Sometimes I wonder

My mother-in-law is coming. She lives up the shore and is coming into town to buy plants. She wants to stop by for some foundation. She called more than three hours ago to say she is coming.
Since then I have rearranged the furniture to accommodate the new table papa refinished for me, cleaned my kitchen (please someone tell me why I allow Punky and the Nuschler in my house at all!), found the floor again in my office and cleaned myself up.

Now I am looking for things to do that will add to the clean factor without adding to the mess factor. And I suppose it is time to accept the fact that it is the last day of June. Time to stop ignoring the weeds taking over my plants. My neighbor made me take care of a few of the "jungle" weeds facing her house yesterday. And I did it, if not just to stay in her good graces. If anyone tries to break into our house, that 80+ year old will be here with a bat in a heartbeat.

And here is my mother-in-law...

If you complain once more you'll meet an army of me

I'm sure it is like this for anyone who stops something. If you quit drinking, the whole world seems to be having a cocktail. If you stop smoking, the whole world is lighting up. If you just got dumped, the whole world is in love. If you just got fired, the whole world is getting promoted.

For me, the whole world is pregnant.

If I didn't know any better, I would think that baby bumps were available for purchase everywhere. Because I see them everywhere. Before the incident, I was semi-patiently waiting for our turn. Now I'm like a raging, sober alcoholic.

I'm avoiding talking to some of my married friends for fear that they are adding to the list of bumps. I'm warning other married friends that there is something in the water, that bumps are contagious.

Yes, I am seeking professional help. And, in the meantime, I am counting my blessings. Starting with a cocktail...

On the wrong side

I do not have another word of small talk in me.

I spent Friday night hanging out with one of my college friends. This fabulous woman has traveled the world, recently graduated with her masters in something she is still interested in and will soon be moving from the cities to DC. She sees me with the house-husband-puppy trifacta and feels personally unsatisfied while I see her travel/freedom and feel professionally unsatisfied. We pinky-swore to start seeing ourselves as whole people.

Saturday she ran off to a wedding. Punky and I went to a different wedding, then hit a grad party and then another small gathering. Today I went to the art fair after church with some friends to absorb the creativity and get new ideas. But my small talk skills are pathetic at this point. I need a badge that says "useless in conversation". In less than an hour I will be in a room packed full of marathon volunteers.

When I am around too many people for too long I actually can't listen anymore. I ask people to repeat themselves and force myself to concentrate on the answer and then repeat it in my head. I know of a few people who seldom tire of small talk like this. Or they are better at faking it.

I just need a room to lock myself in.

It's the perfect time just to get away from the mundane.

I'm still talking about coffee.

When we first started dating, I was very concerned by the fact that Punky doesn't drink coffee. How can someone understand me and not drink coffee? We made it through that shaky ground when he admitted to enjoying my morning zombie-with-coffee-mug state. Well, okay then, you can stay.

I didn't like coffee until someone introduced me to cream and suggested that all college frosh must become addicted to coffee or the Dew. I opted for coffee. Since then, what I put in my coffee has evolved.

It started with the sugary, artificial, favored stuff. Heaven, except that it has everything in it that you are supposed to stop eating now. I then moved on to low-fat of the same stuff, thinking I was being healthier. Nope, just got more sugar. Then I moved on to half/half. Though the lack of added flavor was an adjustment, I still thought it yummy. Still high in fat and sugar.

So I switched to whole milk. Less sugar, less yummy but still effective. While this worked, it seemed crazy to have two kinds of milk spoiling in my fridge. So skim it was. And now, having adjusted to JUST SKIM in my coffee, I have decided to try going dairy-free to see its effect on my energy levels.

I'm sipping my first cup of vanilla soy milk-laced coffee as I write this, wondering about life and its ability to evolve and change and stay the same. Change is scary, even if it is just changing what is in your coffee.

I have had a long relationship with Coffee. Coffee is the only one I want to hang out with first thing in the morning. I want Coffee by my side as I eat breakfast, put my make-up on, pick out my outfit. I would make many mistakes without Coffee there to keep me alert.

But Soy? We don't have a long history, so I'll have to warm up to her. She's good for me though...

You won't see me surrender

For me, summer means weddings, grad parties, hiking, art fairs, random small-town-like festivals, road trips and the boardwalk. Between Friday and Monday I will be doing all of these things, as long as I hit the boardwalk at some point. I'm thinking of calling it my summer vacation.

I was talking with a friend last night about how depressed she has been lately. Yet another vibrant young woman slowly crumbling under the pressure of life. While she was sitting on one side of me, a very pregnant friend was on the other. Me in the middle. While sympathetically listening to the first, the second grabbed my hand to feel the baby moving. I'm thinking of holing myself in my bedroom with the Feminine Mystique and ignoring the world for awhile.

Perhaps I should start telling people that I am in the business of construction. Only, instead of buildings, I build up women, stop them from crumbling. And in the process I too am standing tall.

She's reading the signs, she's holding the line between tea and sympathy

Back in the fall, I had two incidences of drink a latte-get a migraine. Rather than seek medical advice or question the sudden change from lattes being my best friend to silent tormenter, I just stopped drinking them. Cold turkey. I have not had expresso since.

I need you to understand my love of hazelnut lattes. They make me very happy. Some people reward themselves with chocolate, jewelry, trips to exotic locations. I would reward myself with lattes. In Colorado, it was the only way I could get myself to work some days.

Yesterday, while sorting through the giant pile of paper junk that had accumulated in my office, I saw a picture of steamed milk being poured into what we will assume was a cappucino. While I hate cappucinos, this made me incredibly sad. I miss my lattes. My attempts to limit myself to one cup of coffee and one caffy tea a day are getting better. I would experiment with decaf lattes, but the risk of two days of pain is too great.

So, the next time you drink a latte, please stop to think "this one's for Sara" and enjoy every drop of it.

Come run with me and we'll have fun

It's Grandma's Marathon morning and I am not outside shaking off sleep. In a bold decision, I am choosing to go to a training event instead. I'm also still tired and still a little sick, so sleep was good.

I did, however, help with baskets for the elite runners and other dignitaries. While most runners are thrilled with this welcoming treat, there are usually one or two whiners who don't receive their basket the moment they enter the hotel they are staying at (which is usually not the hotel they told the marathon office they would be at).

I don't know the actual numbers, but I'm certain that there are millions of dollars involved in pulling this event off. Millions donated by companies. Millions spent at hotels, restaurants, coffee shops.

Yesterday at the spaghetti lunch, Bec pointed out someone whose volunteer job will be available next year. While there are many perks to be a top volunteer for the marathon (t-shirts, wine, shoes, the use of a brand-new SUV), I wonder if this gift of time given to the city of Duluth helps it in other ways. Does the local food shelf get left-over spaghetti? Do the police get paid something for dealing with the partiers at the tents?

On Friday, I will be making rhubarb pie all morning with ladies from church. We then sell those pies on Saturday at the AMAZING Rhubarb Festival, which supports the incredible work of the CHUM organization. Last year, the pies sold out within an hour (or less if I remember correctly). Being a businesswoman, my thoughts last year were, okay, next year raise the price a dollar or have more pies. If you have rhubarb or a few dollars to help buy crusts/sugar OR you want to buy a pie, let me know. It's not as glamorous as the marathon but perhaps much more important.

What have I done to deserve this?

I've been trying to figure out why I feel so behind, why June 15 seems so scary to me. Looking at the last three weeks, I realize that I haven't felt well for awhile.

As a scientist, I am a fan of the definitive answer. I like a yes or a no. Show me the evidence and let me come up with an answer. For the last few years, however, I have become less definitive. Some may say this is part of the maturing process, seeing things from multiple angles and weighing each point of view. Too much of this, however, distracts me from goals and a healthy balance.

I was driven in science by the desire to not let anyone know how little I understood any of it. Now I avoid my drive for fear that it will take me in yet another wrong direction. And while I do believe that life does not take you where you want to go but rather where you need to be, it's hard to accept sometimes.

So I guess my question is: Where is the balance? How do you get there?

I'm going for my second yoga class today. It royally kicked my butt last week. I was actually much more flexible than I thought I would be.

ps. Just got off the phone, where I was reminded that I have thrown my life away. Why do I answer the phone?

Let's give 'em something to talk about.

There is story floating in cyberspace about a conservative writer who wrote a book blasting a few widows of 9/11 for writing about the deaths of their husbands and using these deaths for political statements. I saw the book at Target and it did not have a "free" sticker on it, so I can only assume that the writer was hoping to profit from it.

If I am correct, a writer hopes to profit off a book that complains about profiting off of tragedy. Um. Okay then.

An article about this author shows quotes from her ranging from assassination threats (which I thought were illegal, joking or not, in this country) to being against the First Amendment. She's not a fan of the very thing that keeps her out of jail.

I do my best not to get upset about political ranting. I'm about as liberal as they come, simply because, unless they are really hurting others, you can't tell people how to live. My biggest fear is that political ranting is just a clever distraction from the real issues in this world. Six years ago, we talked about the environment, AIDS, drugs, education, gun control, urban sprawl. Have these issues been solved?

We are so focused on gay marriage. To me this is a basic human right denied mostly because big business doesn't want to spend the money on benefits and health care, but is played up as a "moral" issue. If gay marriage is such a threat to the state of marriage, why is the divorce rate as high as it is? Can we talk about the rising demands on parents and children, the state of working in the US, the cost of living vs. the stagnant salaries? How can you be the perfect parent as well as the perfect worker bee as well as the perfect contributor to your community as well as healthy/happy/cheerful?

A revolution is coming. If you, like me, are tired of the pressure, lets start talking about what to do about it. And, Ms. Ann Coulter, if you are reading this, why don't you think about irony before you open your mouth and, please, eat something. You look sick.

This is the song that doesn't end

I love random captions, so I offer this picture for you to caption. This is what I get every morning. I like to think that he is, well, thinking. Calculating when we will go play. How many brain cells does it take to make that thought?


So, give me a caption!

Mine: Walk me and no one gets hurt.

No alarms and no surprises please

Last night at our training event, we talked about changing our "need to", "have to", and "I should" to "I get to" or "I choose to". I usually use a sarcastic "I get to", so this is going to be quite a switch for me.

I recently joined the YMCA as part of my sister-in-laws family package. They don't have rates for single parents and promised not to ask questions if another adult was added. Thus they think we are a couple. I don't mind, but I do think it is funny since we act like sisters.

Anyway, so far going to the y to work out is difficult for me. I know I need to and I really should and, in terms of money, I have to, but I'm used to working out in my livingroom with only the dog thinking I'm a jiggly idiot. Is anyone at the y thinking that? Nah. Just in my head.

But I get to go and I choose to go. And someday soon I will really mean it.

More joy, less shame

Okay, I am going to be honest and candid here. I have spent the last week trying to figure out if I was pregnant. There were more than a few signs. I was exhausted, my sense of smell was crazy sensitive, instead of feeling hunger I wanted to throw up, I was rather late. Those of you who know me know that I can't stand being in limbo, thus I was going insane.

Well, yesterday everything went back to normal and the universe sent me the big "no" sign. Yes, I'm a little sad, but also okay. I'm now motivated to get some things accomplished before the real thing happens, but really it would have been okay either way.

This whole blogging thing is interesting because it is ridiculously difficult to talk about anything if your mind is on one thing only, even if it is the hardest thing to share. But, it's easier to type of the word miscarriage than it is to say it out loud.

The great news? Even though it is three years late, we are finally seriously talking about the honeymoon...

I'm floating in my tin can...

April was a bad month. Seriously.

I spent most of May trying to recover from April. It flew by much too fast.

Now it is June. For as many events there were packed into May, there are twice as many for June. Granted, remembering January, I don't really mind...

Is anyone else in denial?