living busy...

If I were my own parent, I'd punish myself for not sticking to my writing resolution.


Since I'm lacking in self-government, I make for a less than prolific blogger.


I can give excuses:


I've been running and hiking and working (A LOT!). I've been busy with dance recitals and Brownie camp and church musicals and work. I am still attempting the potty training and the personal training----with little success in both areas.


As for the marathon: I am running every Saturday and trying to run a few other days during the week---it's heating up here in the AZ and makes long run scheduling difficult, but I'll figure out a way.


Above is a pic of yesterdays' hiking locale, Red Rocks outside Oak Creek Canyon.

Shhhh...another marathon.

I haven't told anyone yet, but I'm running another marathon. It's this beautiful secret I'm keeping close to my heart (and legs). I feel a little healthier and stronger because of it.
I have run marathons before. The first two I did were much heralded and I invited anyone and everyone to come and cheer me on. T-shirts were made, bumper stickers purchased, photos taken. I think those marathons were (more than) a little ego driven and truly ended up being more pressure come race day (couldn't disappoint anyone!)
When I last ran marathons, I had not yet even thought about having a 2nd child (uh--that would be 4 years ago). So why now? I'm older, I'm less fit, I have less time, and it will certainly be difficult. But I registered. Already. Way in advance. I want to hold myself accountable for it.
I want to run this one for me---not for my friends or parents or to prove to other people that I can do something physically difficult. Just me. It's a bit of shiny selfish super secret. Feels good.

Mean mom needs a run

My mean mom factor is directly related to the amount of exercise I engage in. On any given day I can turn into the mommy monster---but the odds increase dramatically if I have forgone at least a short run/walk/yoga, etc. I know doctors & researchers have scads of data that document what a stress reliever exercise is. (and those all important endorphins) I would submit to you that exercise simply makes you nicer. I think my children would concur. I turn into that mom---you know---the one who yells, looks disheveled, red-in-the-face and ready to erupt??---quite quickly in fact, if I have not had some physical outlet for the daily mom frustrations. My big trigger is children who ignore me. It's purposeful disobedience and it drives me crazy. I know most moms hear me on this.
So, all I'm saying is that the kids should ask if I've worked out BEFORE they choose to ignore me. It would make all of our lives a lot better.

pardon the interruption...

life got in the way. That, and I am feeling more than a little guilty about social networking time at work. (although, really, my skills have come in handy of late---as I am training others on the web social scene---so odd.)
SO my resolution to myself was to blog at least once a week---just for me. Just as an exercise---to see if I knew how to still put words together. Not even a diary (as my life holds limited interest to anyone other than me)...just the practice of using words (for which I hold great affinity). I would like to talk less and think and listen more. I certainly speak aloud too much, too often.
So here I am again, determined to put fingers to keyboard and organize the beauty of words in some fashion.
Completely determined.
I should note in this edition of my weekly resolve: it's beginning to warm in Phoenix, which means I will become a hermit in very short order. When AZ turns into an only slightly less smoldering version of the suns surface, I retreat. I learned to surrender to Arizona summers long ago. They win. So, maybe that negative will turn into a blog positive. Maybe.
It will, at least, diminsh the interruptions.

sniff, sneeze, medicate

It seems that every time I get into running some pretty serious miles, I get waylaid by some super powered cold. I am training for another 1/2 marathon in May, and (was) doing pretty well on my program...but boy, did I get the shit kicked out me this week. Breathing hurts right now---my lungs feel like they're on fire, and walking up the stairs at home leaves me seriously winded. This will deeply hamper my scheduled 8 mile run tomorrow. I think.
I'm not saying that there is a greater force at work who has it in for me, but seriously??? Can't I stay healthy for, say, 3 months?
Feeling sorry for myself here. I think I'll just take another shot of Nyquil and go back to bed.
p.s. what up with getting carded constatnly for the cold medicine??? do I look like I'm manufacturing meth?

on furloughs and finance

So I think that I have come to terms with the fact that my daughter is living slightly on the spoiled side. It's not because she has a lot of *stuff* or the best clothes, toys, etc. It's because I rarely say no. Epiphany here...this isn't about my daughter, it's about me. That's the bad news. The better news is that the completely crappy national economic situation is helping my daughter---errr, uh-hum---I mean, me. I was on furlough last week---(unpaid time off---cost-cutting corporate measure) and became essentially a stay-at-home mom for the week. For the first time. It was pretty freakin' cool. I was a much nicer, more organized and in control person overall.
That being said, I learned that saying no to my daughter doesn't suck as much when I have the time to sit down and explain why. (and yes, therapist will tell you that I consistently overcompensate for my own childhood!) Shocking news flash!!!! Taking time to talk to your children proves helpful!!!
When we began budgeting in earnest a few months ago (due to several rounds of layoffs, sinking stock prices, and dismal industry future), my daughter would ask for something, I would snap "no" and tell her that we were on a budget. That was, perhaps, the wrong approach. This last week, without the benefit of a 50 or 60 hour work week, meant that explanations were in order. No, we can't go to Disneyland, but we can pack a picnic, make our own parade, and go to the neighborhood park. We can blow bubbles, build sandcastles and bake cookies together. This was a better type of no.
My company announced additional furloughs yesterday. More time off without pay for me. So, for me: no pedicures, no pretty spring dresses, no new couch. Instead, a week off as a nice mom---one who takes the time to explain needs vs. wants---well, pretty good trade, don't ya think?
My son is 3 and doesn't understand finance or budget or furloughs or stimulus plans, but I'm hoping he'll be a little less spoiled. Or, rather, his mom will learn to spoil a little less.

If you ever get lost between LA and Phoenix...

you might end up in the Salton Sea, which is where I have to go this weekend. It's familial duty, and one I loathe. I have to travel through meth-infested desert with two young children to visit grand American tourist attractions like Slab City and Salvation Mountain. Google them---you'll think it's a joke but you'd be wrong.

knowing a newsmaker

I work in television news. We often cover stories of stabbings, murder, robbery, scandals, fraud, and much worse (horrifyingly worse). We occasionally cover stories of great hope or perseverance...of everyday heroes and unsung superstars. This week we find ourselves covering one of our own...someone I work with and respect, and really like (an awful lot!) His son is missing somewhere off the coast of Florida, after a boat capsized in rough weather...3 men are still missing. One man was found and rescued, and is expected to be o.k. We are covering the story with heavy hearts. As every hour ticks by, we know that likelihood of survival is becoming less possible. My heart hurts for my friend, a father who loves his missing son. I can pray for him as a friend, but feel such outrage as a parent...such anger---as a I understand that every parents' worst nightmare is that of losing a child. I am praying, hoping for a miracle...and bitter at what a hollow word "news" is.

pack rat

We are cleaning up our work areas. I have a really hard time with this. I think way too long and hard about every extra nail, key, photo, business card, remote control, charger, etc.....
because, really, what if you need it later???? what then????
I get slightly panicked throwing things away. It makes me anxious.
So I sit, in this place of supposed work, looking at rubber ducks with party hats, assorted lengths of rope (???), VHS tutorials and excercise videos, boxes of rejected resumes, hawaiian leis....and think I should just box it up for another day. I could even wrap it up in harley davidson wrapping paper, as it's handy here in my desk drawer.

the Spain way

Talking with some co-workers over Thai tonight, I remembered how much I love Spain. Spain was the reason I ended up being in Eurpoe 5 months instead of 8 weeks. I love how deliberate life is in Spain. I love how the dayparts make more sense...wake, work, sleep, eat big, dance/drink, sleep. It appeals to me on so many levels. I love that the Spainish don't long for siestas, they just have them---it's the natural progression of a day. I love that when you go to a bullfight they give you the choice of the sun or the shade....they don't trick you into just BUYing a ticket at all costs, leaving you to discover your poor seating choice. I love Spanish art and architecture and the variance of countryside that's SO refreshing after the abudance of small, identical countries to the north.
So oddly, yes, eating Thai (nose still sweating btw) churned the more than fond reminders of the way of Spain.

vexed

I waffle between overwhelmed and bored. Do I find good music and daydream the day away? Do I hunker down, ignore the singing blue sky and check off items on the to-do list? Quandry. I'm here to muse, really for my own satisfaction; hopefully will remember the great release that words used to provide---way back in the grand, great hey-dey of personal philosophy.
That being said, today I will finish work, wince and sweat through an hour with my personal trainer (upper body today-ug), pick up my glowing 8 year old and assist in a Girl Scout cookie booth, make it home in time to dive into the bag of books I grabbed and skimmed at the library yesterday and then put Friday to rest. Might eat and shout a fleeting hello at my husband and young son along the way. And so the weekend begins.