Tinseltown, Tagalog, & Tar Heels

Independence Day

2011-10-21T23:18:00.002-04:00

Independence is a slippery word.

Once I was known as wife. Once I was known as girlfriend. Now I am known as me.

Today would have been my 17th wedding anniversary. Now it is the one year, one month, and fourth day anniversary of my divorce. I find I like this anniversary better. It feels significantly more relevant and there isn't anyone sitting on the couch that forgot to buy me flowers.

Once I was a homeowner. Once I shared a house with a husband and then a boyfriend. Now I live for the first time in a place that is all mine. Well, mostly mine...Iona remains the welcome constant.

It is only right and fair that I now live on a street called Independence Place. That slippery, slippery state of being is actually a place. My place.

Where Did I Run To?

2011-05-28T19:37:00.002-04:00

I did the disappearing act again and feel that it is worthy of an explanation. Where the heck have I been for the past 5 weeks? Halfway through a major freaking fundraising campaign for one. But that's not even the half of it, and as of this weekend it will be time for me to slow my roll down for a bit. This means that for the next few months this girl will be running for her health and for her sanity, and not for cash and notoriety.

Over coffee last Sunday morning, Jason looked at my weary frame and reminded me why I was feeling a little deflated. I had just come off a flurry of amazing activities that had literally zapped the energy out of me. Over the course of the past few months we had launched a huge new initiative at work and partnered with an company offshore. I had also traveled to the Philippines twice, Mexico once, Florida for a conference, and a couple fun trips to NYC and DC. Then I was granted the Triangle Business Journal's "40 Under 40" award, and still managed to toss in my 39th birthday...all while conducting a 10-week flurry of fundraising emails, calls and activities for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's (LLS) "Woman of the Year" campaign.

Everything culminated last Saturday night at the LLS Gala. We won.

I have to say though...that winning felt fabulous. Winning the LLS "Woman of the Year" campaign was both unexpected and thrilling. Don't get me wrong, I do just about everything with the intention to win, but there were some hurdles along the way that made this fundraising endeavor more challenging than I anticipated. It is with sheer humility that I say I couldn't have done this without everyone that contributed time, effort, auction items, and money. To each person that offered up cash...I thank you. To all that donated auction items or helped secure them...I applaud you. To everyone that tolerated my exhausted rants and short temper...I appreciate you. To my dear friends Carl, Brad, Mike and of course Jason...thank you to iContact, Dante, Emily, and Valerie... bless you. (And not in that Southern slightly harpy way.)

It was an absolute honor to run this campaign on behalf of Josh Paryz and his incredible family. Every time I encountered them I was reminded why this campaign was so important. "Boy of the Year"? Seriously, this kid is going to be President someday. Just wait, wait, and see what becomes of this articulate, kind, and already brilliant young man. And Mae, Josh's counterpart in this campaign? She is a beautiful and delightfully elegant girl that will grow up to be an absolute stunner in every sense. That these two children have gone through the pain and turmoil of cancer, is almost beyond words. So to them, their families, to everyone involved...thank you for letting me be a part of this. I am forever changed by knowing you. You now have a warrior on your side in this fight against blood cancers. Just don't be alarmed if I disappear for a bit and take a little nap in the sand. I will return to help fight the good fight.

A Little Reminder

2011-04-19T08:30:00.000-04:00

A dear best friend lost his dad this morning. Sometimes we just need to be reminded how gloriously amazing this life of ours is. Be known, be present, be loved.

This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.

From Preface to Leaves of Grass, 1855
Walt Whitman

Storm Troopers

2011-04-18T15:02:00.002-04:00

I would be remiss to classify any of the weekends I have with Jason as normal. Even during our anticipated downtime, we somehow manage to instigate things and converse about things that set the day delightfully topsy-turvy. Nothing is ever expected and nothing is ever, ever dull. Perhaps some of our inability to prophetize is due to our excitement and newness with each other, but it seems more likely that it is simply our two complimentary beings colliding. This weekend was of course, no exception.

On Saturday afternoon we found ourselves gallivanting through Raleigh with our dear friend Amy. She and I are known throughout the Philippines as "The Twin Towers" and also seem to attract chaos, complexity and entertainment at every turn. This human trifecta could only be interesting.

We three had all watched the weather report earlier and knew that precipitation was our future. Sure, there were talks of severe winds and inclement storms and tornadoes, but we took that news with a light-hearted attitude. The last time that the three of us were together in NYC, we experienced unprecedented winds, so we figured there was little that could get blown at us that we hadn't felt before. HA! As Amy later said, our combined personalities seemingly fuel and anger the weather gods. We three have a little Dorothy in us.

With that said, we prepared for the threat of historic storms by bringing coats.

We should have realized that things were turning for the worse when the outdoor festival we were attending was suddenly dismantled and people began fleeing. The organizers were literally yanking the chairs out from under us. So instead of going home and seeking shelter, we wandered on over to Hargett Street and the Raleigh Times. The skies opened up during our one drink there, and then there was an eerie clarity and silence. Now I grew up in Wisconsin and have spent many a time cowering in a basement, so I know what that means. The tornadoes are a coming. So we used that little break as a sign that we should walk down to The Landmark Tavern.

Now the Landmark holds a special place for Jason and me. We never fail to be memorable there and I seem to find my relationship courage at the bottom of their glasses. Most nights find us huddled together and animatedly discussing the future of the world and our place in it. I've had some of my most lucid and life-changing conversations within those walls.

So it was rather apropos that on those barstools we sat watching the weather on the TV and on our phones. We were still in denial of our doom, so we kept laughing about the pending non-event and telling tales of our prior weather adventures. Then it actually began around us.

We could physically feel the pressure change, and then the winds picked up, the electricity went out, and there was debris whipping around past the windows. All of a sudden the doors blew open and needed to be bolted shut. It was slightly past 4pm and became pitch black outside. Dorothy and her merry men be warned. Once the tornado sirens began, the bartender calmly and loudly ushered us all into the women's bathroom where we stood together under candlelight with drinks still in hand. Of course everyone brought their drink. If you are huddled in a bathroom with people you love, you might as well have a good cocktail to toast with.

The storm went past quickly and left its path of destruction through downtown and throughout North Carolina. 22 people died and 13 counties are now considered to be in a State of Emergency. For all those that lost something or someone on Saturday, you have my thoughts.

I certainly don't discount the severity, but I can't help but think...just a typical weekend...just a typical Sarah Saturday. And I love you both for sharing it.

Technicolor Daydream

2011-03-31T07:10:00.000-04:00

A little over a year ago I received a Match.com email that changed things. It changed everything.

It is fair to say that at that point in time, my allure with online dating had begun to wane. Initially I had jumped into the process with great trepidation. I had tested the waters in Fall of 2009, retracted my profile at least 5 times, got involved, got confused, recovered, and had then decided to wait out the holidays away from the Internet. Dating for the first time in over 17 years was unexpectedly complicated. I had somehow gotten entangled in several relationships that were each proving to be unfulfilling, and that was making me a tad crazy. I wanted what I didn't have. So back online I went.

In January of last year I reactivated my Match profile and hoped for the best. I was immediately bombarded with emails and winks, and soon became overwhelmed with the entire situation. It seemed as if I might have to quit my job and disown all my friends in order to have enough time to properly wade through the correspondence and weed out the crap. Instead, I just started pouring through the masses. Initially there was a feeling of obligation and I actually attempted to respond to each request. After awhile, I simply started ignoring everyone that obviously didn't read my profile.

It was apparent that many men looked at the pictures and maybe my occupational/salary level and thought I was worthy of a discussion and perhaps a date. Other than the fact that we were both breathing, our compatibility ended there. Seriously. If I say, and I quote, "I run fast, work hard, talk openly, and thrive off learning and doing new things. I am very much IN THE MOMENT. I want someone that can keep up with me, as I have apparently limitless energy and require little sleep!".

If I say these things...and I DID say these things in the first freaking paragraph of my profile...If I say these things, do not think that we will get along if you love your couch like a brother, find solace in silence, and want a "good little quiet Southern woman". I am not these things. Not now, and not ever.

So after a couple months of a lot of email exchanges, many first dates, more than a few uncomfortable or bizarre encounters, I had become rather ambivalent with my Match.com affair. As my friend Rain so eloquently said, "I've had enough learning and character building. I want fuzzy warm things now".

And then the email came. It was short, it was succinct, it was obvious this person had read what I wrote. I liked what he said, and I liked the pictures that came along with the words. But I was more than a tad suspect. He lived more than 2 hours away, he was much younger than me, and he had a son. Perhaps I thought I could still learn a few things. I was obviously still willing to risk for love, so I responded and the dialogue with Jason began.

Shortly thereafter we met for the first time over brunch. 368 days later I am living the most intense technicolor daydream. It's been fast, and furious, and aggressive, and volatile, and absolutely without question...amazing. It's NEVER boring. It's calm when it should be, and complicated when it needs to. It's everything flamboyant superimposed on everything mundane, and I've never known anything else like it. I remember each of the last 367 days clearly. I remember because they are vivid and bright.

They are a rainbow in my head and they are in Technicolor.

The Incredible "Boy of the Year"!

2011-03-28T14:06:00.001-04:00

Purposeful Progressions

2011-03-23T06:09:00.002-04:00

Studies have shown that people with a purpose live longer and happier lives than those that don't. While I feel I have a very fulfilling life, I have often longed for that "thing", that someone or something that is outside the bounds of my good place. I've participated in volunteer events, I've been a positive influence on my community, and I've donated my fair share of absurdly expensive clothes that I really, really thought I needed and never wore. But I never really felt that I was giving back to the extent I knew I could.

So when a couple people I trusted and liked brought me a purpose on a platter, you might think I would have readily jumped. Instead, I faltered. I stalled, I hemmed, I hawwed, I paused. Then I considered. Did I really want to undergo a massive endeavor that would take up a big part of my life for 10 weeks? It would force me to depend on others for assistance! It would cause me to reach out and ask for help! I could possibly not raise the most money and thereby fail! And I would be making a big difference in the lives of others, be able to get all my friends and family and local community involved, and potentially be personally impacted in a major way. Got it. Not such a hard decision.

Here we are three weeks into a competition that will last until May 19th. We've done a lot, and have tons left to do. The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS) "Woman of the Year" campaign really is like a second job. You think about it all the time, and find yourself strategizing how and where you can do more, find more, and get more people involved. Most of the time, we just have to ask.

Throughout this process, I've had an opportunity to honestly talk to people that I hadn't before. I've heard stories about how cancer has literally changed their lives. Thanks to the LLS I have also met Josh Paryz and his delightful family. Josh is 7-years-old and will soon be celebrating his one year anniversary of cancer treatment for acute lymphoblastic leukemia. I am fortunate to be sponsoring Josh as part of the LLS campaign. He is a remarkable survivor with a protective and supportive family that truly inspires and energizes. They provide a purpose.

Earlier this week I recieved a beautiful letter from my paternal grandmother wherein she recollected the moment she learned that my grandpa had chronic leukemia. I was so taken aback after reading that. How do I not remember this? Yes, I was just a child when he died, but how do I not have top-of-mind knowledge of this? I was initially mortified; then I was motivated. Yet one more piece of the purpose.

I am so touched by the support of all those who have already generously donated to my campaign on behalf of LLS! Thank you for helping me improve treatment options and save lives! If you have not yet donated, it’s safe and easy to do so here. Every single dollar makes a difference. Be part of the purpose.

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Florence is the Machine

2011-03-16T12:45:00.001-04:00

It was a year ago that I borrowed the words of Florence and the Machine and posted them here. I remember that I felt so good at that moment; I felt so liberated from the clutter and the nonsense that had permeated my existence. I had made some tough decisions that week that absolutely turned my mood and my outlook in the forward direction. Most of those decisions had to do with self-respect, and personal appreciation. You have to have it, to give it. You also have to be willing to take some risks. And I believed I was ready.

"Happiness, it hurts like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it will kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with a drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming so you better run." - Florence and the Machine

It was during that March week of a year gone by, that I started the process of extracting myself from relationships that wouldn't move forward, I re-engaged with the gym, food, and work at a healthier level, and I updated and re-posted that bipolar beast known as my match.com profile. Those few things started a chain reaction that propelled me forward to today...

So with a grin of relief and delight, I accepted the song that came blaring out at me around 6.15a this morning. There she was. There was Florence and the Machine reminding me to remember what I have done and where I have come. Reminding me of where I am. Right here. Now. Happiness. Just accept it and run. Some things are not worth hiding from. This is happiness.

2010 is a blur...an awesome technicolor high-voltage blur. I will divulge much of my indulgent sojourns and moments of reckless abandon in good time. But let's just say the past 12 months have been life-changing, and I am no longer wanting to turn back. Let those horses come, because I am a'running.

Where Is Your Encouragement?

2011-03-09T21:51:00.003-05:00

Most days, my initial shot of encouragement arrives by 6am. It comes fast and hard and without apology. It comes faster on days when my cycling instructor also happens to be a triathlete and training for something. Like this morning.

There were no breaks "out of the saddle" today. There were no subtle increases to gently move you from your flat road into a progressive hill. There were no intervals to shift the pain from one muscle group to another. No, no, no. Today was about endurance. Painful, long, fast, steady, seemingly never-ending endurance. Get on, get in, and get moving.

Why do I want to start a Wednesday with such an assault? It's only at this time of the day that I can effectively push my often running brain back far enough, and let my legs and lungs take over. My head is rarely quiet, so it is during these times when I can finally concentrate only on the task at hand. Periodic peace is not a bad thing.

I hear the music; I hear the faint yell of instruction behind it. My legs burn, my shoulders ache, my brain hums...there is no better way for me to start a weekday. Encouragement.

I admit that this is not for everyone. There is a certain breed of human that arrives at the Y around 5.30am to hurt and get yelled at. We are not like those that show up for the evening cycle classes. We are not there to socialize or to just get a requisite workout in. (And yes, I am generalizing.) We see each other every day, yet we know no names and barely speak to each other. We are not casual observers and there is rarely a novice in the room.

There was one exception today. There was a woman in the corner that I had never seen before. She was very overweight and visibly struggling with the intensity of the class. But she hung in there. She stuck with the class until the end, and this was not a class to be taken lightly. She made me recall my first cycling experience and how I thought I might die from exhaustion, pain and embarrassment.

I hope she is there tomorrow. I hope that she comes back on Friday. I hope she knows that she is doing a great thing, and that she has support amongst the focused group. I hope she knows that she was awesome today. She was encouragement.

A Perfect Day

2011-03-08T19:41:00.002-05:00

"There's something sinister in place; it leaves me restless with no peace.
So it's a perfect day to turn away and run; it's a perfect day to go and tie one off.
It's a perfect day to waste away a perfect plot to play.

"It's a perfect day to hide down in my house; it's a perfect day and it's taking its toll.
It's a perfect day to waste away your perfect part to play.
Just another perfect day, but before you know it's gone." - A Perfect Day - The Constellations

It's a perfect day to play this part again.
It's a perfect day to get these words out of my head.
Just another perfect day.

There are so many reasons why this is the day...the day that I resume this little venture. It's the 2nd Month of the Year of the Golden Rabbit, it's been almost a year since I inked my left wrist, it's been way, way, way too long since my voice wasn't simply playing to an audience of one.

More importantly though, I feel like I again have things to say publicly. Ah, that's wrong. I should say, that I once again feel like it is RIGHT for me to say things aloud. In 2010 I felt it was best to stay silent. I felt raw and judged and often emotionally reckless. I tossed myself with abandon at things and people, and finally accepted how and who to let in, and when to let go. I was awaiting my long-overdue divorce, and was entering into a new and surprising life that I wasn't sure how to properly explain without exploitation. I did these things in an ultimately gratifying way. It was not always a perfect day.

Well, my hesitancy is gone, my friends! My new life and my new love have been forewarned that things often get screamed to the masses. It's been almost a year now...so the rants, the raves, the passion, the pounding on car hoods, and the drunken revelations still probably arrive in a sometimes unexpected flurry...but I doubt they are taken poorly, and I know they are never taken with angst or anger. I no longer feel misguided or misjudged. It's a perfect day.

I have good things and good people to talk about. I have stories that seem endless. I have heartbreaking recollections that now often sound amusing. I have inspiration from a 7-year-old with leukemia and a cause. I have motivation from a stunning man that challenges, protects, defies, and is at all times an equal. That he also provides wildly entertaining material that keeps me laughing in surprise, is my pinnacle. I have a purpose-driven life. I have this perfect day; I will not waste this perfect day.

Put a Little Love in Your Heart

2010-05-18T17:27:00.004-04:00

Last year several fantastic people I know had their hearts broken by someone that they loved and trusted. In several cases I sadly watched and supported. In others, I only heard about the stories after-the-fact. And in one...I lived it. In each of these situations the pain was all too raw and real. Surprisingly though, most of us have come out on the other side with a renewed appreciation for the person we are, and a much better understanding of the person we want to share our time with. And in all cases, there has been a fair amount of wine and laughter as we've discussed the brutal reality of the who, the what, the where, and the why...the why the hell did all this happen.

It is, and will be, a little expected that we all carry some animosity and suspicion around this "little thing called love". No surprise that a heart can heal, but it rarely completely mends. At least it doesn't alone.

It is with great joy then, that I get to recall the amazing weekend I recently had. My little sister got married. My little sister got married. My little sister got married...in JAMAICA. I certainly will not taint her day by recanting the mess her first husband left her with. Instead, I will relish in the phenomenal life her last husband is sharing with her. They are pretty damn awesome together.

It was a beautiful day, with beautiful people, on a beautiful beach. I loved every minute of it, and I am so grateful that I was there to experience it. My sister probably doesn't realize, but this wedding was a gift to me. It reminded me that the mistakes we make with one person don't have to be repeated. It proved that there is a better person out there than one might expect. And it gave me the chance to happily and lazily spend 4 days with someone that I travel well with, laugh with, and simply enjoy being with. There is a strange comfort that comes with happiness. But we will save that story for another day...

Most importantly, I shared the day with my fabulous rockstar parents - the Drinking Diva and Party Gary - and some awesome new friends.

Congratulations Elizabeth and Jason! You both deserve a lifetime.

The Beast Within

2010-05-07T09:16:00.002-04:00

This is an Iona posting. If you don't love the Iona Pig, then I suggest you move on. I also highly suggest that you learn to love Iona, if you have any plans of me liking you. Yes, that includes the inevitable times when she is mean and bites you in the hand. You must still love, to be liked.

Recently several friends and I participated in the local SPCA Dog Walk. I've done this event before, but never took Iona with me. Let's face it, my dog is spastic. My dog is also 11 years-old, a cancer survivor, and has bad hips. A walk amongst several thousand people and their dogs has just never seemed like a good idea. But then my "Bad Idea Bear" not only spoke to me, he built her a wagon...and all reason was lost.

When most people see Iona they think she looks like a stuffed docile teddy bear. This facade usually remains until she does something awesome like violently charge a dog twelve times her size, or face-plant onto the concrete after sky-diving from the safety of her little red wagon.

She is mine though, and I love her dearly. The way to this girl's heart is certainly through her dog...and perhaps a gnome or two thrown in for good measure. Oh, I like unicorns too. And pirates. Hmmmm...let's not forget about rubber ducks either...

Guardian Angel

2010-04-05T22:42:00.002-04:00

It's been a few weeks now, so I feel like I can post this without getting too much flack from those that love me. Trust me, I know that I deserve all the flack you want to instill upon me. Perhaps a hug would also do...
_____________________________________________________________________
It is Monday, March 15th and I am drafting this post about a revelation I had last evening. I am not certain when I will actually set this message free, because I know it will deeply worry some people. Therefore, I need to put some distance between the event and the knowledge of it. Right now it is a little too raw for me, and I think I would be uncomfortable if someone asked me about. Maybe in a few days, a week...whenever you are reading this...I will have come to terms.

I was in Virginia last night. I met a friend for dinner in Greensboro and then decided to hear him play at an open mic event in Martinsville, VA. I knew it was going to be a challenge on a school night, but he seemed worth the lack of sleep I knew would be inevitable. I wanted to hang out with interesting people that evening, and he and his friends seemed like the right crowd.

He is an outstanding drummer and I truly had a lot of fun watching and listening to him play. We then hung out for a couple hours afterward...literally just driving around and talking. I felt like I was back in high school as there was such an innocence about spending time together with someone in that capacity. Nothing more, nothing less; just talking and enjoying the company of another.

I left around 2.30a...way, way later than I had intended. I was tired, a bit wired, and completely sober. I thought I was doing okay driving alone on the dark roads, when the sheer exhaustion just hit me shortly after 3a. I convinced myself to keep driving until 3.30a, and then stop somewhere for gas and a short walk. I opened up the sunroof, cranked the music, and kept going at a nice steady clip of about 90 MPH. This is the way I love to drive, and I felt damn good about it. Drive on.

It was about 3.17a when I must have fallen asleep. Not just a "snap your head back, eyes shut for a second" catnap, but a full-blown fast asleep while driving moment. I woke up as my car was entering a steep embankment and bouncing across the grass towards the guardrail. Snap awake, eyes open, loud noises, damn, damn, damn...Instinct kicks in. Faster pussycat. Yank steering wheel and veer from the rail immediatley on my right and back the opposite direction, Large sign inches in front of me. Grassy mound ahead of me and now the car begins to tilt. Damn, damn, damn. Pay attention pussycat. Pay some freaking attention. Snap back.

I honestly and terrifyingly thought my poor VW was going to flip. Grass, guardrail, sign, hill, metal. Grass, guardrail, sign, hill, metal. Road, where the freaking hell is the road???????? Control. Find the control pussycat. Get. Your. Shit. Together. Now.

Everything happened so fast. It was loud, and visual, and nauseating. As I finally came back onto the freeway, I literally threw the car in park and just sat and breathed. Perhaps hyperventilating is the better word. There were no lights or other cars anywhere in sight. I was certain I had hit the guardrail, as the noise was still reverberating in my head. I thought I should have a flat tire. I could smell my brakes and the awful stench of rubber. I didn't think me or the car could drive. But we did. Drive pussycat. Drive to safety and figure out how f'd up you really are.

I don't know why I didn't just get out of the car there to inspect the damage. "Miss Instant Gratification" should have done so. I just needed to drive away from that spot. NOW. My hands were shaking, my heart was pounding and I was on the brink of tears. I could have been on four blown tires and I would have kept going.

My first thought? WTF am I going to tell Allstate? I had JUST gotten my vehicle back the week before after having side-swiped a parked Escalade and incurring $5000 worth of repairs. This damage was going to be on the same freaking side they JUST FIXED. Damn it, I am an idiot and now Allstate is going to know it.

As I pulled into the nearest gas station I contemplated who I could call. Who would want to hear from me at this ungodly hour if I were going to truly be stranded? Do I have any friends that would drive to Virginia to get me?

I walked around to the passenger side of the car to look at the mess I had made. I just stared. Shock and awe overtook me. I stood there under the bright fluorescent lights for what seemed like an hour. Then I cried. A shocking and sudden force of tears just rolled down my face. Stare. Cry. Moan. Hold it together pussycat.

There was not one scratch on my car. Not one freaking scratch. I had managed to narrowly miss the guardrail completely. I don't know how. I don't know the hell that was true. I could still HEAR myself, FEEL myself, SEE myself hit that damn guardrail. I could still feel the car try and flip. Apart from the massive amounts of grass and dirt I found in my wheel wells and stuck in my grill, you wouldn't know that I had just gone through the single most frightening moment of my life.

Something or someone is trying to tell me something. Slow down. Wake up. Reassess. Prioritize. Too many risks; not enough self-preservation. Second chances rarely roll into thirds.

Every time that singular moment of waking up pops into my head, I get cold. My heart starts pounding and I feel fear. Guardian Angel...you are screaming...and I hear you loud and clear. Pull it together pussycat.

The Writing on the Wall

2010-03-21T12:11:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was all about disclosure...whether on the Facebook wall or on my wrist. Yep, I finally succumbed to my desire to ink my skin. I'd considered it for awhile, and now just seemed right. This is my year for doing things my way, the right way, at the right time...

"The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed". It's the first line of The Gunslinger, the first volume of the epic journey that Roland Deschain travels in the Dark Tower series. The book made a lasting impression on me the first time I read it, and that one line has continued to spin inside my head. There was simply no question that this was what needed to be on me.

In The Gunslinger, (as in Browning's poem, "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came"), there is a feeling of anxious meaninglessness coupled with an anxiety that nothing is stable or reliable.

"The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed". In the middle of an empty landscape filled with empty people, the Gunslinger has a purpose. He has direction. He is the last of his kind, and his mission gives him substance and holds his narrative world together. He is the glue at the center of things.

(I stole that perfectly worded interpretation from a Strange Horizon's blogger named David Higgins.)

So onto the fun stuff...my dear friends were there with me yesterday to help me endure the pain and to share in the moment. The postable quotes came fast and furious, and so we divided them up amongst the three of us. Here are just a few of the remarkable ones...there are many more that we didn't/couldn't post and so many others that we couldn't remember once the laughter and tears stopped.

Carl: "Spontaneity should be something you can sleep off."
Sean (my cute tattoo artist): "Those are dating rules to live by...open sores are never good."
Sean: "Don't worry about the shaking. I know the difference between voluntary and involuntary. Just stop thinking about it, or you'll shake more. And besides, I'm holding you down."
Me: "I want to tell all the people, 'I am not a cutter'! Damn, I look like I spent some time in the ER after a fight with a razor blade."
Brad: "Did you just feel the gay go by?" Me: "Oh yeah, I just felt the gay."
Brad: "Was that the weight of her ass that just made your fork settle on the plate?"
Me: "He's young. When he leaves me messages, he tells me to 'holla'." Brad: "Sweetie, you ain't no hollaback girl."
Carl: "Lordy, lol. I thought that was just between us and all of Glenwood South."
Carl: "I just came into a cupcake inheritance. And it is good."
Carl: "I feel so old."
Me: Hahahaha...BTW, spellcheck wants hahahaha to be 'Haitians'.

And so I have direction. I have purpose. I have some anxious meaninglessness. I have a swollen and sore wrist. I also have a reminder of my purpose visually available to me at all times. And...I have written public documentation of the entertaining journey that got me there.

Party of One, PLEASE!

2010-03-16T23:18:00.001-04:00

So my intention today...no wait that was yesterday...was to start a Match Monday posting. Yeah, I am on match.com. Let my pride take the tremendous hit it deserves NOW. BAMN. Smack it, I am online dating.

I think I'm attractive. I know I am educated. I realize I have a fabulous job and a good life. I believe I am in good shape and am healthy. So.....yeah. I'm 37. Yep, not 27, but 37. And 37 turning into 38 in just a couple months.

I met my first husband in a bar, so it seems right that I not repeat that one again. Yeah, we were married 15 years... but I expect that dating at 52 is even harder. I should probably try other avenues; hence the online dating thing.

I have always said that I love getting older. I am so much more confident and fabulous and with it and just plain more together, year-over-year. I like myself more at almost 38 than I ever did in any of those 20s. I do actually turn heads and get picked up on. BUT, there is that freaking damn NUMBER. You need to input that number into match.com and I am too proud to lie. I should lie. I might need to lie. Boys kind of freak when they learn that I am the almost 38. If I don't look it...why is it not a good thing? I am too young to be a cougar and I am not classically a MILF. So I am simply what...? Too old? Too young? Arghh.

So, I did not start Match Monday. That will have to wait until the calendar turns again next week. In the meantime, I was distracted by the census. Yes, I said the census. There is something about the archaic nature of "The Census must count every person living in the United States on April 1, 2010". Why archaic? BECAUSE THEY SENT IT IN THE MAIL AND IT HAS STANDARDIZED TEST BUBBLES. Actually it has boxes, but you get the point. MAIL!!! NOT INTERNET.

In 2010, the Census is not done online. it is mailed, (did they not hear the news about the USPS possibly needing to cut back hours or go bankrupt?????). Nothing online. And it is possible that you can add up to 12 people in your household. Now I love the census even more. Somehow, this mundane and ancient thing has made my day, There are those out there that get to fill out this amazing box-filled piece of paper for 12 people!!!!!! I am envious. I only get to do so for one. Me. One. Uno. It. Only I live here. Hmmmmmmm.....that is a good thing. It is okay to be one.

Party of one. Add a corgi...still party of one. Eh, who cares? Party of one.
I like my one box.

A Little DIY in the DNA

2010-03-12T15:29:00.003-05:00

Once upon a time it was the Year of the House. A rigorous twelve months focused around renovate, rebuild and repair. Then came the Interval of Me, (otherwise known as the Age of Bernie). A painful nine-month process of personal redefinition and recovery. My own restoration took less time than the structural, so it seemed appropriate recently to refocus some of my concentration on the walls around me. Literally.

For the past year I have had significant moments of annoyance over the molding gaps that exist between the living and dining room areas. If you recall, there used to be a substantial separation there, until we decided to take down that pesky little wall. For some idiotic reason, the picture and crown is slightly different on either side. And even more idiotic, we didn't check that before pulling the wall down. So, the moldings are still different and I was becoming more and more frustrated with how to solve this perplexing problem.

We had already added some molding caps that made the disparity less obvious, but there were still some wide-open spaces that just made me perceive the rooms weren't "finished". And if you know me, then you know that this was making my OCD tilt hard.

Now the obvious thing might be to pull out some power tools and finish the job. Well, I've been instructed not to use such tools that could easily maim me or cause further damage to the House. And rightly so, I might add. I like to be able to do things myself and do them well...and when that doesn't happen I can get easily frustrated. And frustrated with sharp power tools seems like a really bad idea. Particularly when there is no one else around to aim them at.

So, I took a different route and found something less dangerous. I found stickers. To be more precise, I located a company that takes fabulous art and transposes it onto heavy vinyl adhesive pieces. You cut and apply them in any pattern that you want...and I wanted a pattern that hid gaps. Let's just call this magical. Magic that required a ladder, some grumbling, a helpful corgi, (it would only have been better if she had thumbs...and less fur...and didn't step on sticky things with said fur), and some creativity and patience. YES, I SAID IT! I USED CREATIVITY AND PATIENCE. BITE ME ALL YOU HATERS, I DO HAVE SOME :)

More importantly I now have art with a purpose. And I did it all by myself...without hurting anyone, or anything.

The Invisibility Test

2010-03-11T07:38:00.008-05:00

For the most part, I've been on a steady upward climb in 2010. Not to say that some weeks haven't been met by a rock slide or in some cases a complete tumble backwards, but I've always managed to dust off and go again. Most days I feel pretty freaking awesome.

So why then go invisible to the masses? Why delete the blog? Stop the notes? Avoid questions? Stop answering emails? Selfishness, of course. Pure, unapologetic selfishness. It needed to be all about me, baby.

I love my family, adore my friends, appreciate the unknown readers, respect the lurkers, and value my coworkers, extended family, and new recruits. I also welcome any and all comments, as they keep me energized. Some of the notes and emails I've received from people have literally kept me pushing forward another day, or made me contemplate the goodness that exists in my life. And from many of you...I've realized how lucky I am to have you as a part of my place...as nothing is as inspiring to me as mutual motivation. For that I thank you.

But things all aren't pretty, are they? For the manipulative, my writing was a way to locate my weak spots. To exploit the turmoil that I was going through and feed off of it. For some it was a way to find out what and where Michael was, and to interpret things about our relationship that just weren't there. This isn't a "Where's Michael" game. If you want to know what's happening with him, then ask him. If he answers, then he wants to talk. If he doesn't, then let it be. Because this my friends, is all about me. Yes, he is and will continue to be a big part of it...and yes, I will someday write about the dirt in a cathartic fashion. But don't misconstrue; these are my words, and my life.

Let's throw some stuff on the table again, just so the playing field is even. Michael and I have been officially separated since July 2009 and are planning to file for divorce in July 2010 (thanks NC for your mandatory one-year waiting period). There were months last year that sucked harder than anything either of us have done before, and hopefully we will individually never endure pain like that again. Some things you forgive, but you never, never, never forget.

We are friends now and talk often. There are weeks that we see a lot of each other and get along swimmingly. Other weeks we keep our distance and just play nice in the sandbox when necessary. I think I can say for both of us though, that this is a good place for us to be. We have separately moved on with our lives; yet expect the other person to always be a piece of it. No longer the heart or the core; but perhaps a limb.

So there you have it. My invisibility cloak is off. If you want to know about me, my life, and what the heck I am choosing to do with it...then this is your place. If you have other nefarious intentions, then by all means keep reading and judge away. Just know that you'll have better results by going straight to the source. Take your own cloak off, and go to the source. This one is all about me.

Dog Days are Over

2010-03-10T21:52:00.002-05:00

Well, I can finally say it...I AM BACK. Back with a vengeance. Back with compassion. Back with conviction.

"Happiness, it hurts like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it will kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with a drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming so you better run." - Florence and the Machine

Stay tuned, as I have some stories to tell. Some funny, some sad, and all real. The transition is never-ending, but I am learning that the happiness is deserved.

What do You Call IT?

2010-01-17T21:07:00.001-05:00

IT is not an arbitrary quest. IT is not something I came upon lightly. IT is my level-setting and IT has a name. IT is called a reset of my inner compass.

I started reading this amazing book about a week ago and I found myself reflecting on all the errors I have recently made with my personal life. Not detrimental ones mind you, but simply things that are deterring me from my true path. I won't divulge the name of the book here, because unless you are a woman and newly single, you may scoff at it a bit. With that said, if you ARE in fact female, dating, and finding it a tad frustrating, please let me know and I will happily share.

The book deals mostly with the decisions we make and the reasons behind them. It provides great and simple clarity around why we succumb to temptation and how to avoid those that don't lead us to the highest and greater good. While there are several portions that resonated with me, there was one in particular that hit home. Hard. Like bricks.

Allow me a bit of paraphrasing please..."What you're missing is an inner compass when it comes to people: a reference point for how you live that you don't violate, no matter what."

"Your inner compass should contain all of the information you need in order to make a good dating judgment call. That way, you don't give away your heart, soul, and body to the wrong sort of person, setting yourself up for emotional devastation."

"...set that compass on due north."

Ah yes, it is so much simpler to just give into the nonsense that guided the dating of my 20s. For good or bad, I am no longer in that generation or in that mindset. So, consider this a proper reset. A positioning of my inner compass, and pointed straight to the North Star. If you happen to come upon me, be prepared, because I certainly am.

What Am I?

2010-01-16T20:10:00.004-05:00

I had a realization shortly after the Christmas holiday where I had to do some level-setting. At the time I didn't know what to properly "call it", but we'll get back to that momentarily.

I will finally openly acknowledge that I had recently started dating and had found it both exciting and terribly challenging. Seriously, I had not been on a date with someone in about 17 years. So being me, I jumped into pseudo-relationships with a couple men in the hopes of figuring it out. While delightful, I was soon to discover the limitations.

Let's set the stage. There I was...standing at RDU with massive amounts of holiday luggage. One bag was filled almost entirely with meat. Yes, I said meat. My parents gifted all of us children with a fabulous assortment of pork chops, pork roasts and sausage. (My dad won a pig in a raffle.) I was also granted a couple random packages of rib-eye and ground beef. (My parents bought a quarter of a cow.) That's how we do it in Wisconsin. Add some incredible canned salsa from my sister-in-law and some bottles of wine, and I had some crazy TSA- monitored baggage. But I regress.

There I stood, hauling heavy freaking bags off the conveyor belt by myself. Then I drove myself home. Once home, all the boys started calling. I had a pseudo-boyfriend, a man patiently waiting in the wings, and a husband. (A husband I might add that I adore immensely and remain fabulous friends with.) And so goes my epiphany. I HAVE ALL THESE DAMN MEN IN MY LIFE and I am still dragging my own meat home. We're calling this done. Something is going to change, and change NOW.

So what am I? For months, Facebook has deemed me "complicated", match.com calls me "currently separated", eharmony.com says I am "ineligible", and in the eyes of God, numerous friends and family, and the state of North Carolina, I am "married". So who is right?

I am right.

I am single. I am recovering. I am healthy. I am independent. I am self-aware. I am confident. I am smart. I am strong. I am fabulous. I am a lover of relationships. I am also...I am also deserving of a man that wants and will be there to carry my meat.

That is who I am.

Ring it In. Ring it In.

2010-01-01T13:32:00.006-05:00

Ah, the end. The end of the year known as 2009. The end of the year my life flipped itself upside down and I somehow ended somewhat right-side up again. The end of the year I became stronger, thinner, wiser, sadder, and certainly more certain. Certain of what I want, need, and how to get it.

A dear man in my life often reminds me that there is truthfully no difference in the days of 12/31 and 1/1. No great momentous thing happens that should cause me to think or act differently from one to the next. Since both paper and principle dictate that he is smarter than me, I am often prone to agreeing with him. Just not this time.

The flipping over of the year may be purely symbolic, but that alone marks its power. My spinning instructor this afternoon said, "What you are doing on the first day of the year, will represent what you do all year long". Well, then my 2010 should be quite grand. Perhaps the people will be different at some point, but the concepts should remain the same.

I am ending this first day of what will be a good and glorious year...with smart, sexy, and snappy dialogue set against a kick-ass soundtrack. Not my soundtrack...but that of Tarantino and Pulp Fiction. Let it be a sign that IFC knows me well enough to provide all that needs to be symbolic in my time of need.

"Warm, warm...disco." Happy ending 2009. Ring a ding-ding.

I Need You to Tell Me...Child Be Still

2009-12-30T15:27:00.003-05:00

"Where does everybody go when they go?
They go so fast, I don't think they know
We hate so fast and we love too slow
London, I think we got a problem"

I will eventually move on from my soundtrack of 2009.
I will try to be still sometimes.
I will take the stairs.
I will learn to appreciate that I am beautiful.
I will still facebook, text, and email like a mad woman, but I will also call more.
I will be grateful every day that my body can run fast; I will run like my life depends on it.
I will loudly listen to music.
I will flirt with reckless abandon.
I will be honest and make no justifications.
I will read as if my life depends on it.
I will find ways to be on airplanes more often.
I will organize my life differently. Not rearrange my old life, but organize the one handed to me...the one I earned.
I will look to be loved in unexpected places and welcome it when it hits me.
I will be fine after I scream.
I will be appreciative of my people.
I will work hard and not take anyone down in the process.
I will welcome and embrace 'it' when it happens...as if my life depends on it.

"Help me let go of the chaos around me
The devil that hounds me, I need you to tell me
Child, be still."

The First Day of Christmas

2009-12-24T13:18:00.008-05:00

I woke up at 3a this morning with a splitting headache and no idea where I was. Once I figured out the where, I tried concentrating on the how. That proved pointless, so I fell back to sleep instead.

Yes, my first day of Christmas had happened. I was home in Wisconsin to spend a week with the family, and all the delightful ridiculousness that they have to offer. And of course I was already suffering for it.

As the story goes, I basically needed to be carried to bed. By my father. Now, another person might be completely mortified by this; I of course think it is hysterical. Apparently I did last night too, as my mom says, "I went laughing all the way".

So let's back up a bit. I landed in Appleton-ton around 11a and was whisked around the area by my dad. We ran errands and had lunch, and just had a nice time catching up. Then home to spend a few hours with my mom before my siblings and their kids descended.

Instead of a nap, I ran a couple miles on their treadmill. That may have been grave mistake number one. You see, I had only slept for about 90 minutes the evening before. Of course I was unconscious for both my flights, but the distance from Raleigh doesn't provide a great opportunity to actually "sleep". With that said, I should have napped. I should have napped. I should have napped.

By 7p, all but one of my fabulous siblings were over. We drank, we ate, we laughed, we talked about my crazy life, and then we drank some more. We started with the requisite old fashioneds and then evolved into the Goose. There is at least one more grave error in here somewhere.

Fast forward...I am running through the cold...alone...from my brother's house. Now curled up in a chair with a glass of wine by my side (most grave of the grave mistakes), and completely asleep. I am told that even tickling didn't make me move, so my dad basically just hauled me up out of the chair and put my laughing, smiling, laughing self to bed.

When I awoke at 3a, I seriously had no idea where I was. For starters I was on the wrong side of the bed, I was surrounded by pillows and a stuffed scary Santa Claus, and I was hot. Then panicked. Then I simply started laughing again and figured someone dear to me would fill me in during the daylight.

Thanks family. Christmas 2009 has officially, delightfully, painfully, begun.

Slice me in Half

2009-12-22T20:53:00.001-05:00

Is it fine to steal the words and feelings that are evoked from your friends and call them your own? Let's just say...yes. Yes, it is. Ah, the amazing power of friends in faraway places, and the freaking annoying spirit of Christmas. Makes my judgement a little less clear and my person a little more visceral.

I am coming off the heels of some amazing days, and I keep catching myself being a little happy, drunk, and sentimental. Possibly due to the upcoming holiday, perhaps leftover festive debauchery, or probably some combination which also includes a touch of remorse and nostalgia.

My dearest and "secret" friend in the Philippines sent me an email that was part update and part reminiscent. It sent me into simultaneous laughter and hysterical tears as it made me miss her painfully and wish for things I am not certain I want.

I won't divulge all our secrets but here are some passages that hit me hardest. I apologize in advance if she wants me to be less transparent, but the images were just too "present" not to share. It thrust me back into my former life like a sudden punch to the sternum.

-----------------------------------------------
I am keeping myself awake for the next few hours so that I can sleep at the appropriate time, so that I can wake up when I'm supposed to. (You remember how that works.)

Last night, I had dinner with friends. We laughed so much, the kind that catches you by surprise and slices you in half. We went to this old house converted to a restaurant in Quezon City, alien territory. You would have liked it, it was full of kitchy Filipino mementos from the 1940's and paintings by local artists. I woke up this morning still chuckling. Shaking my head over how crazy my life is now and how crazy my friends have always been.

My dad got a book published - a collection of poetry. It is disturbingly brilliant and profound. I have a copy for you. You will get it when I see you next.

I ended up sorting through drawers and found your name plate, the one my team had stolen from your former office and given me.

I'm babbling, I know. I guess these are random things I would tell you if you were sitting next to me and we were having a bottle (or three) of wine. I just wanted to drop you a note to tell you that you are missed and thought of often.
-----------------------------------------------

I have had more than a few moments lately where laughter has "sliced me in half". I am so grateful for those people than have that affect on me. I am also grateful to those that can make my heart skip...those across the country, around the world, and more than a few right here in my own city.

Let the slicing commence.

Simple Pleasures

2009-12-16T18:01:00.001-05:00

Earlier this week I was in a video store. I am sure this doesn't seem very noteworthy, but I must admit that I couldn't recall the last time I had been in one. Between PPV, DVR and that great thing called Redbox, I have gotten my movie fixes elsewhere.

That night though, the person I was with wanted to introduce me to a silly film that I had never seen before...A Knight's Tale. Being that it was over seven years old, we couldn't easy locate it through our normal channels, so we had to go "old school". We used his iPhone to find the nearest video store and on we went.

I must admit that I loved this place. It is no-nonsense, has a great staff, is within walking distance to my house, and is completely unpretentious. I've already been back to pick up new movies.

There was something so wonderful about wandering around the store that night laughing at things on the shelves and quizzing each other about things we'd seen. And I must admit that A Knight's Tale made me laugh...several times. It was a simple night; a delightful night.

Back to the Basics

2009-12-12T19:07:00.004-05:00

"What is more basic than the need to be known? It is the entirety of intimacy, the elixir of love, this knowing". In the book Her Fearful Symmetry, a central character gives himself over completely to this basic knowing. I read this passage, this simple sentence, more than a week ago. It resonated with me so much that I earmarked the page and referred back to it often.

Dictionary.com defines "known" as:

1. to perceive or understand as fact or truth; to apprehend clearly and with certainty
2. to have established or fixed in the mind or memory
3. to be cognizant or aware of
4. be acquainted with, as by sight or experience
5. to understand from experience or attainment
6. to be able to distinguish, as one from another
7. Archaic. to have sexual intercourse with.

This is what I am looking for. The knowing. For me at this moment, it doesn't mean commitment, it doesn't require a path, it isn't what I've had and it is what I want. I want to be known. I want someone that is aware, is perceptive, is cognizant of me always. That gets me without any explanation, apology, or justification. Is pleased to be in my presence and looks forward to the next experience.

At 3.38am this morning I received a phone call. Of course I was awake. (Even if I hadn't been at work, the chances are great that I would still have been conscious.) The call was from a dear friend of mine that was celebrating her birthday on the West Coast and had also just got engaged. This girl deserves every bit of happiness that moment provided her and I was so thrilled to spend part of that with her. She had just had her known validated. She is someone that I love unconditionally and the thought of her so happy has brought me to giddy tears several times today.

Oddly enough I had been out earlier last night with good friends and a wonderful man to see Phantom of the Opera. That production is all about the "knowing" of someone, and the deep and sometimes painful understanding that goes with it.

Congratulations Amy. No one deserves to be known more than you.

Ho, ho, ho and a bottle of rum...

2009-12-09T18:32:00.002-05:00

I think this holiday season is going to be OK. Maybe more than OK, maybe just fine. Perhaps even freaking awesome. Earlier this year I was seriously apprehensive about the jolly, holly season. I thought I'd be miserable and all Scrooge-like once Thanksgiving came and turned into Christmas and New Years. The concept of parties and social engagements gave me panic attacks (let's not forget Bernie), and the idea of being joyful seemed far, far, away.

Oh thank goodness I was wrong. Thanksgiving week allowed me to regress...I went out, I drank, I laughed, I ate, I spent time with my favorite boys, I ran, I met new people, and I simply lived. I lived A LOT. I don't know that I will ever think of Thanksgiving the same way again. In fact, I know I won't.

Last weekend I attended a holiday party with some delightful friends. Apart from the near fist-fight that darling Brad and I almost got into over the music, the evening was pure fabulousness. Fabulous with a side of glitter. You know I enjoy myself wholly when I end up engaging in frivolous kleptomania. Thank you boys for letting me steal your duckie.

The next morning I felt INCREDIBLE. I think happiness somehow conquered the cheap wine hangover that seemed impossible to avoid the night before. No one else seemed to feel the same, so I tackled the Farmer's Market solo and returned victorious with a little tree and a wreath. A trip to the storage shed to retrieve ornaments meant that Christmas descended upon my house. Happily.

On Friday I am seeing Phantom of the Opera for the first time with wonderful people. I have a date for the holiday party next week. I am going home for Christmas to see my incredible family and friends. God, how I have missed you all. I might even go out, out, out for New Year's. Optimistically, I already have the rocking dress. In a size 6, I might add.This year needs to end, and it is looking to end well. Scrooge has nothing on me.

When Two is Better than One

2009-12-03T12:22:00.004-05:00

Last month my doppelganger came to visit. When my sister Elizabeth and I get together...all bets are off, and I wouldn't want it any other way. My ab muscles usually ache for a week after she leaves.

We started off the weekend by stocking up at the ABC and doing a little grocery shopping. Elizabeth was making her world-famous tater tot casserole for my friends that evening and we had some non-healthy ingredients to buy.

As we were standing in the wine aisle trying to determine what vintage goes best with tots, a man walks up to us and says, "You girls should call me if you want to give your husbands some holiday treats". He then handed Elizabeth his card and slowly backed away dumbfounded as we basically collapsed into the aisle laughing hysterically. Turns out he is a chef and does in-home cooking classes. We of course couldn't get over the husbands...and treats part. Perhaps another year...

I don't think I stopped laughing from there on in. The tater tot dinner party was a smashing success and the pot was licked clean by many.

Elizabeth woke up the next morning painfully hungover asking, "Why am I not wearing any pants? WHERE ARE MY PANTS? WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PANTS?" I believe it was the vodka and Glogg that stole her pants....or the wine...or the beer, or the oh...the options...

One of the weird things we share is the swelling of our fingers when we drink. Couple that with a 3-mile walk around Lake Johnson and Elizabeth had the biggest man-hands ever. We completely destroyed the peace and tranquility of the woods by her running towards me with her arms outstretched and screaming, "Would you like me to open your jar of pickles?". Frankenstein stay back, back I say!

As with every trip together, people assume we are twins. Not sure how happy Elizabeth is with being compared to her 37 year-old sister, but I certainly take it as a great compliment.

The twin thing takes on a very different connotation when it is recognized by a funny middle-aged woman who can't stop remarking at how much we look alike, than it does when it comes from a couple leering college students. Both entertaining, but for very different reasons.

We were sitting at a cafe one afternoon trying to clear our heads when a couple boys walked out of the restaurant and straight up to our table. One looked at us, smiled, and simply said, "YUM" and then walked away. We laughed until Elizabeth snorted. Let the day begin again.

There are so many more stories to tell, but some must remain between the doppelganger and I. She says she wants to return in January and this make me oh so happy. I have many jars of pickles that need to be opened, and pants that need to be found.

It's Good to be Loved

2009-12-01T16:45:00.004-05:00

Even with this tumultuous 2009, I have so much to be thankful for. I am in the best shape of my life, I have a great job, my dog is cancer-free, my family is fabulous, and my friends love me.

They proved (yet again) just how much they loved me over the Thanksgiving weekend. They came, they cleaned, they fixed, they sawed, they hauled.

Michael started working on the kitchen backsplash Thursday and had all the tile up by the time I returned home. On Saturday he returned for grout and the installation of the new front storm door.

Both turned out beautifully.

That afternoon our amazing friends came over to help remove the waist-deep leaves from my backyard. OK - maybe not waist-deep, but all those oak trees made quite a mess! Todd had the leaf blower on full power, while Rob raked and I hauled. We managed to remove a car-sized pile from the yard...and not such a small car.

On Sunday Michael installed the doggie door so that Miss Iona doesn't hate me on those longer than normal days. The sound of the saw going through the metal frame was actually (painfully) worth it.

Projects complete. Thank you all for giving up part of your weekend. So much to be thankful for, and so good to be loved.

A Runner's Reward

2009-11-30T19:47:00.002-05:00

I admit I have a little bit of a problem. Yesterday I went running around Lake Johnson in the morning...only 2.75 miles, but with some killer hills...and then ran another 2.5 miles in the afternoon just because I felt antsy. This is becoming more and more the norm. Run once, run twice. Run more. Wait, run again.

I like the transformation it has made on me. I like running outside, in the cold, the rain, the fresh air. The elements just make it seem more "present". I also like the fact that I now can't seem to gain a pound and I am finding muscles that never existed before. I've dropped about 30 pounds and kept it off, but the dispersion keeps changing. Not that I am complaining...

The hard part? The clothes. Oh my, my beautiful clothes. I went through everything earlier and can probably only wear about 1/3. And of those, it is only because I purchased them in the last month, couldn't fit into them before, or can effectively hide the fact that they truly are too big. Not to be materialistic...but there are some beautiful things that now just sit and scoff at me.

So...I am becoming friends with a local tailor. I spent several hours there today, being groped, and pinned, and stuck and laughed at. In a nice way of course. One of the seamstresses actually asked me if I purposefully bought all my clothes three sizes too big. And a very nice man actually giggled a little as I stood holding handfuls of cloth in my hand in order to keep my favorite pair of Tahari pants from falling to the floor.

It was all worthwhile though, as another woman in a similar predicament started up a conversation with me. Turns out we are both new runners and running is what we credit for our clothing dilemmas. As I stood on the platform holding up my shirt so I could get pinned yet again...she looked at me and said...YOU ARE REALLY SUPER SKINNY.

I thank you oh stranger at the tailor. I have NEVER heard those words before. I have never known that term. I like it. I own it. I am it. Running is more than just sanity.

Let's Begin Again

2009-11-29T08:24:00.008-05:00

For a variety of reasons I have been a bit absent this month. I needed to pay attention to what I was doing, and how I was doing it without the unintentional interruptions of others. This path is one hell of a learning experience and one I sometimes need to course out myself. I also needed to keep the misinterpretations at a minimum. Of course, my silence has created its own set of challenges.

With that said...let's begin again.

While this stage of the house is essentially complete, it does still have some finishing touches that we'd been neglecting. Until this week, that is.

Over a few weekends Michael and I hit up the local home improvement stores and found a new front storm door, a doggie door and tile for the kitchen backsplash.

The backsplash was the last thing that needed to be finished in the kitchen. While it looked great, it just felt "unfinished". Unfinished. That one word could sum up my 2009.

The tile was such a tremendous find! I knew I wanted glass and something small. I thought I wanted round, but once we saw the gorgeous sheets of tiny bronze and amber squares, we knew this was it. We also found a few ceramic and glass tiles that had been returned from another store. They only had a few and we grabbed them.

Michael fortunately has retained all his tile talent and created yet another stunning piece. I only had to grout and clean...

This seems like a good way to begin again.

November...Bring it.

2009-11-05T08:53:00.005-05:00

Yesterday a coworker looked inquisitively at me and said, "You look like the cat that ate the canary. Someone is making you happy". That woman has some strong and slightly scary powers of insight.

According to the Chinese horoscope, my good fortune should not be upon me until this Saturday. Well, I have been warranted an early release from chaos and have been granted the right of bliss. I am moving from the time entitled "Vulnerable" to that of "Glorious Breakthroughs". It says that this is my month of transformation and all the changes are excellent. Apparently it only takes one look to know that the transformation has already begun!

The cat has found the someones and the somethings, in very unexpected places. Recently I've been at the Lexington BBQ Fest and wine tasting with great friends. I also kicked one of their asses in a rematch of travel Scrabble...that would be twice now. I've also been fortunate to hike up to MacRae Peak on Grandfather Mountain. Cables and ladders and wind, oh my. The views, the company, and the landscape was so well worth the pain in my knees the next day.

And then. And then there was Halloween. As everyone knows, this is the best day of the year for me. I just love everything about it...and it really doesn't matter if it is spent by throwing a huge drunken costume party or just quietly sitting on the porch with friends...drinking wine and passing out candy. I admit that I was unprepared for the awesomeness of this one. Memorable? Just call it infamous. Friends, food, Glogg, debauchery, a legendary gay nightclub, dancing, seeing 4a and thinking that too was awesome. Just awesome.

If that weren't delightful enough, November entered my world with an extra hour of needed sleep and a smile on my face. That smile stayed all the way through to West Virginia and back...car finally came through, and the Iona plate has been reborn.

Yeah, you can call this cat happy...and I have someones to thank for that.

Pretty Has a Purpose

2009-10-25T21:00:00.003-04:00

I will acknowledge that over the past couple months my personality has taken a beating. Some days it was bitter, others obnoxious, sometimes giddy, often angry, and rarely pretty. While I felt I was "holding it in", I knew it was bleeding out. It's one thing though when people who know you see it, it's entirely another when strangers pick up on it.

I didn't get that fact until I was out on the other side. I knew the day that I felt better, and bit-by-bit the people around me realized that it wasn't a fluke and that I would probably still be the same tomorrow. I started being referred to as "Tigger" or asked if I was "always on"...and the answer is yes. YES I AM! Right now I am wired high and I plan to stay there. I am running faster, sleeping less, and feeling better. Some might call that happy.

And it is paying off in other ways. The prettier personality has been noticed by strangers; people who have no stake in the game are getting it. The man at Costco went out of his way to get me a cart. The woman at Target told me she loved what I was wearing. The neighbor around the corner stopped to talk to me for the first time ever...even though we've lived with our backyards touching for over a year. People have been going out of their way to treat me well, and I am certain it is because they see a happy and confident person in front of them. My edge no longer fuels theirs. In the case of personality, pretty does pay off.

Would you like to try some Glogg?

2009-10-19T08:32:00.005-04:00

This was the weekend of random awesomeness, and therefore can only be described through pictures. When someone asks you to go to IKEA, what should you say? HELL YES. Hell yes when you haven't been in over a year, the closest one is 2 hours away, someone you like to spend time with is driving, you crave meatballs, and you need napkins.

Did you know you can upgrade your meatball platter of goodness? Yes boys and girls, for only $1.00 you can get 5 more meatballs. The country is super fat for a reason.

A game of Size and Manners? Oh my. Date night?

Our IKEA trip culminated with a pass through the Marketplace to buy frozen meatballs and cookies. As we were reaching the checkout, we heard a very excited voice ask us, "Would you like to try some Glogg?". Did that man in a fake accent say Glogg? Oh what fine Swedish delicacy could Glogg be? Well for $2.99 you get a bottle of some fine tasting mulling spice-like beverage. And according to our happy and somewhat spastic man, it tastes mighty great with vodka, or rum, or wine. This key piece of information probably accounts for his giddy nature. We all left with Glogg.

Only one thing can compete with IKEA, and that would be the NC STATE FAIR! This trip was destined to be great because it came with a personal tour guide. Thank you Brad for attending the fair for 29 of your 30 young years. Thank you for not making Carl and I wander aimlessly without a path or a purpose. Otherwise I may have missed the vicious cottonball of death....

...or The Fried Dough Shop...

...or the drunken sheep made by high school students. What really are they teaching these kids out in the country?

...and I might have missed Wisconsin! It is good to know that there is a little bit of Wisconsin in every State Fair. A little bit of Hot Wisconsin Cheese to go with the Chocolate Covered Bacon aka Pig Lickers. I am speechless. And no longer hungry. No longer hungry for food ever, ever, again.

Most importantly though, I may have missed Carl's inner-Pirate. And oh what a shame that would be. Arrggh. This man looks like he knows his Glogg.

Pick a Pumpkin

2009-10-12T17:24:00.000-04:00

Saturday was one of those silly days that reminds me of why I love this time of year. The fairs, the festivals, and the friends who come over and carve pumpkins.

Earlier in the day I was hanging out in the backseat while my friends drove all over the city looking for the best places to stop on the Parade of Homes tour. We wandered in and out of a few neighborhoods with million dollar + listings that showed potential. But before long, we realized that we had better taste than most of the home stagers, and that we'd probably all have to live together in order to make the mortgage "really work". The corgi would just not like all the stairs, so we had to decline this option.

So instead we started talking about all the upcoming Halloween activities and began ticking off the ones we'd be participating in over the next couple weeks. That made me realize that I had NO PUMPKINS. At this point I believe I was jumping around in the backseat demanding that we find a pumpkin patch. As good men do, they quickly indulged my needs.

Off to the Farmer's Market we went and within no time we were stocked with a car full of pumpkins and mums. Let the carving begin!

A little wine, some beer, a happy dog, and a yard full of men carving pumpkins. Seriously? Did someone get into my head and know that this was the day I was dreaming of? You have your fantasy...and it is fine for me to have mine.

I expect that I will get out all the decorations later this week and really make the house ready for trick-or-treaters. Where to find me on the great Hallowed Day? Of course...on the porch with the corgi, wine, and friends. Just where I should be.

Observations of Others

2009-10-09T09:08:00.004-04:00

Most of the time, I am pretty ambivalent about the unsolicited opinions of others. Now don't get me wrong, I appreciate good criticism as a platform for improvement, and I like feedback. But some recent comments just made me pause...and laugh.

Friday was a fun day for my department. We were all in the office early so that that we could end at noon and go on a group scavenger hunt around Durham. I am a morning person, so the earlier in the day, the better. Well, some of my employees are not used to seeing me first thing in the morning and were a little unprepared for my energy level. I was talking to a couple people, when one of my managers just looks at me in shock and says, "You are a Tigger, and you so need to take it down to at least an Eeyore level". This is one I want to use again and again.

Later that day the scavenger hunt facilitator made a silly comment about me, and a coworker near me looks at him and says, "Oh no you didn't! You don't mess with the Sarah! No you don't". Apparently my Zohan alter ego has quite the reputation in the office.

A couple weeks back someone called me "fat". I acknowledge that during several points in my life this would have been a justifiable perception. I have never stressed about my weight, but I have certainly been heavier than I prefer. But now? Since August I have lost about 20 pounds and have been working out at least four times a week. I no longer have clothes that fit and I have coworkers demanding me to STOP LOSING WEIGHT. So for someone to call me fat NOW? I really, really need to just laugh this one off.

It was raining last Tuesday so Michael and I ran inside around the track, rather than along our typical outdoor route. The track sits above the basketball courts, which is also where I play volleyball. As we were rounding a turn, I could see some of our players setting up the nets so I waved down to them. After about 2.5 miles, Michael left and I went down to the courts to play. During one of our breaks, a fellow player came up to me and said, "I knew it. I knew you were a runner. I noticed last week that you have the legs of a runner". That is definitely something that no one has ever said to me before. This is an observation I want to hold onto. This one made me laugh, and more importantly, it made me smile.

Sins of the Father

2009-10-06T07:56:00.005-04:00

I have inherited many things from my father....some amazing qualities, and some that prove more challenging. More importantly though, I have learned a lot from my dad. And most of these things I have demonstrated to be productive, inspiring and instrumental in my success as an adult. And that includes his teachings about beer.

Several of our friends and my coworkers volunteered last Saturday at the World Beer Festival in Durham. Although I still wasn't feeling well, the day was quite fun. My friend Valerie and I decided to be beer pourers, which basically meant that we set up a booth with buckets, ice and beer, and then poured 2 ounces of said beer into many, many, many small glasses.

When asked which beer booth we wanted to volunteer at, I didn't have to consider for very long. Where am I from again? Oh yeah, Wisconsin. What beer does my dad really like? That would be Leinenkugels. Where are they from? BRING IT ON, Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin.

Leinie's must have known that a local girl was working their table because they didn't even send a rep down to tell us about the beer, educate us on the seasonal brews, or provide any information what-so-ever about the product or the company. No problem, I can handle this. And handle it we did. I ended up talking to many Wisconsinites who wanted to trade tales about our happy state and all the things (Leinies included) that they cannot procure in abundance in NC. It didn't take long for Valerie to start lying and say that she too failed from cheese land. Apparently when you are drunk, a Southern accent sounds remarkably similar to my native tongue.

Each session of the festival lasts 4 hours and ours started at noon. The first hour is filled with a variety of people - those that just want to drink, those that are particular about what they try, and those that are seriously there to taste and score the selections. By the second hour, the inebriation sets in. By the third, EVERYONE is drunk. At the fourth, people no longer care what they are drinking as long as they believe there is alcohol in it. At this point it was very clear we were running out of beer, and I was a little worried that people were going to riot our little table.

Thankfully one of the guys at the booth next to us thought we were cute and really had a thing for redheads. That meant he firmly positioned himself between Valerie and I, and kept our tubs iced down and full of cold beer. Keep in mind that I don't know if we could have kept the masses happy without him. We ended up running out of all but one beer with an hour still to go, and ALL beer 30 minutes later. And the drunks kept coming.

All told, we opened 192 bottles and poured over a 1000 two-ounce tastes. All while fending off lots of leering drunks who did not mind that I am married or Valerie has a boyfriend. My favorite remains the distinguished gentleman that owns a local pizza place and was easily the age of my dad. He came around at least four times to just stand, look at me, and then remind me to "save him a slow dance". It is no wonder that by 4p, I was tired, still laughing, and needing a drink.

October Don't Fail Me

2009-10-02T15:39:00.001-04:00

The best month EVER is here. I love October. I love fall. I LOVE, LOVE, HALLOWEEN. This is the month of scary movies, our wedding anniversary, of Halloween. Did I mention Halloween?

I expected it to come in so perfectly, but of course that was not the case. Almost immediately I fell prey to the cold/flu thing that has been traveling around both my personal and professional lives. Noooo! I need/want/deserve this to be a good month.

To give October some credit, several great things have already set their wheels in motion. I love to have things to look forward to, and my calendar is being asked to reserve dates.

For one, it appears that the lease swap vehicle I really wanted out of Ohio will come through. I still don't understand why it takes weeks to assume equity liability for someone's lease when it takes sheer hours to lease through a dealership...all through the same financing company. Whatever I guess. I just want the car. I also hear that road-tripping to Ohio in the fall is delightful. Now which weekend would be best? I better wait until the paperwork arrives on this one...

ELIZABETH IS COMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no way I can scream that loud enough. Granted, she won't be here until next month, but I think I can last that long. Let the revelry planning begin.

Speaking of Elizabeth, she and Jason have set a wedding date and it is in Jamaica. Glorious! Plans for Spring travel can commence.

And finally, my friends are asking for visitation rights. I hadn't felt up to it before, but I do now. Here, there, and everywhere. Welcome October. Don't fail me.

She's Bendy

2009-09-30T08:17:00.002-04:00

My Monday night routine now includes the requisite visit to the Y, but with a little twist. I am taking a yoga class. I initially started doing this because I thought the stretching component would be a good balance for all the cardio I am beating my body with. While this still remains true, I am also getting an alternative benefit. It relaxes me. It helps push that giant elephant named Bernie off my chest and onto the floor for a bit each week. And that can only be a good thing.

This past Monday was the best class yet. There were only about eight of us that ventured out on that stormy night, so we were able to move through the sequences at a faster pace. I am noticing that my balance is getting better and the flexibility in my hips in particular is increasing. And so that led me to believe that I could easily do a full back bend. Now, I used to do these in high school, and probably still in college. But recently I have had no reason to attempt one. I must admit that at the moment it felt GLORIOUS. I only slightly regretted it the next afternoon, and then really realized the pain in my core the days following. That though, will not stop me from doing another. Bernie doesn't seem to balance well when I am bent upside down.

As I was in this most unnatural of positions, I couldn't help but recall a story about two of my expat friends in the Philippines. The three of us stood out over there for very specific and similar reasons. We were white. We were blond. We were tall. And we were not small. These two delightful people took a weekend and went to a health spa a couple hours outside of Manila. While there, they engaged in a yoga class. As they were contorted into strange positions, the instructor looked at my friend and said, "You are bendy for a big girl!". I can only imagine how hard they laughed at that moment. That remains one of my favorite travel tales of theirs.

My instructor on Mondays ends every session with a little passage or scripture, and I especially liked this one. I decided that I too can be bendy. And in this case, bendy means changing course and going forward.

Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast,
it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered,
it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.

No Toyota Love

2009-09-28T06:13:00.005-04:00

I hate my rental car. Yes, it is getting me from point A to B. Yes, it is inexpensive. Yes, it is a car in the very basic terms. But ahhhhh.....

I am still debating on how to best handle my longer-term car situation. There is the possibility of taking over someone else's lease, or I could seriously look at/test drive some other models. I am pretty lazy when it comes to cars though. I have had a Volkswagen since 1999. Four VWs in ten years. I know how they drive, I know what to expect. This time I was fairly certain I was getting a Tiguan, which is the smaller version of my prior SUV. Except that I suddenly had a realization that I didn't want to put any cash out, nor did I want much of a monthly payment. This came to me the week before my Touareg lease expired. Huh. Who is being all fiscally responsible? Strange days.

And that is how I came to drive a piece of basic trash Toyota Corolla rental car.

I have been trying to make it mine, but I am still not feeling the love.

My GPS slides off the dash every time I brake or turn too hard.
EVERYTHING but the transmission is manual. Even the door locks. Seriously, they still make cars without key-less door entry? WTF?
I acknowledge that I am tall, but I am no giantess. Yet my knees rest immediately under the steering wheel. Look ma, no hands!
It is small, small, small. My bike does not fit in it, which makes me crazy. I was so used to driving around with my bike in the back of the Touareg. Now no impromptu rides for me.
I have to stomp on the gas in order for it to gain any momentum. Until it gets warmed up I actually have concern about merging from entrance ramps.
I was obliviously happy with my Touareg's creature comforts. I mean, how was I to know I would miss a rear windshield wiper? Or heated seats? Or a remote for the doors?
It smells like Resolve. Now, for most people this would not be an issue. For me...it is of grave concern. I won't get into details, but it involves a rowdy night of martini drinking at the Bond-themed MGM holiday party, and Michael's inability to roll down my window fast enough. Parking lot, next morning, hung over, fabric upholstery, lots of Resolve, enough said.
There is no good place for the Iona plate.

I better learn to love/tolerate the Toyota, as she may be mine for a couple more weeks. Perhaps a name would endear me. A good name? A bad name? I certainly have more options than the Toyota itself has.

Keeping with the Instability

2009-09-23T08:51:00.004-04:00

Nothing in my life is stable right now. The past several months have turned just about everything in my previous existence upside down, turned around, and flipped inside out. I like control, I like order.

For those that know and love me, you can appreciate how this is making me a little spastic. But there is something EVEN MORE FRIGHTENING! Although I am getting better about expressing the wack-job-ness that infests my body, I am also somewhat concerned that the panic might actually be dulling down.

It is not that things have stopped changing. On the contrary, my life continues to be in flux. And surprisingly, I think a lot of the change is positive. I feel like a different person, I look like a different person and I am thinking like a different person. Hopefully that is good for those that are important to me. This change could be life-changing.

On a materialistic side, I gave up another piece of my stability last night. The lease on the Touareg was actually up a month ago, but they let me keep it 30 days longer. My expectation was that I would have found another vehicle in that time. Ummm...not so much. A tad distracted with other changes and this took a back seat. Soooo....I am presently driving a kick-ass piece of junk Toyota rental car. The only think NOT manual on this thing is the transmission, which of course is the only thing that should be. Whatever. It is cheap and I am throwing people completely off.

I had the Touareg for four years, so there was stability in my tank. I knew what to expect every time I hopped in. And like all things, the Touareg comes with stories and for that I will miss it. I bought it on a whim during one of Elizabeth's trips to California. One of our first journeys with it was to a Dave Matthews' Band concert. It took Michael and I back and forth to Lake Arrowhead safely many, many times. I received my one and only CA speeding ticket in this vehicle...and rightly so. It was never in a accident and never left me stranded. The Touareg was Iona's chariot across the country to North Carolina, and was thus named after her.

My friend Rob helped me drop her off and there is a story there for another time. The short of it is that he made sure my back IONA plate was removed and also that my front California was back in my possession. He did this without complaining and IN THE RAIN. Thank you Rob.

Naked car. No longer mine. Yet one more bittersweet moment in my 2009.

Island Hopping

2009-09-23T08:37:00.002-04:00

Just wanted to share all the photos from the glorious island hopping weekend. They can be found HERE. Now I must decide where in North Carolina to have my next adventure.

Unpredictable

2009-09-22T12:35:00.006-04:00

Sometimes you go into a day knowing what it will bring. Other times, the entire thing is a roller coaster of surprises. Sunday I could not have predicted.

I woke up that morning feeling unsure, a little confused, but also quite hopeful. Very perplexing. The day just continued down that path and there came a point where I realized the day was not in my control. WHOA. Did I just say that the day was out of my control? Oh my yes. What was the first hint? Well, that would be the 23.2 mile bike ride that came just one day after an equally strenuous one at the beach.

Michael and I set out on our Sunday morning ride from the Apex entrance. We ended up riding all the way to the Southpoint Mall. We went from Wade to Chatham to Durham county. We biked to a mall that is TWO counties away!

One the way back Michael checked our distance and realized that if we ended back at the beginning, we would have only done about twenty miles. Well, that just wouldn't do! We needed to log more than the 21.8 that we had completed the prior week. So we went PAST our car about 1.5 miles and then turned around. Mission complete.

I had just stepped out of the shower a little while later and was mentally planning the afternoon...market, cooking for the week, laundry, a little work...when I started receiving text messages from my two dearest friends. Basically the message was simple. Get ready. Now. We'll be there in 25 minutes.

Before I could consider contesting, I found myself BACK AT SOUTHPOINT! This time it was for a movie and dinner and great conversation with people that just make me giddy. I loved that I didn't need to make any decisions, just happily hang out in the back seat and enjoy the ride.

I went to bed that night feeling less unsure, more focused, and just a little more hopeful.

I Had No Five

2009-09-21T10:30:00.008-04:00

Once a week Michael and I get together at the Y and take a spinning class. We've been doing this for several weeks and just love it. Our instructor kicks our ass, yet somehow makes the intense cycling enjoyable. We also run with her, so I have this desire to do better each week so that she sees progress. And of course to avoid sheer and utter embarrassment.

One of her motivational mantras is, "Find your FIVE"! When you are coming off hills or sprints, she wants you to find that flat ground equivalent that allows you to rest, yet still exert yourself. There are days I am just waiting and waiting for those words - FIND YOUR FIVE - oh, thank you, thank you, let my weary legs spin at a manageable pace.

This weekend was GLORIOUS, yet my five was not to be found. Anywhere.

On Friday I went to Carolina Beach to spend some time with my fabulous new friend Mary and her husband and daughter-in-law. Mary and I actually met back in February, yet just recently started talking. After realizing that we had a "kindred spirit" in common, a trip to the beach seemed like just the right thing. Friday was low-key and wonderful (boat, wine, dinner, conversation), and then came the marathon day we call Saturday. The day of freaking deliriousness.

That morning we decided to head over to Bald Head Island. It was about 8a when we figured we could easily catch the 9.15 ferry from Kure Beach to South Port. About 45 minutes later we had our route planned and our bikes in order. Eight miles in 30 minutes really isn't much, except when you are me and not used to biking in wind and have no idea where you are going. Mary is a power-house though and kept us moving. She pulled up to the gate house just to hear, "The ferry is leaving! Hurry, and get on". So get on we did. $2.00 gets a person and a bike a spot on the wall and a perfectly basic trip across the water.

We managed to catch the South Port to Bald Head ferry in exactly the same way...except there were cute boys in uniform to take our bikes. That and a balcony seat to enjoy the view as you ferry from the common-folk to the money-people. That is probably how they justified the $15 person and $16 bike charge. Oh I love transition.

A day on Bald Head is the perfect way to alleviate stress. The wind, the beach, the people, the trees, the Turtle Time. There is peace. And with peace comes laughter and the ability to smile naturally...without even thinking about it.

On Bald Head you leave your bike and shoes on the road and walk along the beach without worry. You park your bike at a restaurant without locking it and you do not worry. You spend the day hot and dirty and cycling around the island, and the worry is gone.

While we were waiting for the ferry back to Kure Beach, Mary was reminded that she should take her new friend to the Fat Pelican. Well, I can honestly tell you that the 6.5 mile trek going against the north wind to reach this delightful local dive bar was sooooooooo worth it. I could not find my five anywhere in the ride, but once I was there I said YAY. I mean COME ON! They let you wander into the beer cooler and pick your bottle. The beer cooler is a freaking tractor trailer. Is that not fabulous? Beer paradise. Or simply an oasis when you are now sunburned, exhausted and just plain happy. My feet were so cramped after 7 hours on my bike, that I took them off with glee and thrust my bare feet into the dirty bar sand of the patio.

Me...no make-up, in work-out clothes, hair a salt and wind mess, legs and back groaning, too much sun, too little soap...in public and laughing all the way.

I no longer have issues. Who needs a five? At this point, not me. I simply need to be depleted with a friend and a Fat Tire in hand. Happy is here. Thanks Miss Mary.

The Third Pet, The Big Pet

2009-09-16T07:03:00.003-04:00

We have a cat and a dog, and they are good pets. Oftentimes needy, but definitely good. I also have a third pet. One that is all mine and one that is never more than 3 inches from me. I suppose I should be thankful that he's extended his distance that much, as previously we've just been connected. His name is Bernie and he is a giant elephant.

Bernie is big. Bernie is bossy. Bernie likes to sit on my chest. Bernie also changes color depending on his mood. And since he sits on my chest most of the time, his color greatly affects mine. When he is bright red and angry, I can feel my temperature rising. When he is blue and sad, so am I. When he is bright and green, I want to ask about things I know I shouldn't and I push lots of buttons. When he is yellow, I am calm. When he is pink, I am filled with ADD and jumping around like a five year-old. He is rarely gray and he rarely lets me sleep.

Sometimes I run as fast as I can to get away from Bernie, but he keeps catching me. So I take great pleasure in the moments where he steps far enough away so that I can breathe and just simply be.

Iona my dear, bite the elephant. Bite him hard so that he goes away. Go away, Bernie. Go away.

This Is Why I Am Here

2009-09-13T19:20:00.004-04:00

I fell a little in love with North Carolina today.

Sunny, warm, clear and spectacular...the weather just begged to be used, to be enjoyed. I sat out on the front porch with coffee and then Michael and I headed out to the American Tobacco Trail (ATT). This is a "rails-to-trails" project which spans over 22 miles through Durham, Chatham and Wake counties. it is a wonderfully flat stretch of trail that is both paved and gravel and has interesting scenery - both in plant and human form.

I had to look up the history and discovered that the ATT is an abandoned railroad bed originally built for the American Tobacco Company. J.B. Duke founded the company in 1890 and the rail lines served his processing plants and warehouses in Durham. They started laying the tracks in 1905 and they were used until the 1970s when the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers built the Jordon Lake reservoir and the tracks needed to be relocated. It appears that the ATT was developed in 1992 and continues to be expanded. I love local history and I now love the ATT.

We started at the White Church Road lot and biked north for about 5 miles until we ran out of paved surface, (they are finishing a middle section that is currently being regraded), biked back to the lot and then decided to go another 6 miles to the trailhead. That of course meant we needed to come back another 6, totalling 21.8 miles.

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/nc/apex/198125287301062365"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;iMapMyRide Sep 13, 2009 11:50 PM&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br/&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.mapmyride.com/find-ride/united-states/nc/apex"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Find more Bike Rides in Apex, North Carolina&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

I then spent a portion of the afternoon outside with Iona until I realized my library books were due. So we threw them in the corgi buggy and ran up to the Cameron Village library. I can't say that Iona was very pleased about the experience, as she hates to share her buggy space.

She chilled a bit after the books were returned and she was able to get petted a few times by strangers. We then collapsed in our hammock after the run. As the sun was disappearing behind the house next door, we finally decided it was OK to go inside. Sigh, good Sunday. Now Sunday is done.

Who Lives Here?

2009-09-09T08:49:00.004-04:00

This morning I looked around the house and was confused. "Who the heck is living here?" The Iona simply raised her head off the floor, stared at me for a couple seconds, and then promptly resumed position with a thunk to the hardwood.

At first glance, you might say...nice people live here, travelers, lovers of odd art, people with eclectic taste and style. Look a little closer and you will see orange fur balls rolling through the foyer, a restless bed unmade, and a stack of unread mail tossed on a table. The dishwasher, although clean, is also full. That means the sink and nearby counter are stacked with cups, some popcorn bowls and a plate or two. Across the kitchen near the backdoor are all the recyclables that are too big to fit in the under-counter bin. They consist mostly of wine bottles. There are running shoes haphazardly kicked off near the front door and the pillows are in disarray on the living room couch. Who, who is living here????

My retentive self seems to have taken a vacation, a holiday, a reprieve. While this may be good for the others in my life that don't necessarily care about an organized house, this will soon come to drive me crazy. In fact, this morning I decided the state of my abode was probably the reason I haven't been sleeping again at night. At least this is what I told myself. Today. If you disagree, shush with your rational thoughts, as I am going with this.

And with that, I tornadoed around the house earlier today and put things in order. Dishwasher unloaded, mail read, counters clear, shoes away, pillows plumped, bed made, recyclables sorted, and furballs...well, a girl can only accomplish so much before dawn. I will take care of that this evening after the gym. And then perhaps I will look around and say, "I live here". And then I will sleep.

It's Good to Say Great

2009-09-08T12:07:00.002-04:00

It's only natural that when you come off a long holiday weekend, that people ask you how it was. How wonderful is it to be able to say that it was great? It is so freaking unbelievably good to say "great". "I had a GREAT weekend". "HA, take that. It was FREAKING GREAT".

Michael and I did a lot of interesting things over the past four days. We biked through Umstead, we ran at the gym, we worked out together, he made me dinner, we walked the dog, we ran errands, we saw "Inglorious Basterds", and we did a lot of talking. A lot, a lot of talking. And it was good.

Even though I wasn't sure I could walk Sunday after the second 10 mile plus bike ride, I decided to go back to the gym this evening. After running two miles, I joined a pick-up volleyball game. Oh that was too much fun! I hadn't played in years, and I forgot how much I loved it.

Now I am certain that I will not be able to walk straight tomorrow. I do not care, because this was good. No, this was great. It was really freaking great.

August be Damned

2009-09-01T09:21:00.000-04:00

August 2009 is done. It is over, it is gone, it does not need to be repeated. Granted, the Chinese calendar has the 7th Month ending on September 7th, so I unfortunately have a few days of this tumultuous period left.

According to the Chinese calendar, my outlook over the next couple of months still appears challenging. Lillian Too's 2009 Guide to Fortune and Feng Shui says this about my 8th Month, "Patience is a virtue. Your luck is pretty mixed this month. Good things are peppered with bad, but you can come through ahead if you play your cards right. If you can keep your temper in check, you don't have much to worry about. Others may vex you but try not to react. Don't voice your feelings so readily, as those feelings may change. Give everything thought before action. Liken this month to LIVING IN SLOW MOTION."

Oh hell, living in slow motion? I already feel like this is how things are going. Every day I look at the calendar and think...we are only here? I have how many more months of this?

If I follow the guide closely, I have to really hang in there until November 7th. From there I get "some glorious breakthroughs".

In the meantime, I am relishing in these early days of September as much as I can. At 12.01a on the 1st I received a phone call that made me smile. Later that morning I woke up to find the house cool and the weather deceptively fall-like.

Perhaps it is best for me not to be looking so far ahead. One day, one thing. One day, and today is a good one.

One Day, One Thing

2009-08-30T08:02:00.003-04:00

My suddenly wise youngest sister has provided me with the most sage advice. One Day, one thing. Just concentrate on doing one positive thing every day, and then focus on the next. Some days it is all about breathing, others it is getting dressed in something I like, and once it was just going to the grocery store.

Yesterday was all about harnessing the nervousness. Instead of feeling fearful, I was filled with nervous excitement. I replaced apprehension with anticipation. I had forgotten what a wonderful state of being that is. That feeling when you are so eager to see someone and when you do, it is just as great as you hoped it would be.

Today it was about a moment of positive regression. Iona and I were running this morning and we passed the swings in the park. They were empty and I was inspired. When is the last time I had been on a swing, flying as high as I can? That exhilaration of going higher and higher and then plummeting to the bottom. Without even thinking, I just jumped. Fortunately I didn't fall or break anything, although I did feel a little nauseous afterward. It was worth it. One day, one thing. Today it was swings.

It's All About the Food

2009-08-29T08:38:00.003-04:00

I've recently lost my love affair with food. It's not that I don't appreciate it, or still get hungry, I am simply uninterested. I no longer have cravings, or a desire to taste the complexity of the unexpected, or the simplicity of the familiar. This is very strange as I come from a long line of food-for-festival people. We celebrate with food, we mourn with food, we are bored with food. We are Wisconsin people, and damn it, we love our food.

So it comes with great consternation that I neglect my familial roots and take this path (albeit most likely temporary) of complacency. Please do not misunderstand, it does come with a benefit...a sudden missing of 12 pounds in three weeks.

Tonight I ate. I possibly ate more than a kid's meal sized portion and that alone is a huge step. Tomorrow I will attempt to eat for an adolescent.

My lack of food excitement in no way eliminates the possibility of great stories. For example, on our first night in Door County we were in this delightful little bar for dinner. I was slightly shocked that they had Ahi Tuna on the menu and I was sober enough to enquire the whereabouts. "Where does your Ahi come from?", I asked. "Ahhhhhhh, from the Sysco truck", was the response. Loved the answer and then chose something else. Honesty is never overrated.

The next morning we found ourselves a little local haunt and began yet another wonderful mother-daughter day. We were sitting on the patio and had just ordered when we noticed this horrible rumble coming from nearby. It was a truck. A meat processing truck. Yes, I said A MEAT PROCESSING TRUCK. We laughed and laughed until they needed to IV the Bloody Marys just so that we stayed hydrated.

Even during times of fasting, food still finds me. And in familial form I find it soothing and oh so comforting...even if it does come from the back of a mighty large white truck.

Genie in a Bottle

2009-08-24T16:24:00.008-04:00

Everyone needs a genie once in a while. Someone that takes you unexpectedly from the state you are in and transports you to a better place. This should happen without your input or your control. Think "I Dream of Jeannie" with a little bit more common sense. My Jeannie came in the form of my friends Rob and Todd.

I expected to have a horrible weekend. I envisioned myself pacing around the house in circles and just making myself crazy. Instead I was kidnapped. Kidnapped by the genies.

Saturday morning we drove up to Blowing Rock and spent a delightful day. It literally started in the car, when Todd challenged me to a game of travel Scrabble. You have no idea how happy it makes me to play Scrabble with a worthy opponent. A competition of words. Oh yeah baby, bring it.

While Iona lounged, we battled, we laughed, and ultimately I KICKED HIS ASS. It certainly helped that I had the Z, a Y, the Q, and the X. And he had a raging toothache, so his brain may have been fuzzy. No matter...I won :-)

We enjoyed lunch at an outdoor cafe that had good food and horrendous service. No matter, the wine flowed and the corgi was happy just hanging. I also laughed harder than I thought I could right now.

From there, we went up to Grandfather Mountain. OH MY. This is so my element. The views are extraordinary, and the future hiking opportunities gave me such hope. We walked (I may have skipped) across the mile-high swing bridge and climbed up on rocks that provided this amazing perspective of the earth, the ground, the air...without barriers or fences. I was calm, yet amped up. It was the most perfect place they could have taken me. I wanted to just stand on top of that mountain and just...be. That day, I had no fear.

My favorite quote of the day? "This crazy bitch is out on a rock, on a mountain, in her damn high heels and a skirt. I'm in deck shoes and scared to death."

Of course, our day would not have been complete without a tour of the best restaurants and bars of Blowing Rock. "I swear the shots haven't hit me. Do you want me to recite the alphabet? A,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,l,p,r, oh hell." I shall not name names!

Thank you genies. One day. One thing at a time.

Break the Curse

2009-08-20T08:00:00.002-04:00

My youngest sister got engaged last Saturday. I am so thrilled that she found someone that loves her, respects her, and now wants to spend the rest of his life with her. We Neumann women don't claim to be easy, but we are certainly worth it if you both take the chance and stick with it. Thank you Jason for taking that chance. She is absolutely worth it.

I am hoping that this bit of a bright light will finally break this nasty spell of August. I know of too many people that are struggling right now. Just lots of rough things happening with people I like and respect. In one situation, I expect it is my fault. Earlier this month my mom asked me who she should "hex" for me. I didn't verbally give her the name, but I did "send" it to her. I think my own emotional dysfunction caused mom's energy to get misguided. Instead of it being aimed at the person I intended, it landed on my friend Valerie.

Valerie has had one hell of a month. The things that have happened to her are actually kind of funny. Out of respect though, you need to giggle behind your hand or snicker silently. She somehow managed to chip her tooth on a spoon and then her car became possessed. The damn car had no one in it, and no power to it, and the radio was on and the windshield wipers were flapping wildly. Oh, and the car itself wouldn't start. Yes, I laughed.

I know my mom meant well, but it appears I will need to retract my hex request. Hmmmm....or I just need to be more clear. Mom, you listening????

Weekend with Women

2009-08-10T17:55:00.008-04:00

Women often say ridiculous things. Put them together after much time apart, inject them with lots of alcohol, and you have flurry of gut-wrenching one-liners. So was this past weekend celebrating my mom's birthday in Door County with my mom and sisters. At one point, I think all four of us were in tears at a restaurant, completely doubled over in laughter. We'd absolutely freaking lost it.

The stories are both frivolous and extremely endearing. I will share when I can collect my brain. Perhaps it is still marinating, but I expect it is simply just full.

In the meantime, here are some of the best comments of the weekend (thank you Blackberry Notes.)

That's how you get rid of a hangover. You just slide right into another drunk.
You never reap what you sow in your own garden.
When I see people on motorcycles, I just want to hit the first one and watch them all tip over like dominoes.
I had a munchie basket last night and now it is all in my bra.
We could have walked here you bumble heads!

It's fourth meal, bitches!!!
The only reason I am taking my pants off is in case of an emergency.
Mom, you eat your pie.
Did mom dance around in her unitard to Jane Fonda?
How did you wear out your pants? From sitting?
I loved my Lucy pants!
I'm pretty if you drink.
What's better than a drunk? A snorting drunk.

That woman was always on the sauce. That's it Elizabeth! You are just saucy!
You come when I honk you.
Maybe I am actually an idiot.
I don't want a shirt that says 'crockery'.

Mom and sisters, I adore you. Thanks for this weekend of just great fun. I cherish the pain in my side, my ailing liver, and all of you dearly.

More to Love

2009-08-06T10:28:00.002-04:00

A couple nights ago, Michael and I were hanging out on the couch playing 20 questions. If you haven't done this with your spouse/partner/loved one lately, I highly recommend it. You can still learn a lot of interesting things by those answers. You have to be prepared though, for things you didn't expect or perhaps didn't actually want to hear. A gin and tonic or two aids the process.

While we were engaged in this little tete-a-tete, we lost track of what was on the television screen behind us. Suddenly we were immersed in this horrid show called "More To Love". Now, I am not a reality show snob. I love The Amazing Race, Survivor, Design Star, ANTM, and the Biggest Loser. I have also been known to get sucked into American Idol and a host of other examples of real people embarrassing themselves. I have never though, understood the Bachelor, the Bachelorette, and any of the other "find your true love" programs. They all seem to give ONE person the permission to manipulate the emotions of others. They are given permission to cheat and overall be lying bastards. And people seem OK with that.

I've been told that More to Love is basically the Bachelor with fat people. Great, take a bunch of women with low self-esteem and make them live together and fight for a stupid man. Oh my, how freaking sad and wrong. This idiot has 20 or so plus-size women swooning all over him. He basically tells one of them that she is beautiful and special, and that he could fall in love with her. Then there is some making out (and who knows how much more off camera). And then he moves on to the next woman and DOES THE SAME THING. I am simply perplexed. He is cheating on all of them, and they continue to beg for his attention. WHERE IS THE SENSE? I am just speechless.

Thank goodness I have Top Chef and Project Runway to look forward to in a couple weeks. I need a healthy dose of reality where people simply backstab others in order to get themselves ahead in the world. Not simply to inflate their own self-worth and hurt those that they claim "to love".

Into the Wild

2009-08-04T06:39:00.002-04:00

I slept last night. I mean I really slept. I can't actually remember the last time I wasn't either lying awake at 1a or wandering around the house aimlessly at 3a. I don't know if it was because the Chupa was quiet (we locked her in a bathroom) or if I just couldn't keep going down the exhausting path any longer. No matter, because I slept.

When Iona and I stepped outside this morning to run, the sun was peeking out and the air was cool. Sometime last night the humidity just went away. I wish some other things would just disappear so easily.

We ran and ran with Eddie Vedder loudly whispering in my ears. As great as Pearl Jam is, he is so much more poignant alone. And the "Into the Wild" soundtrack is nothing short of magnificent. This is what I listen to when my tolerance is low or when I know my anxiety is running high. The funny thing is, I used to listen to this each and every time I was waiting to board a flight in Cebu. There was something about this small Philippine airport that made me incredibly edgy. I would feel my heartbeat start pounding and I would lose my ability to concentrate on anything other than the noise around me. I would sit at the gate wanting to literally run out the door or tell the people around me to just shut up. Instead I would turn my iPod on Eddie as loud as I could handle, and just take it down a few notches. Much better choice.

I leave for Wisconsin again tomorrow night. My mom's birthday is later this week and all the daughters are getting together to celebrate with her in Door County. I look forward to seeing them, spending some nonsense time together, and giving Eddie a rest for a few days.

I'm Back...and a Little Blue

2009-07-31T16:24:00.000-04:00

My posts have gotten very sporadic and for this I apologize. I think I have forgotten how to travel and be productive. Maybe its the incredible lack of sleep recently. Whatever it is, I am feeling less than inspired.

Late last week I was in Wisconsin for work. Since I needed to be there Friday for training and Monday for launch, I stayed the weekend. Those days were very interesting, and for the most part very good. Somehow in four days I fit in travel, work meetings, a new project launch, a county fair, delightful parent time, several dinners, a college graduation, an art fair, and lots and lots of four year-old time.

I plan to post all the pictures when I get access to them (not my camera), but in the meantime, I can talk about some of my nonsense time.

Michael and I are lucky to have a herd of nephews and a beautiful niece. One of the nephews lives next door to my parents, which means if you are in one of the houses, you are certain to have his company. Since I last saw him, he has evolved tremendously and is even funnier than he was before. I kid you not, this small person makes me want to be a parent. I have never met a child (and I said this even when he was a baby!), that makes me go, "hmmmm...I want one of these. This would make me a better person".

I have considered ways of stealing him, and I even offered to buy him. Sadly, my brother and his dear wife love this child and want to keep him. Perhaps if he is still talking up a storm and having tantrums behind the couch in three months they might reconsider. I am hoping so. He would fit perfectly in our half-of-house.

In the meantime, I would like you to envision me running around my parent's front yard playing "soccer" with a beach ball. We then moved on to countless games of "basketball" where we threw said ball into a tree. Then for some reason I was instructed to sit behind the tree with my eyes closed while my nephew sat on the other side. We were not allowed to speak. This was followed by a sneak attack around the house, pretend camping, and snack time. When asked what type of snack he wanted, he replied with, "I can have anything I want. Nana says". I could use a few of those mindless activities at the moment.

The weekend is baring down upon us and I am optimistic that I will get out of my funk.I need some rainy days and a glass or two of wine on the front porch. I really need to feel awesome. As my darling nephew says, "I awesome, I so awesome". Oh please, please, please....make me awesome.

Work Makes it Better

2009-07-23T16:56:00.005-04:00

Lately I've been feeling worn down and brutally serious. I'm a worrier by nature and I've unfortunately let a few things get to me and interrupt my normal state of being. I am on a plane at 6a tomorrow morning and while I normally would be thrilled, I am a tad apprehensive this trip. Michael and I still have a lot to sort out, and I feel conflicted about leaving for 5 days. So I must then thank work for distracting me.

Two very amusing things happened today. One, we are holding an office decorating contest. Each group in the organization is creating a space that they can claim as their own. There are murals, and wall art and crazy themes everyone. We even have a cubicle bowling alley. The teams have worked exceptionally hard and the results are incredible. I will post more as they come in.On another note, I was handed a list today of all the things that another department overheard one of MY teams talking about. Keep in mind that these are good people and the team is actually very productive. They just have a stream of consciousness that is not exactly HR-friendly. Which means of course that I absolutely love it. Here are a few of my favorite topics (there were 37 on the list) that some of my employees talk about during business hours:

Maury Povich
Zombies
Nonobots
Robots
Kielbasa (I must point out that the eavesdropping department spelled this wrong! Geez, are non of them from Wisconsin?)
Ritualistic Serial Killers
The Visually Impaired
Magnetic Testicles
Racial Habits and Credit, Cars, and Divorce
Zombies...again
Christopher Walken's nude modeling career with cats
Chicken phobias
Flaws in forensic procedures
How to cut up and dispose of a human body, and
Utilizing racial stereotypes to inspire fear. Not to be serious, but just to screw with people.

So say the future leaders. So say the backbone. This list is so going up on my board. I shall refer to it often.

They are Trying to Kill Me

2009-07-21T15:52:00.003-04:00

I thought pets were good for a person. Science says that people who own pets have lower blood pressure, live longer, and are overall just happier. These said scientists are full of crap, because my pets are trying to push me into an early grave.

Jazmine (the oldest cat on earth) disappeared awhile back. Just poof, gone. We looked for her and left her bed and food out where she could find it, but she never returned. We sadly assumed that she went off to die, because she really was that old. I know, I know, I have been bitching about her for some time.. The Vomitorium has made me crazy, and poor Michael is still finding fur attached to his socks. But we miss her. She is the only pet that was with us as we started our journey together from Wisconsin, to Texas, to California and now North Carolina. The others we picked up along the way.

We just assumed we would never see her again or know what really happened...until I swear I saw her last week. I was out running with Iona one morning and saw this black blur across the street. I would swear to anyone that it was Jazmine. She froze. I froze. I said "Jazmine?" and Iona woofed. At that point the cat crawled down into one of the giant sidewalk sewer drains. My heart was just pounding and I know it wasn't from the run.

Then there is Chupa. I don't know if she is having separation issues, but she is freaking nutso. At one point in her life, we didn't think she knew how to meow. Now I want to rip it out of her. She starts meowing at 3a and continues until both Michael and I are out of bed. Then she goes back to bed. At night she climbs all over us on the couch and meows her head off. Oh for the love of god, make it stop. Again, the blood pressure just keeps rising.

Iona the Cancer Corgi seems fine, but her saga is far from over. Apparently Iona's vet and oncologist were chatting today and want the dog to be on thyroid meds twice a day. For THE REST OF HER LIFE. They are pretty sure that her rapid weight gain is due to the haywire hormones and are worried that there will be other nasty effects if untreated. They also want her to undergo chest x-rays every three months to ensure the cancer has not come back in her lungs. Every three months? Ohhhhhhhhhh, this just makes my stomach hurt. Every vet visit is now a trial of patience and stress and just sheer exhaustion for both of us. Scientists are stupid. My pets are really trying to kill me.

Let's call it a Revival

2009-07-19T19:08:00.003-04:00

I officially declare our week of roller coaster emotional turmoil OVER. Last Friday I was honestly concerned that Michael and I were not going to get over the stupid and unnecessary mess we had found ourselves in. Why is it that two people that love each other and have been together for over 16 years can be so hurtful?

Come last Saturday we were repairing the damage and assessing next steps. By Sunday I was utterly exhausted and amazingly hopeful. We put a path together and seemed committed to execution. And then Michael's grandmother died. That simultaneously took away all of our short-term structure and rushed everything back into perspective. You get one shot at this. And that one time goes incredibly fast.

The week was a blur of meetings, and color, and Catholicism, and frustration, and elation. We loved seeing Michael's family, and just wished it were under better circumstances. Too much of the past several days are fuzzy. There always seemed to be too many people involved in a conversation and it felt near impossible to finish a thought and carry on with something legitimate. I do know I ate way too much Italian and no amount of running will fix it.

I must say though, that the service for Grannie was very respectful, entertaining and just beautifully spiritual. I don't proclaim to understand all the components of the Catholic mass, but the symbolic nature of it is visually incredible. I was honored to sit and listen to the priest and more importantly Michael's mother. She did her own mother justice with the eulogy. Simple, honest, and perfectly fair. And very heartbreaking.

So on to less emotional topics. One of the things that came of out of our weekend from hell, was my need to get more involved in two of the things that take up much of Michael's time. Hashing and the Y. While I have not figured out my upper hand with hashing, I have with the gym. I am going to the gym, and I got a membership today. Yes, I initially did it for him, but there is much for me to gain in this as well. They have ballroom dancing classes. I have been trying to get Michael to do this for years. He wanted me to go with him to the gym, and they have ballroom dancing classes. Guess what we are doing each and every Wednesday night? Things are looking up. Prepare to dance off that pasta, baby. Dance it off.

Happy Birthday Husband

2009-07-16T07:57:00.002-04:00

I just dropped Michael off at the airport, so that he will be in Milwaukee in time for his grandmother's viewing. It is his 39th birthday. So far 2009 has been quite tumultuous, so I am hopeful that this birthday resets things a bit and we get to even out our life.

Several years ago I spent my birthday at the funeral of his Aunt in South Bend, IN. I do not suggest celebrating in this way. You internally torture yourself with snippets of happiness which in turn make you feel guilty, which then you are reminded of the sad day, which makes you feel worse. Try to avoid the blend if at all possible.

With all things though, there is the push and the pull. In this case, Michael gets to spend his birthday with his family. He gets to be with his mom who he does not see enough. And they get to be a necessary support to each other. Now that I read it, that doesn't sound too bad. Happy Birthday Husband. I love you.

It has to happen to everyone

2009-07-14T13:16:00.002-04:00

Michael's grandmother passed away yesterday. Although she hadn't been well recently, it is still a sad situation. She was surrounded either in person or on the phone by her daughters, some friends and a priest. She was also able to hear from other family members right before, including Michael. To have so much love near you at the end is a fortunate thing. I hope it brought her peace.

Her death came on the heels of a rough weekend for us. I have often said that I can count on one hand the number of times that Michael and I have actually yelled at each other. I guess I finally need to include that other hand. It's only fair to say that he didn't do the actual high voltage verbal assaulting, but he was certainly privy to it. And quite deserving, if I do say so myself. Actually, we both deserved it.

While it is not fair to either of us to get into any of the specifics, I will just say that I am thankful this weekend came to a close. I am also thankful that we made the right decisions and all will be right with the world. Well, I thought that before Monday, and then Tuesday came, and well...oy. Let me rephrase my thankfulness and say that I am grateful Michael and I got through our stuff over the weekend, or I am not certain I could effectively handle this week.

For that I am truly thankful.

Just a little twisted

2009-07-09T11:31:00.002-04:00

Michael's ankle is thankfully not broken. Like the rest of him, it is simply severely twisted. This should surprise no one that knows him. It is surprising though, that it WAS Michael that suffered such a bad sprain. He is actually pretty darn coordinated and graceful for such a large (albeit shrinking) man.

I on the other hand trip on flat and level ground. Sometimes I don't even trip, I just fall. I will just be walking happily along, and then BAM, I am knees down on the sidewalk. That's the worst part, I don't fall gracefully, I fall hard. Michael claims I go down so fast that there isn't any warning. I will be standing there one moment, and then sprawled in agony the next. So yes, it is ironic that I am still whole, and he is all busted up. Hmmm...maybe it is vindication for all the times he has laughed at me. Ha, take that! Now I shall run circles around you and your gimpiness.

The doctor told him to stay away from running for the next four weeks. Why don't I see that happening? He is already planning to walk the hash on Sunday. Yep. Twisted ankle, twisted husband, twisted head.

It's Like, it's like Fight Club

2009-07-07T21:11:00.006-04:00

Hashing is like Fight Club. You go out at night and show up at work the next day all fucked up.

No truer words have been spoken recently. Apparently this was the conversation that was going on the other night at the weekly hash (recall moment: hash = drinkers with a running problem). Appropriate and true because of Michael's recent trail experience. Something to do with stepping on a branch and getting hit in the left leg, and then later and completely separately twisting his right ankle and falling down. So on one leg he has a giant gash, (don't poke it, he gets mad), and on the right he has the below mess. WARNING! WARNING! On a good day Michael does not have pretty feet. Now he has a purple and swollen mess. Do not look if you are foot squeamish. I personally hate feet and love my otherwise cute husband. A paradoxical mess.

On with the foot.

Tomorrow he is headed to his doctor to get this checked out. I would love to be a fly on the wall when Dr. Rekuc realizes that his 11.15 is the jacked up man who was just in his office less than 3 weeks ago. For freaking esophageal dysphagia. And before that was Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. This messed up patient that until 3 months ago he had never met, and now probably wished he hadn't Or perhaps the good doctor will simply shake his head and sigh. Tomorrow we will know for certain.

Michael is also frantically itching his calves from poison ivy. From the knees up I find him damn sexy. Knees down...yeah, not so much. And let's not neglect the fact that his nasty foot is currently being elevated on my beautiful silk covered pillow. Oh, will this foot pain never end?

All Good Things

2009-07-05T22:04:00.003-04:00

All good things must come to an end, and so goes this weekend. On Friday Michael and I continued our quest to walk everywhere in Raleigh, so we wandered down to the Marigold Salon in Seaboard to get our respective hairs cut. Michael was resembling a Muppet, while I was indistinguishable beneath my horizontal Afro.

Afterwards we ate lunch at the delightful outdoor cafe at Logan's nursery. It is in the old railway station and borders the tracks, so you get the unique ambiance of the railroad while sitting amongst the greenery. Everything is homemade and their specials are always interesting. I had pistachio chicken salad and Michael ate crab cakes with shrimp pasta. Yum. We walked off lunch by first getting home and then by going up to the Y.

Later that night we saw the sweet film "Away We Go" with our friends Valerie and Mike, and had a late dinner at Macs in Cary. The food was basic bar fare, but it properly served its purpose. The beer was also cheap, the outdoor patio cool, and the live music...not so bad. We will definitely be back.

Saturday Michael worked on our yard, while I learned how to use the power sprayer. Why has no one taught me about this wand of fabulousness before? The front porch and everything on it is clean, clean, clean. Nothing makes me happier than cleanliness and organization. Well, throw in a bottle of good wine and now we are talking. I probably would have power sprayed the whole house if Michael hadn't held me back.

Before Michael left for hashing, we took a bike ride around the neighborhood. We had purchased bikes many years ago, but they have been sitting in storage for ages. They are now reconditioned and begging to be ridden. While one doesn't forget how to ride a bike, your legs do forget about the different muscle groups they need to use!

I spent the remainder of the day reading and being a hermit. I know, I know, I should have been out watching fireworks and battling crowds and mosquitoes. For some reason though, "The Terror", and the company of the corgi won.

Our good things ended that night when I saw my first roach in the house. UGGGGHHHHHH. It was on the wall in the foyer and I literally froze in horror when I saw it. I briefly debated hitting it with my slipper, but opted instead to use one of Michael's racquetball shoes. I am still surprised that some of the plaster didn't fly off the wall with the force that the roach met its demise. UGGGGGGGHHHH. They are the same ones that we've seen out on the retaining wall at night, and I guess they are starting to notice the house. Terminix will be here Tuesday.

Michael also managed to sprain his ankle on Saturday night while hashing. It seemed inevitable. We are hoping that he heals well, so not to go back to the doctor. I am afraid that his physician will think that he is actually not running for his health, but involved in some crazy cult of pain and bad things. I do not want to be reported for husband abuse.

He did manage to go to Rite Aid this morning for an ankle brace and jalapeno chips. Seriously, how are those nasty chips going to help? That is why he is not allowed to do our shopping. He then spent the rest of today confined to the couch with his leg in the air, while I transported ice and beverages. He is a lousy patient and doesn't like to listen. Heal quickly dear husband, heal quickly. If not, you will be talking to your doctor about both your ankle and that big bump on your head.

Fat is not Fab

2009-07-02T17:18:00.006-04:00

I uncharacteristically took off a couple days this week. While I worked much of yesterday anyway, it was delightful to do so from home and the comfort of my dining room. I also managed to get my oil changed, look at possible replacements for the Touareg, and run a few other minor errands.

Today Iona and I set off to the vet for her first non-cancer related appointment in months. Even before the Pig stepped on the scale, I knew the outlook was dire. My dog has again gotten fat. Granted, she is nowhere near the rotund ball of fur that she was when we rescued her many years ago, but she is plumper than necessary. I blame cancer guilt. And the buggy. Damn, I love the buggy. It is definitely benefiting me more than her though. Again with the guilt. The funny thing is that she looks cuter the fatter she is. Unlike people, animals get fuzzier and funnier looking with weight. Like stuffed animals come to life. Since I want to keep her much longer, and make her pay off cancer debt, she needs to lose the poundage. Guilt be gone.

I think that I am finally getting to the "I love Raleigh" stage. The weather has been phenomenal - hot without the humidity, with bright sun and crystal blue skies. Very unlike the 100 degree+ sauna we landed in last June. We've also been doing a lot of local things. Last Friday we wandered around downtown with some friends and hit up several places. Duck & Dumpling, The Landmark and Sitti are all highly recommended. More importantly, our night of revelry with Todd, Rob and Valerie was just what we needed. We drank, ate, laughed, and COULD have walked home if we hadn't gotten a late start and driven. The 5 minute drive was probably all that Michael SHOULD have gone behind the wheel. His recent 20 pound weight loss has made him a bit of a light-weight.

This afternoon I did walk back downtown to meet Valerie for lunch. My iPod kept me company as I wandered around and peered in shops and checked out restaurants we haven't yet been to. Lunch at the Raleigh Times was divine, as was the company and the summer drink specials. This time I did walk home and didn't regret a moment of it. Sunburned and buzzed, I spent the remainder of the afternoon engulfed in The Terror (Dan Simmons...must read). I love that everything I need is within strolling distance. Now I must figure out how to work in the neighborhood. Could my new Raleigh life involve being car-less? Yeah, probably not so much. Let's not completely de-LA myself. A girl's got to keep the West coast thing going as long as she can.

Full Disclosure

2009-06-29T20:41:00.000-04:00

Every weekend I stand in our backyard and sigh. It is such a freaking disaster and no matter how well Michael mows and whacks, it doesn't change the fact that our yard is literally dirt and weeds. The fence fund was used to treat the cancer corgi and the landscaping cash went towards a new roof instead. Yes, even we have priorities.

We have put lots of blood, sweat, tears and money into the house, and I love how it all turned out. But let's be honest here, we live in only 1/2 a house. We have a 1/2 built house, and the rest...well the rest is not yet a house. Some day it will be! In fact I am quite confident that in 2010 it will become whole. In the meantime though, let's disclose. I mean, god forbid anyone think that we are actually done with this whole historic house restoration thing. Here's the dish.

When we were still thinking that we could both mentally and financially afford to complete the whole shebang, we had the covered sleeping porch removed, the deck ripped out, and the concrete slab poured for the new addition. That also meant that the siding along the back of the house was torn off, windows were covered, and doors...well, doors went nowhere.

Our future master bedroom currently makes a fabulous patio. This is where I read and sunbathe most weekends and dream about actually sleeping in this space.

Our master closet makes a divine outdoor dining area. The window you see will someday become a door expanding into the bathroom.

The grill lives in the hallway in front of the "stairs" leading to the second floor and the guest suite. Iona likes to lay in the laundry room, which presently houses our electrical box. Someday that added little room means the washer and dryer will no longer live in our bathroom. Then we can blow out the wall and finally turn it into a true master bath. Don't tell Michael, but I secretly yearn harder for a laundry room than the master bath. There is just something exciting about that little room dedicated just to cleaning clothes.

As for the rest of the yard? Try and try to visualize the New Orleans courtyard that we have in our heads. Fountains, a patio, lots of flowers and greenery. A little deck and french doors off the bedroom. It's there under all that dirt. Somewhere, oh somewhere. It is there.

The Long Walk

2009-06-24T20:44:00.004-04:00

In 1979 Stephen King published a novella called "The Long Walk" under his pseudonym Richard Bachman. King had actually written it about 10 years prior but couldn't find anyone to publish it. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend. It is not a traditional horror story, but the America that is depicted is probably not one where you want to live. Although, that itself might classify it as more than a thriller. Originally the manuscript was part of "The Bachman Books", but that collection is now out of print due to the sensitivity of the first story, "Rage". While incredibly riveting and well-written, it spins the tale of a high school shooting and that was a bit too uncomfortable for many after Columbine. With that said, the collection is still available from used bookstores and "The Long Walk" has been published separately. So back to the story...

The Long Walk is an annual ubermarathon where 100 boys volunteer to walk as far and long as they can. The race ends when there is only one boy still walking. If they fall below 4 MPH, they receive a warning. You can work off a warning by staying above 4 MPH for another hour. After 3 warnings, you are shot. Shot dead. The winner receives anything and everything he might want for the rest of his life. Unfortunately the winner is most often insane by the time they are the last standing.

Last weekend Michael and I decided to go on our own Long Walk. We had been talking about what to do for our 15th wedding Anniversary in October and had been thinking about a weekend trip. After tossing around some ideas, we came upon something that sounded both better...and just right. The Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. The event is being held in Charlotte the weekend after our Anniversary, so it is just perfect. It is also the 15th anniversary of my grandmother's death to breast cancer. No need to say more more. It just is right to do this.

So, we will be looking for help with the fundraising and will need all the support and inspiration that you all can provide. Our Long Walk is either 26.2 or 39 miles over two days. It seems rather daunting at the moment, but I am pretty certain that Avon doesn't condone shooting the losers. Although...that might be the motivation many of us need. That King guy might have been on to something.

2009-06-22T13:25:00.001-04:00

The Perils of Running

2009-06-19T09:43:00.004-04:00

So far, running has been good for the both of us. Michael has already lost about 15 pounds and his blood pressure is lower. It gets me up and moving in the morning, instead of just burying my head in email at 5.30a. And most importantly, running has simultaneously allowed us to spend more time together, yet still be independent. He has hashing every week and a new group of friends, I have running alone every morning with Iona, and the three of us walk to the Y every night as a family. It's pretty cool actually.

Of course there are some challenges with this newly found passion.

Dare I repeat this again? Spiders and ticks and all the other creepy things that choose to bit Michael and give him crazy ailments.

My lack of appetite in the morning, but this insatiable urge to eat in the afternoons.

The fact that I am usually the first person on the sidewalks in the morning, so I am the first to find all the spiderwebs that went up overnight.

The mountain of laundry. We each wear multiple outfits a day. And Michael's gym clothes cannot sit in the basket unwashed for too long. Oh the horror.

The absolute hostility that radiates from me on the days that I don't get to run.

Poor Iona is getting fat from all the buggy rides. And yes, she now knows what and where the buggy is.

Michael will soon be needing new clothes. I did not budget for all this weight loss.

I have a new appreciation for my running shoes and am painfully admitting that they are much more comfortable then 5 inch heels.

Neither of us have yet to know how well we will fare in 110 degree heat and humidity or snow and cold. Weather be damned.

Our alcohol consumption has dropped dramatically. While this may sound positive, you don't all understand. We have some serious drinking friends and family. One cannot afford to be a lightweight with this crowd. You will find yourself sitting on a stranger's front porch wearing a poncho if you can't hold your own.

With that said...it is Friday. A run and a glass of wine on the porch sounds absolutely delightful. I have got to stay in practice.

Stupid things

2009-06-18T21:07:00.006-04:00

This afternoon I broke the heel off my shoe. I wasn't even walking, rather I was simply sitting at my desk and the heel snapped right off. Snapped off my pretty, hot pink, pointy, fabulous shoe. Damn. Weird part is that I wasn't even mad. I just happily hobbled around all afternoon. Granted, my right calf hurt like hell; yet I wasn't mad that my lovely shoe was hurt. I blame the damn running for my peace of mind.

All the running in the world can't make me feel better about a few things though. "Was the weatherman asking us questions? I thought we were gonna get Matt Lauer. We were thrown off that the weatherman was trying to talk to Speidi". Arrggghhhh. If you want your head to spin, you have to watch the saintly Al Roker interrogate the two-headed moronic monster. How can they possibly think they are ANYTHING? And why do all the other stupid people in America fuel them on? Oh, I must not question such things or my eye will explode.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Me and my broken pink shoe are just going to crawl into bed now and say nice things to each other. Shoe is far less dangerous now that his heel is laying in my handbag. Maybe the stupid people will be quiet in the morning.

Communication Challenges

2009-06-17T20:16:00.005-04:00

Last night Michael and i had a few moments of misunderstanding. He had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon, so he swung home beforehand to drop his things off. While there, he fed Iona dinner. A few hours later I unsuspectingly arrived home to find a seemingly starving dog waiting for me. So I fed her dinner. We now refer to her by her Indian name of Two Dinners.

Two Dinners the Fat Pig could have been avoided if I was somehow able to communicate with my husband. We have these things called paper, yet there was no note left for me. We also have these crazy ass devices that have phone, IM, text, email capabilities. Yet, no success when I attempted all of these channels. Numerous times.

"Where, oh where is my husband?", I wonder. It was now after 7p and I didn't believe his doctor appointment could have lasted that long. Then I start worrying that they found something in his blood work and kept him there. Let's face it, he has had a series of weird things lately. AND he had this big bug bite on his leg that he was going to ask the doc about. Maybe he was chewed on by something poisonous in the woods and they checked him into the hospital. Where was he?

Finally the intense rays of my concern managed to burrow into his brain and I received an IM. He was out running trails in Umstead park. BY HIMSELF. Where no one knew where he was.

My darling husband who in the past month has had a tick-borne illness, an esophageal dilation, and numerous bites and scratches...goes running in the woods alone, and no one knew where he was. Sigh, I could not handle children. Iona and Michael seem to want to use up all my worry on themselves. I couldn't stay mad at him though, as his doctor was impressed that his blood pressure is down and he's lost 15 pounds. Sorry to say that he'll be gaining a little of that back once I staple his Blackberry to his hand.

Sheer joy

2009-06-15T19:53:00.007-04:00

Sometimes a girl just has to do things because they make her grin. I was saving these for when I was mad at Michael and simultaneously wanted to punish him and give myself some glee. That has not yet happened, and so I do this completely gratuitously. You will not be able to help yourself. You will laugh.

He has been participating with the Sir Walter's Hash House Harriers...or Drinkers with a running problem. At least once a week they go forging through trails, and woods and streams for 4-6 miles.

Sometimes they run on dry concrete. Sometimes they wear dresses. OK, so they only wear dresses once a year, but I think that is more than enough.

We shall not even speak about the fact that this dress was actually owned and worn by a woman. We shall not speak of it, as that would just be mean, mean, mean. Oh, there I go grinning again.

A Tad Bit of Delirium

2009-06-12T05:52:00.003-04:00

Michael's procedure went very well yesterday. They knocked him out, stuck the tube down his throat, thrust a balloon in his esophagus and then dilated it. Apparently he's suffered from moderate to severe heartburn long enough that there is scar tissue built up in there. That has been causing some issues that he would like to avoid in the future.

He was still pretty groggy when they called me back to the post-surgery area. The doctor came to talk to us and the first thing I noticed, (after the man's lack of stature), was the rapid fire way that Michael was asking questions. He kept interrupting the doctor and wouldn't let him complete a full sentence. Don't get me wrong, Michael was asking good questions...he was just asking them like he would never, ever, get to see another medical professional for the rest of his life that would be able to answer these questions. They also gave us complete written records in case Michael didn't believe me later when I reminded him that he was to stick to soft food, and not to eat meat or drink alcohol for at least 24 hours.

After the doctor left, Michael proceeded to show me how he could alter his heart rate, by ONLY USING HIS MIND. I hope he keeps using this super power for good instead of evil. Then his nurse came in with a a small cup of liquid.

Nurse: Here is your Diet Coke.

Michael: My what?

Nurse: Your Diet Coke.

Michael: Why are you giving me a Diet Coke?

Nurse: Because you asked for it.

Michael: I ASKED for a DIET COKE?

At this point both the nurse and I are laughing at his utter disbelief in requesting a Diet Coke. In all honesty, in 15 years of marriage I have never heard him ask for a Diet Coke, so I do understand his surprise.

Michael of course wanted to know what else he had said that he didn't remember and the nurse side-stepped that a bit. She claimed that patients usually got too embarrassed when they heard the nonsense they were spouting, so she kept that entertainment to herself. Michael was persistent though, so she provided him with this dialogue exchange that occurred while she was adjusting his IV:

Michael: You have really cold hands!

Nurse: You know what they say, cold hands, warm heart.

Michael: No, I think you just have poor circulation.

That's my boy, wooing the women with his honesty. I guess I don't have to worry about his ability to flirt with others.

He made it back home late that morning, and his only request to me was for a veggie omelet, grits and a biscuit. Good thing we live in the South. This of course was after he said he wanted to grill something for lunch. When I asked WHAT he planned to grill, he responded with "I don't know, sausage sounds good". Isn't sausage a meat? A reminder to take away the propane tank.

Prescription, lunch, slippers on his feet, corgi near by...I felt safe that he would behave himself if I went off to work. It seems like he did fine, and he seemed to be feeling good when I came home from a partner dinner later in the evening. When asked though what he made for dinner, he responded with 'pasta'. And then sheepishly added that it had sausage in it. Apparently my dear boy needs to flirt less and listen more. Patient #1090480, you are lucky that you are cute.

No Offense to Old People

2009-06-11T09:22:00.002-04:00

At the moment I am sitting in the waiting room of the Wake Endoscopy Center. In his attempt to surpass Elizabeth and odd ailments, Michael is having a gastrointestinal endoscopy this morning. His doctor expects that he is suffering from esophageal dysphagia (difficulty moving food through the esophagus to the stomach) and will need minor surgery today. Basically they will stick a tube down his throat, blow up a balloon and attempt to open up the esophagus.

When I was reading up on dysphagia, I was not at all surprised to learn that it is most common in the elderly. Elizabeth, Michael is really trying to overtake your old person disease count. Good thing she's already taken hip replacement, or I'd have to start strapping bumpers around Michael's waist when he goes running.

Speaking of old people, I spent the past two days at the Sheraton in Durham for an off-site meeting. While the Sheraton may not always be associated with the elderly, it sure was this week! On site was the Grand Chapter of the Order of the Eastern Star - the largest fraternal organization that allows both men and women. It was founded in 1850, and from the looks of the attendees, all members were actually born between the inception and 1900. On the first night they had a formal event and it looked like the formal night on a cruise. That is if the cruise was the Titanic and all the original passengers were still alive and wearing gowns. Very entertaining. One of my colleagues said it was the first time he had seen double-parking in the handicapped spaces. Those were some precious commodities.

Back to Michael and the story at hand. This is the year we've challenged him to get healthy because I require a higher degree of confidence that he will live longer than me. I am presently feeling pretty damn good, so he is not allowed to fall behind. Hence the running, the gym, the doctor visits, the blood work and all the other fun tests he is currently being subjected to. Ticks and esophageal blockages be damned, this man needs to add on some years. I quite like him.

Michael's poor family has had a rough week, so please wish them well. Grannie went into the hospital, Terry had shoulder manipulation and back surgery, (coming home today, we hear!), and Donna was home alone during a terrible storm last evening. Apparently there were tornado warnings in Dallas and winds upwards to 80 MPH. We are sorry to hear that a portion of their roof came off. Here's hoping for a much better week ahead for the family.

I think we can do it

2009-06-09T21:44:00.000-04:00

Although it is going to be warm this week, it is nothing like it was last year. It was our first week and it was 100 degrees or hotter EVERY DAY. And we were living in the plastic house with it's minimal and immature landscaping. There was no hiding from the intense sun. Sometimes I am surprised we didn't just turn the car back around. But then that would have meant we were in the car...driving...again. Yeah, scratch that.

At least our big trees keep it tolerable in the neighborhood. The swarms of mosquitoes have been behaving, so I am only been bit a dozen times or so. Since these are spread out over my whole body, I am still dealing. Once the summer really rolls in, I will have a dozen on every body part. I swear they just start biting on top of bites. Delightful.

Speaking of bugs...we saw about six roaches milling around near the stone wall along the sidewalk a couple nights back. While that is still a great distance from the house, and I haven't seen them inside anywhere, I still freaked a little. I hate, hate, hate them. So I think Orkin will be getting a call.

Michael swears that he sees the nasty black things almost every weekend when he works in the yard. That is not inspiring me to help him. I think my contribution to the yard will be the management of the fence fund. That seems pretty damn bug free.

Get me out of the car

2009-06-07T20:28:00.001-04:00

I am not quite sure if either of us think of NC as 'home' yet, but we are trying. I can say with certainty though, that on the drive here we would have called anyplace home, as long as we could have gotten out of the car. And stayed out. Even the corgi was thinking "ENOUGH". She seemed to sleep less and stare more as the trip wore on.

Day 4 took us from Little Rock to Knoxville. This wasn't a terribly long day and the scenery was beautiful. I took a bit of a risk by taking the photo of the Tennessee state line, but I think it was worth it.

We arrived at the Knoxville La Quinta while there was still daylight. It was such a freakin novelty. The hotel was new and had only been open for a couple weeks. That meant there were few guests, and Iona and I actually got to run up and down the empty hallway without bothering anyone. I don't know who enjoyed it more. I got to run and she was off leash. We were pathetically happy.

The FIFTH AND FINAL day actually took us into North Carolina. I actually wanted to burst into tears as Iona stood peeing for the first time in our new state. We actually made it. And a year later, we are still here. Plastic house and mosquitoes be damned; we are still here.

Key to a Happy Marriage

2009-06-05T09:09:00.002-04:00

I am woefully behind with updates this week. It is not for lack of trying, it is simply that me, myself and I are woefully tired. It has been a bit crazy again at work, and that coupled with my new work-out schedule has left me worn. We have also stopped the mid-week drinking, so I could be suffering from early-stage withdrawal symptoms. Alas, I am not shaking or having mood swings, so I am afraid I can't blame it on that.

And it is gray and raining today. So anti-LA. I actually wish it would stay like this over the weekend so that I could have an excuse to curl up on the couch in my PJ's and read books and just hibernate. This weekend is planning to be nice and sunny and warm, so there goes that master plan.

The other evening Michael and I were walking up to the Y and chatting about all the things we are involved with. He said something about wishing everything could be a hobby, and nothing a long-term responsibility. Even though he is a man of routine, he does get bored with the monotony of things. He wants to do them a lot for a short period of time, and then move on to other things. We would be a fabulous consultant...if he actually enjoyed traveling for work. Which he doesn't...at all. So he would be a terrible consultant.

Of course I inquired about his ability to stay married to me for almost 15 years, if he got disinterested so quickly. "Oh that's easy", he said. "You change all the time! You get bored faster than me, so I have no choice but to change. Everyday it is different!"

There you have it. The secret to marriage. Just keep moving in circles faster than your spouse. My whirlwind just keeps him in a state of dizzy bliss.

From Texas to Little Rock

2009-06-01T20:49:00.007-04:00

Saturday was our year anniversary of landing in North Carolina. Oh my, what has happened to us these past twelve months? Here I am running around the park at 6a in the morning and then running home again at night after walking Michael to the Y. I am doing these things while pushing a corgi around in a buggy. A corgi with a big bald neck.

In the meantime, Michael is having the Big Gay-Off in garages with other men and running around the city in dresses. For clarification, the former was a precaution after he and a couple other guys had ticks rain down on them while running. They ducked into a garage, stripped to their underwear, and did the buddy check. I guess no one else wants Michael's mountain fever.

Well, we certainly didn't get here in two days, so I should accurately represent the journey from LA to NC. Last week I chronicled days one and two...and so here are the others.

Day 3 - Amarillo, TX to Little Rock, AR

We were all too excited to leave the awful La Quinta in Amarillo and get back on the road. It is rather ironic that we traveled through such a small part of Texas, when you consider how grand that state really is. In my blackberry I noted that Texas had the best stretch of I-40 pavement, the most cops, (I had to use cruise control), and lots of crosses.

Oklahoma on the other hand had the best, and I mean best wayside. All the states try and win you over with the rest stop that is just across the state border. It usually has the visitor's center, nice facilities, and even dog runs. They tend to deteriorate once you get further along in the state, but not those of OK. They took great pride in their waysides and Iona and I made sure to stop at every one of them. She too is looking more than a little disheveled at this point.

Little Rock was our stop for the night and proved a little tricky. Both our GPS systems got confused going into the city with the new road construction and Michael had the added challenge of of navigating the downtown parking structure with his truck and trailer. This was our only hotel that wasn't direct;y off the 40. This La Quinta was fantastic though. The staff was delightful and helpful and the room was new and huge. Two humans, a dog and two cats all got to have their space. Of course, sometimes things aren't that different from home.

Little Rock was the only night we actually ate a nice meal. The hotel shuttled us down to the restaurant row and we found a great place with a good wine selection and tableclothes that were not made of plastic. We both felt that we could now go on with the journey. 1675 miles down, and 890 to go.

Tick-Tack

2009-05-31T22:08:00.004-04:00

Michael is trying really hard to compete with Elizabeth on who has the most obscure disease/health condition. I am not sure why he wouldn't choose to vie with other people for say...who can earn more money, have the biggest house, or even the strangest pet or biggest pants. But no, he is choosing strange ailments.

It would be impossible to list out all the things that Elizabeth has acquired in her meager 26 years, but if it is something that only old people get or that basically went extinct 100 years ago...she's had it. Scarlet fever? Check. Shingles? Check. I expect that she'll be diagnosed with the Black Plague any day now.

So then we have my dear husband Michael. If you were not part of our LA clan, then you may not be aware of his Bell's Palsy scare a few years back. Bell's is a temporary paralysis of the facial nerve and comes on very fast. He lost control of one side of his face in a matter of hours. It was horrible as I was in the Philippines and terrified that my husband had somehow suffered a stroke. Nope, just the palsy. Although scary, he recovered and his face won't make you snicker any longer.

Then last week he came down with a fever. It was bad for about a day and then just seemed to settle in. For days he battled a low-grade temperature and awful aches and pains. We brushed it off as his body attempting to adjust to the running and intense workouts he recently started. But we both knew he was consuming too many ibuprofen in a day, and it is really rare for him to be woken up by pain in the middle of the night. On Friday morning things escalated and he woke up with a bright red rash. Going to the doctor was no longer an option.

When he got there and they heard his symptoms, they immediately put a mask on him. Michael said he was the only person in the waiting room wearing a bright blue mask. The man was marked. After his doctor asked a bunch of symptom questions, drew a ton of blood, and grilled him on his activities, they determined that Michael probably has Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. The answer that tipped it? "Yes, I have been around a lot of ticks lately." Michael's new found love of trail running/hashing has exposed him to a ton of ticks. And now he has the Mountain Fever. Although his preliminary test results won't be back until Monday, he was immediately put on Doxycycline. Apparently if they waited until tomorrow for confirmation, he would either have kicked the infection or be in the hospital and seriously sick. Let's throw caution to the wind and start the meds.

He is feeling better, although his body starts screaming when he hasn't taken the pain pills fast enough. I would say that his joints need to start screaming louder, because he is actually out hashing as I type this. One tick, two tick, three ticks not enough. Let's see what fun thing he comes home with next. The Black Plague, anyone?

May 27th, 2008

2009-05-27T21:18:00.005-04:00

Day 2 of our great trek across the United States meant that we woke up in Flagstaff, Arizona and ended the night in Amarillo, Texas. This was actually my favorite day from a scenery perspective, and my least for other reasons.

Crossing over any state line felt glorious. I found myself watching my GPS in earnest when I knew we were getting close. I would then get my camera ready and snap the photo with one hand, while driving with the other. Keep in mind that I was usually doing about 85 when taking these pictures, so I am both pleased that they turned out and proud that I stayed ON the road. Yes, not the smartest trick, but Iona was unwilling to document any of our travels. That would have upset her cross-country nap time.

At one point in New Mexico Iona needed to pee...and apparently she needed to pee BADLY. Her routine was this - she would wake up, shake, look outside for awhile, and then stand immediately behind the driver's seat. She was sitting up on suitcases, so she was at my shoulder level. If I was unresponsive, she would stub me on the shoulder. If I still wasn't responding quickly enough, she would stub aggressively and woof in my ear. At this stage, I got the point. I also wanted to keep the skin on my shoulder. Of course, there was not a rest stop for miles. So, we pulled off the road at the exit for Cuervo, New Mexico.

Now, if you are a fan of the horror genre, then this is the town for you. If not, then I HIGHLY suggest driving fast down I-40 and ignoring the hell out of this place. I loved, loved, loved it. And I was totally freaked out. Basically this is an abandoned town. Established in 1901 around the Southern Pacific railroad tracks, the town had two schools, churches and two hotels. At its peak it boasted about 300 people. Then the I-40 was built down the middle of the town and destroyed it. I have no idea where the people went, or why they just left the buildings, but it is so weird. Some of the street signs look relatively new, yet the roads are completely buried in red dirt. Truthfully, I was creeped out. I was literally pulling Iona along and trying to get her to pee faster. At any moment, I knew the zombies were going to come out of these abandoned buildings and attempt to eat me alive. Iona was not going to save me.

Crossing into Texas meant that we were closer to our destination for the night, but also meant we were in the home of George W. I hope they have modified the sign, and at least took the "proud" down.

Word to all the travelers out there. Do not stop at the La Quinta in Amarillo, Texas. This was the nastiest of the hotels we stayed at. It is right off the freeway, had no elevator, backed up against a scary parking lot, and had terrible dining options near by. We ended our great drive that evening with dinner at Denny's. Oh joy. The NON-SMOKING section consisted of 5 booths along the kitchen wall. Even after driving for over 10 hours and feeling like hell, we were still the hottest couple in the place. I do not think it was coincidence that Michael sat under the below sign. That boy's bacon certainly sizzles. At least more than any other in Amarillo, Texas.

May 26th, 2008

2009-05-26T09:37:00.010-04:00

One year ago today we left Los Angeles. After 11 years of living a West Coast life, we packed it all up and started the drive to North Carolina. It was an incredibly bittersweet day, and one that I won't soon forget. We were so excited to be entering this chapter, yet more than a little sad to leave a huge part of our life behind.

Looking back, it is entertaining to see Michael so "happy" in this picture. He and the U-Haul quickly became friends on some unfriendly terms. That thing seemed to have a mind of its own as we went through the mountains. I absolutely had the better end of the deal...he drove with two pissed off and scared cats while towing a U-Haul. I simply had a happy corgi that would stub my shoulder aggressively when she needed to pee. I so won.

Poor Miss Iona was terribly confused that day. She did her best to keep an eye on me inside the house and an eye on Michael in the backyard. She was terrified that we were leaving and taking all her favorite things with us. She was not about to be left behind. Sigh...look at all the fur on that dog. Not a bald patch in sight.

We left LA on Memorial Day Monday. The traffic leaving the city was fine, but you can see the messy westbound buildup as everyone headed back home. Regardless, the mountains were stunning.

As we neared the border to Arizona, I recall fighting back tears. It still seems unfathomable that the California border is so very far away.

Day one was the shortest and brought us to the La Quinta in Flagstaff, Arizona. The trip was underway. While the La Quinta brand is pretty hit or miss, it is the best thing if you have to travel with pets. You are guaranteed a room and a bed, and sometimes they don't even smell bad.

Michael jokingly said that it was a good thing that we were on a tight schedule. Otherwise I would have made us stop at all the hokey sights along the I-40. I have no shame in saying that I really did want to visit Navajo Land and the World's Tallest Ball of Yarn. You gotta problem with that? I also wanted to visit the Dinosaur Village. Instead, I had to settle for Iona peeing in the parking lot of the Armco Gas Indian Center.

Off and Running

2009-05-25T16:32:00.006-04:00

Michael is out running again on this rainy Monday afternoon. I have lost count of how many times he has ran this week. Although his running away from me does keep us apart, I absolutely cannot complain. It is one of the healthier obsessions that he has had over the years.

While we both like to be active, we are quite different in our approach. Michael loves the gym, racquet ball, and trail running. I prefer team sports, street jogging (with Iona of course), and free weights. I hate the gym, so I will do anything to stay out of those buildings. At the moment that means we have weights stashed in almost room of the house. I will just grab them when I have a couple minutes, or if I am unable to sit still while watching TV.

We are still finding ways to incorporate our different styles together. I love walking him up to the YMCA with Iona and then running back. It allows us to catch up on our days, and also gives me a chance to completely let out my aggression. Yesterday we went hiking at Umstead Park. We did the 3 mile trail and then came home and he went to the Y and I did my run. Five miles on a Sunday is not a bad way to get the week going.

On Saturday my company sponsored the DOUGHMAN, which is a charity quadrathon that involves eating and swimming, eating and biking, or eating and running. A group of my coworker friends and I volunteered at the finish line, while Michael ran and ate with three guys from my Support department. I would love to say that we had a strong showing. Instead I will say that everyone was cheering our guys on, because we stood between them and the awards. You see, one of our guys got lost on the route and we came in last. Yes, we were dead last. It is pretty entertaining, but only because Michael was NOT the reason we were last. He actually did quite well and made me proud.

If you have ever watched The Biggest Loser, you may remember Heba Salama and Ed Brantley from a couple seasons back. She was portrayed as manipulative and scheming and later complained that it was all a perception created by the cameras. Um, no that would not be true. She is simply a bitch. And Ed is just a lumbering shadow that follows her around. Why do I now know such things? Well, they were the "celebrity" couple at the DOUGHMAN. They initially arrived saying that they volunteered to work the finish line. That meant they sat in the shade, while the rest of us ran around and set things up. She loudly griped about people on the show to anyone that had the unfortunate luck of wandering too close. Then they sat in a different section of the shade, while the rest of us managed the racers as they finished.

At one point there were eight or nine teams that arrived in quick succession, and my friend Valerie asked Heba for some assistance. She actually threw up her hands in horror and said, "Oh no. We are the CELEBRITY couple. We are just here to do the awards ceremony. We are handing out the awards!". BTW - the awards ceremony was still over 90 minutes away! Yeah, apparently she couldn't bother to do any work FOR CHARITY. I am sure someone was paying her and actual work wasn't in the contract. Just go sit your widening ass back down in the shade and pretend that people care. The Biggest Loser carries a whole different connotation when describing Heba.

For those that did volunteer and actually worked and enjoyed the day...thanks. A good team we make.

Tan Line Trauma

2009-05-21T15:27:00.001-04:00

Need I say more?

Waking up in a strange land

2009-05-21T07:13:00.002-04:00

I woke up this morning in Wisconsin. Stranger still, I woke up in a hotel. I can honestly say that apart from family weddings and some crazy nights when I was much younger, I have not stayed in a hotel near my hometown before. I am here on business, and sadly will be leaving in just over 24 hours. I was hoping that the next time I was here, that I would have a chance to visit lots of friends and family. Not going to happen this time, but I will still have a chance to see most of my kinfolk. They are always up for a good time. I am near giddy with excitement to see them.

So today I will be in business meetings and seeing a side of Appleton that I rarely do. Tonight I will be back in my native comfort zone. My only concern is that I am traveling with a coworker and this is his first time in Wisconsin. I don't think we prepared him well for the local customs that he will need to take part in this evening. And then there is the language. His New Jersey ears may not be able to translate well. That could change though after both he and the locals drink a few old fashioneds. For a novice, they can be magical.

I am still a little worried that as the night goes on, the confusion may rise. My coworker is tall, black, and bald, and could be confused with The Bad Man. I may need to keep all knives and forks away from Elizabeth and Mom. I would like to avoid explaining why there is an ER visit on our expense report. "I have NO idea how he was stabbed multiple times with a fork in Appleton. It must have been a gang fight. Really, the streets are tough. It was a gang. I swear I didn't know ANY of the attackers. Although, I think I heard them scream something about Buttons."

I still need to find time to locate a bag or two of cheese curds. I don't think that Michael will let me back across the state border without them. Yum...cheese.

Birthday Post: Part 2

2009-05-19T07:51:00.002-04:00

I've been greeted this birthday morning by my dog that decided to sleep ON MY PILLOW, a husband that will be making me dinner later today, a great gift from my friend Valerie, (that will get used over dinner tonight), a flurry of wonderful Facebook greetings, and the below from our friend Rob. I warn you...it is, well, it it is just plain gloriously wrong.

2009-05-19T07:51:00.001-04:00

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

It's My Birthday!

2009-05-19T06:30:00.003-04:00

Seriously, is there any more to say? It's my Birthday! I do have more to discuss, and will try to get back to this later today. In the meantime, just bask please in my tiara-wearing birthday glory.

The Good People

2009-05-14T21:55:00.001-04:00

You would think with all the latest news in the world that I would only have things to grumble about. I mean, Social Security will be bankrupt in 30 years - just when I need it. And Miss California got to keep her crown. Is there no justice?

Hmmm...no. Regardless, I am still quite pleased. I am also fortunate to have dear friends and family that just keep me giggling and grinning.

Our friend Dwayne has recently introduced Michael to "hashing". In case you are unfamiliar, hashing is noncompetitive running, drinking and socializing. And they don't believe in running on regular roads or trails. No, they like to do this though streams, and backyards, and often while wearing ridiculous costumes.

This Saturday they are hashing while wearing prom attire. I was fortunate enough to get visibility into the following email string. Thank god for the power of the forward button.

Michael to Dwayne:
Any idea what size your red dress is?
Okay, that was a weird question...

Dwayne to Michael:
Let me call my sister and get back to you, I don't remember. lol

Michael to Dwayne:
So, I did a little investigating over lunch and I appear to be in the 20 - 24 range depending on the shoulders...

This is information I never thought I would need.

And lets just say there is one very confused consignment shop owner down the street from my building.

On another note, my friend Anne from LA sent this to me a couple weeks ago and I just have to share. If you were ever concerned abut not finding that perfect piece of furniture...don't you worry! There is furniture for white people AND black people. In fact there is some for Hispanics and for ALL people. This is worth a watch if you are ever considering a visit to the Furniture Capital of the World. Just click below to cringe a little. Cringe in the good way.

The Reeeeeeeddddddd House

Tomorrow I will introduce everyone to my new source of online entertainment...amazon.com reviews! Seriously, I had no freakin idea how funny they are. That's why I have Amy in my life. She keeps the cheap laughs alive. In the meantime, enjoy the image of Michael in a dress. I will do my best to get a picture.

Mistaken identity

2009-05-12T06:15:00.001-04:00

As I mentioned on Sunday, I've been experiencing a few cases of mistaken identity lately. On Saturday I was at Costco and several people wished me a Happy Mother's Day. In fact, one woman seemed to go out of her way to express that and kind of chased me down through the aisles. I expect that I was mirroring the uncomfortable and confused expression that her husband had. This misplaced HMD salutation continued on through Sunday, and was only stopped when I just locked myself in the house and refused to go anywhere else. These women do not have a special sensory gift; I am not pregnant.

The true identity crisis actually started a couple weekends back when we attended the World Beer Fest in downtown Raleigh. Imagine a beautiful and warm day with tons of people strolling through two large tents drinking all the two-ounce pours that they can handle. And then they drink some more. The idea is that your $40 admission gives you an opportunity to taste beer across a wide range of both microbreweries and more standard brewing companies. You can compare and contrast and savor, or you can just drink until you fall down. Totally your call.

I was initially worried about the event, as there were a lot of drunk people in a relatively small space. Michael is not a fan of these situations, and I really did want him to enjoy himself. We needed a strategy. The key for Michael is to quickly get him alcohol in his body, and then find a quieter location where he can breathe and not want to run through the crowd with a machete. Sounds simple, right? Our friend Dwayne made a few beer recommendations and gave us the lay of the land, and then we were off.

I still have these moments where I think I am in LA. Then the reality comes crashing back. On this particular Saturday, it was much more likely that we were in Wisconsin. As Michael pointed out, "It is not an event until you see someone walking around with a giant turkey leg." We also discovered that Leinenkugel Brewing had a stand, so of course we needed to sample. You know you are from Wisconsin if you can spell Leinenkugel and know where Chippewa Falls is. Dad is very proud.

Then we made a true and blessed discovery. The Education tent. Here you sit and learn about beer, and they BRING YOU SAMPLES. You sit, you listen, you learn, you drink. And husband is not enraged, and therefore i am not annoyed. Good day. There were three such sessions and they poured 6-7 beers in each. Yes, I was hammered. You see, at one point early in the first session, the pouring woman spilled beer down both my legs. Turned out to be a good thing, as she then overcompensated and poured me tall ones thereafter. Michael unfortunately got "the short pour".

During one of the last sessions where I was content and a bit "saucy and sassy" as some friends have pointed out, I had the real moment of mistaken identity. A delightful older Southern man walked up to me and said, " Thank you. Thank you for dressing like a lady, and having a dress on. Thank you."

Oh yes, doesn't she look all lady? You sir, are wrong, but I dearly thank you.

Happy Mother's Day!

2009-05-10T21:33:00.003-04:00

To all of our mom friends and family...we wish you a very Happy Mother's Day! We love you all and wish you the best of days. I was wished a Happy Mother's Day no less than three times this weekend, which freaked me out a little. I give one woman credit though, as Iona's buggy does resemble a stroller. My friend Amy says that pet moms count as well... so there.