Updates.

BAD EATING HABITS: Since I'm big impulsive baby and MUST track my eating, I've taken the advice of several and joined The Daily Plate. It's just obsessive enough, and adds calories burned while training to my daily allotment. Both TDP and my endocrinologist agree 1400 calories is my limit, with allowances for extra activity.

THAT THYROID THING: After 2 weeks of Synthroid, I feel pretty good, and don't have a desperately exhausted feeling immediately after waking up. I seem to have more motivation for working out. If I can get my grown daughter and cats to stop waking me up, I'll have even MORE energy.

WORKOUTS: I'm doing resistance training. I'm self-conscious working out in front of Sweet Baboo; isn't that weird? I'm SO GLAD days are longer! Last night, I had an awesome, short trail run, the first good one I've had in a while. I'll be training for Ironman 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake and the Tahoe Rim Trail 50K. I'll be back in the back-of-the-pack in no time. Today, I did 9 pushups. I've never done that many all at once before, and my butt was only slighyly up in the air. Then my arms gave out and I almost broke my nose. I assume that's what they mean by "working to failure".

HAIR: My hair is growing out. Soon, I will have ponytails again. You don't care, and that's okay. I do.

SOCIAL WORK SCHOOL: When I'm done, I'm never going to school again. No, seriously. I mean it. I do.

NEW JOB: It's psychiatric research, and it's very interesting. Sometimes Sweet Baboo pops in and talks with me for a few minutes when he's not insanely busy with his new job. At my other, part-time job, I developed and am now giving a combination parenting skills class and support group on one evening a week, and also have a couple of individual clients. Once I'm done with social work school, I'll hopefully be doing a combination of case-management and therapy during the day, and all my evenings will be free.

CHILDREN: My youngest teenage son is dangling precariously between graduating and having to take a class in summer school to graduate. Because he's TRYING TO KILL ME. My daughter has been calling me VERY LATE at night to vent her drama, which is never an emergency. I asked her many times not to do this, then went into my settings and set her ringtone to silence.
Betcha didn't know you could do this, did you? You're welcome.

...

OMG. Who ARE these people?

"...the grief that has enveloped me, and it's amazing. I'm sitting here with tears streaming down my cheeks, and I need someone somewhere that could tell me this is normal..."

The subject of my rant today is people "struggling" with the empty nest. I'm talking about deep, anguished writings by women who are trying to build a life outside of their children. Stuff like this (above) and throughout, which I've edited so that the original authors can't be identified.

OMG, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? I started raising children at 19, and if you don't count a couple of my ex husbands, and the hundreds of students I've taught, I've raised three of them. Three children, who have by and large kept me hostage while they took everything I ever tried to have for myself: my favorite flavors of special K -I found three empty boxes in Mini's room while cleaning out the old house, and I've spent the weekend scrubbing boot black off stairs. This would be from JROTC combat boots.

"...I find myself wandering to his room, where I sit on the edge of his bed and thoughts of him run through my mind..."

I also found candy wrappers and old socks behind nearly every piece of furniture in his room...and also throughout the house. (And do we condone this? We do not.) Then, I packed up the car and drove to our new house, where I have cereal that will stay UNTIL I EAT IT and where, when I go to get something, it will be exactly where I left it. The only messes to clean are the ones that I myself have created.

Which carries its own challenges. But, anyway.

Am I a terrible mother who hates kids? I don't think so. I used to think I was - I tried apologizing to my grown children for their inconsistent upbringing and for being so crazy, but they've both assured me that I wasn't a bad mother, e.b., You should see some of the mothers my friends have, and they call and email me often enough to where I feel pretty assured that they don't have "issues." At least not yet.

I'll just say it: I feel like I've been let out of PRISON. Maybe I put too much into motherhood; I don't know. I felt like my job was to raise kids to be healthy, responsible individuals who could take care of themself and not need me and move on to live their lives. I stopped trying to get some meaning or reward out of parenthood long ago. I was my job, and when I enjoyed it, that was a bonus. But now I'm done.

"...As my son packed his things, my heart ached. Only a mother could know the anguish of saying goodbye, giving him wings so that the struggling baby bird can soar. I want to grab his little beak and say 'come back to your safe, loving, nest'..."

Good lord. To my children: I love you, but if you're coming for a visit, I want to see a return ticket before I let you in the door.

I come home at night, pour a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, sit on a clean couch, and look out at the foothills. Sometimes I go for a walk. I enjoy a quiet supper with Sweet Baboo. I'm in awe that life can be this good, even, and calm--devoid of any drama except that which I care to add.

There is nobody for me to ferry to an event. There is nobody to shove several pieces of paper at me at 6:45 am for my signature and/or checks to write, nobody to drop dirty clothes and books on the floor or tell me tearfully at 8 pm that they have to have 2 pieces of white posterboard RIGHT NOW or they will FAIL.

I bet this is the part where she says she misses all that.

I have a plaster cast of someone's handprint (I can't remember who) with a little poem attached that has a line or two about how much I'll miss their dirty handprints some day. I don't. Maybe that makes me a bad mom, but, that's something I'll have to live with, I guess, while sipping my chocolate wine and planning my next vacation.

I sit in my living room , watch a movie with the man I love, and there are no interruptions. The stereo has not been blown, the TV doesn't have smudgy smears on it, the cats are calm, because nobody has chased them with a paper sword that day or tried to stuff them into a box. There is low-fat ranch for my salad because nobody drank it straight from the bottle. There is chocolate milk for my mocha lattes because nobody drank the entire carton while sitting in front of the TV WHERE THEY ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE EATING followed by putting the empty carton back into the refrigerator.

"...I miss having teenagers around...I would hear newest jokes and newest music. That has been the hardest....

The phone almost never rings, but when it does, it's for me, and it's not teachers or ex-spouses calling to let me know that my son or daughter is in trouble, failing a grade, or mouthing off to them. When the TV isn't on, I sit quietly and listen to music, or read.

I'm 44. Now my life begins.

"I guess I knew that it would be here sooner or later, like the terrible twos and the teenage years. Everybody goes through it, so why do I feel like my guts have been ripped out, thrown on the road, and run over by a truck?"

OMG, woman. Go for a run, or to spin class.

...

18 Confessions.

1) iPod rules. There. I said it. I hate All Things Apple, but I love the iPod. Or as DP calls it, the Precious.

2) It really is all about the bike.

3) The foam roller works.

4) When you Google me, you see a couple pictures of me, but also pictures of horses. And sometimes, strippers.

5) I should have listened to my mother way, way back in 1983. And 1987. And, probably, 1994. I'm not telling why.

6) I know where there's a bag of potato chips hidden right at this moment. They are not baked.

7) My pager battery has been dead for several weeks. I know this, and I haven't replaced it.

8) I've discovered recently that I'm actually pretty nervous before endurance events. Terrified, actually. It just doesn't look that way. It looks a lot like, laziness. I'm secretly pleased when things are called on account of rain, and the more terrified I am, the lazier I look.

9) I frequently change the time on my posts to mask the fact that I clearly wrote them when I should be working or sleeping.

10) I haven't sent out Christmas cards out since 2001.

11) Britney Spears' CIRCUS was released November 28th. It was in my iTunes library November 13th.

12) The skirt I'm wearing today is a size 14.

13) I have a southern accent that is largely extinct due to my efforts, but I will use in a completely mercenary manner.

14) I can, on occasion, be quite catty.

15) Because of this article I have purchased a large mesh strainer and a USB cord. I am just that combination of geek, lazy, and cheap.

16) I will eat stuff that falls on my kitchen floor. And I have cats.

17) There are three words that I have to lookup no matter how many times my word processor tells me they are misspelled: maintenance, embarrass, and license. I used to misspell conscience all the time until I saw the movie, "As Good As It Gets."

18) I still watch SouthPark. My excuse that I teach teenagers having disappeared, the truth is, I still watch it.

...

Hammers, Nails. Nothing in particular.

So, this morning, I was trying to get a new button sewn on my pants before I left for work. It had broken BROKEN. OFF. due to the strain on it of encompassing the ever-increasing me. However, I stopped briefly to go hang a picture because Sweet Baboo was taking a shower. These things are related: Baboo taking a shower, me hanging up a picture, and the fact that my hair looks like crap today.

I will explain.

So, not long after we first moved to the new house I was walking across the house one day with a small hammer in my hand and passed Baboo, who immediately deviated from his course to ask, with as much casualness as he could muster (trying very hard to keep the concern, anxiety, and worry from his voice,) Sooooo...where ya goin’ with that hammer?

Have you played this game? You might be tempted to answer with one of the following:

a) I’m looking for a rusty railroad spike to drive into the wall!
b) You know, I’ve had it with those damned cats...
c) I’m going to hang a picture on a nail but change my mind until there’s at least 20 holes in a small area of the wall.

Now, I’ve checked, and this is apparently a question for the ages, asked of many a partner to their significant other, mostly out of concern, sometimes out of a need to micromanage, always annoying.

To be fair to Baboo, I must confess that I have been known to do anything to hang a picture: My mother was a professional artist, and over the years I’ve assembled a collection of certain things that must be hung or it just won’t feel like home. I will generally, if provided with them, use the proper picture-hanging nail and hook, but if they are not available immediately I have been known to use, in this order: finishing nails, roofing hails, wood screws, bolts, rusty bits of metal, bits of hard wiring cut and sharpened to a point.

I have, furthermore, used the following when either a hammer wasn’t available or I was too busy to go look for one: rocks, the heels of sturdy shoes, the heels of lesser sturdy shoes, the back of a cordless phone, a meat tenderizer, spoons, forks, the flat of a sturdy knife, the handle of a screw driver, and a marble rolling pin.

It isn't that we can't afford stuff. We can. It's just that hanging a piece of artwork, for me, is a whole tenstion-release thing. It must be hung. Now. No, NOW. IT MUST BE HUNG. I CANNOT WAIT FOR A TRIP TO LOWES!

And I’ve left some awful holes. Not holes that couldn’t be patched, mind you…with some toothpaste and a wet sponge...many of my skills having never really evolved much further than dorm living, but the holes get patched, y'all. But. Anyway.

So it isn’t strictly for purposes of micromanaging that Baboo began following me through the house and asking me where was I going with that hammer.

However,

He had bought me a tack hammer, and some proper picture-hanging nails and hooks, and I’ve been a good girl; I’ve been using them. Nevertheless, he has been following me through the house and questioning me about every decision I make to hang artwork of any sort...however kindly and patiently he asks, and he always asks kindly and patiently, but the stress of the ever-present question, though, has gotten to me to the point that I’ve determined that the best time to hang a picture is while Baboo is taking his shower.

Which brings me to this morning.

I had just enough time to sew on a button, but Baboo stepped into the shower and I realized that I had some prime picture-hanging time available, so I abandoned the button-sewing and dashed to spare bedroom to hang the picture, thereby squandering the available time to sew on the button. The button was sewn on after he got out of the shower, thereby squandering available makeup time...as I have mentioned in the past, I'll wear makeup in an Ironman, so I'm SURE not going to work without makeup on and I was GOING TO GET SOME MAKEUP ON MY FACE, thereby using up the time to do my hair properly.

See, it’s all related.

...

Hrm. Misc stuff and Random thoughts.

Weight: 168.
Mood: Fat.
Music: Nora Jones.

I would really love, love, love to share all the cool things I've been doing and learning this week but it involves real people and real lives and their confidential medical and behavioral health history soooo, nope. Can't do that. The only thing that I can share is that I was doing some computer stuff this window flew up:

****************************************

THE FOLLOWING RECORD IS CONFIDENTIAL

AND IS PROTECTED BY SOME ACT AND LAW

SOMEWHERE AND YOUR ACTIVITIES WILL

BE LOGGED YOU MUST BE ABLE TO EXPLAIN

WHY YOU NEED TO ACCESS THIS RECORD AND

BE ABLE TO PROVE YOUR NEED TO DO SO.

DO YOU WISH TO CONTINUE? Y/N

******************************************

oH, $HIT. So, I called the Dude Who Is Training me, and he explained that it was okay, and that it would generate a printout somewhere but go ahead, because my use is legitamate. Still. It freaked. me. out. I'm being LOGGED. Me and MY ACTIVITIES.

Oh, well, I can tell you that part of my job involves recruiting research subjects and I'm not allowed to approach them directly, but I can approach clinicians and ask them for help, which involves ingratiating myself to others to a degree that I'm actually pretty comfortable with.

So. Anyway.

Countdown to graduation for the youngest Mini-Baboo: 6 months left. We just paid lots of money to fix our 4-year old dishwasher and I can't prove it, but I'm sure Mini-baboo broke it. We only communicate by texting now. I worried, for a while, that he is lonely. I remember when I was 15 and my mom got her first full time job since I'd been born, and I hated coming home to an empty house. Or did i? Maybe it's just mom guilt making me remember that.

No, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I liked being alone in the house, raiding my mom's snack closet. (Mine is locked)

So, last week I texted back and forth with him, who I desperately want to graduate on time and get on with his life somewhere else, and it went something like this (I should explain first that Mini just got a cell phone a couple months ago and is still playing around with a feature that lets you put a "signature" in all your text messages):

Me: NO MORE TV OR INET ON SCHL NITES!

Him: WHAT? WHY? >HAVE NO REGRETS<

Me: YR GRADES SUCK FIX THEM

Him: OK. >HAVE NO REGRETS<

Me: & CLEAN KTCHN 2NITE

Him: OK >HAVE NO REGRETS<

This, then, is the meaningful communication that now exists between my youngest and me, but it's more communication than we used to have. I have to say it's handy to be able to call him and say, "Now, what was the only flavor of bagel that you'll eat for breakfast these days?" while at the grocery.

And, fix his grades he did. He'll do anything for Internet.

....

I got home last night and ate, and ate, and ate. I'm still trying to figure out how to do the workout thing. I'm starting to feel a lot like the zeftig WonderWoman I've seen on the Internet. I was worried that I would find myself unable to fit in decent workout, and indeed this has happened, and I'm freaking out because I'm afraid that by December I won't be able to fit through the doorway of our new house.

And I've decided to let my hair grow back out. Maybe to my shoulders. I'm sure that when I do let it grow out I'll be starkly reminded of why I cut it in the first place but all I can remember now is how handy it was to be able to tie it back while still damp and get on with my day.

That's it, I guess. Nothing exciting. Just ordinary, working mom stuff. Oh, and this Friday, I'll be flying to Arizona to volunteer and IMAZ and watch Baboo do his, uh, what is this. I think it's his 8th Ironman.

...

In which we get our dream house.

Well.

Of course we got it.

You really think a couple of realtors and a pair of homeowners would stand in the way of two Ironmen who know what they want?

It looks ordinary, but it's not. It's a sage-green, stucco home with a brand new roof and brand-new stucco. It has a brand-new interior all chosen and decorated by people with taste. Not that we don't have taste. We're just not creatively tasteful, most of the time.

Our new cottage sits on a huge, 1/3 acre pie-shaped lot, and on the other side of the back fence is open space, where we go trail running a lot. A bit further beyond that, maybe a mile, is a national wilderness. We'll cut about about 30 minutes off our work commute, once we move into it. This has nothing to do with the wilderness thing and more to do with the fact that we'll be on the complete other side of the city from where we are now, which is where work is.

Sweet Baboo has always wanted land to run around on, and now he has it, I mean we has HAVE it, without the hassle of maintanance and taxes. I have always wanted to live in the city, meanwhile, so living on the very edge of the city, abutting the Sandias, is going to be really, really great.

So there it is: our "adults only" (not in the bowchicaBOWBOW way, but in the all-the-kids-are-grown-and-have-lives-of-their-own sort of way, although I'd never rule out bowchicaBOWBOW way) home. 3 bedroom, 2 bath, with a nice little wood stove to cozy up to on winter days. Otherwise, I 'spect we'll be hitting the dusty trails that run by our back gate. Often.

...

It's a soap opera.

At least now, at this point, the biggest drama in my life is whether or not we'll get a house we like, and if that's all the drama I have to deal with, I'll take it.

We went out today, on our day off (Now that we work in the same placeI figure that everything, I mean everything, will be "we" until we're talking simultaneously or sequentially in a cute or slightly creepy way) and looked at houses.

We've found houses near trails. (Funny, so far every house we've looked at has involved us looking at aerial photographs or walking up and down streets to see how close the trails were.)

We've found houses that were cute.

We've found houses that were in nice neighborhoods.

We've found a house with a decent-sized yard.

We saw houses that were closer to work.

But we didn't find a house that encompassed all these.

In fact, most of the houses we've seen have had tiny little yards and at least one of them desperately, desperately needed to be saved from the seventies and at least one house that was so peculiarly modified for its owners tastes that it was just plain weird.

>Sigh.<

So, we went back to the house on the hill near the path that got our attention in the first place. Walked through it again. Noticed how cottage-like it felt. Walked around the huge back yard. Noticed, for the first time, that it had brand-new stucco, as well as the brand new roof. Noticed that, when you're sitting in the living room, it feels like you're outside.

Remarked about how nice it was, after all, to see people headed up the trail, that was so near the house.

And then, well, we made another offer. We've decided that, well, we want this house. It's probably the last house we'll ever live in, and it's turn key. At this point, there's no question of buying it, it comes down to how much of a deal we can get on it.

As soon as we have some sort of deal, I'll post some pictures. Until then, I'm too superstitious to do that.

~~~

Oh, Well.

So, the people weren't ready to accept our price. They counter offered with a price that was still about 40% above market value. Their agent sent us several comps to justify what they were asking, but all her comps were custom homes, and this is a nicely updated late 80s tract home. Big difference. We said no. Their "counter" was pretty ridiculous. They'll sell it, eventually, but probably not for that price. Meanwhile, they'll be paying utilities and payments. More power to them.

So, we'll keep looking around. We are still getting this house ready for an eventual transition, and that includes 2 estimates each from roofing companies (we have a couple of broken roof tiles, no leaking or anything), and some painting and other odds and ends. Today will be a parade of workers trooping in and out to provide estimates. One of them will be answering the burning question: why is there water in the bottom of my dishwasher AND my refrigerator?

I know that appliances, "aren't made like they used to be" but these are 4 years old. I suspect that the fact that Mini-Baboo's main chores are kitchen-based this has something to do with all this. For instance, he made eggs while cleaning the kitchen, in the microwave. Didn't put anything over them. They splattered all over, and then he just left the bowl and splattered egg in their to dry. And don't get my started on his bathroom. Teenaged boys, I'm sorry to say, are disgusting. But you know, it's all good: just 6 more months and then it's "Anchors aweigh, my boys, anchors aweigh!"

Weight: 168
Mood: Cranky.
Other stuff: My back hurts and I feel old.

The house Saga.

So, here's the situation: Baboo and I found this house, well actually he found it, while were out trail running. It backs up to "open space" which is localspeak for designated park land.

It's a good house for us, since we'll be empty nesters in a couple months. It's single story, smaller, which I'm wild about, but nice with recent updates inside. Best of all, it's right off the trail where we like to run, and has a large backyard - did you know Baboo likes to garden? I love, love, love to watch him putter around the garden, putting out birdseed and such. I've missed that in our current house, which has a little walled back yard that is about 20 feet wide and 15 feet deep and COMPLETELY surrounded, mostly by people who don't care about back yards, and are satisfied to just have a back yard full of sand and tumbleweeds.

So anyway.

So this house. Well, it's also about 9 miles from work. We currently live across the Rio Grand about 23 miles away. There are four roads that cross the Rio Grande from home to the VA, so as you can guess, it's about a 45 minute drive, at best.

We did some digging, and figured out that the owners probably originally built it back in the 80s. So maybe they are sentimental, which might explain whey the owners have priced it about 45% above current market value. My wise, analytical husband found out that in this zip code, of all the houses that have sold what the average price per square foot is.

Pricing that high up over is not the way to move a house these days, folks, because I'm telling you that just in Albuquerque alone, a city of just under 500,000 people, there are over 2800 homes on the market, and those are just the ones listed with agents.

So Saturday, we made an offer. It was based on the average price per square foot of recently sold homes in the area, with an additional 25% thrown in for the fact that it borders open space. 2 hours before the deadline, we were asked for extra time, as the owners had been gone all weekend, and said they wanted to comp homes that had sold locally and were near open space so that they could see about a counter offer.

Our realtor did that for us and and sent the results.

There were four.

They average price per square foot was below what we'd offered.

We also know that ours is the first offer they've gotten in the over 70 days the house has been listed.

So, we are waiting to see if they are serious about selling the house or not.

I want this house. We, want this house. It's nice and clean and updated and in a decent little neighborhood. I can totally see myself in it. I love the idea of running, literally, through a small gate in my back yard and hitting some good running trails. I might even get a mountain bike if it call comes together. But we're not going to be stupid about it.
So have you ever bid on something on ebay and then waited, waited, waited?
This is like that. But way more exciting/terrifying/fearful/fullofdreadandworry.

What will they say? What will they do? They can just say no and hold out, if they want.

Aaaggghhh! I hate waiting. I'm just not very good at it.

...

Behavioral Science Saturday.

So, I've been studying for the NCE. Today I thought it would be fun to talk a bit today about social psychology. Sweet Baboo would agree with me, that good old SC is fun stuff.
So my question to you today is, how sure are you, how really sure are you, about who you're going to vote for come November? How certain are you that your reasons are based on facts?

Are you really so decisive?

You know, you might just actually be trying to minimize cognitive dissonance. Cognitive dissonance is the incomfortable feeling you have when you have two facts in mind, but they contradict one another.

Such as: I crave a De Sota 2-piece wetsuit. They are pretty expensive, and it makes more sense to just stick to swims that I can do sleeveless. I'm switching jobs. We should economize.

But I really, really want a De Sota 2-piece wetsuit. So, I could minimize cognitive dissonance by saying something, like, this one will be much more comfortable, so I'll use it more often, so in the end, it will be cheaper per use. Eventually, the longer I own it, the more I will justify my decision, and ignore ANY evidence that contradicts my decision.

You might call this "justifying". (We do this with athletic gear. You know we do)

Read more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cognitive_dissonance
Interesting note from this page: People who are involuntarily exposed to information that increases dissonance are likely to discount that information, either by ignoring it, misinterpreting it, or denying it.

No? Well, okay, maybe not. Maybe you're just a conformist.
Read about the Asche conformity experiments here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asch_conformity_experiments.
Interesting note from this page: Even if only 1 confederate voices a different opinion, participants are less likely to conform...This finding illuminates the power that even a small dissenting minority can have.


No? Well, then, maybe you just do what you're told, such as in the Milgram Experiments: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milgram_experiment

Intersting note from the reading: ...65 percent (26 of 40)[1] of experiment participants administered the experiment's final [lethal] 450-volt shock to the other person...Only one participant steadfastly refused to administer shocks before the 300-volt level.
(Note also that in replications since then in different settings and even countries, results were pretty consistant. Scary, huh?)

So Again, I return to my original question:

are you really sure you know and believe what you think you know and believe?

You're welcome for any ensuing cognitive dissonance. No need to thank me, I'm just here to help.

...

Yeah, I'm sick of it too.

Sure is a lot of crappy stuff in the news.

Sure am sick of reading about it.

So here's some fun stuff to read:

• Man catches record-sized fish with daughter's Barbie fishing rod.
  
  
• Toilet paper now available in 3-ply.
  
  
• Horse lives on, thanks to prosthetic leg.
  
  
• Schools Now Offering Fewer Soft Drinks.

Have a nice day!

...

Thoughts upon returning from vacation

Dear Relative/Internet Friend/Distant Acquaintance,

Please don't send me emails of stories or links to YouTube videos in order to try to change my political or religious beliefs in one fell swoop.

Also, don't forward emails about things that have been disproved on Snopes.com or any of those "Chicken Soup for the Soul" type stories. I'm actually kind of offended when I receive things that are forwarded by people who don't check them out first. Especially annoying are those emails that suggest that by forwarding this email I'll get blessings abundant or by failing to forward it I'll cause bad things to happen. My estimations of your IQ will drop pretty dramatically as a result, and you may get one of these...

I do have pretty firmly entrenched political beliefs. I do a lot of reading and observing and attempt to do this via original sources, not rumors. I base my decisions about political candidates on the fact that they are applying for a job: I decide who to "hire" based on how they have dedicated their lives professionally, not on what they say they'll do or claim to believe. To me, how someone dedicates their lives professionally says a lot about their values, and it's unlikely that a single event will change my vote (or my life), and please don't take that statement as a personal challenge.

Dear one, I know that you believe very strongly what you believe. Good for you. Just don't bug me with it. Oh, and by the way: the bikini picture of Palin was photoshopped, and Obama usually does salute the flag.
Now leave me alone.

...

So, dear, how was your day?

1. The "failure to show" rate at the counseling center goes up after holiday weekends. Most of everyone's scheduled clients didn't show up today. We don't get paid when that happens. Tomorrow, we'll be making calls and checking the inmate list at the county jail.
   
   
2. Yet, for some reason, there were no offices available today. None. I sat in the group room to do charting and write treatment plans.
   
   
3. Then, for some reason, while I was conducting therapy, there was someone outside the window playing a flute. Loudly. I never knew a flute could be that intrusive.
   
   
4. The city program that provides the majority of our funding just ran out of money during their first fiscal quarter of the year. This means that many providers won't get paid, but worse, many clients won't get the services they were promised by the city.
   
   
5. I just made an appointment for my youngest child's senior portraits. Damn, I'm old.
   
   
6. Still no word on the new position I interviewed for. I'll talk more about it if I get hired and about how very cool it is. If I don't, then I'll write a lot about how much it would have sucked anyway, or how NOBODY will ever be as good for them as I would have been >sob<.

BUT...

1. I My day started with weight-lifting, a 1-mile shuffle, and 90 minutes of yoga. My legs feel pretty awesome now.
   
   
2. I made several people smile today without meaning to.
   
   
3. I got my first check for my percentage of reimbursements. my first official payment as a Licensened Mental Health Counselor. I should have taken a photocopy of it but I was all wrapped up in getting it to the bank as soon as possible.
   
   
4. I would like to announce that DreadPirate is like, the best friend evar. Not only does she send me to places to buy girlie clothes on sale, but she totally talks me down when I'm in the middle of a freakout. She doesn't feed into my neurosis, either. Just totally talks me down.
   
   
5. Starbucks pumpkin spice lattes should be out. Any day now.
   
   
6. I got a pedicure today to reward my feet for carrying me 26.2 miles. I was also celebrating the fact that I now have all my toenails at once.
   
   
7. I think, I mean I just thought I could feel a hint of fall in the air today. I TOTALLY LOVE FALL. Fall is gorgeous cool afternoon runs, crisp mornings, and FLANNEL SHEETS.
   
   
8. Hershey's kisses has special limited addition Halloween flavors: pumpkin spice, candy corn.
   
   
9. Sweet Baboo and I just bought seasons 1 - 4 of The Office.
   The Office and FLANNEL SHEETS! and Baboo! Woo hoo!

...

Pee Ess:

August Distances:

Bike: 133 miles
Run: 78 miles
Swim: 4131 (shameful!)
Weights: 6+ hours

I've biked 1511 miles and ran 578 miles this year so far.

BTW, If you aren't caught up in the whole FaceBook thing, you may not know about Yearbookyourself.com.

A warning: it's addictive.

...

If it comes back, it's yours forever.

If you slip out the door despite all my attempts to keep you safe,

If you insistthat things are wayyyyy better out THERE where NOBODY LOVES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO
instead of here where you are cherished and adored

well, you can just stay outside for a while.

So there.

>sniff<

Stupid cat.

...

Coming up, Random week stuff.

1) Hold onto your pants! This weekend, the Bottomless Sprint Triathlon. It was at this tri in 2005 that I said, "I'm definitely going to try this triathlon thing" back in 2005. I did it in 2006 and in 2007. This year I'd like to beat last year's time by at least a couple minutes. It's a mini-sprint: 400m/9 mi/2.4 mi., but it's super hot when you finish and the run is an out and back along blacktop that is not shaded. In July. In Southern New Mexico. All the time you're racing, there are loud cicadas singing (don't love that term, "singing"?) actually they're SCREAMING, adding to your perceptions that it's just, well, f***ing hot.
SSSsssssssssss (dramatic hot-sounding noise effect).
And yet, for some reason, I always remember this little sprint fondly and can't wait to do it again. Crazy.

2) Mini-baboo is home. So, once again, there is missing food, dirty dishes laying around, and lack of privacy. Mini spent 6 weeks in Dallas working in an un-airconditioned shop changing tires, moving furniture, and other sundry stuff. He used his earnings to purchase a Comprehensive Encyclopedia Set Nintendo Wii. Appears to be enjoying it.

3) Mini is a senior this year. Shouldn't there be a checklist or something? Like: take senior pictures, take ACT, order invitations, etc. I know and have accepted the possibility of this year being a giant money hole. I just need to be able to plan how fast the money drains down the hole.

4) Speaking of holes, once again I have to ask myself if there is possibly a bigger time hole than Facebook. I'm not saying I don't use it. I just saying I waste a lot of time there.

5) Someone I know referred to a random blog I found on the Internet (nobody you know) as a "brain toilet." That is still the funniest thing I've heard in a while.

6) Tonight is #6 of my summer classes. That means there's only 2 weeks left of summer school. I've been taking classes in PTSD and Substance Abuse. There isn't a whole of open-mindedness in these classes. It's all pretty lockstep, "this is how we treat this."
I just nod and practice my favorite phrase, "Well, you've given me a lot to think about."
What this phrase really means:
"I don't agree with what you say and I think you're an idiot for saying it but in the interest of diplomacy and because you are either grading me on this and/or a future colleague, I'll say something really passive aggressive that you, in your nacissistic way, will take for agreement."

7) Tomorrow, the state of New Mexico will probably finally approve my provisional counseling license. I'm pretty happy about that.

...

Misc. Monday stuff.

I'm like, the last person on earth to discover the LOL cats thing, soooooo I'll be annoying lots of you by putting those in my posts, for a while.

This week has been all about reclaiming the house. Since mini-Baboo has been in Dallas since May 21st we've been at work cleaning out the dirty clothes and wrappers and empty bottles stuffed into every nook and cranny.

MEANWHILE, with Mini-baboo gone, food lasts a LONG TIME without Mini here. Who knew, for instance, that salad greens got that funky after sitting in the fridge for a while? Mini usually helped prevent funky leftovers, by eating everything in sight. I think I've mentioned this before, but I'm still blown away by the loaf of bread that lasted TWO WHOLE WEEKS.

You know, I've been raising kids--three of them--since I was 19, and so I have never, ever, lived in my own home as an adult without children. I'm accustomed to hiding my food and putting passwords and key locks on everything, and my things being taken and/or broken and "nobody" knows how it happened and I swear, Mom! I wasn't anywhere near that when it fell!

So but, you can see that the prospect of my last born graduating and moving on in 11 months is pretty exciting.

This week, I took an old computer and with a flat-screen monitor and fixed it up--I'll leave out the geekiest parts of what I did--and it now sits in the area adjacent to the kitchen, and I can listen to nearly any music my widdle heart desires while cooking or exercising, or watch re-runs of "Scrubs," or "CSI," or look for a recipe or get information information about stretching online, all with a click of my cordless mouse.

I can also watch movies or exercise DVDs on it.

Or all of these at once.

Fabulous.

I especially love having playlists I can listen to on a whim because it is my opinion that life should be like a movie, with the appropriate background music enhancing the scene. This, then, is my only complaint about triathlon: No headphones means I can't further the delusion that I am a star in my own movie.

Meanwhile, I'm working on clearing out a den-like room that is currently full--and I do mean full: of many, many boxes--of my teaching supplies. After that's done, it will become the exercise area. We've decided we want the rest of the whole downstairs to just be full of comfortable chairs, like a giant coffee house, for lounging and whatnot. It won't be terribly impressive or wind up in any magazine. That's not the point. The point is a respite from the world.

Our plans for Mini-baboos area upstairs after May of 09 includes blackout curtains, a kitchenette, and a large, flatscreen TV.

Not really much triathlon stuff in this post, is there? Well, it's back to training tomorrow.

Oh, and here's my monthly miles for June:

Swim: 14,180 meters
Bike: 334.6 miles
Run: 64.38 miles
Hiking: 2 hours
Pilates/Yoga: 4 hours


...

Thought for the Day.

Iron Self-Indulgence and Pampering.

So today I did the following:

• Did a 1-hour spin class (at IM pace)
• Ran a couple miles at marathon pace
• Did 5 quick 100-meter repeats
  
• Sat in the hot tub a little while and relaxed
  
• Did a 90-minute yoga class
• Bought a latte
  
• Got a pedicure (why you no got all you toe nail? You want me put acrylic toenail on for you?)
• Got a message (the kind where you get touched, not where someone talks on your voice mail)
  

And then, well, then I had LUNCH.
That's right. I did all that before NOON.

I rock.

And just for the record, I said "No" to the acrylic toenail. There's vanity, and then there's well, just plain weirdness.


...

Santa came early, and he looks like an elephant.

I just have to share my excitement over my new Christmas present: A zojurushi Neuro Fuzzy 10-cup rice cooker.

It is the CADILLAC of rice cookers. It has 10 different settings for 10 different types of rice, all digital, and uses "fuzzy logic" to create just the right cooking environment. VERY high tech.
Plus, it's cute. It's a cute happy bug sitting on my counter top, and now I can make brown rice whenever I want, 10 cups at a time and then frozen to suit my convenience. There's few things that give me greater pleasure than properly cooked brown rice.

What's that you say? Making rice is as easy as boiling water? Problem is, I'm not much good at waiting for things to happen...like...cooking.
I get bored, and find something to do while things cook....then the smoke alarm goes off...

AND I can make my own sushi rolls again.
Vegetarian, of course. I don't put parasite infested raw anything in there. I'm happy enough to have my rolls with avocado, carrots, cucumbers, whatever strikes my fancy. Then dip it in lovely soy sauce and there you have it, lots of complex carbs and lovely sodium. Voila, the perfect pre-worktout meal.

Okay, I know you're probably not as excited about this as I am. But I'm excited, just the same.

By the way, Santa has a Blog, now. Thanks to BunnyGirl for the link.

...