A Second Chance

Wisdom From Stephen King

2011-11-29T19:55:00.000-08:00

"At the time we're stuck in it, like hostages locked in a Turkish bath, high school seems the most serious business in the world to just about all of us. Its not until the second or third class reunion that we start realizing how absurd the whole thing was." - Stephen King, On Writing

The high school absurdity I most poignantly remember is my fear of walking through Senior Hall. Even though I had to pass that way every morning of my freshman year on my way to band class, I most days walked clear around the outside of the school to avoid said hall. On the days when I was too late for the detour, I rushed through the hall as quickly as possible.

Senior Hall was lined with, as you might imagine, senior boys. They sat shoulder to shoulder, legs out in front of them, creating a menacing gauntlet through which we all passed. And my fear - no, what I knew to be true - was that they were checking out my ass. My friends laughed at this assertion, but I knew the dark truth. I had seen them with their mocking eyes, cupping their hands to whisper to one another their assessment as each female form navigated the gauntlet.

Now, 25 years later, I am still confident in that truth. Growing older has simply given me the confidence not to care what others think of how I look. And, its given me enough security to understand that NOT everyone is staring at my ass! What age has given me is the wisdom and confidence not to give a shit.

Against the odds, a good one

2011-11-28T21:40:00.000-08:00

Today, I really didn't want to go. I had a somewhat grumpy day at work, as most of them are these days. I stopped at McDonalds to get dinner, which I am loathe to do but I gave in and got myself a cheeseburger and a McFlurry and decided I just won't go tonight. Its a helluva lot easier to give in to this demand for fast food than go home and cook a meal and convince people to eat it.

I got home and was immediately accosted by a starving orange cat, an overly excited dog, and even a bunny who put his little paws up begging for my immediate attention. The girl immediately griped that the house stinks and demanded to be taken to the gym. The boy demanded his McDonalds and disappeared into his room.

I searched for my divorce decree, as I need the original in order to change my name back, and was frustrated to find that I don't think I have an original, or if I do I can't tell it apart from any of the copies I have. Goddammit.

I finally changed my clothes and ate my cold cheeseburger. But, I changed into running clothes, which is always key, because that way I have the INTENT if not at least the OPTION of running. Changing into the flojo is outright admitting I'm not going.

I took the girl to the gym and decided to just run from there, that way I don't have to go home, go
run, then drive back and pick her up. All that time is wasted anyway. So, I took off, no phone, no watch, just my ipod. I did glance at the clock and knew I left at about 7:40 (yes thats PM folks, its not only dark but cold, so I'm facing two primary obstacles head on here). I decided to run up this hill that is normally the end part of my 6 mile route. I was still good and grumpy and
just figured I'm going to effing walk if I want to. I grumpily started jogging up that damn hill, the one I always swear I'd never be able to run up when I'm on my way down. But I jogged up it, all 1.5 miles of it, and I felt ok. I decided I'd keep going, and I went to where I figured was 2.5 or 3 miles, then turned around, still feeling pretty decent. Remember, its dark AND cold, two variables that work to my advantage in long runs (stay with me here). I got back down and looked at my watch and it was 8:41. Because I don't have my sister's fancy technology to be slave to, I then drove my route and found it was 5 miles round trip, so that's darn good given the hills.

Both K and I commented that having run in the Denver altitude over Thanksgiving was incredibly beneficial for running back home. If I keep that pace in Vegas, I will finish in 2:36ish, which would be great.

I have still not found satisfactory cool matching hats for us all to wear, so that's a quandry that needs to be solved this week. Sunday is race day!!

she's back

2010-11-23T19:51:00.001-08:00

This is a direct quote from a text conversation between K and one of her friends today:

Friend: Don't worry K, I went through an ACL tear so I know exactly what you're going through
K: My coma shits on your ACL tear

God I love that girl.

Hope

2010-11-23T11:01:00.000-08:00

They have slowly reduced the medication to allow her to wake up, and hopefully the seizures will have stopped. As hours pass, her legs begin to move, her arms. The doctor comes in and looks in her eyes, speaks to her. Her eyelids flutter. There's hope. Movement increases. Suddenly she's pulling on the tubes and wires. Her arms and legs are tied to the bed to prevent this, but she breaks the restraint and pulls at the arterial line. I shout for the nurse, "she broke the thing! she broke the thing!" Suddenly we're surrounded again and it takes several people to hold her down. She's lifting her head, trying to lift her body up and pull away, to get right out of the bed! She's gagging on the tube down her throat. She's terrified. A doctor comes in and sedates her again. Next time we hope that she will waken more slowly. They turn down the ventilator so that she's breathing mostly on her own. One of the doctors is telling a trainee how unusual it is for her to breathe as deeply as she does, that the ventilator actually cuts off her breath, that she must be very fit. I'm so proud, and hopeful. She's a resilient girl. She's never been one to be told what her limits are, not by a ventilator or anything else.

We wait. Her legs begin to move again, her hands. The doctor looks in her eyes, rubs her sternum, tells her to open her eyes and she does. Asks her to squeeze his fingers and she does! Tells her to cough, and they will pull out the tube. She gags, coughs, and it comes out. She's babbling incoherently, a scratchy weak voice. "bhweh bah bahh" (where am I?). The nurse explains that she's in the hospital, she hit her head, she needs to relax and rest. She's asleep again, almost immediately, and begins to snore. The most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Her body is calm, she's resting comfortably. I'm elated.

#2

2010-11-21T22:01:00.000-08:00

At last we are allowed to see her. They prepare us for what we will see - tubes all over her body, a machine breathing for her, vomit in her hair. I'm still unprepared. I gasp at her lifeless body, at all the technology surrounding her. We sit. We speak to her. We wait. She's deeply sedated, but occasionally her body seizes, shoulders locking upward, toes curling downward, head back. I panic. I tell the doctors, its happening again. They up the medication. She's calm for 30 minutes. It happens again. They up the medication. The doctor tells me they need to transfer her to a pediatric hospital. I'm asked to sign a form granting my permission. What the fuck. Do I have options here? What rights am I signing away? What if I say no? I sign where I'm asked to sign. I don't read. I have no choices. I can't think clearly. I just need her to be ok.

The doctor tells me he needs to induce a medical coma because her body won't stop seizing. I'm so frightened of all the medicines. I'm crying again. I'm stunned. How did we get here? What is happening? I ask her dad these questions. He has no answers.

J has been a pillar of strength. He hasn't cried. He has been by my side silently, observing, listening, comforting with a small hand on my arm, my back. I tell him he can go home with someone, maybe he should. He refuses to leave. He wants to be here. Needs to be here.

She's in a coma. The ambulance arrives to transport her to the pediatric hospital. I ride in the front. We go to another emergency room. It will be the darkest night of my life.

The badness #1

2010-11-21T20:16:00.000-08:00

A simple phone call. I'm late to pick up the girls from practice. I mentally curse myself as got confused on what time practice ends this night, despite my mental reminders. Its her friend on the phone, asking if I'm almost there, telling me that K has bumped her head. I roll my eyes. Say I'm leaving now. Apologize for my lateness, once again. I'm still angry from earlier, when I had to tell her to leave the dinner table and she waited outside for her ride. Still angry from Halloween, when she called me a bitch. Its been a difficult couple of weeks, the distance between us larger than its ever been.

Another phone call, the friend again. She tells me K is having a seizure, and can I please hurry? I can hear voices in the background. I shout at her. What? Who are you talking to?? Put the adult on the phone!! The trainer gets on the phone, apologizes, says K has had a seizure and they have called 911, that the ambulance will be there shortly. I speed through a couple red lights, panic rising in my belly. Seizure?? An ambulance turns in front of me and I fall in behind it to the school. I run to her. She seems disoriented but it sitting up, talking. I decide they've overreacted. She keeps asking for me even though I've talked to her. She says, "don't tell my mom, she won't believe me." I gently ask her to stop. I look at her critically, wondering how much of this is her enjoying the attention, the fact that she has a REAL injury. Wondering if she's exaggerating. I hate that I had these thoughts, but I did. After all, this is the girl who rejoices in the smallest of injuries, keeps ACE bandages in her drawer and ice packs in the freezer, who's favorite Christmas present is a first-aid kit, for whom I cannot ever keep an adequate supply of bandaids in the house. The girl who once stared with envy at a giant bandage on the face of a grocery store employee and told me she wouldn't be embarassed to have that because at least then she'd have a "real injury".

The fire captain pulls me aside while they examine her. Tells me they want to transport her to a trauma center as a precaution. That she has some signs of concussion. I am staring at him in disbelief. He keeps asking if I have any questions. I shake my head dumbly. What can I ask? My only questions are, is this really happening? What the fuck is happening? What happened? Is she really hurt? He doesn't have answers for any of these questions. I turn around and they have put her on a stretcher. I burst into tears. The cheer coach hugs me. I ask if I can ride in the ambulance. They tell me I can ride in front. I call her dad, crying, telling him he needs to come to the hospital, he needs to pick up J, who is alone at the house.

On the way to the hospital I keep watch through the tiny windown that looks in on the back of the ambulance. I can see them turn the stretcher on its side as she vomits violently. The paramedic looks back to me and tells me she had another seizure. He asks if she has a history of seizures. I tell him no. I text her dad and tell him to hurry, that she's having seizures. I can hear the medics in the back shouting her name. "K! K, can you hear me? K, answer me. K. K! K?" Panic grows in my belly.

When we arrive at the hospital I jump out and walk around to the back. I'm greeted by a security guard with a dog. He shows me the way inside. I stop to wait for the stretcher, to wait for K, and he tells me I must walk on, that I need to wait in the lobby. Again I burst into tears and tell him I need to go with her. He firmly says no, and escorts me out. I wail, "how will I know how she's doing??" I'm left alone in a hallway. Crying. Someone tells me there are others in the lobby for K. They show me out and I'm embraced by K's friend and the cheer coach. I'm sobbing, wracking hysterical sobs.

We sit. We wait. A social worker introduces herself. Tells us she will take us to a private room so the doctor can talk to me. I'm hysterical with suspicion. Just tell me here, I say. She says this is standard, she assures me its normal, that there's nothing wrong. We go back. We sit. We wait. Her father arrives with my J. We wait. The doctor finally arrives. He says she's had at least four more seizures and that she's been sedated and intubated. I balk at him and stifle a moan. What is happening? He needs to know exactly what happened. The VERY IMPORTANT CHEER COACH begins to explain, tells a 20-minute version, says she seemed fine after the accident. I insist that she wasn't fine, that she was incoherent, that she couldn't answer basic questions. He leaves again. We sit. We wait. I go to the hallway and try to call my sister, who always is a presence of calm, who will have rational things to say. I want to throw my phone against the wall in frustration that I can't get a signal. She doesn't answer anyway. Its the middle of the night.

We sit. We wait.

#3

2010-11-17T20:36:00.000-08:00

I was in a bubble. A glass case. Watching a TV show. A scene from an ER. A young blonde girl has been wheeled in from an ambulance, unconscious, intubated, bruised, in a stiff neck brace and on a board. Her naked body covered under a thin sheet. Twenty people in yellow gowns and masks surround the body, shouting orders and taking commands. It was a well choreographed dance I watched. Each person completing his own task in well coordinated chaos. Poking. Prodding. Measuring, x-raying. As one they rolled the body to its side, her naked backside exposed. At other times the sheet shifts, exposing her breasts. Such violation I witness. Such arbitrary loss of dignity. It breaks my heart for her.

I stand silently off to the side, my dull tear-stained eyes staring, taking it all in. Mumbling something of seeming importance occasionally to the social worker at my side, who alerts the doctors that it might have been a medication administered at the last hospital, that she was still having seizures until right before we left, that she was hit in the head but didn't lose consciousness, that she has no history of seizures.

Eventually her father arrives and joins the solitary audience. After awhile she is wheeled through the hospital to ICU where the yellow coats settle her in, then begin to disburse. Her body tremors (not seizures?) and she is tucked under a blanket. Her dad and I settle on the couch to continue our vigil. It hurts to look at her. It hurts to talk to her, wondering if somewhere in there she can hear me. It seems lately everything I say annoys her, and I'm so very self-conscious of everthing I say, hoping to bring comfort and not annoyance. I stroke her arm and forehead, somewhat reluctantly, knowing that if she were awake I would not be allowed this luxury. Wondering if in her head she's willing me to remove my hands from her. I've lost confidence in my ability to mother her, to bring comfort. God, when did that happen?

So Good

2010-09-20T21:39:00.000-07:00

"Earlier in the day, while killing some hours by circling in blue ball-point ink every uppercase M in the front section of a month-old New York Times, Chip had concluded that he was behaving like a depressed person. Now, as his telephone began to ring, it occurred to him that a depressed person ought to continue staring at the TV and ignore the ringing - ought to light another cigarette and, with no trace of emotional affect, watch another cartoon while his machine took whoever's message.

That his impulse, instead, was to jump to his feet and answer the phone - that he could so casually betray the arduous wasting of a day - cast doubt on the authenticity of his suffering . He felt as if he lacked the ability to lose all volition and connection with reality the way depressed people did in books and movies. It seemed to him, as he silenced the TV and hurried into his kitchen, that he was failing even at the miserable task of falling properly apart."

- The Corrections, by Jonathan Franzen

Anyone who hasn't read this book absolutely needs to. Its freakin intelligent, witty and hilarious, and a very entertaining read. I feel like I need to quote from almost every page.

Growing Old Gracefully . . . or Not

2010-09-09T20:27:00.000-07:00

Here are the reasons I judge people who have plastic surgery:

It seems very superficial
I think its important to be happy with what you're given, to honor and respect the body Goddess gave you
It is often done to impress other people
It is done to attract attention to oneself, to show off for girls and get guys

Here are the reasons I want to get plastic surgery:

I am a physically fit person, always have been. But the older I get, the bigger this tire around my waist gets. Regardless of how I exercise or eat, it stays the same. No, it gets worse. The skin sags, the muscles sag. My belly is a fleshy mess that no amount of diet or exercise will fix.
I don't consider myself vain, but I want to look good dammit!! Part of the satisfaction of working out is looking good, keeping a youthful figure. And as a result, feeling confident in the way I look. I'm losing that.
My clothes don't fit me well anymore. I enjoy wearing fashionable clothes and jeans, but I always have this roll of skin lapping over my pants. Its unsightly. It makes me feel ugly. I constantly have to camouflage it. In dresses its this unsightly lump that makes me look pregnant.
I think I have a lot of years left of looking/feeling good physically, except for this issue. I think I would be very happy if it were corrected.

So, there it is. I struggle with wanting to do something that I generally consider superficial. But, I've also always said if I had a big nose I likely wouldn't hesitate to "fix" it. I also wonder if its disrespecting my body, or demanding too much of my body. Its given me two beautiful children, not to mention many races and awesome physical experiences. Its done me well. But, what's wrong with wanting to "correct" the damage of childbearing?

Its the most wonderful time . . .

2010-08-08T20:23:00.000-07:00

of the year!!!! Kids headed back to school tomorrow and after a superbly shitty summer, I'm so ready for a fresh start. We had a great vacation in Telluride (partly because K was able to have a friend along so she was generally in a good mood, and partly because my awesome sister drove down to visit!!) but the rest of the summer was a haze of driving kids everywhere, leaving work early and getting in late, writing checks, having cash demanded from me, having kids over, having kids gone, etc etc etc. I seriously feel like I almost lost my mind, and I definitely lost my temper all over K on a multitude of occasions. And of course to top the final week off, during my national HR conference K had 2 sleepovers and a party, and J cut his finger while removing the tags from his school clothes, resulting in an evening spent at the ER and 5 stitches.

Anyway, my approach on dinner this year is ingenious if I do say so myself. I've created a menu of dinnes that I'm capable of making relatively easily. The kids will pick 3 dinners per week, and then when I go shopping I just make sure I purchase all the ingredients for the ones they've selected. It takes all the thinking out of it for me!! And the deal is that they HAVE to eat it, since they picked it. And, they have to work together and agree on the 3 they select.

So far so good. We had grilled salmon and fresh green beans tonight, chicken tacos tomorrow and bean burritos Tues. Wed they're at their dad's and Thurs has been christened "vending night" as J puts it, aka do-it-yourself night. And wouldn't you know, K is already complaining that I'm not making dinner on Thursdays. Ugh. Good times with teens.

Dias works in the most mysterious of ways

2010-04-22T11:08:00.000-07:00

I woke this day, the morning of my 40th, on the beautiful garden island of Kauai. This after I had decided I wanted to be at home on my birthday surrounded by those I love. I went for a jog along the coast and took some time to meditate on a cliff above the ocean, honoring the divinity that resides within me and within the world, and that connects us all. It was a beautiful moment and a gorgeous way to commemorate my last 40th years and the beginning of my next 40.

Alas, now I am off to work and some very difficult meetings. Goddess give me strength and help me to act with dignity.

THIS is what I'm sayin . . .

2010-01-14T22:20:00.000-08:00

http://www.charitywatch.org/articles/cancer.html

Many hundreds of breast cancer organizations have sprung up over the last few decades. With all of the soliciting and cause-oriented marketing being done to cure or assist victims of breast cancer, one might assume that it is the form of cancer that women are most likely to be diagnosed with, yet this is not the case. According to government statistics, more women have non-melanoma skin cancer than breast cancer and more women die of lung and bronchus cancer (68,084 in 2003, the latest figures available) than those that die of breast cancer (41,619 in 2003). Two-thirds as many women died of colorectal cancer as those that died of breast cancer in 2003. Yet based on a search of Guidestar’s database of charity tax forms, 1,326 charities mention being involved with breast cancer and only 56 charities mention work in colon cancer and 11 in rectal cancer. Why are there only 5% as many groups addressing colorectal cancer as breast cancer victims? A likely reason is that colorectal cancer, also called bowel cancer, is not as attractive from a fundraising or marketing perspective as a disease that affects what is considered one of the most beautiful parts of a woman’s body.
Look-a-like charities abound in the cancer area, some with opposite grades. National Breast Cancer Coalition Fund receives an A rating from AIP, yet the similarly named National Cancer Coalition and Coalition Against Breast Cancer receive F’s. In fiscal 2006, the A rated Breast Cancer Research Foundation granted nearly $25 million or 87% of its budget to medical research, whereas the closely named F rated American Breast Cancer Foundation (ABCF) spent nearly 87% of its budget on solicitations that included an educational message and only $357,500 or 2.4% on research grants. According to ABCF’s fiscal 2006 tax form $5,175,000 of the $12,726,000 that this charity pays to professional fundraisers goes to Non Profit Promotions, which is owned by ABCF co-founder Joe Wolf, who is also the son of ABCF’s president and co-founder, Phyllis Wolf. ABCF was created in 1998 and Non Profit Promotions was started a year later. Ms. Wolf told AIP that her son “decided that he wanted to move on and raise funds for us.”
Since potentially anyone could contract cancer it is very easy under current AICPA nonprofit accounting rules for a charity to claim that its solicitations are conducted for public education purposes. Nearly two-thirds of the cancer charities that AIP rates make such a claim in their financial statements. Charities can disguise the true cost of fundraising by throwing into a solicitation an action message such as “stop smoking,” “don’t stay in the sun too long,” or “check your breasts for lumps.” Adding educational messages to solicitations, even if nearly everyone not living under a rock is already familiar with them, allow charities to allocate a portion of the cost of their direct mail and telemarketing solicitation costs to program service expense.

Summer No. 39

2009-12-31T13:02:00.000-08:00

Looking back, I can't believe the fantastic year I've had. Even though I've been somewhat moody and discontent at times, its been such a blessed year.

January - started the year renting out my rental property after having it empty for 6 months, and went for a hike on South Mountain with my boy J. Also got to go to the Cardinals NFC Championship game!

February - Annual girls ski trip to Telluride. I finally got the hang of snowboarding.
If I begged and if I cried, would it change the sky tonight? Would it give me some light?

March - took the kids snowboarding at Sunrise and schooled them both at snowboarding. Gained a new respect in their eyes. Took the kids to see Cavalia, except K was g rounded for the mini-moto incident. What a month.

April - went to Vegas for K's cheer tournament and hit the strip with J. Got hit on by married dude. One of many in 2009.

May - Completed a marathon, my lifelong goal before I turn 40, with my beautiful sisters in tow. What an awesome trip.

June - Did the Camp Pendleton mud run with girlfriends and had a fantastic girls weekend in Newport Beach.

July - Spent a week on Cape Cod with kids. Also checked out Boston and witch trials - great trip!

August - Went to Keith Urban concert and went to a golf tournament in Pinetop, had a great weekend.

September - traveled to Spain and England - saw Dover Castle and played The Grove.

October - Went to Denver with the kiddos for a week to visit my sister and her family!! Had a great week with our cousins. Was there during Balloon Boy Hoax!

November - Completed Catalina triathlon - yay!!! Had a fantastic weekend. Dated first real guy since my bad break-up last year. It didn't last but so what, I'm still a rock star.

December - Closed the year with a fabulous trip to Hawaii with the kiddos. We went surfing, ziplining, luau, sightseeing and good old fashioned beach time. Had a fantastic Christmas Eve dinner at a fine restaurant on the beach in Kauai.

See what I mean? What a great year! I've so enjoyed being 39.

And tonight I'm getting dressed up all fancy and going to a masquerade ball at a fancy hotel with some friends. What a great way to end the year!

How I Am Blessed

2009-09-03T20:45:00.000-07:00

1. My beautiful compassionate daughter K
2. My loving, funny, affectionate little man
3. My job that I love
4. My company that I adore
5. The people I work with, most of whom I have genuine affection for
6. A rewarding career that I love
7. I love to laugh and have the ability to make others laugh
8. My beautiful house that I bought and decorated all by myself
9. The decor items throughout my house that I have purchased on my world travels
10. The opportunities I've had to travel the world and experience different cultures and see many wonders, like the Great Wall of China, the Prague castle, the Berlin Wall, the Coliseum, the clear turquoise waters of Fiji, the wonders of Dubai, the Sydney Opera house, Temple Bar in Dublin.
11. My education
12. Financial success and independence
13. My excellent health
14. The ability to pursue physical challenges like a marathon, half marathons, triathalons, adventure races and Camp Pendleton mud run
15. My wonderful and supportive sistahood
16. Great long lasting friendships and new friends
17. I can golf for free whenever I want (which frankly isn't often)
18. My awesome athletic club that I love (particularly steam room and spa)
19. My upcoming trip to Catalina Island for a triathalon with a fun group of people
20. I'm a 4th generation Arizona native
21. I live in one of the most beautiful and geographically diverse states
22. My awesome new car
23. I grew up in Pinetop, AZ
24. I have found an honest spiritual path that enriches me
25. The Offfice and 30-rock will be back on the air in a couple weeks
26. The awesome thunder and lightening storm outside right now
27. I live 10 minutes from my job
28. I have a very happy life
29. I am loved by many
30. I was raised to value integrity, honesty, and not to take myself too seriously
31. My neurotic dog Sophie and my affectionate if highly allergenic cat Buddy
32. I'm generally an emotionally healthy person
33. I'm intelligent and have a knack for making wise career and financial choices
34. My bed is awesome
35. I'm a good mom

I have not been lucky in love, but really, who am I to complain? I won't. I'm so very blessed and happy with my life.

The thing about vacationing with kids . . .

2009-07-06T21:35:00.000-07:00

is that they expect you to know everything. When will we be there? Will we be able to see the ocean from our room? Will the whales get close to the boat? How deep is the ocean? And, they get mighty irritated if you don't have the answer. And, they repeat the questions as if you might have discovered the answer in the last 5 minutes.

But, all in all, we had a fabulous vacation. Our rental car was a tiny two-door piece of crap (a Yaris) with manual doors, locks, etc, so it was a hoot to drive around the cape in and have the kids experience that side of life. Hilarious actually, watching K trying to figure out the window (how does this thing work??) Haha!! It had a tight turning radius though, which was great for all the u-turns!

So after a VERY long flight to Boston on Sunday we picked up our little ride and made the 2 hour trek to the Cape and our hotel in Brewster. On Monday we drove out to Provincetown at the tip of the cape and went whale watching and it was incredible. We saw about 20 whales including a mom and baby, and they'd come up right next to the boat! Provincetown was a real cute little town. We also went to a museum for a downed pirate ship called the Wydah, which is the only real verified pirate ship that's been recovered, so that was cool. We had dinner at a place called Moby Dick's on the way home which I guess is kindof famous in the area. J got a whole lobster and it was fun to watch him eat it. I have no idea where that boy got his expensive taste in food. Lobster, crab legs, salmon, etc.

On Tuesday we went golfing and then spent the afternoon at the beach. J found this GIANT crab in the water, it was like 18 inches across with this giant tail. We thought it was a sting ray as it was making its way across the ocean floor and we were freaking out and yelling, but then this 8-yr old kid picked it up by the tail and told us it was a horseshoe crab. It had these ginormous claws and legs under that huge shell!

On Weds we took a ferry out to Nantucket Island, which was very quaint and cool. It was settled back in the 1600's and was a huge whaling capital and a rich history. It poured rain on us for awhile.

On Thurs it REALLY rained hard so we were pretty much trapped in the hotel until the afternoon, which was sort of ok since we didn't get out of bed until 11. We then went down to the beach for awhile and had dinner at a cute restaurant in Orleans called the Land Ho, then went to Nausset beach on the ocean side, which was a much wilder beach than the bay - giant waves.

On Friday we went to Salem for the day to check out the witch trial history. We saw a reinactment which was a great experience for the kids, and a replica of the dungeon. Unfortunately they uncovered the original dungeon in the 1950's and were embarassed by the history so they bulldozed it!! So there really isn't much to see there from the witch trials as its all been destroyed. It was a great way for the kids to learn an infamous part of American history though. Then we ran to the airport and were homeward bound.

It was a great trip. A LOT of togetherness. The kids are camping with their dad all week so I'm enjoying some alone time this week.

When my time is up . . .

2009-06-12T09:44:00.000-07:00

"Without getting into specifics, my exit involves a McFlurry machine and a videotape of risque commercials from overseas." - Jack Donoghue, 30-Rock

Thirteen

2009-05-13T15:05:00.001-07:00

My darling daughter has turned 13. My little one. My baby girl. Its hard to imagine where the time has gone. And it will continue to fly by. She's been taller than me for awhile. Her shoe size passed mine in 6th grade. And she met me eye to eye by the beginning of 7th. Somewhere in the last 8 mos she's gotten an inch or so on me. But she still weighs 15 pounds less than me!

Its feels odd now to hug her, or have her throw HER arm around MY shoulders. I want to be the protector, the lioness, mama bear. But she's quickly outgrowing the need for my protection and guidance. It makes a big part of me sad, while the rest of me beams with pride at the young lady she's becoming.

Twelve was a tough year. She faced difficult choices with friendships, boys, and activities. Sometimes she made bad choices. Often she rebelled, just for the sake of rebelling, and pulling on that fabric that binds us together. Often she made good choices though. And, most importantly, she does learn from her bad choices. She kept her grades up and did a great job in cheer, which required a lot of dedication and hard work.

We're in a really good place right now. She is open about her love and admiration for me, as I am for her. Trust me, we have our moments. But I'm hopeful that 13 will be easier than 12. Perhaps I'm just kidding myself. But one can hope. Mostly I just feel blessed by her presence in my life, and I often marvel that such a bright, funny, socially gifted child came from my own body. And I will enjoy the time I have left with her greatly before she spreads her wings and takes flight.

OC Marathon

2009-05-06T10:56:00.000-07:00

Well I did it! I met my goal of running a marathon before I turned 40, beat it by almost a year in fact. I'm so relieved that I don't have that hanging over my head anymore. But I also don't think I'll have the need to do it ever again.

The first half went beautifully. My and my sis bonded at the start line and offered up a prayer to goddess for strength, power, and endurance. Then we took off.

I felt really good for the first few miles. There were lots of downhills and it wound through beautiful neighborhoods, along the coast and through a natural wetlands area. I was frustrated because I had to stop and poo around mile 6 even though I'd taken an immodium. I think I wasted about 10-15 min in line, it seemed like forever.

I started getting real tired around mile 10 but kept going although I walked through all the water stops. At mile 12 the marathon split from the half marathon and I was really envious of those folks turning left towards their finish line. I was tired. I thought of my sister who would be done soon, and my other two sisters who were already done with their 5k. And I thought about how long they would be waiting for me to finish, and whether or not they'd be drunk by the time I got there. My path took me up a giant hill over a freeway (which I walked) and then wound through streets. At mile 13 I asked a cop what time it was and he said 9:25 so I knew I had done well on the half despite the bathroom break.

After the first half my agreement with myself was that I would walk/run the rest as I felt I could. We passed our hotel and I thought briefly that I could just go on up and lay down, it was tempting. Then we wound through a mall and a guy cheered for me and said "only 10 more miles" and I said "Really? Only 10 more?" and he laughed but I was serious because I hadn't seen a mile marker in awhile and I wasn't sure. I knew I could pull off 10 more.

But then the sun came out. Miles 17 and 18 dragged on and on. When I saw mile marker 19 I was furious because I thought for sure it would be mile 20, so I gave a mental "f-u" to mile marker 19. When I hit 20 I started to feel some desperation with the heat and knowing I had 6 miles left. But I knew I could do 6. I ran the downhills and some flat parts until my body was just screaming at me to stop. My hamstrings were aching and my feet were burning.

Until mile 23 we were running along this moldy wash with desert on the other side and not a body in sight aside from the desperate marathoners around me. I was pissed that they couldn't come up with some better scenery for this part. I was quite tempted to hitch a ride on the ambulance parked there for runners in trouble. I was repeating over and over in my head "never ever never ever never ever again".

In mile 24 we went through this sort of bad neighborhood and I was staring longingly at the grass along the sidewalk just imagining how nice it would be to lay down for just a minute. But I knew that if I did that I wouldn't get up again, and someone would call the paramedics and I'd get carted off.

Mile 25 I started running again, thinking I have at least another mile in me. But, I didn't. As I approached the fairgrounds I could see the finish line and I started running again only to be fooled by such trickery as a detour to take us all the way around before we got to the finish line. Mean spirited marathon planners! As I passed the 26 mile marker I was listening to "Dick in a Box" and I had to chuckle at that, as I know I'll always remember what I was listening to as I brought this challenge to a close.

So, I started running again because I had to be running when the sistahood saw me. I heard them before I saw them and broke into this wide goofy grin, and temporarily forgot about my bodily pain. They were screaming at the top of their lungs, and one of them jogged alongside me outside the barriers. It was so awesome to have them there. When I crossed the finish line I didn't feel that joy and elation and emotion that some marathoners report, but I did feel a huge sense of relief and I did get a little teary hugging my sisters. When I finally was able to lay down in the grass, they stripped off my shoes and started rubbing my feet!! Then one snagged a massage table for me and I was able to get my legs and feet stretched and massaged, it was incredible.

I love my sistas and am so grateful that they accompanied me along this journey.

marathon madness

2009-02-27T10:04:00.001-08:00

So my sisters and I have been blogging our training progress towards our marathon/half marathon goal on May 3 over at www.ochalfmarathon.blogspot.com. I was looking through our past posts and had to giggle at the list of titles:

2
My body, it doth protest too much
6
Alright already!!!
My Boundless Suckitude
well?
I suck as well. I will be walking tonight though. ...
I suck
I hurt
movin' along
Its not about the cookies . . .
How many miles...
3.5
Booty
Yeah, Sandy if you would just quit stopping twice ...
Ha!
4.5
Well. . .
Vday workout
I did two and a quarter tonight. I will do four an...
4 miles, people! 4!!!
Evening walk/run?
8.5
fuck this shit
update
redemption
I have also hit a snag with the training. I was su...
Idiot dog
Comments on research
3.5
research
Birthday Walk
whoops
ocho
0 today
I did my 2 1/4 last night, I'm not timing right no...
3.5 today
I totally blew it
8 miles today
16.5
Ok, I am really in now.
I'm doing a shorter walk today (2 1/4) and will do...
No Pain No Gain
Tough day Friday.
nothing today
If pain is a privelege, then I am surely blessed
Well, according to the training schedule I spent 4...
damn
Breathing
Pain is Privilege
1/27

madness

2009-01-28T20:40:00.000-08:00

I am loathe to put this in writing because it really escalates the commitment, but its already gone too far. I have talked my sisters (all 3 of them) into taking a weekend with me and doing the Orange County Marathon/half marathon. See, I have had this goal of doing a marathon before I turn 40. Well, the local Rock n Roll marathon just happened and several people I know did it. And, I turn 39 in a couple months, which means that the clock is ticking on my goal. And the pressure is mounting. I've had this goal for so long and as the years have passed it has weighed more heavily on my mind. I might have done it sooner were it not for my knee injury, as I was in half marathon shape when that happened. But regardless, time has passed and here I am. And I just can't sit around waiting for August to start training for a January marathon. Too much pressure. I need to get it over and done. So now I've committed to doing it on May 3. Already paid up. Already paid for the hotel. Already got 3 others in on my schemes and plans. No backing out now.

I'm really excited for the weekend, we've never done anything like this before. Its our first "sista weekend." And its cool that there will be months of build up and preparation for all of us.

Anyway, so tonight I ran 6 whole miles without stopping!! I'm in better shape than I thought. I've been running 3.5 miles fairly regularlly for the last several months, so this is good. I did 6 miles in about 78 minutes, so it was a little over a 13 minute mile. My goal is to do it in 5 hours, so some work to do there. Actually, my goal is to just finish the damn thing and have it over!!!

his boyness

2009-01-25T19:45:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking a lot lately about how much I cherish J's "boyness". His high pitched boy voice. His knobby often bruised knees. His lopsided smirk and smiling eyes. The splash of freckles across his nose. His insistence on being in the same room as I am, regardless of what I'm doing (I'm watching TV, he's shooting the dog with his Nerf guns or wrestling with his animals or jumping off my footboard with a plastic lid used as a skateboard). His carefully negotiated rights to sleep in my bed on weekends, holidays and "special occasions." The way he still comes into my room at 2 am. His unmatched and often dirty clothes. His yellow teeth. The remnants of food that can always be found on the corners of his mouth. The sheer joy he experiences jumping on the trampoline. The fearless way he hurls himself into the pool at all angles. The way he tosses back his head in laughter. The way he insists on riding his bike along with me when I go running, always negotiating a shorter route. His text to me from Kids Club saying "I'm in hell." The way he insists on pooping in my toilet and showering in my shower. His lack of self consciousness walking around naked after his morning shower. The way he sleeps with 20 stuffed animals piled onto his bed.

I'm sad, because my little J is almost 10 and I know his boyness is coming to an end. Soon his voice will change and he will begin locking his door when changing clothes (as his sister has done for over a year now). His boyish face will get pimples that he will be self-conscious of. He'll begin styling his mop of hair and demanding to have it cut. He'll brush his teeth of his own accord. He'll stop hugging me in public, and be horrified at the thought of sleeping in my bed.

I think I'm particularly sensitive to it because it feels like I turned around and my darling sweet little girl had disappeared into a beautiful tall slender fashion conscious short skirt wearing texting maniac who has precious little time for mom. I still adore her and much of the time she still likes me, which is good news. But it hurts a little that she's so grown up and I miss my baby girl. I just want to enjoy them while I still have them.

J will always be my little man. I think I will always have a tender spot in his heart. And today he's still my little boy. I just kissed him goodnight and he said "see you at 1."

hee hee

HR Mom

2009-01-11T19:35:00.000-08:00

So I think my kids are going to be scarred by the fact that theiy were raised by an HR professional. When they grow up, this will be the thing that they hold the most resentment about, that they were treated like employees.

Case in point:

My 12 yr old K has been exercising some relatively poor judgment in use of her cel phone and conversations with boys and lack of disclosure with me, all of which I discovered after a thorough investigation. So I had to put the hammer down. I put usage controls in place, I had discussion with said boy's parents, and then we had a lengthy talk about "expectations" for which I had prepared talking points, and we came to some "agreements" on future conduct. I thought about writing them down and having her sign her agreement and acknowledgement of consequences for failure to comply, but I thought that might be overkill.

Then today I reviewed 9 yr old J's report card with him. Interestingly enough, his first comment was, "I know, I'm not happy with it either." So we discussed each grade and the actions he could take to improve it this quarter. I had him sit down and write out his action plan and we both signed and dated it, and I hung it on the refrigerator. I then wrote a note to his teacher about our action plan, and I had him sign the report card alongside my signature.

I'm not saying these techniques will prove effective. I'm just sayin I fall back on what I know. And, sometimes these techniques prove effective with employees. I would hate to think what I'll do if I reach a termination decision though. Hmm.

Naked Norseman shows his Longship (Viking Trouser Malfunction)

2008-12-08T21:35:00.000-08:00

Ok so I don't know why I find this so hilarious, but its all over the internet now. Probably because I just happened to catch the event live on TV. And I love that headline, which I stole from Bob's Blitz (http://njfrogman.blogspot.com/).

Mysteriously the youtube video I linked to yesterday was taken down. Part of the vast right wing patriarchal conspiracy I think. So, here's the picture. And check out baldy, whaddya think he's looking at? Meanwhile the guy holding the football is giving a poignant speech dedicating the game ball to the coach's son who is joining the armed forces on Monday. The funniest part is that when said naked guy was interviewed he said something to the effect of "its not so bad, at least there was no shrinkage."

And here's the video.

And here's a particularly funny write up which echoes my own sentiment for your enjoyment.

Fox Television Cameraman Fails in the Worst Way Possible, Show Some Vikings Junk on TV Posted Dec 7th 2008 7:38PM by Will Brinson (author feed)Filed under: Lions, Vikings, NFL Media Watch It's commonly understood that in locker rooms of professional athletic teams, there are, very often, naked men. That's because they change there; it's no surprise. So, when you're a cameraman for FOX and you head into the locker room on a live feed to listen to the owner Zygi Wilf give the Minnesota Vikings an inspirational speech about Brad Childress' son leaving for the military, do yourself a favor: look around, scan the room, and if any players are not wrapped in towels or have their junk hanging out in any manner, don't turn the camera on. This is not what you would call "good news" for the boys at Fox, and you have to imagine that if CBS is going to get attacked for showing some sideboob in the middle of the Super Bowl, there will be repeated mention of the, um, sidejunk. Which I think is an okay thing to say. Hopefully.

Penis Shot on Fox

2008-12-07T18:51:00.000-08:00

So by some odd coincidence I walked into my living room this afternoon just as Fox was cutting to a locker room shot with the Minnesota Vikings. And I swear to God I saw a penis. In disbelief, I rewound the shot in slowmo a couple times and yes, lo and behold, there was a penis! And a big one at that. So I spent awhile tonight trying to find some news on it and it hasn't been mentioned by any media that I could find. I don't understand! This is worse than the Janet Jackson boob shot I think, although it was very brief. I swear I saw it the first time it played.

Anyway, I finally found it on youtube and just so's you don't think I'm lyin, I've pasted the link below: (notice how he has to pan down to get the whole thing in the shot)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YNG3uzV5vHI

basghetti

2008-10-21T21:26:00.000-07:00

j: what's for dinner?
me: spaghetti
j: wait . . . you know how to make that?

I don't know what took me so long in life to figure out this easiest of meals that my kids love. I guess mainly its because I hate spaghetti and always have, so its not something I'd make for myself or eat under any circumstances.

But, in my ongoing and constantly failed/renewed quest to provide healthy family dinners for me and the kidlets, I bought some spaghetti noodles and ragu sauce at the grocery store this weekend. And it was such a hit, J was actually making grunting eating noises as he shoved it in his face so fast he must have thought it would disappear. And going on about how great the sauce was! Seriously, I boiled noodles for 9 minutes then dumped some sauce right out of the jar, and I'm a freakin gourmet. I've earned a new respect in my kids' eyes.

Who knew?

Everybody's an Expert

2008-10-14T21:44:00.000-07:00

I have to admit that for the first time in my life I've become a political junkie. I am addicted to CNN. I love Anderson Cooper in his tight black t-shirt standing in flood waters up to his waist. Is he gay? God I hope not.

Anyway, on Larry King tonight the panel consisted of Charles Barkley and Ben Stein. Wait. What's that, you say? Charles Barkley and Ben Stein?? Really???

So Charles was asked by Larry what he thought of the economic plans proposed by Obama and McCain and he literally said something to the effect of "I don't know enough about either plan to say, but I believe what Ben Stein said. I'll let the economics people weigh in on that." Ok, so exactly what value was Charles there to bring? Don't get me wrong, I love CB when he's in bar fights or blasting his arrogant views, but he's just got no place on a political commentary show.

Coming Up Next . . .

2008-08-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

. . . Bill Clinton makes his first appearance at the Democratic National Convention . . . analysis of today's events . . . Hillary Clinton addresses the convention . . . AND . . . Michelle Obama's dress - hit or miss?

Really? Did I really just hear that come out of Brian Williams' mouth in prime time on national television during the Democratic National Convention? Are we so freaking superficial and immature as a nation that we must dedicate prime time to analyzing Michelle Obama's wardrobe and fashion sense? Have you EVER, EVER heard comment made about ANY political man's attire? EVER?

I'm embarassed. Seriously.

Father's Day

2008-06-19T21:23:00.000-07:00

I hate Father's Day. Really. This year in particular, its a day that I spend feeling isolated from the rest of society. While everyone is gushing about the heroics of their fathers, the life lessons learned, the love, the leadership, etc, I sit and feel like I'm the only person on the planet that doesn't feel that way about my dad.

Is it normal that people feel this way about their dads? This year was especially sentimental because of the unfortunate passing of Tim Russert. The focus all weekend was on him and his father worship. Hell, he wrote two books about the guy. It just seems odd to me that people really feel this way about their dads. Am I the exception, or the rule?

Don't get me wrong, I love my dad. He did teach me some life lessons. He taught me to take responsibility for my actions. He taught me that you won't get what you don't ask for. He taught me how to live simply and frugally. He taught me to speak grammatically correctly. He taught me how to play sports, where I learned to win sometimes but mostly lose, and I learned to be a team player. He taught my sister how to drive drunk without getting pulled over, a skill she practices regularly. But honestly, mostly he was absent, doing his own thing. I think the five us were a big burden to him. I even think he resented us sometimes, because of all he had to give up. He couldn't really live his own life from the tender age of 19 when my mom got knocked up. After that, all his time, money, resources were sucked away from him. When he finally accomplished his dream of owning his own business it failed, probably due to his lack of education and business judgment, and we lost everything. He was sometimes angry, often quiet, mostly gone from what I remember.

But sometimes he was happy. My favorite memories of him were seeing him playing his guitar on the back porch, a weed clenched between his teeth.

He left my mom within weeks of my youngest brother graduating from high school and joining the navy. Weeks before I got engaged. I didn't have a father/daughter dance at my wedding (I was angry). And by that time he was living with the hall monitor at the high school where he taught, presumably whom he'd left my mother for. I can't blame him for leaving my mom, even then, but I did feel deeply abandoned. I got over it.

I don't have angry feelings towards my dad. I think I understand him. I do love him and mostly I'm just grateful to accept what he can give as a dad. Sometimes (often) I'm ambivalent about him. He doesn't have a lot of impact or influence in my adult life. Often when I refer to my dad, my kids will say, "wait, who's your dad?" and I have to describe him in terms of he and his wife and where they live. Only a year ago I mentioned my dad and my son said, "ya know mom, I don't think I've ever met your dad." And I had to explain that yes he had, that my dad was grandpa. And he said, "who's grandpa?" Sigh. It doesn't really bother me though, honestly. That's my dad, that's what he has to give.

But I don't worship him.

what I like least about my job

2008-06-17T21:23:00.000-07:00

is following people back to their offices after they've been fired, and loitering outside their offices attempting to be inconspicuous whilst watching them pack up their personal effects and making sure they don't take any company property, then keeping an eye on them until they walk out the door, get in their cars and drive away. There is real human pain there. Shame and humiliation and anger. I don't mind the termination meeting so much. Well, I hate it but I don't have a problem holding people accountable, which is ultimately what the termination meeting is. But I hate the dirty work afterwards. You do your best to give people dignity in a situation where it is almost impossible to feel dignified. On a rare occasion it works, but more often not. It didn't work today. Mostly they just want to get the hell outta there without drawing any attention, but sometimes they want to take their anger out on you.

Yeah, that was the kind of day I had today. The dignity thing definitely didn't work. As I was peering down the stairs to ensure the person had exited, she entered the stairwell behind me, promting my surprised response "oh, there you are" aka "yes I was spying on you to make sure you didn't take anything or speak to anyone and that you left the building in an orderly and expedient fashion because surely you can't be trusted to behave after being canned like that."

Ugh.

Overheard in my nail salon today

2008-06-07T21:12:00.000-07:00

Nail tech: When your baby due?
Poor lady: She's four months old

ouch!