Things I H@!&

Hey there!  Remember me?

Stealing snuggles from my napless Cupcake.

Here's a blog post!  It's about things that I hate.

I bleeped the "H" word in the title because hate is not a word we generally use in our house, and although he doesn't read my posts, Rip Claw does often see the titles.  Hate falls into the same category as stupid, dumb, ugly, idiot, kill (only taboo in the context of people, not bugs), fart, and butt.  When Rip Claw was very small, I noticed that I was cringing every time I heard children use those words.  The dissonance between the young child's voice and the ugly words being said was unnerving, and I didn't like it.  (By the by, there are no pretty words to use in place of 'fart'.  We say 'stinker' or sometimes, 'boom boom', but I fully realize that those are also cringe-worthy.)  I'm not one who curses, generally.  See, I've become so used to being around my children, that even when I can't control the urge to use profanity, it comes out like, "FrickaflickinspintaGAHduffaflun."  I tend to agree with this blogger, Matt Gemmell,on the subject of profanity, in that sometimes, its use is just. plain. right.  Therefore, Thing I Hate #1 is that Rick Grimes said "screwing."

source

                                                           ***SPOILER ALERT***
So, we're to believe that the same guy who just ripped someone's throat out with his teeth after surviving unimaginable horrors like filth, starvation, dehydration, loss, fear, injuries, hallucinations, killing people, killing the same people again, infidelity, and the complete breakdown of the world as he knew it is not the kind of guy to say "fucking" when he and his friends are imprisoned by cannibals?  I hate that the rules regarding what can be broadcast on television are stupid.  I would wager an awful lot of money that every single person who watches The Walking Dead has heard the f-word on more than one occasion.  I would also wager that anyone who knows anything would agree that certain characters are more believable, in books, television, and movies, if they use profanity.  If people, even some who don't generally use those words themselves, are watching shows like this one, with so much violence, gore, drama, suspense, and mental anguish, they will not be offended by hearing the right word used for the situation.  Even if that word happens to carry a hefty penalty from the FCC.


I've been working as a substitute teacher for an entire 6 months, so I'm a bit of an expert when it comes to education.

Like Daddy Pig, I'm a bit of an expert at many things.

I bet you think that now I'm going to say that I hate Common Core State Standards.  I don't.  I'm actually rather rabidly in favor of the program, but that's a subject for another post.  In fact, I hate something about our education system that doesn't really have anything to do with me, personally, or my children, specifically.  Thing I Hate #2 is that para-professionals are paid less than $8.50/hour.  To be fair, they have the potential to earn almost $10.50/hour after earning a 2-year degree and working in the field for several years.  This fact literally makes me feel nauseous.

Many of the substitute jobs I have worked lately have been in classrooms with special needs children.  Some of the kids have Emotional/Behavioral Disorders, some have been diagnosed with disorders on the Autism spectrum, some have learning difficulties because of physical problems or Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  All of the classes have one teacher, one or two paraprofessionals, and access via radio to a trained behavioral specialist.  In my relatively limited time working in these non-traditional classes, I have seen the para-professionals abused, both physically and verbally, I've seen them change the diapers of an elementary-aged child, I've seen them keep calm while being screamed at, while one child chews his shirt to shreds, another tries to run away, and a third and fourth are about to come to blows.  I've seen them teach the most difficult kids and reach them in ways that most people wouldn't think possible.  In short, the para-professionals have really difficult jobs.  They go far above and well beyond what is written in their job description.  And according to this Washington Post article, they make about $5 less per hour than they need to in order to pay rent for a 1-bedroom apartment.  If you aren't sickened by that, please let me know.

Remember when the majority of my blog posts were about running?

Me & Rip Claw finishing a Christmas Eve 5k last year.

Lately, I've written more funeral/obituary recaps than I've written race recaps, and this is largely due to Thing I Hate #3.  Leg pain from Topamax.  Well, probably from Topamax.  Possibly.  Whatever the cause, (I blame the Topamax, which I was taking to prevent migraine headaches for a little over a month.) I have leg pain.  It has caused me to have many more rest days over the past couple of months than I would like, and I can't seem to get rid of it.  Noticing gradual improvement = Good.  Running 1 day every couple of weeks = I'M GOING SCREWING CRAZY!


What do you hate?  Just one thing, for now.

Stranger Searching

I did something Thursday that I have never done before.  I clipped an obituary from the newspaper and hung it on my refrigerator.  I also think I fell slightly in love with a total stranger who died peacefully in her sleep on June 7, 2014.  I don't think I'm alone in my mildly obsessive habit of scanning the obituaries for the ages of the deceased, hoping they're all older than my grandparents, way older than my parents, and way, way older than me.  If I happen upon a young person's obituary, I then (obviously) try my hardest to investigate the cause of death to ensure that either they died of unnatural, rare causes, or that they were probably unhappy anyway.  You know, if they don't leave behind any children or a grieving spouse and they're picture is from their high school yearbook but they graduated in the '70's, I feel better somehow.  Helen's obituary didn't list her age in bold, so I had to pause to look for her date of birth, and I'm so glad I did.

"Wife, mother, church lady, gramma-- GRAMMARIAN?  That's it!  That's how I want to be remembered!"  I was going to stretch the truth a bit and say that my first impulse was to chuckle, or even guffaw at the idea of having "grammarian" listed in my obituary, but, yeah.  That was my first thought.  As I read on, I had to deal with the nagging memories of all my grammar errors.  It was kinda like a quick Christmas Carol-esque sequence, where I was quickly, silently haunted by comma splices and quotation marks placed before periods, all "Whooooooooo"ing and "BOO"ing in my brain.

I did actually chuckle aloud when I read this part:

Is there any more important war to fight?  I wish I could have been one of Helen's soldiers.  Suddenly, I realized that I wasn't being an annoying nerd when I correct people's use of apostrophes or gently tell them to lose, not loose, an 'o' when they have lost something.  I've been fighting!  I've been fighting with strength and honor for what I know is right.

Helen and I didn't have much else in common.  She grew up in Ohio, I've always lived in Florida.  She was a devoted Episcopalian, I'm a not-every-Sunday-goer Baptist church member.  She majored in English Literature, I in Psychology.  She traveled extensively and was a member of a knitting guild, I don't have a passport and couldn't knit a hat for a newborn if the newborn's life depended on it.  (I would wad up the yarn and place it gently on the newborn's head, of course, to keep it warm enough.)

Hers was an obituary that made me happy to read, especially when I got to the end.

"Isn't that just so Helen," I thought immediately. Keep in mind, I never met this woman or her family, but simply by reading about her long life (they didn't put in her date of birth, but she was married for 63 years, so I know she had to be old enough) I felt sure that she would have loved for random acts of kindness to be done in her memory.

So, here I am, trying to figure out which stranger and how to act kindly to them.  I wish I could give someone a lot of money, but we didn't budget for Helen's life-changing obituary when we were planning where our funds would go this month.  I thought about complimenting a girl at the gym today.  She ran on a noticeable incline at 7 mph on the treadmill, and then got on the elliptical for a while, and I was really impressed by her double cardio.  But I didn't know if telling her, "Wow!  I noticed you did cardio twice!" would come out as a compliment.  I thought about baking cookies for my favorite supermarket employees, but they're not really strangers; I see most of them 3 or 4 times a week.  I also thought about letting some other drivers have my right of way, but I really hate it when other people do that.  (It isn't a favor for you to wave me and 3 other drivers ahead at a 4-way stop sign.  Just put your hand back on the steering wheel and take your turn.)  I'll come up with something, though, rest assured.  Or, I should say, rest in peace.

Goodbye, Helen.  Your soldiers will keep up the good fight.

Holiday Overhaul

While you may know that I'm a big fan of holidays and celebrating, you may not know that certain holidays annoy me.  Or maybe I'm a grouch, too easily annoyed.  The thing is, I just don't like doing the same things everyone is supposed to do on specific days because some people decided a long time ago that we should all choose a day to do those things.  That last sentence is one of those that only makes sense in my head, isn't it?  What I mean is, I kinda hate conforming.  I don't like making resolutions on January 1st.  I don't like sharing the things for which I'm thankful on the last Thursday in November.  I don't like remembering fallen service members only on a Monday in May and November.  And I really don't like declaring my love for Charming on February 14th.  I've got a plan, though, to fix everything.  Okay, maybe not everything, but at least I can fix the "banks are closed, let's have a Bar-B-Q, drink, and send generic text messages to everyone in our phones all day" problem.

NEW YEAR'S DAY should be NEW DAY.  The first day of a new year is no more monumental than waking up to a new day.  Yeah, I get the whole thing about fresh calendar pages and having a starting point for your resolutions, but really, all that is just fluff.  If you really, truly want to change something in your life, you should do it right now.  Wednesday.  Saturday afternoon.  This very minute.  If you're always waiting for the right time to start exercising, stop eating junk food, quit smoking, keep in touch with friends, study your devotional, or get organized, you're really just doing one thing: procrastinating.  If you must, mark the day with stickers on your calendar, noisemakers, and fanfare.  The important thing is to realize that there's nothing about January 1st that makes you more resolute.  Resolve now, and do it now.

I saw this on Facebook, it's supposed to start June 1.  I will not wait until then. You shouldn't either.

VALENTINE'S DAY should be ABOLISHED.  Let's be serious.  I cannot think of a single February 14th in the life of anyone I know that was actually important to their relationship.  (Although, there was that one time I opened a gift from a boyfriend on Valentine's Day and found a diamond ring.  When my first words were, "This isn't an engagement ring, is it?" he replied, "Well, it isn't now!" I guess that could have been an important day.  But really, my response would have been the same any day of the year.)  If you love someone, they should know it.  If they don't love you back, paying for something "romantic" on a specific day of the year isn't going to change their heart.  Flowers die.  Chocolates get eaten.  Teddy bears are useless.  What's the worse that will happen?  Kids'll learn to cut heart shapes out of construction paper a bit later in life?  Couples will show their love for each other with gestures or gifts that are thoughtful, and on their own timeline?  We'll say goodbye to the glorious tradition of sending our kids to school with a shoe box with a slit cut in the top for all the cheaply made, generic message cards paid for by the parents and the ungodly amount of red-dyed candy?  I'm okay with that.  Plus, I'm sure we can find other uses for all the glitter and paper doilies we'll be saving.

I glitterally just gagged.

APRIL FOOL'S DAY should be APRIL FOOL'S MONTH.  A day just isn't enough.  The jokes are expected, now, and that takes the fun out of it.  I'm not the biggest fan of pranks, but that's only because so many people make them dangerous or mean.  I love a good, clean, "gotcha!"

MEMORIAL DAY should be THANKS & GIVING DAY.  For hundreds of years, men and women have sacrificed their lives for American liberty, to give us rich opportunities, a sense of justice, and the beautiful land on which we've built our lives.  Instead of celebrating our freedom with free time, parties, drinks, parades, and sand castles, I vote that we thank and give back to the families of our military service members.  On Memorial Day, I do see a lot of Facebook status updates showing appreciation to those who have served, but I wish the people who have sacrificed so much for us would receive a more tangible giving of thanks.  Imagine how wonderful it would be if we gave the money we spent on red, white, and blue decorations, food, parades, and party favors to the widows, widowers, and children of those who have lost their lives in military service!  If nothing else, we should all spend the day solemnly contemplating the cost of our freedom.

I didn't have a picture lined up for this section, but my search for thanksgiving + american flag images turned up some results that were...interesting.

I think you get the idea.

INDEPENDENCE DAY should be INDEPENDENCE DAY, except with more of a concentration on history.  As adults, we aren't usually required to remember dates and facts and important people from hundreds of years ago, but that doesn't mean the events and people are less historically significant.  We should remember, not for a U.S. History test or grade, but because the things that happened all those years ago made our country, and essentially, us, what and who we are.  Take some time next 4th of July to appreciate the fact that our temperatures come in Farenheit, and we aren't required to worship a Royal family or forced to drink tea, use the metric system, or call fries "chips."

LABOR DAY should be NAP DAY.  Is there anything else anyone wants to do to celebrate?  We should also use the sense of community developed in the working class on this holiday to petition as a group for siestas every afternoon.  We'll have to call our nap sessions something else, though, like Tea Time or Smart Zees.

COLUMBUS DAY should be FLORIDA DAY.  Florida is awesome, and totally under appreciated.  Plus, we're probably just a few sinkholes away from being  East Hawaii, all broken up into small islands, so there might not be much time for the rest of the country to show us how much they love our warm climate, wet air, giant cartoon mice, and oranges.  By the by, I do realize that Columbus didn't land in Florida.  The people that did, though, none of them have a Day.  I'm sticking with my decision.

VETERAN'S DAY should be JUST FOR VETERANS & THEIR FAMILIES.  The rest of us really need another holiday?  No.  Veterans and their families should be the only people off from work, buying things on sale, and partying.

THANKSGIVING DAY should be EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. Seriously.  One day is not even close to enough time to count our blessings.  If you're reading this, which I know you are, you should be grateful for your computer, tablet, smartphone, or good friend who has one of those things.  You should be grateful that you know how to read.  You can be thankful that I give such excellent advice.  You can appreciate the fact that you're alive now, when there is electricity and internet and microbrewed beer and blogs on every subject and that you aren't currently at the bottom of a sinkhole.

BLACK FRIDAY should be MELANCHOLY MONDAY and should be switched to the day after the Super Bowl.  The Black Friday sale papers are lies, the lines for shopping are sickening, and within 5 years, Amazon's drones will be delivering everything, anyway.  Football fans, however, need a day to recover from their sadness that the season is really over and to get rid of the vast amounts of wings and chips they consumed during the big game.

All the December holidays can stay as they are, at least for now.  People do need to stop complaining about Christmas becoming too commercialized, though.  I'm quite certain there isn't anyone alive that truly remembers celebrating an un-commercialized Christmas.  If folks don't want the true meaning of Christmas spoiled by materialism, they need to stop buying anything but absolute necessities starting in July.  Yes, July.  Have you not been to Walmart?

Ouch.

Let's change our calendars, shall we?


Favorite holiday?

Pointless Points

If you've been hanging around here for a while, or if you know me at all, you surely know that I'm an expert procrastinator, I don't freak out when my house looks less-than-perfect, and I love running.  So, here I sit, procrastinating housework while writing about running (and etc.)

• Running has seemed more like a chore than usual, lately.  I have some ideas why this is the case.

1. My dear sister/MIKR (most inspiring known runner) broke her foot.  It's not that I'm trying not to love running while she is unable to do anything involving foot use, but my heart hurts for her.  It's kinda like on every sitcom, ever, when the woman is in labor and the man who loves her has sympathy pains and ends up screaming along with her.  

24 hours post-break.  People who run 50+ miles per week get their toes cropped out of pictures.  You're welcome.

2. I have some non-sympathy pain of my own.  My *expletive* right *expletive* calf hurts something fierce--but only sometimes.  Usually, it's really bad when I start running, bearable after a mile or so, and eventually forgettable.  Sometimes, though, it hurts just to walk, or just to be a leg.  New "doctor" (she's actually an RNP but I don't like using that as a title) ordered an x-ray- inconclusive, a venous ultrasound- more on that in a moment, and an MRI- to be performed tomorrow.  My left ankle also hurts a lot, ever since I *expletive* fell backwards over the *expletive* concrete step on our *expletive* carport and knocked it.  I feel like such an old woman.  The Fall was almost 2 weeks ago, I don't have a bruise, yet every time I touch or move my left ankle, it hurts.  If you couldn't tell, pain makes me *expletive* angry.

3. It's hot.  I'm not complaining.  I would much rather deal with the sweltering heat for 9-10 months a year than snow and ice for any months, but it does make running outdoors much sweatier, stinkier, and slower.

• I've been doing many more non-running workouts than ever before.  Just look at all my figures!

Cycling, yoga, dancing (that's what I call the Classical Stretch workouts I do), swimming, weights, & walking.

Swimming is fun, but I'm still terrible, and terribly slow, at it.  Cycling is also fun, but I find myself unable to push myself.  I'm always riding at an easy pace, which gets boring after not very long.  I love yoga, and I love working out with weights, and I love the 1/2 hour stretching workouts that I DVR.  I've also been keeping up with a 30-day planking challenge, using the Plank-A-Lot app.  I'm up to 90 seconds!

• Every once in a while, I come up with something that I feel is quote-worthy.  Okay, so every once in a while, in this case, means twice.  Ever.  Here are the quotes that I wish others would use and attribute to me:
"The truth is the truth regardless of who believes it."
- Know-it-all-Miss, 1995


"It's not that I'm bad at keeping my house tidy, it's that I love the challenge of a well-designed obstacle course."
-Know-it-all-Mrs, 2014


• Did you know you can make a heating pad that works just as well as a store-bought electric one?  This is money-saving advice!  Unless you already own a heating pad, then you can skip to the next bullet. 

Step 1- Dampen a cloth (I use a hand towel) and fold it so that it fits inside a quart-sized ziploc bag.

Step 2- Keep the bag open and microwave for 1-1 1/2 minutes on high power.

Step 3- Remove the bag from the microwave with tongs, zip it closed, and wrap it in a dry hand towel.  

I wouldn't have expected a zipper plastic bag to retain heat so well, but it does.  It'll stay hot for at least an hour, or until you open the bag.

The instructions I read, though, say that you shouldn't use it for more than 20 minutes at a time because of the possibility of burning yourself.  Yeah, it's that hot!  And now that I've added that disclaimer, you can't sue me if you burn yourself on your homemade hot compress.

• Why is she using a homemade heating pad? you may be wondering.  Well, it just so happens that there is more evidence of my old-lady-hood in my legs.  Remember the venous ultrasound the "doctor" ordered?  They say I have "varicose vein thrombosis" in my right leg.  I was told by the nurse to use a warm compress and elevate my leg for 10 minutes every few hours, and to take an aspirin or other NSAID every day.  The problem is that the Omniscient Google doesn't agree.  OG seems to think that there is no such thing as varicose vein thrombosis.  There is deep vein thrombosis, which is a pretty serious condition, and there is superficial thrombophlebitis, which is not at all serious and not supposed to be painful.  But, it wouldn't be like me at all to argue with a health professional, so I'm going along with the recommended course of action.  For now.
• You know about that big scandal going on in the NBA right now, right?  It strikes me as odd that the last names of the two main guys being talked about are Sterling & Silver.  What do you think are the chances that I'm the only weirdo in America who has noticed that?
• I'm back on Facebook after my 40 day break.  I've learned that Facebook, for me, is like driving a vanful of my friends' kids around.   I love my friends, and I do want to help them out by driving their kids, but they're just. so. loud.  They talk about boring stuff, they're all talking over each other and trying to outdo one another with their stupid stunts, they're distracting and sometimes outright rude, and yet, I can't just ignore them.  So now, I've backed off a bit on my carpool driver responsibilities.  And I sure do appreciate the quiet when all the kids are finally dropped off (at the pool-heh heh heh).
• Rip Claw's first season of Flag Football ended last Saturday.  He is a talented, focused, and very driven player.  I think Charming and I are going to miss watching his games just as much as he is going to miss playing every weekend.  

I guess that's enough pointless drivel bullet points for now.  

Anybody want to place bets on whether or not my next MRI will reveal a stress fracture?

You got the Sterling/Silver thing, right?

What I'm Reading, Hearing, Watching, and Doing

Reading:
My reading list, as usual, is as exciting as it is excessive.  I actually only spend about 20 minutes reading each day, so the fact that I'm carrying around and placing by the bedside all these books is pretty ridiculous.  But if loving so many books is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

I haven't actually started the newest addition to the culinary mystery series I love, but it's a library book, so I have to start and finish it quickly.  I'm almost finished with "The Gifts of Imperfection" (it's my nighttime book) and I'm about halfway through "The Shining" (one of two daytime books).  I purchased the sequel, "Doctor Sleep", as my pages-in-waiting.  The author of the book on my kindle is an old family friend, Darin Michael Shaw.  I believe "Chronicles of War" is his first novel, but his second published work.  I selected the giant book about the Vanderbilt ladies for my book group.  It was one of the more interesting-seeming titles that came up when I googled "books to make you smarter."  So far, I don't feel much smarter, though.  It seems to me that the Vanderbilt family was like a much earlier version of the Kardashian family.  I find myself disapproving of their long-ago extravagant parties and constant building of expensive houses, and not necessarily on principle.  I feel that they're a big part of the reason today's society is so celebrity-gaga and so shallow, as a whole.  Unfair?  That remains to be seen.

Hearing:
From Rip Claw: "Do we have any fun plans for today/tomorrow/the weekend?"  I don't know how or exactly when his obsession with "fun plans" started, but he was literally asking me that question every.single.day.  I figure there isn't anything wrong with wanting to know our plans, or with wanting them to be fun.  I was really tired of hearing the question, though, so I came up with this:

On the chalkboard painted portion of his bedroom wall.

In typical mom fashion, I included chores and additional school work (I give him advanced math problems, reading or writing assignments when we play school) in the fun.  Muah hah hah!

From Cupcake: "NO LIKE IT!" It's a rather long story, and not all that interesting, so I'll sum up: she has to drink some different kind of non-dairy milk that she isn't used to drinking.  We've tried soy, vanilla flavored almond, coconut, and lactaid milks.  Finally, after several days of bribing, cheering, rewarding, bargaining, begging, and attempting to disguise the flavors, she drank some soy milk without throwing her cup and yelling that dreaded phrase.  In addition to being a picky drinker, she is becoming a very finicky eater.  Perfect, considering she's off-the-chart small and her pediatrician probably thinks we're trying to cultivate an early eating disorder. ("Mom, what's it called when people say the opposite of something to try to be funny?" Sarcasm, son.  You'll hear a lot of it in our family.) It's hard to get her to eat enough protein and fat, so I'm very much okay with her love of hummus, guacamole, and peanut butter.

Ignore the messy counter top in the background and focus on the fact that she was licking fresh, homemade guacamole from her fingers.

Watching:
Okay, I'll be honest.  I wrote the title and the first half of this post about 9 hours ago, and now I can't remember what I was going to share about this subject.  You know how frustrating it is when you lose your train of thought mid-sentence?  This is like that, only a little worse.  I've been sitting at the computer for 40 minutes now, asking myself repeatedly, "What am I watching?"  I keep coming up with a few things that I know weren't IT, but will have to do.

• Parenthood- It's a show about 4 grown siblings and their own families.  Charming and I are getting thoroughly spoiled by watching it on Netflix, because we're still not caught up to the current season and can therefore watch 3 episodes a night when we are awake enough.  I dare you to watch and not find yourself relating to at least one of the main characters.
• Progress.  Charming is well on his way to his first ever half-marathon race!  His dedication to the training program and the ease with which he seems to achieve greater and greater things are just so thrilling to watch.  He'll be running the Swamp House Half Marathon in March.  You should, too.
• Potential paydays.  I am officially an approved substitute teacher for our county's schools.  Some of you may know this already, but many of you probably missed the blog post about it that I deleted a couple of days after publishing it.  (Curious, now, are you?  Let me know in the comments if you want to read the gory details and I'll see what I can do to satisfy.)  Now that I'm an employee, but not actually working, I'm spending time each day watching for jobs to open up.  
• Pigging out.  The 2 weeks of clean eating made me aware of my awful piggish habits.  I've been watching my junk food and overall calorie intake, these days, and I've only gorged myself a couple of times.  

Doing:
Really running!  I was surprised by how long after my tibial stress fracture I was running tentatively.  Like a slow, scaredy baby.  Also surprising was how long the mild soft tissue pain can last.  After long or fast runs, I still see swelling around the spot that was fractured, and the muscles in my calf and shin on that leg are much more tender than those on the other leg.  Apparently, though, this type of pain is not unusual for up to a year after an injury like the one I had.  I've been building my weekly mileage back up, and I've had some very successful long runs that have left me feeling like a real runner again.

Really cleaning!  Long ago, I made myself a cleaning schedule that looked so good on paper.  Well, it's actually on Google Calendar, but you know what I mean.  Turns out, following the schedule makes my house look good, too!  I (almost) always regret procrastination; I hate that I put off the tasks that I know I need to accomplish.  I decided recently that I would really, truly, not-just-saying-so, try to procrastinate less and try not to waste so much of my free time on nonsense.  It's a hard thing to do, to be productive, but it really is worthwhile.  What a wonderful feeling of relief comes when the laundry baskets, washer and dryer are all empty!


What advice should you take away from this post?  Read the books I'm reading.  Turn the tables on your kids when you hear things from them that are annoying.  Remember the information you want to convey.  Running is fun, even when it's scary.  Finally, go do--whatever--now!  Don't wait.



Best way to break a bad habit?

Best way to remember your own ideas?

Connect The Dots

The dots, in this case, are the random bits of information to follow.  Yes, I could have written several mini posts, but I think you know by now that I will almost always choose long-winded over short.

• For the second year in a row, my team made the playoffs in our Keeper($) Fantasy Football League.  Although my dependence on the Tom Brady/Rob Gronkowski combo seemed like it was going to destroy me earlier in the season (thanks a load for those 9 points in week 7, Touchdown Tommy), they pulled together when the time came and got me the wins I desperately needed.  This team is the one (of three) with which I most concern myself.  I'm doing terribly in the Free Family League, and I need many things to fall into place in order to secure a playoff spot in the winner-take-all League of Mostly Couples.  Unfortunately, my brother-in-law needs to beat his brother this week to push me ahead in the standings in that league, and, well, that might take a Thanksgiving miracle.

BIL's appropriate team pic

• Cupcake (formerly known as Baby) is thoroughly obsessed with The Fox song.  She prefers the live on Jimmy Fallon's show version to the original, because she likes pointing at the horse with the Ylvis guys.  She asks to watch it multiple times each hour day, sings along ("pa pa pow"), and dances.  It's pretty stinkin' cute.
• Rip Claw (formerly known as 6 y.o.) earned his Bobcat rank in Cub Scouts.  I got to paint his cute little face during the presentation ceremony at the pack meeting.  Charming (formerly known as Husband, because he's like my Prince and my Jax Teller all in one charming package) and I are pretty new to the whole scouting deal, and still a little hesitant.  We like the values they teach, and Rip Claw enjoys the activities a lot.  We're not entirely sure, though, that we're getting our money's worth.  It seems like a lot of expense, time, and effort are going in to securing tangible recognition that he's learned things we have taught him since he was born.  The leaders talk a lot about scouting being a family oriented program, but it is really difficult for us to participate in many of the events as a family, and I feel like we're ostracized if we complete assignments or activities just as a family, without the den.  Oh, and then there's the lightly blanketed racism that seems to pervade everything scouting-related...but that's a subject for a different post.  And they also seem prejudiced against those of us who don't sew or iron.

First time in uniform a couple months ago.

• I'm running again!  I've been slowly building my weekly mileage up, and including lots of walking each time I hit the road.  I also was treated to a therapeutic massage recently, which helped with the lingering soft tissue pain around my healed stress fracture.  I already shared some of the lessons I learned from my injury, but I feel like I'm also applying even more intelligence and thought to my running regimen than ever before.  I'm keeping track of how much water I drink, and meeting my goal of at least 100 oz/day.  I'm strength training, with concentration on my core, hips, and quads.  I've been practicing yoga.  Perhaps my favorite change, though, has been the addition of these dynamic stretching workouts after running.  

Miranda Esmonde-White doesn't know it, but I love her.  She makes me want to hug my television.

• I tweet!  Follow me, if you please.  I am @Rhi_Tweeter.
• My Alma Mater has an Ah-Mah-Zing football team this year.  U! C! F!  Whooooo!
• Nightmares have been going around at our house.  A couple of nights ago, Rip Claw slept  in our bed after a bad dream, which has never happened before.  Last night, I had a terrifying dream about the Governor from The Walking Dead wherein he was tearing the heads off of people (not zombies) with a hook, and hunting down me and the other members of my group.

• I'm currently reading 3 books.  1 for regular book club:

Turns out, rock star stereotypes are sometimes quite accurate.

         1 for mini book club:

Page 1, I decided to hike the Appalachian Trail.  Then, changed my mind somewhere around page 1 1/2.

         1 to satisfy my inner sci-fi geek:

Better than the first (so far) and the "There Goes The Galaxy" was pretty grand.

• Let's see...is there anything else important that I should share?  Hmm.  Oh!  Yeah.  I registered for my second first marathon.  Did anyone else just stop breathing for a second?  No?  Just me, then.  If two marathons could be complete opposites, my first first and my second first are such.  This one is in its inaugural year, local, without rock bands (although I think it would be great if they hired some local bands to provide music along the lovely course) and without several thousand of the participants that ran in Savannah.  It's going to be great.  It's going to be great.  It's going to be great.  

It's going to be great.

       Perhaps my chant should instead be: "I will not get injured.  I will not get injured.  I will not get injured."

I know I haven't offered much advice in this post, but please feel free to comment with any questions you have about my areas of expertise, like barely making fantasy football playoffs, running hesitantly, sleeping on the couch or not at all after scary dreams, and... um... reading!  Oh, and if you need to know every single lyric of The Fox song, I can help.

10 Things I Hate About Me

If you're on Facebook, you've certainly seen the new thing going around.  Someone shares, "My number is __" and proceeds to write a corresponding number of things about him/herself that other friends might not know.  This is actually one of the least annoying memes (I hope I'm using that term right!) I've seen going around.  I've gotten a glimpse into the inner workings of many of my friends, which I always enjoy.  I have to say, though, my favorite was one posted today by my hilarious friend, Amy:

3 Things...

1. I'm just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.

2. I took the midnight train going anywhere.

3. Don't stop believing, and always hold on to that feeling.

4. Did I do this right?

The other day, I was debating whether or not I should "like" one of these posts in order to get myself a number.  I started listing in my head all the things I would share, and somehow, my thought process went to the movie, "10 Things I Hate About You" (wherein I thought Heath Ledger was awesome before all the other people thought he was awesome), and I thought that sort of list might be funny.  Then, I realized what a mean-spirited thing that was to think; how awful it would be for people to list things they hate about each other.  Then, I came up with this list, of 10 things I hate about me.  Stay tuned at the end of this post for the opposite-of-mean-spirited idea I eventually came up with.  You'll like it, I feel sure.

10 Things I Hate About Me

1. PORES.  They're big, they get clogged, and I hate the way they look.  I sometimes find myself staring really creepily at people with nice, smooth skin and invisible pores.  If you have been the victim of such a stare, I'm sorry for acting like a perv.

2. MEMORY.  It's just not what it used to be.  Sometimes, I blame my children, sometimes I blame my migraines.  Whatever the reason, I simply cannot remember things the way I used to.  At least 2-3 times each month, I forget how to shower.  I don't forget to shower (usually), I forget what I've already washed.  I shave one leg and not the other.  I find myself with a handful of conditioner and conditioner already on my hair.  It's frustrating, and let's face it, completely impractical.

3. EASILY ANNOYED. I rarely get really, truly, spitting mad.  I often get annoyed, and it is often by petty, silly things that don't have any bearing on my life.

  

I wish that obnoxious bumper stickers, apostrophe misuses, ridiculous advertisements, and people saying, "all of the sudden," "I gave it 1000%" and "conversate" did not make my brain start to itch.  

4. EASILY DISTRACTED.  This ties in with my vast procrastination skills, I think.  I get off task easily, and I always seem to be able to distract myself with silly, unnecessary things to avoid doing important, unpleasant tasks.

5. UNTANABLE.  I've lived in Florida my entire life, and I have never had a good tan.  Of course, I'm wise enough to use sunscreen, these days, but I didn't have a tan before I knew better, either.  I also have a 2-yr-old bottle of Jergens self-tanning lotion that I can't seem to remember to use consistently enough to see any result except orange elbows.  For those of you with dark, smooth skin, I apologize again for my open-mouth stares.  

6. PICTIONARY FAILURE.  I am probably the worst artist I've ever seen.  Almost everything I draw ends up looking like a rabbit, and not even a real, recognizable rabbit.  It's especially frustrating to be so terrible at drawing since I have a pretty creative mind.  I can see things drawn well in my mind, but you would think I was bypassing my hands and putting the drawing utensils in between my toes and closing my eyes.

7. I CAN'T DECIDE.  Ever.  I can come up with options, but I hate making decisions.  I guess this isn't the worst fault.  I believe my inability to make decisions comes from my strong desire to please everyone.  Also, it's probably genetic.  There's nothing our husbands love more than when my mom, sister and I try to plan things.  

8. SLUG.  Other than when I'm running, I'm a total slug.  I often wish I was one of those people who can't stand to sit still.  Instead, I'm driving around the grocery store parking lot looking for the closest spot, asking Rip Claw (formerly known here as 6 y.o.) to bring me my phone, a water, the remote, a diaper (not for me!), and lying on the couch watching television, facebooking, or listening to music all evening.

9. GRAMMAR BLOCKS. I read a lot, and good grammar is something that is important to me.  I don't know why, but no matter how many times I read the rules, and no matter how cleverly the rules are stated, I almost never feel confident that I'm using affect or effect correctly.  Same goes for further/farther.  With affect/effect, I usually just choose a different word altogether.  When I want to use further or farther, I simply try both, decide which sounds better in the sentence, and hope nobody calls me out on my error.

10. HAIR DOING.  My Cupcake (formerly known here as Baby) is going to hate this about me, too.  Similar to my drawing, my hairdos look like I grabbed the brush with my foot, closed my eyes, and then turned a few somersaults.

Not that bad, right?  I mean, the barrette isn't holding the hair away from her eyes, but...

  

then you see the back.  Uneven pigtails...

plus an uneven part and weird comb-over.  Poor kid.

Don't try to make me feel better about how badly I do her hair.  She sits still and patiently waits while I struggle.  It's definitely me that is the problem.  I don't think I've used a curling iron since I was 12, I use a blow dryer maybe once a year, and a flat iron seasonally.  Each time, I miss huge sections of hair, there are strays sticking out everywhere, and I usually burn myself.  You know those women who wear their hair in a sleek on top, perfectly curled ponytail right in the center of the back of their head?  Yeah, you guessed it.  I stare at them, too, jealous and amazed at their achievement.

So, there you have 10 things I hate about me, and now it is time to reveal my kind-spirited plan. I think you should tell 10 things you love about someone else.  It's like the spirit of Thanksgiving and the spirit of Christmas and the spirit of Sharing Everything on Social Networks all combined.  Be it here, or on your own blog, or wherever you please, just go on and say nice things about someone else.  Kindness is always in style, unlike my hairdo.

Have you ever caught someone staring at you and not known why?

Was it me?

  

Party Time! Excellent!

3 years, 2 months, and some days ago, we moved into our current home.  3 years and 4 days ago, we realized that we would be hosting a 4th of July party every following year for as long as this house is our home.  See, there's a lovely park just across from the end of our street, about 1/4 of a mile away.  It just so happens that "our" park is where the city holds its Independence Day festivities, and where they set off the big fireworks display.  We have a perfect view of the fireworks from our yard, without the headache of an entire city's worth of people crowded around us.

Although I love hosting parties, our < 1,000 square foot, single bathroomed house just doesn't lend itself well to holding lots of people.  And no, the 'I' in that last sentence should not have been a 'we'.  Husband and 6 y.o., while both being fun-loving, happy, friendly guys, do not much care for large social gatherings.  Therefore, most of our holiday and family get-togethers are hosted by others.

Since it is usually only once a year that I get to throw a party, I tend to want to cram in everything I can think of to make it fabulous.  One year, I made and hung a photo backdrop and provided patriotic-themed props for pictures.

He must love me a lot.

This year, I got new props.

I love cooking and baking, and I think red, white and blue are fun colors for themed food and drinks.  Especially in the Summer, when strawberries, blueberries, watermelon, raspberries, marshmallows, whipped cream, and cherries are abundant.  Two years ago, I served red, white and blue adult sno-cones.  Yes, they turned into super-sweet purple vodka drinks with tiny chunks of ice, but they started out pretty!

Last year, the specialty drink served was a watermelon margarita, made with homemade watermelon syrup, smooth silver tequila, sweet-n-sour mix and fresh lime juice.  This year's concoction was simpler.  I added pureed fresh strawberries to lemonade, and set a bottle of citrus vodka next to the dispenser for me guests to add if desired.

Happy Birthday USA cake.  And, a light saber.

Some of the foods I'm most proud to have served are: Apple pie trifle, American flag fruit-n-treat skewers, homeslavedmade white chocolate ice cream with strawberry sauce, and the cake pictured above.  Inside was a blue layer and a red layer.  This year, Husband bravely grilled the chicken wings that I had bravely (and successfully!) gotten chopped up by the friendly guy from the supermarket's meat department.  They were delicious, and a great addition to the giant spread of food we had (beef burgers, turkey burgers, hot dogs, pasta salad, potato salad, corn on the cob, chips and dips, cherry cobbler, and fruit).

The big fireworks show doesn't start until after 9:00 p.m., so we find other ways to keep ourselves and our guests busy.

Sparklers and grocery store fireworks

Water

Football throwing

Not pictured: patriotic sugar cookie decorating (a.k.a. "I bet I can put more frosting on a cookie than you can!") and the educational games.  I've found it difficult to live up to the first party's trivia/scavenger hunt competition during the subsequent two parties.  That year, I numbered and laminated cards with different sorts of questions on American history.  I then hid the cards around the house and yard, and the guests were tasked with finding all the cards quickly (1 prize) and answering the most questions correctly (another prize).  I also reworded the Declaration of Independence, separated it onto several laminated cards, and had the kids search for and then put the words in the correct order.  I'm still pretty impressed with myself.

This year, I hung an un-labeled U.S. map on the wall, with States and Capitals stickers that could be re-positioned.  Teams of 3 people had 1 minute, then 30 seconds, then 10 seconds to get as many stickers as possible into the right spots.  It wasn't a very popular game.  But, when nobody was playing, I was able to get all the capitals into the right spots, without the names of the states on the map, and only needed a tiny bit of help from my dad (I always think Wisconsin is Minnesota.  Not that it matters, much.  Other than that day, I don't think I've ever needed to know which one is which.)

Choosing a special dress for Baby has been fun the past 2 years, also.

It's the only night of the year that we allow 6 y.o. to stay up way past his 7:30 bedtime.  Last year, he started crying as soon as the fireworks show ended, and couldn't stop crying or get any words out.  This year, he handled himself a little bit better, but still seemed totally dazed by about 8:45.

Turns out, I do a bad job of taking pictures of the actual fireworks.  4 years of bombs bursting in air, and I could only find the one half-decent pic up there ^.  You'll have to trust me that it's a good show.  Even Baby enjoyed it!  She doesn't like loud noises ("Sorry, Husband.  I just couldn't vacuum today.  Baby didn't want me to.  She was scared of the 'wowed'.") so we were worried that she'd cry like her brother after 9 p.m., but she didn't shed a single tear.

Just in case there was any doubt re: my photography skills.

Unsolicited advice of the day?  1. It's okay to stop trying to do things you're obviously bad at (*cough* fireworks photos *cough*) after a while.  You're good at other things.  2.  Make sacrifices for those you love, like Husband does for me at least every July all the time.  3.  Be a tradition-setter.  When my kids have grown up, I want them to reminisce about the traditions they loved, and I want there to be no shortage of happy memories, holiday and otherwise.  Those "remember the time..." conversations are much more valuable than pictures of sparkly lights.

What is your favorite holiday tradition?  

Be honest- at least a little part of you is wondering about my marathon training, right?  You kinda wish this post had been about running, don't you?

6 Things About Which I'm Embarrassed to be Embarrassed

I hope I'm not the only one who gets embarrassed about embarrassing things.  If I am, I guess this is as good a way to find out as any.  At least the folks telling me what a freak I am will have read and commented on my blog in order to communicate their superiority, so that's cool.  Here we go!

1. I'm embarrassed to accept help from retail employees.

"Can I help you find anything?"  

"Oh, no thank you."  I'll just wander the aisles until I find what I'm looking for, thanks.

It's ridiculous.  Having the guy who works in the garden department at the vast home improvement store point me in the direction of the hose nozzles is not a sign of weakness.  

"I'll take these groceries out to your car for you."

"That's alright, I've got it, thanks!" It's raining, I have both kids, and a week's worth of food.

I repeat: ridiculous.  Like I'm going to be such a burden on the guy who bagged my groceries, having him take 4 minutes to put the bags in my car?  Speaking of groceries, I've yet to work up the courage to ask the ever-so-friendly man who works in the meat department whether or not they'll make chicken wings less disgusting for me (Did you know that you have to cut through bone, and, like, twist and snap body parts in order for them to be ready to cook?  Blech.) so that we can smoke some and serve them at our 4th of July party.  Now, I worked in the service industry for a LOT of years.  My first job was in a fast-food restaurant.  I certainly do not feel like I'm superior to retail employees in any way...but I might be better than some of them at some things.  

You do the math.

Maybe that's why I'm embarrassed to accept their friendly offers to aid me.  I figure they work hard enough already, and deal with enough nasty people, that I should give them a break.

2. I'm embarrassed when people compliment me on my running achievements.

"Wow!  You're getting really fast!"

"Ha!  Me?  Pshaw.  Ha!  Ffff-ast?  Funny!  Huh?  No.  Um.  Thank you?

Or

"Not as fast as YOU!  HA!"

The truth is, I'm much faster than I used to be.  I'm much faster than people who don't run regularly.  I'm faster than I expected I ever would be (Remember how I HATED running?).  I've earned medals.  And when I say "earned", I mean it.  I've trained and sacrificed and could have drowned in my own sweat and tried-really, truly, tried- to get faster and to accomplish goals that I've set for myself.  I feel like I have to explain when people notice my improvement; give details on my schedule and training plan and those asterisks that we runners know so well (*The course was super flat. *My sister was pacing me. *I was just healed from an injury.), when probably a simple, "Thanks, I've been working hard." would suffice.  

Can you see the mixture of bliss and shame on my face?

Another, deeper reason for my embarrassment is that I am so stinking grateful to be able to run, that speed and medals are secondary.  I could go the rest of my life without earning another medal or getting any faster, and be content.  Going the rest of my life without running, though, would be scary.  I think about people who are physically unable to run, or walk, or do whatever exercise they're passionate about, and it makes me want to cry.  My pace improvement is really nothing compared to their ability to overcome physical obstacles.

3. Two words: social networking.

For 5 (yes, five) years, come July, I've regularly (read: multiple times/day) been on a not-very-well-known social networking site, plurk.  My dad invited me to join, saying, "It's like twitter, but not."  Which it is.  And, is not.  Here's the thing about plurk:  It's a real community, not just a bunch of faceless internet weirdos.  I feel like a lot of my plurker friends are actual, real-life friends (I've even met a few of them in person) because we share the mundane as well as the exciting stuff that happens in our lives.  I've learned a lot from them.  We've exchanged both Christmas cards and no-reason gifts.  There are dancing bananas.  We ARE friends.  And yet, when my non-plurker friends asked how I knew the talented author of the books I was raving about, I mumbled, "Oh, you know.  Online.  Blogs.  Websites.  Internet.  I read."  It's really silly.  Nobody is ashamed of being a tweeter, right?  People actually get married to people they meet through other websites with dumb names, right?  So, there you have it.  I'm a plurker.  I <3 my plurk friends.  Also, I get a lot of my news from facebook.  But that's something about which I should be embarrassed.

4.  I'm embarrassed when things are easy for me that are hard for others.
Do you want to know how many times I threw up during both of my pregnancies, combined?  Less than 10.  Do you want to know how many pounds I gained while I was pregnant?  37.  16 with 6 yr. old, 21 with Baby.  Do you want to know how many times I've really tried to lose weight?  No, you certainly don't.  Especially if you knew how many chips I eat, late at night, almost every night.

Pregnancy was easy for me.  Breastfeeding was easy for me (I nursed both kids for just over a year).  Being overweight is not something I've had to bear.  I think anytime we can't relate to the problems of others, it makes us a little embarrassed.  It isn't as though I'm good at everything, and it isn't as though people who have a hard time with things that I find easy are angry with me or try to make me feel ashamed.  I know that lack of experience doesn't equal lack of sympathy or understanding.  I just have to remember to accept my easy along with my challenging.

5. I'm embarrassed to tell people that I'm a stay-at-home Mom.  
It feels like I'm implying that: a.) my family has a lot of money (we don't, we just live in a teeny house and eat out at Tijuana Flats only on Tuesday, when dinner is $5), b.) I feel like I'm a better mom than one who works outside the home (I don't.  I love my kids desperately, and I think that's the main ingredient to good Mommyhood), or c.) that I'm not qualified to get paid to work (I am.  I've got a B.A. degree, half an M.S. degree, management experience, creative ideas, and a great work ethic.)  Husband and I agreed that the sacrifices we would have to make to live on just his income were worthwhile.  He works really hard to support us financially, because we feel that my staying home is the right thing for our family.  I just have to be careful when I'm talking to my working-mom friends, that it doesn't sound like I'm bragging when I talk about my weekday morning yoga class.

I'm a very busy housekeeper, you know.  Every lady needs a break, sometimes, to capture how long her legs look from a certain camera angle, though.  Please pay no attention to the undercouch.  I was much too busy to remove the dozens of toys from under there.

6. I planted an organic garden and didn't want to tell anyone about it.
It's a small plot in our backyard.  I wanted to wait until my big, amazing harvest to start referring to myself as a gardener, but I see now how silly that was.  I was worried that people would start asking me questions, and expecting intelligent answers.  But, I shouldn't have been embarrassed to talk about starting a garden.  I should be embarrassed that I didn't do enough research, or even give it enough thought.  Now, I'll be harvesting my killer canteloupe and nothing else, apparently.  I planted marigolds, sunflowers, red bell peppers, jalapeno peppers, green beans, canteloupe and carrots, and some herbs in a pot.  As of this publication, the canteloupe have murdered the marigolds, wrapped their tendrils around the green beans, jalapeno plant, and carrot stems, and the sunflowers have grown so tall that they are shading the other nearby plants.

Baby thought I was doing a great job.

After 1.5 days of weeding.

Tool

After 3 days of weeding, and 10 minutes of Husband digging.

The canteloupe's first victim.  RIP, marigolds.

There's no good reason I should be embarrassed about any of these 6 things.  It's embarrassing, my embarrassment.  So, what you should do is comment to reassure me that I'm not too kooky, and tell me the things you feel silly feeling silly about.  (Yes, that's your advice for today.  Self-serving?  Maybe.)

Any marigold resuscitation tips?

What do you hate being embarrassed about?