Mostly one-liners.

Dear Diary,

Yes, she is that spoiled.
No, I don't know why.

15. I spent most of my free computer time this week working - see #3 for explanation.

14. I think it's safe to say I don't much like being a parent these days.

13. But I do like being a runner. I am right back on track with my running again. After several months of not being terribly discipliined, I am finally back into the habit of making up missed miles and making sure thatt I get all my miles in.  Which brings me to today, when I ditched my run.  I now have 12 miles to make up, somehow.  :-/

12. #13 is important, because I put on five pounds last month.

11. WeightWatchers just updated their app for ipad. It rocks. They also have a kick-ass kitchen-helper app.

10. The running is keeping me from wrapping my hands around a certain surly twenty-something's neck and squeezing.

9. There are ants in my house that are particularly bad this year. It requires that I keep pet food put up. :-( and not leave anything sitting out too long.

8. This has been a tough week at work. Hug your kids.

7. I am also back on track with my eating. It was getting a llittle out of control. I was temped by stress to fall back into my old ways, in which I would buy a whole rotissere chicken and sit out on my car and eat it. (ugly, but true).

There is a dress code, you know.

6. Thursday evening, I drank cheap beer and and made "Chicken Helper". Now in my defense, it was whole grain chicken helper, to which I added lots of vegetables. The cheap beer I have no excuse for. It's interesting, though, that Bud Light is the only beer I can drink, being as I hate most beers and think they are a cold bitter mess. I've been told that Bud Light has no taste, which would explain why I can drink it. So there you have it: I have dental problems, eat chicken helper, and drink cheap beer. I am one step away from hanging up laundry wearing my bra and shorts and curlers.

5.  Stress has also made me not sleep well.  Today, instead of running, I slept in.  Later I will take Herself the Daughter to look at rent houses.

4. I have prepared a "move-out" box for Herself the Daughter that has TP (the cheap kind), laundry soap, and cup-a-noodle (Might as well get used to it now.  Life is WAYYY different outside mom's house, princess)

3. This next week I will be attending four full days of "New Employee Orientation" at the VA for my internship.

Ah, dinner by candlelight. 

2. I am beginning to feel, finally, like a mental health professional. So that's a new identity for me. I was a mother, then a teacher, and then a runner, and then I didn't know what I was for a while.

1. Work related: Here's a little tip from me.  If, in the process of knifing your boyfriend/dealer to death, you assign your mother POA for your kids, make sure she's not homeless.  (The lives some people lead.  Jeesh.)

...

A very special Thursday Thirteen: It's time to go, hijita

Dear Diary (and grown child),


I'm not sure if you'll even see this, since you have little interest in what it is that I do, where I go, or what I think.

These tips and tricks are meant to be a guide to living in my house.  They are by no means all inclusive. They they may explain, however, why I'm beginning to take a rather passitve-aggressive and oftentimes aggressive-aggressive stance towards you as of late.

13.  Be Courteous.  You are not fulfilling me somehow by being here; in fact, my closest friends groaned when I told them you were moving in with me.  I am a person, with a life, pursuits, friends, hobbies, activities, routines, and interests.  Do not expect me to re-arrange to accommodate you. Once you are old enough to look me in the eye, you are no longer my precious baby, my hijita, my bundle of joy. You are a homeless person living in my house and eating my food.

12.  Be Real.  You've told me that your goal is to be a housewife.  I don't have a problem with that per se, but remember that you have to:
1) be a wife, and 2) have a house.

11.  Be Neat.   Don't leave wet towels on the floor.  Don't leave pee in the toilet.  Don't leave your makeup and toiletries all over.  It's not your bathroom.  It's my guest bath.  Don't take dishes in to the guest room.  Don't leave dishes in the guest room.  Don't put dirty dishes into the drawers in the guest room.  Don't call it your room...It's my guest room. Those are my dishes.  And goddamned it, MY ANTS.
This is not a hotel.  There is no maid service.


10.  Don't take my stuff.  My work is emotionally draining.  I sometimes have small amounts of certain comfort foods set aside and I come home to relax.  I may go for weeks without touching them but that doesn't mean it's open season on anything in the cabinet or fridge, or that you have free use of my ipod dock, or any of my stuff.  Recent examples: frozen shrimp, the provolone, my wheat thins, anything else I haven't discovered yet.

IT"S NOT AS THOUGH WE HAVEN'T ALREADY HAD THIS CONVERSATION ABOUT SIX TIMES.  


(And while we're at it, you didn't "find" it in the cabinet, because it wasn't "lost".)

9.  Plan Ahead.  Don't use up the mayonnaise, the catsup, the hot sauce, the tuna, toilet paper, paper towels, various clearing supplies, or any household stuff without telling me and tell me if we're about to run out.  I do not go to the store in the middle of the week.  Recent examples: AGAIN, WE'VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION 6 TIMES.

8. Get moving.   If I'm in the kitchen eating a peanut butter sandwich because I just ran eight miles, do not hint at how nice it would be if I made you one, too.  You don't even work out.  Go run eight miles, then, make your own sandwich.

7.  Quit bugging me about your virtual boyfriend.  He's not your boyfriend.  You don't know him.  You've never met him.  You've seen his picture, and talked on phone.  No, I don't have any advice for you on your recent spat.  Why?  BECAUSE I'VE NEVER MET HIM, AND NEITHER HAVE YOU.

6.  Get moving, Part 2.  Sitting on your ass all day on the internet turning in online applications is not "looking for a job."  Also, you don't get weekends off from being unemployed. 

5.  Be Courterous, Part 2.  Do not stay up until midnight and THEN decide to go do things in the kitchen.  The people who are supporting you are trying to sleep.

4.  Mine.  Not Yours. It doesn't matter if I have unlimited long distance and local; I am the one who pays the bill.  It's just plain rude to use my cell phone late at night after I've gone to sleep, or to spend hours on the house phone.

Yeah - it's all funny until the homicide squad arrives.

3.  WAKE UP.  Don't act put out when I wake you up in the morning by banging loudly on the guest room door.  Alarm clocks are simple to operate.  WAKE YOURSELF UP.

2.  It's my house, deal with it.  Do not presume to snicker or mock me or complain about how messy I am, how I leave cabinet doors open, or how loud I was last night.  And don't try to manipulate me; if you tell me you'll have to live in a shelter if I make you leave, I will merely offer tips and tricks to avoid being mugged.  By the way, you should be so lucky at age 46 to have something to be loud about.

 1.  Don't be such a drama queen.  Do not sing loudly enough along with Sarah McLaughlin while you're in the kitchen to wake the coyotes.  Don't post your angst about how I "treat" you on FaceBook...or how despondent you are over my latest tirade.  I'm a therapist, but I'm not your therapist.
--------------------------
Sweetie, adults who live with their parents regress.  You have regressed.
It's time for you to move out.
It's time for you to move along.

Love, Mom.

...

On salsa, and gloating, er, BLOATING, and other things.

Transport shuttle at the Kalamazoo
Marathon.

Dear diary,

Himself.

14.  The app I bought for my iPad to post my blog does not edit HTML.  So that's why I'm late.  I'm stll working on it .

13. Today is my favorite day of all, my very, very favorite.  Today is the day that I eat a shitload of food and tell everyone that I'm not binging, I'm "carb-loading".

12. My body held its usual post-race bloat a little longer than usual last week. I was starting to worry. By Friday I was still about 7 lbs up, and I had to keep reminding myself that, well, I certainly had not eaten an extra 10,000 calories over and above what I had run last weekend so there was no reason for me to have actually put on that much weight, but you know, pants don't fit, worry sets in, and I started catastrophising.

• I am gaining weight.
• My clothes will not fit anymore, and thanks to dp, I have no more more fat clothes.
• I will have to do all my shopping at garage sales.
• I will look like an old bag lady.

Finish chute at Kalamazoo.

But then Saturday, I did my imitation of a racehorse (not being fast. The other thing) and my weight dumped about six pounds. I am not sure when I will reach a point where I am not weighing myself twice a day.
 

11. Sweet Baboo suddenly and inexplicably asked me if I was interested in salsa dancing lessons. With him.



FOUR.

I kinda thought it was a joke at first; men are notorious for avoiding the 'dance' word...so I said yeah right. Turns out, he was not kidding. We started looking online at YouTube videos and even the beginning ones look incredibly complicated. Ulp. But there is no turning back now.

It turns out that classes are reasonably priced, fit into our schedule, so well...here we go.

I told him, you know that this is another reason women will hate me, don't you? But,well, there you go.


10. I did my first session as a volunteer for Women In Training Saturday. I led a group of about five women, including Daughter, on a one-minute-on, one-minute-off jogging and walking workout, with a warmup and cool down, with some stretching before and after. I really enjoyed myself and regret having so many Saturday races coming up.

9. How does a person eat half a bottle of low-fat ranch in a sitting? Can anyone tell me that?



Finish Line.



Himeself, finishing his
fourth marathon in 3:45

 8. Sweet Baboo took a physical fitness test for the guard. He did 62 pushups, ran 2 miles in 13 or so minutes, and met the weight requirement. He smoked all the young bucks. :-D  Hubba hubba!

7.  Just for future reference, if your teenage son is caught at the seen of a crime weilding a gun after having taken something that doens't belong to him, you don't get to say he doesn't have behavior problems.
This isn't about any one particular case; this is about half a dozen cases I've seen over the past few years. 



I no longer turn off my
Garmin until after crossing.

6. Tuesday, Daughter declined to do the first workout of the week because her knee hurt.  I'm not pushing this.  It has to be her decision. 

Ranch dressing fountain.  I'm not saying
I don't love the stuff, but c'mon.  There's
other condiments out there. 

5.  Update to number 9, above: the entire bottle of ranch was gone by Monday (it was purchased on Saturday).  This lead me to google ranch dressing, and I came up with this: fat girl ketchup.  Go ahead, Google fat girl ketchup

4.  Sweet Baboo and I are signed up for an 8-mile run at the Acoma Pueblo.  It's a rugged trail run, like most of the ones they have there, that takes you on lands that outsiders are almost never allowed to be on.  The Acaoma Pueblo is either nearly the oldest or the oldest continuously inhabited settlement in North America which, if you read up on it, is true of several pueblos in New Mexico.


Some examples of Acoma pottery.

 Prizes, which I will not get but will admire greatly, are ceramics created by Acoma craftsmen and women who revere running.

3.  Yesterday Sweet Baboo and I were talking about the Jemez trial 50k that we're doing tomorrow, and he said something offhandedly something about not getting home until 9 at night.

9 at NIGHT?  What on earth are you talking about?  I figure it will take me seven hours, eight tops to do a 50K

"Misty, you know how long it took me to do this last year? Ten hours."

>cricket<   >cricket<

oh. 

shit.

I forgot about the profile.  That's probably good because it saved me from a full-blown panic attack, but still, here it is:

See that first bump?  The one that stops just short
of 9000 feet? Yeh.  That's where I quit last year. 

2.  I got a landline from the cable company.  It was cheaper than paying daughter's cell phone bill, and this way she can get messages from prospective employers (please, please, please let her get those messages) anyway. So, but, I know from exerience that a cordless phone will disappear and we'll spend most of time looking for it, and most of the time it will be in the guest room where daughter is staying.  So instead, I plugged in this:

I know, right?  And yes, it works.  However. You cannot press "1" if you wish to continue in English.  You can't even dial it.  You just have to stay on the line while the voice command repeats several times. 

You see, my philosophy regarding having children living at home after they are old enough to hold down jobs and pay their own rent is a simple one: make the house as inconvenient and annoying as possible to expedite their leaving and their motivation to do so.  This includes restricting internet use, having annoying, old-fashioned appliances, and maybe making loud sex sounds that freak them out. 

So far, none of this has worked.  I'm open to ideas. 

1.  - Posted from my iPad -  This is awkward, I know. After years of mocking ipad and iphone owners, I is one.  Just so you know, none of my opinions are written in stone.  I can be won over by a reasonable, valid argument based on evidence.  Or very good electronic gadgetry.

...

Eventually, if you wade through enough of it, you stop noticing the smell. (Thursday 13, the early edition)

Dear Diary,

13.  I mentioned last week that I had been in school continuously for 20 years, and a couple people commented to me on it. Yes, it's true.  I am that pathetic.  But part of the cure is admitting you have a problem, and I do: I am addicted to finisher's prizes.  At least now they are less expensive and help get rid of stress instead of causing it.
Meanwhile,

I can feel myself wearing down, and just in time, too.  I'm actually doing better than last year, when I was worn down by February.  I'm tired, depressed, anxious, and having bad dreams that involve rejection and abandonment.  I am, finally, and predictably, getting Too Old For This Shit.

I know it's just the whole grad school thing. I know it, but I can't feel it.  I just want to lay on a couch all day and do nothing.  I don't want to go anywhere, run, or write a paper, or make a phone call, or clean, or arrange.  Just lay.  And maybe drink cool, icy things. Which may, or may not, have ETOH in them.

12.  Saturday, I was bitterly disappointed to find out that Sweet Baboo got an email saying he'd been selected in the lottery for the La Luz Trail Run, and I had not.

Then.  A friend messaged me later to tell me my name is on the list, here:   http://ultrasignup.com/entrants_event.aspx?did=12328

So, I will begin training for this May 25th.  I'll still have a 50K to do in June, but other than that, I'm winding down for about a year of shorter distances and speedwork.  I'll still be running 5 days a week, but for much shorter distances.  I'll probably be keeping a 50K training plan recycling throughout the 2011-2012 school year while I'm interning.  My goal: Sub 2 hour.  Which, if you recall the profile, is quite ambitious.

11.  Saturday I ran a local half marathon while Baboo ran a 10K.   I had to run 15 miles Saturday, per Coach Baboo, and this seemed like a good way to do most of that, so he signed me up.  We like to support local races whenever we can, for reasons I'll mention in a bit.

It was beautiful, cool and just a bit breezy, and other than the smell of horses, the run through Albuquerque's North Valley area was lovely.  We ran past vineyards and farms and over acequias, and YES ALBUQUERQUE HAS THOSE THINGS, RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TOWN AND THAT'S WHY I LOVE IT SO and underneath old, old cottonwood trees that arched high overhead, providing shade.

We finished at a local elementary school. It was one of those lovely local races where you get to see people doing their very first race of some distance, and their friends and families hold signs and cheer wildly for them.  I think everyone, no matter what distance they wind up doing, should support local races.  It's incredibly inspiring to see people doing their very first anything, whether it's a half marathon, 10K, or 5K.

10.  Sweet Baboo also did a race at the same time; he did the 10K.  It was on the same route except that halfway through they turned into another direction.  His race started 15 minutes after mine and so, predictably just before his mile 4, he blew by me at what seemed to be a dead sprint.

Trust me, it was startling to see him running that fast - he was running faster than others around him but was much larger (Remember, he's 195 lbs and 6' tall). He is qualifying for a military running team by running a 44-minute 10K.  I can't even imagine being that fast--I'm still trying to break an hour on my 10K time.

My time for the half-marathon was 2:16 and some seconds, by the way.  I was holding my own the first 7 miles, but then I started fading. Next time, I need more water.  And faster legs.

9. This past weekend I had my last big weekend.  The marathon Saturday was followed on Sunday by...nothing.  My legs hurt, especially the upper part of my quads.  So, I rounded out a 36-mile week.  Yes, it does still freak me out to see that written, even when I write it. I can still remember the first time I freaked out of a "5 mile slow jog".  It was supposed to be more, but I'm having trouble with energy.

8.  Last Friday a kid ran by my office, closely followed by people talking into radios.  They tend not to run, as there's not a whole lot of places where he can go, so they run in a loop.  When he ran by again they were further behind.  He stopped and threw a small rock at me, hitting me squarely in the right side of my $5 reading glasses.  Good thing I had them on.  I'm imagining his treatment review:

The client's strengths include good hand-eye coordination. 

Because, you know, it's all about focusing on strengths.   

7.  A woman asked me recently how I lost weight.  What could I say?  No, it wasn't easy.  No, I sometimes will think about chocolate cake. The woman, who is large for her height, said that she just couldn't see depriving herself.  Yes, it's true, I do deprive myself at times.  But I know the following is true:

• In life there are choices.  I made mine.
• There will always be chocolate cake.  I choose when and how to have a taste.  
• Chances are, the craving will pass.  It always does. 

6.  "Ever wish vegetables didn't taste so vegetal-y"?  Says the V8 splash commercial.  Uh, well, no.  I like it that vegetables taste vegetable-y, just like I like that potatoes taste potato-y, and chicken tastes chicken-y.  If I want something that tastes Fruit-y, I'll eat fruit.  Thanks.

5.  Last Thursday I woke up at 3 am.  No idea why, but I couldn't get back to sleep.  I lay there for an hour or so, and then went out in the dark and ran 4 miles.  During my run, several cars stopped at stop signs, and even though it was dark, they saw me.  Because they, you know, STOPPED.  at the STOP SIGN.
But not this guy.  No, the guy in the old geep grand cherokee blew the stop sign, and then slowed somewhat for just a second when he saw me.  Then he went ahead and turned in front of me.  I smacked his car with my open palm.  yes, he was so close that I could simply lift my hand and do that.  I didn't reach.  He blew his horn at me.  Baby.


Then, for some reason I cannot fathom, he drove up the street, turned around, and drove up alongside me to give me a lecture.  Now, I really wanted to say, you blew the stop sign.  Now go blow yourself.


But because of my new year's resolution, *I* am a calm person in charge of her faculties.  So I waved as I ran while he rolled alongside me, and I called out repeately, Have a nice day!  Have a nice day!  Finally he gave up and yelled "dumbass" and drove away.  Ooo. Ouch.

That was fun.  If all I have to do to piss people off is be nice to them when they are steaming mad, then there you go.  Win-win.

WHAT is up with people like that?  Seriously.  If you go to the trouble of turning your car around to follow someone on foot and tell them how they should behave, how sad is your life?  

4.    Thursday, I blew off my afternoon run.  I hadn't seen my doggie all week in the sunlight.  I was tired as hell.  I also wanted to make a special meal for my daughter to celebrate the fact that SHE GOT A JOB, YES, THAT'S RIGHT I got the internship.  I won't tell you what we ate.  It was a bit of hedonism.  Okay, I'll tell: it was a couple of bacon-wrapped fillets from the local commissary.

At one point, she looked at them and reported that her father (who I haven't been married to for two decades) told her that these were too small, and that he could eat several of them.  Well, of course he could.  Most of us could.  That's not the point.  Yeah, no shit.  But I have tried to teach my daughter two important rules in life, and one of them is: Just because you can eat all of it doesn't mean you need to do so.  Anyway. We had the tiny fillets, and I talked to her about eating it slowly and enjoying each bite, because when you do that, you don't need more food.  We also had steamed vegetables and baked sweet-potato fries.

3.  Oh, by the way, the other rule I've tried to teach her is: Just because you can get it on doesn't mean it fits. Words to live by.  They should be posted, like, EVERYWHERE.

2.  I met some kids this week that, frankly, reminded me of how awesome I have it.  That's it.  That's all you're getting.  HIPAA, you know.  Okay, so I'm a bleeding heart.  Bite me.  Seriously, what do you expect from someone in my line of work?  I don't know too many Social Workers that AREN'T bleeding hearts
But.  I'm a bleeding heart whose politics are based on evidence, not the "energy" I feel.  Not the "gut feeling".  Evidence.

1.  What I am about to tell you will make you hate me.  A while back SweetFace came for dinner and was playing with his new iPad. As he is my son, SweetFace is a serious tecchie gear whore.  I tell you, I was smitten.  I have absolutely no reason to buy one of these things; I mean, I've finished all my coursework DID YOU READ THAT, HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I'M FINISHED WITH ALL MY COURSEWORK, but I jokingly said to SweetFace, you should give your dear old mother this for mother's day.

"Why should I do that?"

Because they wouldn't give me any drugs and you were nearly 9 pounds.  

We laughed.

Then, a couple weeks later, Daughter joked with him about getting me one.  He pondered that for a while, and then said, "I think I will."

Why?

Well, it turns out that as a teenager back in '02, SweetFace wanted a particular motherboard of mine, so unbeknownst to me he swapped it out with another motherboard that had a lesser processor.  It was off a PC that I wasn't using at the time, and I don't remember it, so I must not have been aware of it. (Sign of a true nerd, by the way.  He didn't break into my room to steal money or prescription pills, no, he took a motherboard.)

It furthermore turns out that himself the SweetFace has a low threshold of guilt tolerance. As well, he wants a new 2G ipad and only by giving me his 3-month-old 1G iPad can he justify that.
I, of course, am torn.

• Do I be the "good mother" and say, "don't spend all that money on me?" or 
• Do I acknowledge that yes, he was a pain in the ass teenager and so I'm totally entitled to cool stuff, being as I raised him alone most of his life? or
• Do I simply allow him to assuage his guilt by accepting a very expensive (and very cool) trinket?  

The tie-breaker, of course, is that it's INCREDIBLY COOL AND I WANT ONE.  

So, in addition to the new Garmin 310XT that Baboo brought me, guess what else I'm getting for mother's day? :)  Yeah, I know.  You hate me.  Go have some kids of your own and instill work ethic and low guilt thresholds.  It will take about 20 years, but it's totally worth it.
...

[soon to be sent from my iPad. if there's an app for that.] 

.

the Mother of a Sailor

Once the pomp and ceremony of graduation was completed, he joined us for

the day. We ate, walked through the mall, saw a movie, and then ate again. He checked his balance in his bank account, and experimentally withdrew $20 of his pay, just because he could.

As we were walking through the mall, a cell phone salesman struck up a conversation with the young sailor fresh from boot camp, asking his about his division, et cetera. I started to warn him about these sales tactics, as he was listening and answering the questions politely, but warnings died on my lips as he assured me that he knew the guy was "just buttering me up".

"They warned us about that. On base. They talked to us a lot about something called 'predatory lending,' too."

He said that this weekend, they were forbidden to drink, smoke, get a tattoo, or sign a contract. He thoughtfully informed us that in the case of his death, we'd get a nice windfall, because of his life insurance.

He talked nonstop about all things Navy; in particular, he talked about how to put out fires. He talked about getting bronchitis, and how they took him to the VA and put him on bed rest for several days. My fears of the military chewing him up and spitting him out were allayed. They took care of him.

I asked him about the many women I'd seen at graduation. Some of them were tiny, barely 5 feet. He told me that some of them were under 5 feet, but they'd done the work, and that everyone treated them with respect - nobody picked on the girls. Everyone was treated fairly.

I asked him about the guy I nick-named "the sidler" who slid sideways up and down the rows when they stood in formation, leading with his shoulder.

"Oh, him - He's checking to see if anyone is about to pass out." He described people who got sick or dizzy when they stood in one place for too long. Nobody was thrashed, they were made to sit down.

He nodded and greeted other sailors walking through the mall with their families, and continued talking about the various simulations and drills they went through. He talked of the kids that could not pass the physical fitness tests, and the one that tried to climb over the wall, past the barbed wire, to get off the base, and another one who tried to run out the gate. Everything, all their training, eating, sleeping - was all done in one building, to simulate life on a ship.

"I don't know why they did that. I mean, was hard, but geeze, it wasn't that hard. I paid attention to everything. I learned a lot. I never really tried that hard in school, you know, so I had a lot of room in my brain." He recounted much of what he'd learned about military history.

He was happy when he saw us at graduation. He was happy when I hugged him good bye. He seemed anxious to be back on base a little earlier than his scheduled watch that evening, so that he wouldn't be caught late, but also to check out the recreation hall, which he hadn't been allowed to visit during boot camp. He didn't linger, but he didn't sprint away from us, either.

No longer Mini-Baboo, the kid whose name I didn't use of concerns of predators. He is an adult now. He is Seaman Jon, with 3 bars that I don't remember the meaning of on his sleeve. And I, his mother of a sailor, am relaxed.

Tardy Thursday Thirteen.

1)It is surprisingly cool here. I had to buy a lightweight sweater. Coolish, low 80s, a bit of a breeze. I imagine it does eventually get windy here, because it is so flat. So very, very flat. You know how when you land in a plane, and you suddenly become aware of hills as you are landing because things are blocked from view? That never happened here. It is FLAt, flat, flat.

2) Traveling gives one the chance to see just the very worst of humanity. Weird, freaky people, people full of self-importance and entitlement, and people who didn't learn manners in school. HEY, NO CUTTING!

3) There is a badly needed and sorely missed missed development and marketing opportunity for safe and effective methods to dose children for traveling.

4) The Kansas city airport is sadly lacking in planning. It's just sad all

around. And kinda bland. Even the pizza was bland. The airport is tiny, and to get a decent bite to eat, you had to leave the secure area, meaning that one had to go back through the metal detectors and scanners again.

5) What Chicagoland lacks in hills and altitude it makes up for in humidity. Still....I PR'd at the "Elvis is Alive" 5K. WOOT! IN a wig and a dress (the wig came off at mile .5) I ran a 9:55 5k. I've never been so sweaty after a run before. *Respect*.

6) We were interviewd in custume for the 5k by a reporter, filmed by another reporter, and photographed. I don't know if those will show up anywhere. This was teh best supported 5k I've ever seen. They had an aid station, and a stand-by group of EMTs, and there were constant warnings about what to do if one was "overcome". There was a party afterwards with all runners getting a free beer. Beforehand, everyone got free clif products (builder bars and Mojo bars--yum!) and free muscle milk and gatorade.

7) The graduation ceremony was very military. Still, and I hope nobody takes offense at this: The Navy recruit uniform? The nautical pajamas? A bit silly, as uniforms go.

8) People who have been in the Military take military heroes and history very serious. Very, very seriously. When Sweet Baboo mentioned a particular hero I'd never heard of named Chesty Puller, and I said that sounded like a stripper's name, he was very offended. Well, how did I know? (But I mean, seriously, doesn't it?)

9) Not everyone looked like people who would have a child in the Navy. Some people looked like someone the child in the Navy was escaping. But most were proud and attempted to dress for the occasion. This guy, for instance, wore his best Thug suit, complete with a matching ball cap, which he did not remove for the entire ceremony -->.

10) They showed us a slide show of boot camp while we were waiting for the recruits to enter the hall. The most emotional moment? They showed several slides of recruits folding their clothes tightly and storing them, and making their beds, eliciting "oooooh" and "aaahhhhhh" from the audience.

11) Young Seamen Mini-Baboo talked nonstop about the Navy, and bootcamp, and it seems like we made an excellent choice in the Navy for young Baboo. It was hard, but at the same time they took very good care of him, including when he came down with brochitis. He learned about fire-fighting, which as Baboo sensibly pointed out, was important: on a boat, if there's a fire, you can't evacuate. You have to put out the fire.

12) We took him to Chipotles for "non-chow" food, and to see the new

Harry Potter movie. He also informed us proudly that nobody in his division had ever done a marathon, as he had, and only one other recruit had done an Olympic distance triathlon. He also demonstrated to me his shirt-folding prowess. Apparently, efficiency and compactness of movement and actions is a very big deal, which makes sense when one is confined to small quarter on a boat. He looks unhappy in this picture. He's not. Apparently, when one joins the Military, it's no longer cool to smile for pictures.

13) This is a brief clip of Mini-Baboo's division coming into the hall.
You'll hear the announcer say, "Halt" in a very calm voice. Everything was calm. The Navy seems to be less about yelling and screaming and fear and much more about stern reprimands.

Next up for Mini-baboo: Sub training school in Connecticut. Next up for us: The Full Moon Half Marathon in Sheboygan, Wi.

...

Thursday Thirteen

1. I had a spinach feta wrap on Tuesday from STARBUCKS. If this keeps up, I'll have to start forwarding my mail there. Food, they have there now.

2. I can share a bit about my job at the VA, but just a little: one of my duties is to recruit patients for research studies. One of the studies specifically requires subjects have an existing psychotic disorder. So here's the scenerio, and I'll let you guess how it often ends: Good morning, Mr. ___. I'm from the government, and we want to study you.

3. I bought a Finis Tempo Trainer. I became interested in them Momo used one last year at IMCDA. I've been testing it out all this week. I like it. I tend to dilly-dally in the pool, mosy-ing a long, getting slower and slower - this keeps me focused on moving forward.

4. Since I've had to rethink my eating due to the thyroid thing, I am now trying to eat a tiny bit every hour most of the day, lots of fruits and veggies included. I stay around 1500 calories on training days. When I have longer events or workouts, I drink or eat extra calories.

5. The forecast for this Sunday at BSLT is 92. yay. I loves me some heat. Time to get out my "cool off bandana" I used this on the 96-degree run at Barb's Race last summer, and it rocks.

6. Sweet Baboo has nearly finished all his interviews for the job he wants. YES, this has been going on since December. So far, he's gotten good feedback.

7. I eat a hard-boiled egg every morning, peeling it into my trash can. I'm eating 2 cups of mixed vegetables every day with my lunch, which I heat in the microwave. This week, my mixed veggies are cauliflour, brocolli, carrots, and squash. Guess what my office smells like by noon?

8. I've accepted that this is a year of adjustment, and I'll be slower as I work on on how to train while working a regular 40-hour job, dealing with the thyroid stuff, et cetera. Next year will be a better year.

9. I talked to my Endocrinologist this week, and he agreed that we should up my medication. He didn't chide me or make me feel like a silly little girl, as I feared. I don't know why I feared that. But I did.

10. I'll be giving my bra from Moving Comfort its final test this weekend. It will get the "Lubbuck, in June" test. Then, I'll write my review.

11. I've lost my keys. Yes, again. Shut up.

12. Distances so far this month: 190 Mi Bike, 40.2 Mi Run, 9700 m. Swim. Kinda puny, but whaddaya want. I'm planning for this to double in July to get ready for the REDMAN Iron Distance.

13. Never forget that sometimes, when you attempt to do extraordinary things, you will fail. But then you'll pick yourself, and learn what you need to to know to go on and do other, extraordinary things.

...

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And then I sipped my wine and laughed.

Saturday evening I got a phone call - right before my phone mysteriously stopped working, but that's another story. So anyway, I got a phone call from my daughter.

Sneaky girl--she used her brother's cell phone. She is programmed into my phone as having a "silent" ring tone, because she calls me with her drama all the time. This way, I don't know she's calling until later when I look at my phone, and by then whatever drama it was that she ABSOLUTELYPOSITIVELYHADTOTALKTOMEABOUTNOW has already blown over.
She's calm, I'm happy, it works for us.

But anyway, so she ABSOLUTELYPOSITIVELYHADTOTALKTOMEABOUT and my son, who is visiting her, ratted me out about the silent ringtone so she grabbed HIS phone to call me (note to self: two youngest children shall now each have silent ring tones) and complain bitterly about a dispute they were having.

My 21-year-old daughter. Called me. To complain about my 18-year-old.

So what do you think I did?

Well, I had them put on the speaker phone. Then I told my son that if she's right, he'll get his butt kicked every day he exists in boot camp.

Then I told my daughter that if he's right she needs to learn to take better care of her things.

Then I told them I didn't care who was right, and to work it out like the adults they were, and leave me out of it, because I'm now officially out of the business of Solving Disputes Among Kids.

Daughter complained bitterly about my failure to react appropriately to her very urgent need to be told that she was right and he was wrong.

I told her I loved her, while she was in the middle of her tirade andheknowsnottodothatItold himoverandoverandhesayshe
didn'tbutIKNOWhedid...

and then I hung up the phone

and then I sat in the sunshine.

...

Oh, the Places You'll Go

Yesterday Sweet Baboo, Daughter, Daughter's Husband, Oldest Son, and James (Mini-baboo's best friend) and I sat in the upper bleachers at the Santa Ana Star Event Center and played whatever games were on our phones (Brick-breaker, Solitare, nothing, a game I'm not familiar with, another game I'm not familiar with, and Sudoku, respectively) for nearly 3 hours.

Shortly before all this started we converged at the outer door to the center and I handed outadmission tickets for Mini-baboo's graduation, stopping after all present had received their ticket, and said, wondering, "why do I have an extra ticket?"

Oh. Crap! We'd forgotten to pick up Mini-baboo's best friend. We'd driven 30 miles, arrived 5 minutes before the ceremony was to begin, parking our 2 cars quite some distance away. I looked at Sweet Baboo helplessly. "Can you go get James?" and then, Baboo gave me his patented, patient look. "What's his house number?"

Oh. Uh. I dunno. It's a white house, I think. I think it's past the 2nd speed hump. There's, uh, a brown mailbox, I think.

Pay attention for a moment and you'll see why I married him: he looked at me with his patented, patient look, and said, Okay, making him just about the best sport in the world. He returned about 30 minutes later with said kid, and we sat side-by-side and played our phone games,

except for the moment when Mini-baboo's name was called, and we yelled like crazy and then immediately went back to playing our games.

My favorite part of the ceremony was during the commencement address, when the speaker gave, as part of his advice to the seniors, "Quit showing your underwear. It's called underwear for a reason. And quit talking in text," eliciting a cheer from the audience.

Eventually, they were declared graduates, and whoops and confetti hit the air.

I noticed that when the kids sprayed their confetti around, that some of the confetti went up, some of it hit the floor immediately, and some of it floated upward and seemed to hang, suspended, in the air. I wondered if it were an analogy for life after high school.

Then we all went home for an open house for Mini. Friends and family from

our triathlon team came by to say good-bye to the teams' youngest member.

DP's people gave Mini-baboo a copy of Oh, the Places You'll Go by Dr. Seuss. Mini-baboo good-naturedly chased about six kids around the yard until, eventually, he'd had enough of small kids and then went off with his older brother for a while.

We started on his cake while he was gone. He didn't seem to mind. My very favorite moment of the day came when a fellow-triatlete, Mighty Mike, told me sincerely what a good kid Mini-baboo is, and how we'd done such a good job. Mighty Mike is a probation and parole officer. It's all Baboo, I assured him. If it weren't for him, Mini-baboo would have had long, blue hair and probably be not as respectful as he is.

Today he'll travel to Dallas for 3 weeks to visit family, and then to Navy boot camp.

As for me, I've had visitors for the past 18 days straight. I am simply looking forward to having a bit of quiet and being able to leave the doors open again, and getting back into my training routine.

And so, he is launched! In 3....2....1.....

...

T-minus 4 days and counting.

Happy NRYBTWD.

I have to miss out on it because I'm going over to pick up Mini-baboo and begin getting ready for graduation weekend. He'll hang out at the Jemez trail run with us tomorrow and then on Monday, he graduates. It's official.

GRAD-U-ATES. My left eye has stopped twitching.

Expected to be in attendance are my two other grown children; one of them is my oldest son who is in the Army and who I haven't seen in 5 years.

This first-born child left in 2002 for the Army, shaking his fist and declaring that he would some day have way more education than either of us (What is that, some kind of threat?) while simultaneously declaring there was nothing more that any school could teach him that he didn't already know or could figure out for himself. He returns to us for this visit slightly humbled by life and the US Military. He's pretty ready for college, I think.

The middle-child, my daughter, left us a few years later, declaring that I was all about rules, rules, rules and that she would never live her life that way. She is married, and employed, and calls me often to ask my advice.

Tuesday morning, we'll go over and pick up mini-Baboo's diploma, and he'll go down to the Navy recruiter and pee in a cup. This was his choice.

Meanwhile, I sent him this card yesterday:

and this one a couple days ago:

'cause I'm all about the love.

After peeing in a cup, Mini-baboo will head to Dallas for 3 weeks of R&R. Then he comes back here for a week, pees in another cup, and a week later he ships out. He says he can't wait to get out of New Mexico because it's too hot, and I'm sure that, buried in that statement was the undeclared and I'll finally have some freedom.

It was 82 today by the way, with 18% humidity, typical for May/June in Albuquerque. Gorgeous.

Mini-baboo will be headed up to the Chicago area for boot camp. In June.

Don't you just want to pinch his cheek and tell him how cute he is? Run along, Mini-baboo. Enjoy your freedom, and your life, and the balmy Chicago summer.

...

Headline: Pandemic Leads to Hypochondriacal Drama

So yesterday my day started with this email:
========================================

From: (deep south relative whose identify I'm protecting)
To: Misty
Subject: Swin Flu

Hey are you feeling any flu stuff? How are things in Mexico?

=========================================
At first, I was puzzled. Mexico. How the hell would I know how things are in Mexico?

Then I was optimistic. I bet she's extrapolating! She knows I work in a hospital, and knowledgeable about events in some places in the world. She much think, then, that I would know how things are in Mexico.

Eventully, I was sadly resigned. This relative, who doesn't read because it's boring and hasn't left her state in about 40 years except for brief, safe vacations around other like-minded people who believe that knowledge is a Tool of the Devil.

AND who just mailed me a check. To my address. IN NEW MEXICO for the NAMI walk.

She, does, indeed. Think that I live. in Mexico.

I puzzled over my response. How to you take advantage of a teachable moment without being condescending?

As far as I know, there have been no reported cases in the entire state of New Mexico. I'm not sure about Mexico, as those cases are very far away.

Her response: How far away?

Me: About 1000 miles. Actually, geographically speaking, they are closer to you, so keep your eyes peeled.

I have received no response yet.

========================

No long after, I got the first of a series of emails from the hospital administration, that came about every 30 minutes, providing updates on how important it is to wash your hands and is it just me that is disturbed the administrator thinks that hospital personnel need to be reminded several times daily about hand-washing?

Then I got this text on my cell phone:

SON: DON'T FEEL WELL. THROAT SORE. COUGH. TIRED.

ME: U DO NOT HAVE SWINE FLU. GO 2 SCHOOL.

SON: STAGE 5. I'M SCARED.

My youngest son, 18, never admits fear unless he's trying to get something. I'm positive he's been counseled other teenagers, something like that: Dude. Just tell your mom you're scared! I swear to God, they'll give you anything if you do the little boy thing. Go for it!

ME: TOTAL B*S*. GO TO SCHOOL, ALMOST HOMELESS MAN.

Later on, I did pay him a visit. He's doesn't even have a fever. He does, however, have another unexcused absense. Please, oh please, just let him graduate.

Later on, a voice mail from my daughter. I love her, but she is a bit dramatic. Therefore, her ring tone, by design, is very hard to hear. I frequently miss her calls. (Email me if you want to know how to do this.)

Hi, Mom! No, I'm okay, I just wanted you to know that {cough} that I've been sick for about 10 days now {cough} [personal note: she was not sick 3 days ago] and nothing has worked, so, I'm going to go to the clinic to get tested to make sure I don't have swine flu. I just wanted to call you so you wouldn't worry. Okay, bye! I love you mom!

All this was delivered in a loud, clear, energetic, very happy voice. I also got an email very soon after, saying the exact same thing, along with a very long poem she wrote about love. Reasonable people know that calling and saying I wanted you to know I'm going to the hospital so you wouldn't worry is some sort of linguistic oxymoron. I'm not sure what to call it, speech-wise. In behavioral health, we call it "bomb-dropping."

But my girl is all about drama, and an epidemic is a drama-queen's very best friend. She always, at any given time, is convinced that she has every single disease or condition currently reported in the media. She has a couple of real problems; she is about 100% overweight, is pre-diabetic, and has 20/400 vision in one eye.

But she won't exercise. or stop eating so much candy. Or wear her glasses.

But anyway. Late yesterday, my oldest child, a 25-year-old son in the US Army, wrote me an email:

I think I'm lactose intolerant.

I'm not sure how I got such hypochondriac children who tell me this stuff but don't have time to do to the doctor. I have always modeled the whole, quit complaining, suck it up, put your head down and do it thing. Where, oh where, does this come from?

Okay, I have to quit now. I feel a sick headache coming on.

...

On Moving, Cats, and Finally Being Healed.

Okay, so we moved into the new house last week. Here are some pictures, from the web site. I haven't taken my own pictures yet. The furniture in the pictures isn't ours, and the Darth Vader fridge has been replaced with a white one.

The guy that sold us the house left us a bottle of champagne and a note that said, "Welcome home, we hope you'll be as happy here as we have been." They also left us a map of the back yard, and where all the stuff is planted. How nice is that?

So. We're living here temporarily while Mini Baboo is in Texas. When he returns, we have to return to the other house and stay there until he 1) graduates, or 2) I find someone in his school district who doesn't mind having a surly teenager staying with them. Uh-huh. Good luck with all that.

In any case, we moved starting last Saturday, and the second trip included me, my Honda Fit, assorted small boxes and bags and such, and THREE COMPLETELY FREAKED OUT CATS. Oh, yes.

Have you had the joy of traveling with three cats in a tiny little car? Then, my friend, you haven't lived. We had one cat carrier, and Hissy went in there. The smallest cat, Whitney, hid in the litter box in the back and mewed quietly, continuously, and desperately. And then Lily. Lily the Hysteric, the largest and heaviest cat screamed at the top of her lungs: a loud, desperately hysterical scream that was like a car alarm going off while she climbed on my head and tried to figure out WHY she was stuck inside this tiny, moving box with me.

When we got to the house I let them out into the master bedroom and closed the door for a while so that they could calm down. They ran under the bed and didn't come out for nearly 12 hours. Yikes.

Our new house abuts open space and the Cibola forest and every once in a while, the cats suddenly all look up and out toward the back yard, ears perked, listening intently, and then I think to myself, what's out there? never mind. maybe I don't want to know what's out there.

<-- Now, this is an aerial view of the house. This map is maybe 3/4 mile long. See the red A? That's our house. See the area to the right? That's open space, for about 1/4 mile, and then there's the Cibola National Forest boundary. See all those paths? Those are running and mountain biking paths, which is how we found the house: they put a "For Sale" sign out facing the path.

It's at about 6000 feet above sea level, and climbs up within a mile of the house to about 7000 feet, unless you count Sandia Peak, which is a couple miles off, and goes up to 10,000 feet. I'm not converting any of that to meters today. I'm feeling lazy.

We've been living here all week with the cats. I bought a bag of cereal. Frosted Mini Wheats. This is a tremendous thing - I rarely buy cold cereal because Mini-Baboo will pour it all at once into a large mixing bowl and eat it in front of the TV and then it's gone, so what's the point? But I bought some, and it was with no small amount of glee that I got home and--it was still there.

Wow. And the peace, my God, the peace. I won't go on and on. But my God. The. Peace.

I did an 8-mile pavement run, the longest run on pavement that I've done since August when I was injured. There is a wide, paved running path about 1/4 from the new house that goes upgrade for several miles, and I ran it for 4 and then turned around and ran back. I felt fine, no pain, no worries. Finally! We have a 4-day weekend coming up, and I'm planning a long combination trail/pavement run as I ramp up for the Ghost Town in - ulp - three weeks! The only question left is, did I heal in time? Will I be able to do this 38.5-mile run??

Famouser: I will say Happy New Year on Bigun and Tacboy's Podcast. I'll post a link when I get one. I have no Internet at the new house so I'm out of a lot of loops.