Signs I am Old (But Not That Old)

I am a blogging fool today! There are so many other things I should be doing, too. But, I had this thought when I went to Kmart, so... I am definitely old, and there are things that remind me of this every so often. For one, I am in my "mid-thirties" - not my early thirties or late twenties or anything young-sounding like that, but "mid" thirties. I still consider my thirties to be "young" but it's also the transition age in my mind. You know, they have rules about mini-skirts that involve the mid-thirties and if you get pregnant at my age it is considered a bit "geriatric" in the reproductive timeline. Beyond my age and the fact that I color my hair to conceal gray hairs and NOT just because I want funky colors running through my mane, the other signs that I have noticed lately include my reactions to boys shaggy hair (sheesh, get a haircut!), and juniors fashions like "attitude shirts." I don't want pants with a rainbow of little stars on the cuffs, and I don't want a shirt that says, "I like boys, they're stupid" on it. When I see those shirts I cannot believe that people let their children wear them! I am all for clever sayings, like the camoflauge (sp?) tank that read "You can't see me" - ha ha, good one. But I cannot stand the ones that insinuate that people should buy you everything you want, call you princess, allege that you can have your daddy's credit card, or demean others. And I think that makes me old. But I draw the line at denim shorts where the back half of the waistband is all elastic, and I will not even look at shirts with birdhouses embroidered on them. I'm not THAT old.

Me and My Bathroom Humor

I don't think I have subjected you all to bathroom humor yet, have I? Actually, come to think of it, I HAVE, because most of you are family and you've listened to that crap from me before (no pun intended). Well, for the other two of you or so, I am one who will willingly share when funny stuff happens to me in bathrooms. So, stop reading now if that kind of thing offends your sensibilities. Here's today's escapade:

As you all might recall, I routinely have a cup of coffee in the morning and this is rather effective at keeping my digestive system regular. Today I had my cup of coffee a bit late in the morning and was rushed at lunch time, so snarfed down a chicken sandwich and green bean casserole in the cafeteria. I am still burping up green bean casserole, but it was worth it - yum. But I digress... So about 30 minutes after my speed-lunch I was needing to use the facilities (if you get my drift). I found the most remote one possible, and one that I know has a can of de-stinkify spray in it. I completed my business and decided it was really worthy of a courtesy flush, so did so while my arss maintained the stink-barrier seal on the seat. I hate having to courtesy flush, because people have got to just "know" what you were doing in that public restroom. But it is better than stankin' up the joint and having people hit the invisible vapor line, sending them reeling. But I digress again... This toilet I was using has got the most powerful flushing mechanism known to man, and the water pressure was intense, causing a bidet-type situation and me sitting there with probably a really funny expression on my face. So, I'll just leave you all with that visual for today. You're welcome.

A Lesson From Mr. Wizzard

Remember that show? Mr. Wizzard would do fun science projects and we'd all learn something, like you can make a thing out of pop bottles taped together and filled with water where the water will look like a tornado when you turn it upside down. Cool. Oh, and something about forces of gravity and pressure and other sciency stuff. So, I went running again yesterday (cuz I am going to be a runner. at least until the ride run is over) and changed my route. I usually run from my house to a specific stop sign, turn around and run home and call it good cuz I know it is just over two miles. If I am ambitious, I run to the stop sign beyond the usual one and add a little distance and one last little hill. THIS time, I TURNED at the stop sign and ran down to a school and then turned again, running until I got back to my street. So I made a goofy square of sorts. And it felt like I ran a lot longer than my usual route, so I was bound and determined to drive along the route with my "trip" mileage counter on and see how far I went. My neighbors, who are aware of the ride/run looming, thought it was probably a four or five mile journey, and I was elated. Four or five miles!! Really?! I can run four or five miles?!! That's awesome!!! I could do this daily and then be thin, cuz have you seen people who are habitual runners? Those folks are thin, I tell you. Imagine my disappointment when I drove the route and my car said it was only 2.4 miles. What?!! Mr. Wizzard notes that something filled with hot air will burst suddenly when poked with a sharp pang of disappointment. Pooh. Also, I think I remember something about math class, and had a "duh" moment thinking, um, if my usual run is about two miles, then it would MAKE SENSE that the square is not that much furhter, cuz my run is about half of the square and then I turn around and run back. .5 x 2 = 1 square. Durt-da-durr. Today's experiment teaches us the lesson of humility AND that my neighbors are as math challenged as I am.

Nightmare on My Street

There has been a plague of nightmares at my house lately. My older daughter woke up two nights ago and thought she saw a man floating above her bed. CREEPY!! Then my younger daughter woke up about five minutes later believing that there were bugs crawling on her. This is the second time she has had the "bug" thing, where I have to explain that there are lots of little flowers all over her sheets and they are not bugs. I changed her sheets after that. So, I have not been sleeping so well, being the dream police around here - the one who soothes the children and sits next to them until they fall asleep. Oh, me so tired.

Now, I do not usually remember my own dreams. But I had one last night that is clear as day in my memory. I was proud of myself for all of the running I have been doing, so I stepped on the scale. It said I weighed 185 pounds!!! ACK!!! What?! And my sisters were there, and reassuring me that the scale was broken, so got another one, which one sister stepped on and it said she weighed 96 pounds, which we all thought was broken in the other direction, so I stepped on it and it said I weighed 185 pounds. So, they both said, "Well, I guess that's what you weigh then." Then I woke up. That was one f-ed up dream, I tell you.

In other news: I successfully completed my practice of half of the ride run - running two miles, biking two, then running two more. I am not stepping on the scale.

Mamma Bear vs. Snatchy Be-otches

I hate jr. high-aged girls. Hate them. I have a daughter who will be heading into middle school (the new phrase for jr. high) who is already experiencing the sting of snatchy be-otches in little groups who are just downright evil. She got pushed into the swimming pool and called names the other day, prompting her to leave the pool after a very short time and call her dad to come and pick her up. And my mamma bear instincts are RAGING. I want to find those girls and call their mothers and get them into big trouble. I want to find older "cool" girls to hang out with my daughter who will taunt those little prisses and give them the stupid eyebrow raise of disdain if they ever think about being mean to her again. I want to swoop in and scoop her up and give her a pill to make her so ultra-cool that nobody does anything but pave her path in velvet and turn pleading eyes towards her that she may grace them with her company. And I can't, and it sucks. And she is who she is (and I think she is great with some room for growth): likes to read, is dramatic, is hot-tempered and easily emotional, hates fashion, moves with some bit of akwardness (though can pogo-stick and ride anything with wheels in moments while I fall off of the things repeatedly), and talks loudly when excited, and says some really funny things with a great vocabulary. And she just wants to have friends in her relatively new school (we've almost lived here a year). So I feel like I send her off like a lamb to the slaughter, and I think it is one of the most uncomfortable things I can think of. And it is uncomfortable because I WANT it to be mamma bear vs. those mean munchkins, but it has to be her...baby bear vs. sleek little cougars with claws. Maybe I'll just get drunk for the next four years or so and hope it goes by quickly. Stupid jr. high girls.

I Still Don't Like It

Well, I am up to 2.5 miles running distance, and am up from 2 times per week to every other day in frequency. But I still don't like to run. I am doing the whole "positive thinking" vibe in terms of things like: "Don't stop!...Don't walk!... You can do this!... Just listen to your music and enjoy the gorgeous weather!" And it helps, but I am waiting impatiently to hit the "runner's high."

Call Now for This Special Offer

On the blogger sign-in page they are always tempting me with "earn money with your blog" buttons, and I am guessing that you can elect to allow product endorsements. I think this is funny, because who would pay me to put their products on this blog? I wonder if I could pick the products? That would be cool. I would pick Tampax, Dove Chocolates, and some sort of diuretic for bloating. Can anyone tell what time of the month it is? I also highly endorse Jergen's lotion with self-tanner. My sister loaned me her bottle and said that if I put on lotion before bed I would wake up with a tan and she was right! It is amazing! And it is not orange colored, either. My legs can be exposed without blinding others! Anyway, I have never checked out the "earn money with your blog" which is probably a good thing. I wouldn't want to subject you all to Enzite and Depends advertisements every time you get on here to read.

A Spoonful of Sugar

I ran once over the weekend, and managed the two miles again. I'm trying to work in a two mile route around my home where there are some hills cuz I am missing that challenge in my training. I am also going to work in a route that has hills where I can do a practice of the ride run, or at least half, where I run two miles, bike two, run two. That's six miles and half of the race. I would like to practice the full thing at least once but will be pretty happy if I get the half practice in.

So, what the heck does this have to do with my title? Well, I ate a half teaspoon of sugar within 15 minutes of running in the morning, on the advice of my brother, to reportedly give me some energy to run longer. And I have no clue if this helped but I discovered that I do not like straight sugar. When I was a kid, I would have loved it if someone would have handed me the sugar bowl and a spoon. So this is another sign that I am old - straight sugar is now gross. Sigh. I'll try a pixie stick next time, though even that sounds gross first thing in the morning. Hey G, can I eat a little powdered doughnut? Those always sound good. And not just in the morning.

Not By the Hair on My...

Chinny Chin Chin!!! I have this one hair that grows on my chin. It is dark, black and thick, so it is really a whisker, not a hair. How gross is that?!! So I pluck the dumb thing and then it does not grow back (I check for a while after I pluck it) for a long time, so I think it is gone. But then it shows up again, and it's like I go to bed one night and it grows a quarter of an inch, hanging there off of the end of my chin, waiting for me to notice. And I have the same reaction every time.. "What the f..., where did that thing come from?!" Then I search frantically for a tweezer to get rid of it. I should look into electrolysis, which might also work to zap my moustache that I also pluck out. That's right, I pluck those little moustache hairs. Waxing gives me little pimple-ish spots all in the corners of my mouth and you can guess how attractive that is. Me and my tweezers - the team fighting against my slow progression towards becoming a man (apparently). Stupid aging process.

More Progress

Ran two consecutive miles this Friday evening, and then ran again on Saturday morning, though not as far. Didn't run today cuz it was raining. So, I went to the movie Kung Fu Panda, which was fun. I plan to run again tomorrow. This is me trying to establish some sort of healthy habit.

Theme Music from Rocky, Please

I did it! I ran a mile and a third in one stretch without stopping to gulp in air and stretch out the stitch in my side! I ran at snail's pace, but I did it! I pushed away all thoughts of stopping and just kept going. I may just be able to make my goal of running two miles. Will wonders never cease?

Dimples

Dimples are not universally cute. Cute on babies, cavernous on Mario Lopez (and cute), dashing on Michael and Kirk Douglas. Really nasty on my rear end and my gut. Cellulite is horrible!! And it is something that afflicts many many many women, even skinny bitches. I was used to this dimply junk on my upper thighs, but it has developed on my gut and this does not make me happy. So, add that to my list.

Old, Fat and Out of Shape

You all thought I was back to bashing on myself for being disgusting, right?! Oooh, I faked you out! My title is referring to my geriatric dog. Poor thing! I decided to take her out with me to go for a jog, cuz normally she loves to do that. Let me give you the rundown on my dog: she is a Husky/Shephard mut who is 12 years old. She gets little to no exercise in the winter and at any time there is inclement weather, and never misses a meal. She has been prone to stealing bread - chewing a hole in the bag and eating the loaf before going off to hide and give me dejected, guilty looks when I come home. (We now keep the bread in the pantry.) But she really likes to go for walks, and will get excited whenever you say the "w" word and put on your tennis shoes.

Friday evening was no exception, and she was wriggling around in the dance-of-impatience as I put on my shoes. We walked down the block with her walking energetically at my side, and then rounded the corner to walk at a brisk pace for another couple of blocks before I broke into a jog. She loped along beside me for a ways, and then suddenly I noticed that she was behind me and I was having to pull on the leash for her to even keep pace behind me. What the heck?!! Normally she is choking herself on the leash, making terrible-sounding hacking noises because she has strained her windpipe with her collar. So I dropped to a walk for a while then jogged again with the same result. Then I decide to take her old tired self home, so walked and SHE WAS STILL BEHIND ME! She couldn't keep up with a brisk walk! We hit the lawn of the school down the street and she laid down. I thought I was going to have to carry her 50 pounds of furry weight home, but she made it. Slowly. Her poor old legs were twitching when we got home. I joked about it, but I have to say that it made me kind of sad to see the proof of her mortality. My beloved doggie is on the downhill slide. But, I'm still going to take her on walks around the block. I hope someone will do the same for me when I am 87, and not expect me to run a third of a mile.