all this? With the tool keeping track for me, it's becoming increasingly more tempting to do something bad. Like say what happens if I don't eat breakfast or lunch, can I eat the entire box of Samoas sitting in the pantry?
Of course there's that wedding coming up, and the trip we're going on soon, and that 10 year class reunion that I would really like to look stunning at... maybe the samoas aren't the greatest idea.
I'm back on the fitness wagon, sorry to be a bit repetitive. One of my first blogs was observations about people at the gym, and the statement that onehundredCOUGH-ty-eight pounds was too much weight for my height. Oh what I wouldn't give to be back at 1COUGH-ty8.
So, an increased interest in what I put into my mouth has developed. How much and what type of thing now playing much bigger roles than they used to. I found a terrific tool that's been helping immensely. fitday.com keeps track for you of what everything "costs." You just have to be rather religious about filling it in.
The bad part about all this? With the tool keeping track for me, it's becoming increasingly more tempting to do something bad. Like say what happens if I don't eat breakfast or lunch, can I eat the entire box of Samoas sitting in the pantry?
Of course there's that wedding coming up, and the trip we're going on soon, and that 10 year class reunion that I would really like to look stunning at... maybe the samoas aren't the greatest idea.
In my head
Some things never come out quite the way you think they should. When I was little I learned very quickly that I wouldn't become a great artist, because the beautiful drawing in my mind never quite made it's way out onto paper. The tree looking more like a stick, the river more like a blue line. Along a similar vein, my sister and I both took piano lessons and since she was only slightly behind me it was inevitable that we would eventually play the same songs. One day during highschool I walked through the room as Ellen was playing and asked her what it was. It sounded so beautiful. It was the song I had played a month earlier. It had sounded nothing at all like the song she had just been playing. I'm still wondering why my music teacher passed me on that one. Maybe she was sick of the way I was playing it.
Tonight I cooked. Now don't get me wrong, I can cook reasonably well. I can whip up some killer turkey burgers, and the one dish I invented, Nillson Chicken (after the late great Harry Nillson, because you put the lime in the coconut) I can cook superbly, although it tends to taste different every time I make it (If you want the recipe just write me). But tonight I wanted a good square meal, what my Grandmother always called a home cooking. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, corn, and broccoli. And oh yes, fried apples on the side. You can't have pork without apples. Ask any southern gal.
In my head, the dinner was going to be fantastic. In reality there was something a little wrong with each thing. Not that anything tasted bad. Nothing got burned, just a little too salty, a little too gummy, a little too mushy. Except for the corn. That came from a can.
I guess I really should put an apron on more often than once every five years. And next time my Grandmother cooks pay a little bit closer attention.
Some things never come out quite the way you think they should. When I was little I learned very quickly that I wouldn't become a great artist, because the beautiful drawing in my mind never quite made it's way out onto paper. The tree looking more like a stick, the river more like a blue line. Along a similar vein, my sister and I both took piano lessons and since she was only slightly behind me it was inevitable that we would eventually play the same songs. One day during highschool I walked through the room as Ellen was playing and asked her what it was. It sounded so beautiful. It was the song I had played a month earlier. It had sounded nothing at all like the song she had just been playing. I'm still wondering why my music teacher passed me on that one. Maybe she was sick of the way I was playing it.
Tonight I cooked. Now don't get me wrong, I can cook reasonably well. I can whip up some killer turkey burgers, and the one dish I invented, Nillson Chicken (after the late great Harry Nillson, because you put the lime in the coconut) I can cook superbly, although it tends to taste different every time I make it (If you want the recipe just write me). But tonight I wanted a good square meal, what my Grandmother always called a home cooking. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, corn, and broccoli. And oh yes, fried apples on the side. You can't have pork without apples. Ask any southern gal.
In my head, the dinner was going to be fantastic. In reality there was something a little wrong with each thing. Not that anything tasted bad. Nothing got burned, just a little too salty, a little too gummy, a little too mushy. Except for the corn. That came from a can.
I guess I really should put an apron on more often than once every five years. And next time my Grandmother cooks pay a little bit closer attention.
Friday, February 06, 2004
Back on the horse
I used to swim. In fact I used to swim a lot. As a kid, over the summer, for school, on a USS team. I was super-chlorinated most of the time. If it wasn't swimmer's ear, it was blonde/green hair.
I swam in college for a month, then quit. I swam the following year for a week, then quit. Finally my senior year I swam the whole year.
For 2 years in the working world I didn't go near the water. Then I found a swim buddy and we swam a couple times a week at lunch. Then I changed jobs.
Add on another year, another job change, and add on one more year. My swim buddy just started swimming again. Since I'm close to the pool again, this week I decided to join him.
It sure felt good to be back in that water again.
Maybe I've just been going through chlorine withdrawl.
I used to swim. In fact I used to swim a lot. As a kid, over the summer, for school, on a USS team. I was super-chlorinated most of the time. If it wasn't swimmer's ear, it was blonde/green hair.
I swam in college for a month, then quit. I swam the following year for a week, then quit. Finally my senior year I swam the whole year.
For 2 years in the working world I didn't go near the water. Then I found a swim buddy and we swam a couple times a week at lunch. Then I changed jobs.
Add on another year, another job change, and add on one more year. My swim buddy just started swimming again. Since I'm close to the pool again, this week I decided to join him.
It sure felt good to be back in that water again.
Maybe I've just been going through chlorine withdrawl.
Monday, February 02, 2004
Kids are the greatest
A woman in my office is pregnant with her third (and LAST she says) child. Her two boys are 5 and 3 years old. The other day the 3 year old came up to her and asked "Mom, when is the baby going to be gone?"
Confused she asked "Do you mean when is the baby going to be here?"
Shaking his head, her son said "No, I mean when is she going to be gone? You're taking her to the hospital to get rid of her, right?"
Her older son gracefully stepped in at this point and explained to the 3 year old "No Joe, she's going to come here and live with us."
The youngest then scowled and said "But I don't want her to!"
How this woman kept a straight face I have no idea. I guess its a parenting skill you pick up along the way. I personally was dying laughing as she told me the story.
A woman in my office is pregnant with her third (and LAST she says) child. Her two boys are 5 and 3 years old. The other day the 3 year old came up to her and asked "Mom, when is the baby going to be gone?"
Confused she asked "Do you mean when is the baby going to be here?"
Shaking his head, her son said "No, I mean when is she going to be gone? You're taking her to the hospital to get rid of her, right?"
Her older son gracefully stepped in at this point and explained to the 3 year old "No Joe, she's going to come here and live with us."
The youngest then scowled and said "But I don't want her to!"
How this woman kept a straight face I have no idea. I guess its a parenting skill you pick up along the way. I personally was dying laughing as she told me the story.
Thursday, January 29, 2004
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
The VUE is not so rosy
Just over a year ago we bought a beautiful new Saturn VUE. It was what they now call Rainforest Green (at the time it was "Medium Green.") And it was certainly not their new color Lime Green, that looks like a bottle of Mountain Dew threw up.
On Friday, I had my first problem ever with the car. It died on me. I was driving home on 32 and went from 55 mph down to 20. In about 10 seconds. I frantically signaled and pulled onto the shoulder. Trying not to panic I took a few deep breaths, turned the car off and let it rest. It was REALLY cold on Friday, and thinking I hadn't given it enough time to warm up before hopping in and heading home, I restarted the car and let it run for a few minutes. After feeling assured that the whole thing had been some kind of fluke, I got back up to speed and merged back onto the highway.
The same thing happened. I went from 55 to 20. Noticing I was close to the exit for my Grandmother's office I pulled off and hobbled the poor car up the road. Hurking and jerking the whole time and praying over and over that I wouldn't stall in an intersection and that somehow my Grandmother would be at work even though it was her day off, and it was now almost 5 PM.
No such luck, well about my Grandmother being there anyway, I managed to get there without stalling. Now was the time for my night in shining armor. I called Andy. And aside from a rather severe lecture about changing the oil properly (next time I call you from the side of the road frantic about my car being broken sweetie, a lecture might be able to wait!), he was incredibly helpful.
I called Saturn and spoke with a man who has become my best buddy over the last few days, Joe. I explained to Joe the problem, where I was, and asked what I should do. The final answer, call Saturn's tow line and have the car brought to the dealership.
Being only 5 minutes away from my own office, I once again made the poor car hobble. It was too cold outside for me to sit where I was another hour!
Walking back into my office an hour and a half after I had left brought a bunch of "What are you doing back here?" and "Why didn't you call me???"s coming at me.
The good news was that I was in a building where I felt safe, and it had heat. The tow truck was on it's way and so was Andy. The bad news? The tow truck would be there in about an hour and a half. Putting it's approximate arrival time at 7 PM.
The truck finally came and we got the car to the dealership. They took the keys and someone would look at it on Monday.
I won't go in to the rental car kafuffle, but I currently have one, a Nissan Sentra *Loud Raspberry*
Checking in with my best buddy Joe today the following will be replaced in my 1 year, 1 month old car:
The ignition module
The spark plugs
The wiring
The coil module
The catalytic convertor
The rear oxygen somethingorother that he said too fast for me to write down
Everything's all covered under warranty of course, and happily it's supposed to be ready for me to pick up this evening. But I didn't realize how attached I've already become to MY car. I want it's height, I can't see anything in the rental car, it's too low to the ground. I want it's armrests, I want to know where all the controls are. And most important, I want my all wheel drive back. It's sleeting outside.
Just over a year ago we bought a beautiful new Saturn VUE. It was what they now call Rainforest Green (at the time it was "Medium Green.") And it was certainly not their new color Lime Green, that looks like a bottle of Mountain Dew threw up.
On Friday, I had my first problem ever with the car. It died on me. I was driving home on 32 and went from 55 mph down to 20. In about 10 seconds. I frantically signaled and pulled onto the shoulder. Trying not to panic I took a few deep breaths, turned the car off and let it rest. It was REALLY cold on Friday, and thinking I hadn't given it enough time to warm up before hopping in and heading home, I restarted the car and let it run for a few minutes. After feeling assured that the whole thing had been some kind of fluke, I got back up to speed and merged back onto the highway.
The same thing happened. I went from 55 to 20. Noticing I was close to the exit for my Grandmother's office I pulled off and hobbled the poor car up the road. Hurking and jerking the whole time and praying over and over that I wouldn't stall in an intersection and that somehow my Grandmother would be at work even though it was her day off, and it was now almost 5 PM.
No such luck, well about my Grandmother being there anyway, I managed to get there without stalling. Now was the time for my night in shining armor. I called Andy. And aside from a rather severe lecture about changing the oil properly (next time I call you from the side of the road frantic about my car being broken sweetie, a lecture might be able to wait!), he was incredibly helpful.
I called Saturn and spoke with a man who has become my best buddy over the last few days, Joe. I explained to Joe the problem, where I was, and asked what I should do. The final answer, call Saturn's tow line and have the car brought to the dealership.
Being only 5 minutes away from my own office, I once again made the poor car hobble. It was too cold outside for me to sit where I was another hour!
Walking back into my office an hour and a half after I had left brought a bunch of "What are you doing back here?" and "Why didn't you call me???"s coming at me.
The good news was that I was in a building where I felt safe, and it had heat. The tow truck was on it's way and so was Andy. The bad news? The tow truck would be there in about an hour and a half. Putting it's approximate arrival time at 7 PM.
The truck finally came and we got the car to the dealership. They took the keys and someone would look at it on Monday.
I won't go in to the rental car kafuffle, but I currently have one, a Nissan Sentra *Loud Raspberry*
Checking in with my best buddy Joe today the following will be replaced in my 1 year, 1 month old car:
The ignition module
The spark plugs
The wiring
The coil module
The catalytic convertor
The rear oxygen somethingorother that he said too fast for me to write down
Everything's all covered under warranty of course, and happily it's supposed to be ready for me to pick up this evening. But I didn't realize how attached I've already become to MY car. I want it's height, I can't see anything in the rental car, it's too low to the ground. I want it's armrests, I want to know where all the controls are. And most important, I want my all wheel drive back. It's sleeting outside.
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Why do they do it?
Why do department stores insist in putting out spring clothes in January and calling them "Cruise wear?" Do they assume the entire world jets away to the Bahamas for the month of January? The high is supposed to be 7. I don't want to look at capris and tank tops. I want wool sweaters!
Why do department stores insist in putting out spring clothes in January and calling them "Cruise wear?" Do they assume the entire world jets away to the Bahamas for the month of January? The high is supposed to be 7. I don't want to look at capris and tank tops. I want wool sweaters!
Thursday, January 08, 2004
Feeling slightly amused
A co-worker just called me with a number which I jotted down quickly. Realizing after I hung up that I couldn't recall if the last digits were '991' or '911' I called her right back. As she looked up the number again for me she responded with a phrase I'm guessing she hasn't used since her daughter was in diapers "Messy, messy, messy, hold still."
I couldn't help but laugh. And feel like an unruly toddler at the same time.
A co-worker just called me with a number which I jotted down quickly. Realizing after I hung up that I couldn't recall if the last digits were '991' or '911' I called her right back. As she looked up the number again for me she responded with a phrase I'm guessing she hasn't used since her daughter was in diapers "Messy, messy, messy, hold still."
I couldn't help but laugh. And feel like an unruly toddler at the same time.
Monday, January 05, 2004
Disney poised on the brink of world domination
I like the movies (most of them). I don't mind the stores. The clothing is kind of cute. But please, don't mess with my food.
I like the movies (most of them). I don't mind the stores. The clothing is kind of cute. But please, don't mess with my food.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)