40s Here I Come....

Be a Victor, not a Victim

2012-02-10T00:44:00.000-06:00

I'm a natural crabbypants. I have written of my negative streak before. It's a little cloud that hovers above me often. Its not that I'm unhappy with my life, I'm not. I completely love so many things I have. I get sappy and emotional with all the blessings I have. Two super great kids, a stable job, hobbies I love that have kept me healthy, an education no one can take away from me, a great guy, and a boatload of awesome friends. My Sinatra is the perfect ying to my yang, and luckily he usually gets me smiling with his cheerfulness when I'm feeling less than enthusiastic.

But at times my temper and my moods will wipe away all the sunshine and butterflies that may be dancing around me. I distress, I fret, I assume the worst. I can physically make myself sick with worry.

I must stop this. It will eventually negate all the lovely happy joys I do have and what a waste that would be.

Today I happened upon the new book by Joel Osteen:

He's the smiley televangelist from Houston's Lakewood Church. This "church" is nondenominational, and huge. I mean they bought the arena where as a teenager I saw Bon Jovi play-- The Summit, for their home base, but he travels all over the country spreading his positivity. I actually went to Lakewood Church years ago before it was in the Summit, when my oldest was a baby. My ex-husband's parents were members so there we were, singing and swaying in the pep rally, and Joel's dad John laid his hands on and blessed my Lil Lady when she was only 6 months old. So I've watched Joel's progress and success ever since.

Anyway, his website popped up on Facebook today and right in the nick of time I get this little quote:

Energize your life!

God has created you to be a victor, not a victim. Jumpstart your day by celebrating the very best that God has for you! These daily inspirations will help you grow in your relationship with the Lord and equip you to be everything God intends you to be.

So of course I'm an Amazon.com junkie and I bought his daily devotional book. And a few others of his older ones. The new Every Day A Friday book isn't out yet, but if I like his others, I will get it. I am happiest on Fridays, as a matter of fact.

I'm not super pious but soon this month Lent will begin for us Catholics, so I buckle down and search for ways to reflect each day during the forty-day season. I don't get to Mass very often so the few quiet minutes I have at the end of my days are devoted to thanking my lucky stars (that's God) and trying to see the not so ideal things happening to me as chances for me to be everything God wants me to be.

So the new plan is to walk into His open arms when I'm feeling low, so He can carry me in those hard times.

So I said to the Lord, "Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”
The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints,
my child, is when I carried you.”

I'm Juicing...in a Good Way

2012-01-25T13:23:00.000-06:00

I was perusing through my Netflix online menu and found a documovie that looked interesting. Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead. About an Aussie dude who was overweight and suffering from a skin disorder brought on by his general lack of health. He took a six month trip to the US with his Juicer machine and was going to do a juice cleanse while interviewing fat Americans about their eating and dieting habits. Crazy idea, but I was intrigued.

I'm always interested in hearing how others get fit, stay fit, or where they were before they were fit. The Biggest Loser show is a favorite, but even more are the success stories of people who do it "on their own" without Bob and Jillian and a state-of-the-art gym to work out in 7 hours a day. I never understood why the BL would give those people that cocoon of personal food instruction and a gym with no contact with the outside world, when that outside world is what helped them get over 400 pounds in the first place.

I was never in that over-200 lbs category (well, possibly with 9 months of pregnancy either time, but if I was, I didn't let the nurses tell me) but after each kid was born, I did do it "on my own" to get the baby-weight off and get back to my former athletic self.

The documentary was more informative in the beginning about how the all-juice diet was cleansing the guy's system and flushing out all the toxins he'd built up and it showed him talking to some really dumb Americans who would say things like "I gotta have my Burger King, I can't give that up", while standing there tipping the scales at over 300 pounds. He would go through his spiel about the juice and tell him what he's lost (he was shrinking throughout the movie) and they'd look at him like "uh-uh, don't you tell me I can't have my meatloaf!".

One guy he met at a truckstop in the middle of nowhere was a big dude. Divorced dad who hadn't seen his kid in a while due to his depression, health issues, and being on the road all the time driving a truck. He revealed he had the same affliction the Aussie had, which was rare. The Aussie did his thing, and the guy even tried the juice out of the juicer in the back of the guy's car, and said "Hmmm, that ain't bad". Juice-guy gave him his number and said to call him if he wanted more info on the diet. Trucker-guy was well over 400 lbs and I thought, yeah, no way.

Aussie went home after 6 months of only juicing (cuh-razy if you ask me) a much skinnier guy off his meds and feeling great. He gets a phone call from trucker-dude. He's ready. The documovie sets the trucker up in a lake house to get him walking and swimming and juicing. He does it all. All by himself. The townspeople where he was started talking to him and he was telling them the juicing benefits. He ended up doing a juicing class in a local restaurant. His weight was dropping like crazy. Juice only. By the end, he was a new man. Reconnected with his kid and was throwing the football with him and running. It was SO INSPIRING. Both men were totally transformed.

Others in the show were doing 10-day cleanses and feeling great too. I decided then and there I was getting a juicer. I did not think I needed or wanted to do a "cleanse" on juice only, but as a supplement or a meal replacement, I thought a glass full of veggie or fruit juice right from the produce itself, would be nothing but good for me. I was right.

I bought the Jack Lalanne Power Juicer. I figured if that man made it til he was almost 90 and endorsed it, it was good. It was also under $100 which was a factor. So I read up a little on what produce was good for juicing and began to buy fresh kale, cucumbers, broccoli stalks, peppers, carrots, apples, oranges and lemons. I throw it ALL in there. The apples and oranges add sweetness and keep it from being bitter. Its juice but it is filling. The pulp that shoots into a holder in the back is full of fiber and nutrients as well, so I mix that with fat free sour cream and use it as a dip, or put it in my soups, or mix it with Greek yogurt. Buying fresh produce means you have to use it before it goes bad, which forces me to continue to make juice.

The juice fills me up but I don't think I could do it in isolation. I get hungry for a little more bulk and other flavors and since I don't need to drop 50 or 100 pounds, I am choosing not to go extreme. My desire for regular food is less since I have the juice filling up space, so that's good. TMI warning, but my eliminations are smooth and easy with all the veggies and fruit cleaning out the crevices of my intestines and lubing up the pathway out. My skin is clear and I sleep soundly (but not enough hours). I am following dietal suggestions for reducing cancer occurence or reoccurence. Aside from the clean-up of the machine itself (where's ole Jack for that?), I see no downside.

I still have carbs and meat in my diet. I am an athlete and feel I need the protein and carbs for energy. I choose lean meats and low-sugar carbs when I can. I limit my sweets. But if I eat a Thin Mint for 40 calories of my allotted 1325/day, I'm perfectly good with that.

I know there are athletes who are vegan. I'm sure there's tofu options out there but I run and race for the Texas Beef Council for gosh's sake, so I don't think I'll be ditching the lean meat anytime soon. I could cut more snacky things like crackers, pretzels and chips. Lent is coming and I think it will be the kick in the pants I need to quit those three things for 40 days. Jesus would approve.

I'll never be a lean machine type of athlete. I haven't ever been that. I like my shape but want it at its best, and in another 15 pounds I know I could be faster and more fit for my races. Maybe I won't get it all off at the food consumption level I have now. I'm willing to tweak my plan. Don't know if I could maintain it either. I like to have a glass of wine while sharing a yummy dessert with my Sinatra or my girlfriends and don't see me denying myself that experience. As long as I'm living, I can live with that.

Lucy's date with her mortality

2012-01-24T23:49:00.000-06:00

Lucy, my fearless (to the point of stupidity) canine partner in running, has had a really bad week.

We began last week with a run near a fence line in a neighborhood, just jogging along and a rogue dog pokes through a rogue hole in its white trash fence and barks at us. Lucy took it upon herself to protect her mamma from said rude dog, and bit the crap out of the nose sticking through the fence. Full-on her teeth over the dog's nose and I wasn't sure she would let go.

So I stepped in. Yes, insert groan here.

I grabbed Lucy by her shoulders, she still wasn't letting go. I got my hands on her top jaw and pried them off the dogs nose. Finally she let go but not before she caught my right hand in her teeth. Across the pinky and next two fingers, punctures. Thought they were little ones and we'd keep running but the pinky was really bleeding. Then it was really hurting. Tried to wipe the blood on the grass and felt something move. Something unnatural. It was dark so I just wrapped it up and we got the hell out of there. Got back to my car and Lucy looked fine and dandy, didn't see any other-dog parts on her, and my pinky nail was split through the middle. Still hurt like hell but I figured nothing could be done that night.

A trip to the doctor the next day for a tetanus shot and I'm told the nailbed is split and needs stitches. Eight painful lido shots in the finger later and my nail has been removed and 4 stitches are in. Thanks, Luc.

Funny thing about comeuppance...and karma. Lucy did not escape the week unscathed. When my finger felt good enough to run again in 4 days, I took my girl out again with me. Regular route near the house. Turned at a corner on the sidewalk at a point we sometimes go straight and Lucy tried to go straight, pulling a bit away from me. I laughed that she has doggie memory of a different route, and at that second a car turned that corner next to us and she was startled and jolted toward it, ready to chase. She slipped out of my grasp and took off. It wasn't going that fast but she was right next to its back tire and as fast as she went toward it she clipped it or it clipped her. That was it. She hobbled over to me with a foot dangling from the "knee" down...not good. Her turn at the doctors.

No doggie insurance so instead of a $30 copay like me, she had a slightly more expensive surgery to install a plate and screws to realign and stablize her leg. She a pathetic mess now.

I so missed her tonight on my run. I probably can run faster without her zigzagging and poop breaks, but I really miss her. She's confined to the bathroom with an elizabethean collar on (which is in no way regal, it looks like a lampshade) and is walking around in a daze. Two weeks of this and the doc will check her staples and hopefully pull them out so no more collar, but still no strenuous running, jumping or playing for 8 more weeks. That is not Lucy. We have stairs and she's used to beebopping up and down them without a thought. Now a baby-gate is keeping her downstairs.

I hope to get back my runner-girl, maybe with a bit more humility and respect for the big loud motory things that pass us by. She can still take a chunk out of a dog that comes after me though, I won't stop her again.

Breaking up is hard to do

2012-01-04T09:10:00.000-06:00

I have a girlfriend going through a breakup with a guy she's been seeing since her divorce, about 2 years. When I met her they'd only been dating a few months and she jokingly told me he was her "boy toy", since he was younger, and she knew it wasn't going anywhere. I figured he was her rebound and understandably someone to boost her ego since her divorce was a result of her husband's infidelity. She said it was just for fun. Nothing lasting.

Here we are two years later and she and I have become pretty close along with another friend of ours. We are a great trio and do many activities together. I believe our friendship has probably helped with finally giving her the confidence to break it off with him a few months ago.

Unfortunately, he won't go away. He has berated her for her selfishness and insensitivity and called her names but then he wants her to stay with him. He does not want to change his life to accomodate hers, and resents her for even assuming he might. He's single. She has two children who live with her most of the time. They go to a private school in the suburbs. She can't move. Dude. If you are dating a single mother, you have to make some changes if you want to stay with her. He won't.

His calls and texts after the break-up were mostly late in the night (hmmm, why then?) and mostly calling her names for breaking up with him. Trying to justify his behavior and claim he's done so much for her. Really, he has not. Nothing that put him out of his comfort zone. She slowly started to realize he wasn't moving toward a future with her and her kids.

She doesn't know much about his life or friends. He would come to her when he can. If she did not have her kids, she would go to him. He rarely came to her functions or joined in her activities. Its possible she started to realize after I was with Sinatra for a while that a man should go "total immersion" into a woman's life if there is real love and a real future. She was willing to do that for him but could not get enough back.

Fine. You realize the person you are with is wrong for you and your life. I came to that realization with Romeo 2 years ago. Now what? You can pull away and hope they get the hint. Usually not. You can say what you would like to be changed and hope they agree. Um, if that was going to happen, it probably would've by now. You can stand your ground and say, Sorry Babe, I have to walk away from this because it isn't right for me. That's what you have to do. That should get you moving in the right direction even if you don't know what that direction is.

But what if the guy/girl won't let you go? I did NOT have that problem with Romeo. I said Good-bye, and he said OK. A bit too easily in my opinion, but actually that was best for me. My poor friend has this nutbag spewing nastytalk to her but then boo-hooing how much he wants her back. She wants to be wanted, as we all do. She doesn't want to be alone, as none of us do. She is gaining her strength to ward him off but it's tough for her.

What is his motivation to try to keep a woman who doesn't want to be with him? The psychology behind that has got to be disturbing. Something from his childhood, past, or innermost demons.

My other friend and I are trying to give her all the reasons to break all communication with him. Block his number. He texts and calls an insane number of times in a night, especially after midnight. No reason to put up with that. It's crazy with a capital C.

Only she can make the leap to cutting him off. Its a big step but the only one that makes sense. I am hoping she'll get there.

This time she needs to make it all about HER.

2011~ A Charlie Sheen Kind of Year

2011-12-27T00:24:00.000-06:00

A year with ups and downs, highs and lows, winning and losing. I figure a loose comparison to Charlie Sheen isn't uncalled for. I didn't have any goddesses or tiger blood but it has been a learning and growing year for me.

I have had some really good times. No, not drug-infused, but the laugh-out-loud, deep-breath-because-its-so-relaxing, tingly-all-over kind of fun. Seriously. Without drugs! Ok, a little wine or a great martini, sure.

My handsome Sinatra has been more here for me than any man in my life, even without him being physically here much of the time. I know when I finally realized how much we loved each other I was winning. I owe him for most of my UP times and deep breaths this past year.

My bestest girlfriends, Cora, K and K, my sister and a few fun others have been my rocks who sit and gab for hours about work, weight, exercise, kids, men, marriage, and anything under the sun. I'm so lucky they are 10 minutes away and we can jump on our bikes and ride the country roads, or meet with the kids for yogurt. These special ladies are willing meet anytime to share a margarita while bitching about the men in our lives (of course not you, sweetie), 'cause that's what friends are for. Hey, now that I think about it, maybe I do have some goddesses around me.

I have gotten to travel this past year twice with my group of high school friends who I haven't seen in years but fell right into the good ole days with as soon as we reconnected. Sinatra and I were so lucky to find these friends and make two different trips with them. One with all the kids and one with only the adults. Much love and laughter on both. Other trips with Sinatra and I and the kids were great bonding times for our new double-sized family. Such happy times.

I had some unlucky and scary times as well. Finding more spots on my follow-up mammogram and then the two biopsy surgeries to rid me of the cancerous cells floating around in me was paralyzing fear I'd not yet experienced before in my life. I had so many questions and dark thoughts rolling around in my head, but I kept going through my days by sheer will power and routine to not let myself wallow in it too much. I read up on what I had and my treatment, and followed message boards of other women with much worse to deal with and tried to put it all in perspective. I had cancer, and now its gone. I'm keeping that thought in the forefront until I'm told otherwise.

The only other negative drama has come in the form of people in my life who dislike me for not who I am but for what I have become to my boyfriend and his children. I love these four people and want them in my and my girls' lives. They want to be with us too. The ex and her husband suddenly in this past year are very concerned with the children living in another town and their control over them. Their lifestyle has not been one conducive to having children around on a regular basis before now, but they want to prevent the kids from living and/or moving with their father. Their father, who has happily never waivered in his devotion to them during the over two years since the marriage ended. Much time and money has been spent on this and its far from over. No concrete plans of a move are being made for this reason. I have good days and bad days on how this affects me. I am on the outside looking in but am also very involved when it comes to the arguing and ugliness causing pain to my dear man and his children. I want it all to resolve so we can move on, no matter what the outcome.

For all the bad, there really was much more good. I'm blessed to have all the people in my life and a stable family and job. I get love and support from most everyone I choose to be around. I have a solid sense of my own self that has always pulled me through adversity by working hard and loving well, and the reward is getting to enjoy it all. It doesn't have to come easy, I will do what I have to do to make it happen.

Bring on a New Year, in the wise words of Charlie Sheen, "Born ready. Winning."

Negativity Begone!

2011-12-06T11:00:00.000-06:00

I've mentioned I have faith. I've mentioned I have two great kids and a loving boyfriend with 3 great kids. I've got a mom and dad living close by, a warm house that is all mine, and a good steady job. So why am I Worst-Case-Scenario-Sally?

I expose myself to stories on the news and stories from friends and I hear about awful things some people do to other people and I tend to assume the most negative outlook from any perplexing situation. This mood comes and goes I realize, but this time of year, or maybe its just this time of month, I'm swimming a pool of negativity.

I want to get out of the pool. I want to try to see the good possibilities that could happen and not just the bad ones. I guess I'm trying to protect myself from having my bubble burst. My goal would be to just blow up that bubble full-size and watch it fly and not worry about it popping. What if it doesn't? Great! How great would it be to ride that wave of positivity on into the sunset? It's a nice thought. Now to implement.

I have been burned before. Failed marriage for one. I remember the depths of unhappiness I felt during the end of that and I am desperate to not go through it again. Failed relationship after the marriage too. Disappointment and more sadness. But what if Sinatra is the man who will help me get through any downs as well as enjoy the ups with me? Why would I deny myself (and him) that chance? It feels more right than any other partnership I've ever had, I am sure of that.

I have to face the fact my life WILL have more unhappiness, but that having him next to me, truly WITH me, will give me strength like I have never had before to ride it out. I have pulled strength from deep within myself already to get out of those two relationships all by MYSELF. I did that. I really did that and all alone. I have been taking care of my kids and household and finances alone ever since. I have that power. I don't want my future to be me being all strong and powerful but alone. That's no fun.

Sinatra and I have gone through some hits so far. The long distance between us, the ex-wife, the 5 kids. We've been pretty great at handling everything together. He tries to protect me from some of it, but I'm annoyingly persistant and usually get him to share with me what's up. We talk it out. I still worry my negativity will start to be a turn-off, but sometimes his unwavering cheerfulness annoys me too. We are no doubt a good ying-yang couple.

I'd like to make it a resolution for 2012 to open my mind to the possibility of a postive outcome. Prayer, meditation, whatever...I need to find that. I'm not getting younger and negativity is poison for my future health. I want to grow older gracefully and have Sinatra right there holding my hand being older and graceful next to me. We deserve that chance. I'm going to give it a whirl...I bet it turns out GREAT.

Answered Prayers are Awesome

2011-12-01T23:58:00.001-06:00

I don't usually discuss religious matters in public. I am Catholic which by definition means I'm pretty quiet about my faith. The most I ever talk about religion out loud is with my first graders whom I teach RE at my church, or if I'm yelling "Jesus is watching you!" to my own kids when they are acting like heathens.

I have a very full life with friends and family from all corners of my world. I may not be the most traveled person in the real world, but I make efforts to keep up with my loved ones no matter where they live or what they're doing. First MySpace and now Facebook have amplified this fact tenfold but I was always that classmate/family member who drives or flies off to someone's baby shower, wedding, holiday party or even funeral. Small towns like Waco, Bryan, and Baytown, or awesome big cities like Pittsburgh, San Diego and Tahoe. Just give me a reason.

I've kept up Christmas cards with people I haven't seen in person in 10-plus years. It is hard for me to STOP corresponding with people, even when its probably expected. After my divorce it was actually hard for me to not keep up with my ex-family. But even now, 5 years later, I still facebook with several of them.

I love all the people I've kept in my life and I stay invested in the events happening to them, and this leads me to worry for them. And I pray for them. I get really emotionally involved if someone is posting they are having surgery, are divorcing, have gotten ill, or have a parent die. I see others post they will keep them in their prayers. Sometimes I post the same, and sometimes I just say a silent prayer. I keep following the individual until I see they are okay. I don't often say much more because Facebook is such a public place and yes, they might have broadcast their news, but if I'm giving prayers I just do it...and don't feel the need to announce it.

Lately thankfully I have noticed some of my prayers have been been answered. I go throughout my days checking in on people and thinking about people and here lately I have noticed a few things have been better for those I've prayed for. Not grand, over-the-top, huge sucesses but still important. A sick child turns the corner and gets better despite the odds (this one WAS grand!), someone's legal issues seem to be working in their favor, a friend's job search shows new possibilities, two people find love when they had all but given up.

The power of prayer is real. It does not have to be showy or loud or all glitz and sparkles. Even tiny upsides should be thanked. They are part of a bigger picture and a grander scheme. In my little world, I will do what I can for those I care about, and prayer is one part of it.

Thank God.

Hi, I'm a Worrywort...Is It Worth It?

2011-10-20T13:48:00.000-05:00

I worry. I know all parents and most adults worry but I need to work on how much I worry. I occupy precious brain space with worry. But no one else is around to worry about my stuff or my kid's stuff.

I have picked up some anxiety about things that I never used to think about. I blame the internet. I worry about all those horrible images we get sent in emails and on Facebook. They warn us of attackers waiting by random babyseats on the side of the road, or tell us not to smell a perfume in the Walmart parking lot. I worry I'll open an email and wipe out my whole computer. That I'll leave my cell phone charging too long and a fire will start. I gotta stop reading that crap.

Some new worries come from being older and trying to conserve my physical self so I'm not a burden on my children. Why do I care if I'm a burden on them later in their lives? They are a burden on me nearly every day (I say jokingly) so it's only fair I pay them back in full. But nonetheless, I brush my teeth twice a day AND floss and use expensive facecreams and take glucosimine chondroitin for my joints to be fluid and smooth recommended by my chiropractor. I try to eat right and keep my weight down and take my cancer hormones so I don't get cancer in the other breast. I drink tons of water and take vitamins and supplements for everthing. I'm making my kids into worryworts forcing them to worry about this same stuff, but I guess that's good for their future kids.

New worries that have begun are sort of obsessions I've developed in recent years that I can't explain. Wasteful behaviors bug me. I know I didn't grow up in the 30s or 40s where rationing was popluar but I hate to let water run in the sink too long. I harp on this everytime the kids are just playing around while brushing or doing dishes and letting the water flow. Or taking 20 minute showers as my almost 13-year old suddenly likes to do. I'm also a recycler so I hate seeing wasted recycleable plastic or cardboard just thrown out. Use the big green garbage cans people! We only have one Earth! Hehe, I know that sounds so granola-y but I worry about it.

I am cranky about leftover or wasted food as well. Buying combo meals for all three of us with giant drinks and then the fries or the drinks don't get finished. Or making a dinner and my 8-year old only eats a few bites. Ordering adult meals for my pre-teen that she can't finish but she claims she's starving if she gets a kids meal. Even throwing out half a bowl of milk when they've finished all the cereal. Drink the damn milk, it's the healthiest part of your Lucky Charms!

I know none of this is huge dollars lost but my money worries direct my behavior on the subject. I keep my checkbook balanced for the most part. I used to do the computer Quicken but got bored keeping up with it so now I just watch my checkbook weekly. I am a bit obsessed with not getting to a zero balance. I always think I'm going to run out. I never do. In fact my checkbook is usually under my actual bank balance even counting all uncleared checks and debits. I made a math mistake in there somewhere and haven't corrected it so I have a cushion. Mind games, yes, but I sleep better knowing I'm covered. My worry has pushed me to have college funds, and IRAs and savings. I'm responsible with my money because its all mine and the two other little souls depending on me. That's not a bad thing I know, but its a lot for one person to keep up with.

Oh and I also worry for those people in my life who DON'T worry. Those annoying clueless people who walk around in a fog assuming everything gets done without their help. I only have a few of these around (a couple are my kids at times) but if I didn't worry about them, no one would and that's not okay, right?

Why must I write about all my worries? Not to dump them on others, but to get them out of my head into writing so they are not so scary. I could worry MORE about the cancer coming back, or not being here for my kids someday, or my aging parents going downhill before my eyes, or my boyfriend not making the big move to be with me, but I toss up protective blocks in my head for these larger troubles to make sure I have enough time to handle all my little worries. I don't want to shut down completely for gosh's sakes. I must function.

I think I have always been this way in some respects so I can't change now. Is it good for me? Probably not. But if I can't change it then why worry about it?

Ok, NOW I feel better...

The Devil Who Lurks Among Us

2011-09-18T00:13:00.000-05:00

Frustration running deep with me lately. Mean people still suck. Nice people around me are being manipulated and pushed around by mean people. I am watching nice people get hurt and made to feel powerless. I also am upset with the legal system which is helping to push around these nice people. Bad things are happening to good people. Its sick.

It isn't happening directly to me thank God, but these nice people are dear to me and other careless evil people who must have no faith or fear of God are relentless and trying to tear my nice-people friends down.

How do they sleep at night? What do they say to themselves as they lie in bed in the quiet dark? Good job! That'll teach her/him! I am justified in my behavior today. I am proud of myself! Nighty-night.

How do people become this way? What pain and suffering do they blame for their pitiful lives and how they are living them? They must have never been taught right from wrong, or they grew up learning that hurting others to help oneself is acceptable behavior. Did they have role models who took target practice at other weaker people around them? I imagine that at some point they said, "Fuck It" and decided they were looking out for #1, at all costs.

And these mean people I know have involved their children in their ugly lives. The kids are either disgusted by their parents' behaviors and its causing a rift, or they are learning how to be mean to people THEY know. Either way it's creating more awfulness.

You would think the mean people would eventually get what's coming to them. Karma anyone? But it seems if you learn to lie convincingly, you can convince law enforcement and the courts system to believe your lies and to mistrust the good people. The legal system lets both sides talk and whomever is the least nervous or anxious or upset probably comes across more in control and cool, and a judge can choose to believe that person, the closet asshole, over the good person who sits stunned they are in a courtroom defending their every innocent action.

Good people aren't good liars! Nice people go through life doing the best they can with what is laid before them and never have time or the idea to cover up, or cheat, or lie to get ahead. Good people believe in God or answering to a higher power. They have fear of screwing up and breaking rules and try not to do anything to hurt others. When someone accuses them of doing wrong a good person is blindsided and in shock. They don't immediately go into thinking up their excuses or legal strategies because they are still trying to figure out what went wrong.

I've lost faith in basic humanity lately watching good people be dragged down to the level of these other evil souls. I'm damn sick of it. Something good needs to happen for these people.

With all my angst, I still have faith enough to pray for the good guys. That's because I count myself as one of them.

Someone Like You...sing it Adele

2011-08-29T00:15:00.000-05:00

I had a future I thought I wanted and it turns out it didn't want me. Now someone else is getting that future. I think she doesn't know I had it first, but then that's the great thing about starting over. A person can reinvent himself and tell only the stories to the next person that sheds him in a favorable light. Its a bit of a snowjob, but we all do it. Why would anyone tell a new love how shitty the last person thought they were?

Romeo is getting married. In a month from now. Our last personal contact was this past February at the gym, where we talked briefly and very superficially about generic stuff. Before that it had been almost a year since I'd seen him. Almost a year since we'd had any contact at all.

In that year I spent a lot of time wondering what went wrong with us. Feeling anger that he failed me. Feeling stupid that I took longer than him to get over us. I wrote then about it hitting me suddenly on our last dinner out together that he wasn't into me anymore. That was just in March of 2010. And now, a year and a half later, he's ready to MARRY someone.

To refresh anyone's memory who forgot the Romeo-and-me story, we dated for three years. In that last year it became increasingly obvious (although not fast enough) that he wasn't digging my lifestyle-- kids, dogs, suburbs, lack of wanting babies, etc. He never came out and told me this, but I was unhappy a lot of the time with his unwillingness to bend in any way toward anything in my life. I had to be the one to verbalize all the mismatches happening between us and basically walk away when he couldn't come up with a good excuse or promise to compromise. He let me shut the door, but he was all but out of it already.

I'm quite sure he's left that bit of shameful behavior out of his retelling of his "ex" story to his new fiancee. If she even knows there was an "ex" or to what extent there was one. How DO you explain you've only been broken up with your ex for a few months when you meet the love of your life? In the information I've gleaned from friends, he met her during or shortly after our last few encounters. I believe now that he told me about her in a last phone conversation and email, and painted it as if it was a very new, but exciting beginning with a great woman.

Who tells something like that to their very recently broken-up with ex girlfriend?

I labeled him "Romeo" in a sarcastic and ironic vein...he's not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to women. I now think he really believed we were "friends" by then and I would be happy at his news.

No happier then than I am now to hear that by this past February, only one year after our ski trip together, he was asking for her hand in marriage. Atop a ski slope he and I had skied together several times. Uh, yeah.

It was like he paused the video, photoshopped me OUT, and inserted her into the picture, then hit "play" again. She has a similar education level as me, similar age, similar physical features. How lucky for him that he found this specimen, and she'd never been married and had no pesky children to deal with!! What a lucky guy he is!

Hearing this news has brought back my anger. Lil bit. If he knew in ONE year she was the one he'd like to grow old with, then he knew in our first year that I was NOT. He's no spring chicken and if it felt right he probably thought he'd better jump on it, especially if he wants those perfect children he claimed he'd might like to have. He's gotta get crackin'.

But think, if he'd cut me loose earlier, he'd already have multiple OCD, anal-retentive, seen-but-not-heard little robots sitting mute in a corner by now. Tsk, tsk (or tick-tock) he shoulda thought of that.

Bitter much?

I am blessed this is not me getting engaged on a mountain and married in a church across town. Oh wait, I wouldn't be getting married in a church because I'm divorced. Whew, his sweet Catholic parents dodged a bullet there! I bet they are so happy with the new girl...what's her name again?

I am eternally grateful that I figured him out and cut him loose in time for him to meet this reportedly lovely (yet clueless) woman, and that I was able to find a REAL man who values me as a woman, a friend, AND a mother. He accepts me for what I am RIGHT NOW. Flaws and baggage and all.

No, I'm not ready to jump into marriage even though I know I have a great relationship that is just at a year old. Because I live in the real world and would like to enjoy this time where we still are learning and still are loving what we are learning about each other. I don't feel the need to latch on to a marrige certificate just yet and neither does Sinatra. So much of our lives are on the same page. I'm not trying to change my life to fit into his and although his life will be changing to be near me, he will still have his own journey to begin before we decide to merge. Merge, not marriage...but it could come.

It feels nice to not have to worry about it for now. I feel more real with him than I've ever felt with anyone. If I'd gotten my way a few years ago, nothing would be real anymore. This little bump in the road of dealing with the fact I wasn't chosen by someone who wasn't "the one" will fade away soon, and I won't be wasting any more time.

I'm in my happy place, where I belong.

Up Next-- Phase 3 of Whipping Cancer's Ass

2011-08-11T13:44:00.000-05:00

Diagnosis- Check.

Hysteria- Check.

Surgery- Check.

'Nother Surgery- Check.

Radiation- Check!

Yep, I rang the bell!

After surgery and radiation the third part of treatment for DCIS is hormone therapy. Pills. For 5 years. They call it "insurance". Reducing my estrogen and progesterone levels since they were tested as positive receptors, meaning my levels are prone to creating cancer cells.

Well, I have some thoughts on hormone therapy changing my body. I've had these hormone levels for over 40 years and I think they have made me competitive, strong, and healthy, as in not apt to getting common illnesses (other than cancer). I was able to conceive my children without effort and recovered after their births quickly. I have a healthy mental state and don't flucuate moods very often.

Now I do admit my hormones may have snuck in some not so nice attributes too. Wicked PMS and periods in the past (but not since my second was born and I got an IUD), quick-to-anger at times (road rage anyone?), and bloating and water-retention at the even mention of salt or heat.

Hormone of choice: Tamoxifen. I'm still learning about the side effects of Tamoxifen, which is most commonly prescribed for premenopausal breast cancer patients:

Bone pain, constipation, coughing, hot flashes, muscle pain, nausea, tiredness, vaginal discharge, weight loss

Ok, the only thing in that list that I light up at is "weight loss". Awesome! But knowing my bloating tendencies, I'll gain. Yep, that will be me. I have read many patient reviews on several websites and no one mentions having lost weight, on the contrary, most have said they'd gained weight, and almost all said they were generally miserable on the meds. Headaches, leg cramps, day and night sweats were most often mentioned. Not my idea of tolerable side effects. We are talking quality of life here.

There is an increased incidence of uterine cancer with Tamoxifen. Geez Louise, that terrifies me. Reduce breast cancer recurrence, increase uterine cancer chances. How do I make that choice? This doesn't feel like insurance. Now we are talking fighting for life here.

So I keep searching. I am a believer in alternative medicine, like herbs, and in finding healthy foods that cause similar body reactions to the meds, but from the natural benefits of vegetables and fruits and beans and grains. I have been to a Chinese doctor for acupuncture in the past for knee pain, and am not afraid to go again. He prescribes little bottles of strange-smelling tablets based on your medical needs. I am not sure if trying this first wouldn't be a good idea.

I feel I need take a few weeks to get my normal energy back on track, and the extra few pounds that have crept on since radiation gone, and then I will open a new can of worms and begin whatever medication I decide to use. To protect myself for the many years of life I have left while I enjoy activities with my children and a relationship with my boyfriend and keeping up my workouts with my friends.

If my lifestyle changes so that I lose my favorite things in life, which are directly tied to my stamina and personality, then I've already lost the battle.

I realize breast cancer should change your life in some ways, but I am not convinced prescription medication is the way to go for now. I want my life back. The one I had before all of this. I'll go to the doctor check-ups and do the mammograms religiously and even watch what I eat and drink. But I need more convincing on the pharmaceutical aspect of my plan.

Traveling with the Good-Time Club....Priceless Memories

2011-08-02T12:29:00.001-05:00

And now a break from our regularly scheduled cancer update...

Vacation time! I have been so lucky in the last years to have some great travel companions and to have gone to some spectacular spots. I decided somewhere in my late 30s, after my kids have gotten older and I finally settled into my divorce-status, I was going to see new places.

All through my marriage our only outings were to local waterparks or pools or to places my ex would play softball, and those were only within driving distance. Lafayette, Louisiana may have been balmy, but not in a good way. Most of the time I just opted to stay home with the kids to save money or out of lack of interest in watching yet another hot, sweaty softball game where the beer-drinking was more a priority than the game.

I hit age 36 and off I went. Those first few years were ski trips where I witnessed the beautiful outdoors in a new way, from the top of grand mountains with nature as far as the eye could see. After living a lifetime in mostly flat Texas, I could not get enough. I have been lucky enough to ski in most of the western states.

These trips have allowed me to meet some really fun new people, who appreciate the beauty afforded by skiing as much as I do. And I've reconnected with old friends from high school (thanks again Facebook) and found our love of travel and fun has brought us to new levels of friendship we never knew back in our schooldays.

I have also been lucky to have skied with friends who were either on my ski level or patient enough to help me improve. Now I feel I could keep up with most skiers on most slopes. This past winter in Tahoe and Taos I had the best group of same-level, slope-hungry skiers who tirelessly jumped on the lifts as they opened and skied until closing time without complaint. Even my kids have become happy little ski bunnies who loved every minute of our spring break trip.

I was able to join some of my favorite work people on trips to Vegas and Costa Rica, as well as other random US cities for conferences. Secretly my boss joins us only when he gets a really good mix of co-workers together to do some of our best trips. For it being "a work thing" I've found my Happy Place several times along the way.

My most recent trip to Mexico was a blessing bestowed on me by my boyfriend Sinatra, during this summer of many not-so-great surprises. Playa Del Carmen was a paradise I didn't know existed until now, and I'm hooked for life. He got us set up in style at the all-inclusive Royal-Playa Resort and I felt very royal indeed. Again we were with our high school buddies, so our common history and our similar adult lives gave way to much teasing, inside jokes and general happy fun. No one drank too much (we've all learned this lesson by now) or got too much sun (as 40+ year olds, we are smart about this too) or shied away from any activities. It was THE BEST TIME.

Now my loving Sinatra and I have an exclusive club of tried-and-true traveling partners who will be the first ones we call when we need a few days off to visit sand or snow. As we age I don't see us adding museums or ruins to our trips, I just know we are a different kind of traveler-- we must see AND do. The only thing that may change is how often we'll go.

Treatments and Life Goes On

2011-07-19T23:19:00.000-05:00

Day 20 of radiation is tomorrow. My treated skin is no longer tender! It's downright raw. And red. And getting angrier. Not good. Fatigue is becoming more obvious, but I still have managed to get in a few workouts since I have a triathlon this Sunday. It will be my last of the year most likely and I'm mainly doing it to participate with and support my running group, who are all doing the race as well. They are a fun bunch and are very supportive of me. Wouldn't bother going for just anyone.

The girls have been busy with friends all week and are letting me have some rest time. That would be my children, those girls who are enjoying their summer. My other two girls, the dogs, have no interest whatsoever in letting me rest. They demand their walks no matter how tired I am. They choose not to notice I'm laying on the couch with heavy eyelids. So off we go. When I try to turn back toward the house and its at a point shorter than the day before, they resist. Damn them for being so smart.

I am glad for this blog because people ask me "How are you doing?" but I find it hard to explain how I am. I wonder do they really want the answer? Are they just asking to be polite? Its kinda boring to say I'm tired and irritated, so I just say "I'm doing fine".

This isn't the worst thing I could go through. Chemo is MUCH worse but I know brave souls who've made it through that. I have a new friend who I met through her brother who's in my running group who just finished chemo and now will start radiation. All this after a mastectomy. I have another friend who's 2 year old daughter has a degenerative disease and is in constant danger of even a headcold being fatal. She is equally amazing.

I'm just going in for a 2 minute treatment for 33 days. Nothing really to complain about. I am grateful for that. Now I'll just wait for the end of treatment and get back to REALLY being "fine".

Day 10 of Radiation...23 to go.

2011-07-06T07:42:00.007-05:00

10 Days in and I'm plowing through this Thing. I have swelling and a dull ache on that side, which is weird, but not unlike how your breasts change when you are pregnant, only this is on only one of them. The fatigue is creeping up too, again like an early pregnancy. Unlike pregnancy, I'm not building milk to cause these symptoms, but the ducts are being irradiated to prevent the bad stuff from getting together and growing into more breast cancer.

I'm releasing myself to it when I can, the fatigue. I have a hard time laying around, my lifestyle has never supported it. Luckily, it's summer. Its 100 degrees outside until 8pm. We have no after-work obligations. This all lends itself to coming home from work and laying down. I don't usually sleep, but I veg. The kids have waited all day for me to get home, but they are stir-crazy enough inside all day that they burst outside to play with their friends. And then, I have peace. I rest, they play, and then I get up and do something about dinner or walk the dogs with them. Its working out.

The radiation procedure is fast. Putting on my gown before and getting dressed after are 5 times longer than the radiation itself. I lay on the table, they move me around to line up with the markings on my ribs and chest and start the machine. It moves around and hovers from side to side of me and in about 2 minutes its done. I grab my coffee from the waiting room on the way out and I'm off to work.

I have to do this because it is a step in my recovery and I am serious about beating breast cancer. I have to do it whether the laundry needs done, or the dogs need walked, or the kids are fighting, or my patients at work must come into the office RIGHT NOW, or I need a workout to get ready for a race.

I make time for all of it, because all of it is important.

Oncology 101

2011-06-16T22:55:00.006-05:00

Sitting in the oncologist's office waiting room, I'm trying to think of it as any other doctor's appointment and just trying to read my book, but I can't stop looking at the others in the waiting room. I read the same sentence 8 times and didn't know what I'd read. I was emotional just sitting there among the other cancer patients.

They are mostly older, as in over 65, and they seem frail, and shuffle in and sit down with effort. One carrying a black bag over his shoulder; I've seen these before, and my assumption is they are chemo bags, although I have no clue as to how they work.

The receptionist knows them all by name. This is not their first appointment like it is mine.

As the "young one", I feel out of place. Almost an intruder. I'm not sick. I don't shuffle. My scar is hidden and small and healed. I am still strong and plan on staying that way.

The side door opens and a man walks out followed by several nurses and a few doctors, who are watching him. He is looking for something and they direct him to a plaque on the wall. He reads it out loud but to himself, quickly, so I can't hear what he says. Below the plaque is a large brass bell. He finishes reading and reaches down and rings the bell. Its really loud and then all the staff start to clap. I stare. I can tell the others around me in the waiting room understand what just happened. Then I know too. He's finished. His treatment is done. He happily leaves the office with a "see you in two weeks" to the receptionist.

This will be the first stop of my day for 33 treatments over 6 weeks. Every weekday I will come here first thing, undress and lay in a machine which will send a powerful xray over my left breast to irradiate any fiesty cancer cells which may be trying to expose themselves. After 10 minutes or so I will get dressed and go to work. The only evidence left behind are the 4 tiny dots they tattooed (instead of Sharpied which they said would wash off if I sweated or swam- uh no way) on my chest. These dots tell the machine where to line up every day. The skin will get irritated and dry and I must doctor it with lotion to keep it comfortable.

They are all very nice there in Oncology. The nurses I met were funny and matter-of-fact at the same time. They see lots of newbies like me. Its not just for women or breast cancer, this office sees all kinds of cancer. I got looks from those elderly like "poor thing". Not sure if that was because of my age or because I looked nervous. Or clueless.

Soon I'll look like I know what I'm doing. Soon that receptionist will know my name and I guess I will know hers. I will be there, get my treatments, live my life, and then ring the bell and move on.

The Case of the Disappearing Cancer....

2011-06-08T22:49:00.009-05:00

On May 6th I went to surgery for the biopsy to remove a piece of tissue to test for cancer after seeing microcalcifications on my mammogram. The call comes May 10th from the surgeon, yes there was cancer in the sample. Several appointments and tests later we determine the surgeon must go back in and scrape out some more tissue to check for any other cancer cells.

Side note: I have to mention, the first go at it showed up on a bill for $18,000? But the Blue Cross "adjustment" was $16,000, and insurance paid almost $1700, so my part is a little over $300. Is that crazy or what? Anyway, that's a different topic I'm not willing to delve into. More bills are coming to amaze me further I'm sure.

ANYWAY, so as of May 10th, I'm thinking I'm still carrying around cancer and they are going back in to get it out. June 2nd I go under the knife again. I was told they were gonna go where the last sample was and take more, especially on the side where the cancer cells were centered the most. Great. Go for it.

Today I finally talk to the doctor about what was found on the sample this time. He tells me it's clear. As in, no cancer in the tissue tested. Say what? He explained the first surgery most likely got it all out and even if there were tiny pieces left (it was all tiny to begin with) my healing process causes new healthy scar tissue to form in the area which can pretty much kill off anything left there. It happens often.

Ok, how do I feel about this? I had cancer for an unknown number of months, but didn't know it. Then by the time I knew it, I didn't have it anymore. Strange.

Radiation is still recommended. Why? I don't have it anymore, right? Well, the doctors don't want to say I'm absolutely clear because they were only digging around in one area that they could see on the mammogram, but who knows if some random cancer cells aren't still floating around all by themselves and just haven't joined up to others to make a noticeable group. Radiation is my insurance.

Then I wonder how women with more advanced stages do this. How do they feel when they are told they have Stage 2 or 3 or maybe 4 breast cancer and then they have a mastectomy. The surgeon told me the only way they know all the cancer is gone is a mastectomy. Because my cancer was so small and confined it wasn't necessary but some women do it anyway, even with my DCIS. Just so they don't have to worry every time they go for a mammogram. So those women get the mastectomy and their cancer is gone. All that build up with the fear and the thinking it could KILL them and then it's gone. Now they don't have breast cancer. And everyone calls them a Survivor.

The cancer was cut out and now I'm a Survivor? Runs and walks and donations are celebrated for breast cancer research and supposedly I'm an insider because for a few weeks I thought I had cancer? I don't know about those other women, but that makes me feel weird. I feel unworthy of it all.

I am truly in awe of the ladies who have the mastectomies and then chemo. I don't know much about breast cancer chemo (hopefully I won't have to) but I assume that chemo is their insurance. They are told the mastectomy took it all. But now they must flush with chemo meds to get all the other pathways their more advanced cancer had possibly reached. Insurance.

I still have several doctor appointments to find out more about the next steps for me. I've had a lot of exposure to this disease in a very short time. I will need to process these last few months and accept that this happened and now I've done what I can to take care of it.

When the radiation is done and I get through the next mammogram and it is whatever it is and I move on to the next one, I hope to be more comfortable with it all, and then maybe, feel like a real Breast Cancer Survivor.

Is The Red Tent Coming or What?

2011-05-27T15:25:00.006-05:00

Oh lawd, I think Lil Lady's pre-menstral...are you kidding me? Either my oldest is about to get her period, or something else is making her act like a real turd lately. I'm not ready for this. Turn back the clock, I'm not equipped to handle a teenager yet.

Lil Lady and Chillgirl both have been at each others' throats and awful in general, but especially at bedtime. I know they are 8 and 12 and not 2 and 6 years old, but they are resistent to actually turning off the tvs and lights and laying down without wanting a snack, or my attention, or to mess with each other at their freaking bedtimes...its ridiculous that this most basic rule in my house has lately been broken so carelessly.

Most nights Chillgirl is lights out by 9:30pm, so exhausted she's out within minutes. Last few nights she was restless and up and down and wanting to come sleep with me, which is a BIG no-no, I don't care how cute she is. She already comes in nightly at 4-5am and crawls in while I'm comatose so I have a strict no-sleeping-with-mom-while-mom-is-aware policy and she pushed me the other night into yelling at her to go to her room and she began wailing at the top of her lungs until I had to close the door to ignore it. This is after 10pm it was still going on.

The very next night my pre-teen Lil Lady revolts at 10pm when I tell her lights out, yelling she wants to watch just a little more of her show. I'm adamant its already late, no way, lights out. She begins to wail and Chillgirl wakes up and starts her crap again and I'm again in my room with the door locked as to not kill them both.

Both girls assured me it wouldn't happen again when I told them they needed punishment and they sweet-talked me into getting to play outside for an hour while I ran. Call me Sucker Mom, but when they're good, they're really sweet and good and I fall for it every time.

But I did tell Lil Lady if she didn't shape up that night and the next morning (her attitude's been rude and borderline homicidal most days in general) she would NOT go to her friends' parties this holiday weekend. Told her she's on thin ice and she would NOT get to go. That night they played and came in and got ready for bed. Chillgirl's in her bed like she should be then 20 mins later its LL's turn but she started arguing how CG didn't go to bed exactly ontime and she shouldn't have to either. Told her she already had one bad night, she better just get in bed and not argue. More snotty comments and jabs later she's in bed and I'm in my room.

I hear CG moaning "Mom, she turned out the bathroom light!". I yell, "Go turn it back on"...I am NOT getting up for this BS...(sidenote: CG sleeps directly in front of the bathroom and wants the light on until she falls asleep, LL's room is to the side so the light isn't even on her directly and after CG is asleep she's allowed to turn it off)...

This is exhausting for me to write, so I know you are wiped out reading it...basically CG gets up and turns it on, LL gets up and turns it off. They are yelling to me each other is doing this and I tell them if I hear another word about it, I'll be in there to ground them both. So next I hear puh-puh-puh, footsteps, then door open, the puh-puh-puh, door close, and back and forth...on and on. Then they are silently fighting over having the bathroom door open or almost closed with the light on inside. Now it is past 10:30pm.

My blood is boiling....literally I can feel it rising, as in my blood pressure. I'm sitting there thinking, really girls? I REALLY don't want to ground you, but you REALLY are not leaving me a choice. REALLY I'd rather you just go to sleep and I can pretend you did it on time and not an hour later after passive-aggressively terrorizing each other. REALLY. Can you just STOP? I'm saying this to myself and getting more and more pissed because they are still messing with each other in there.

OK, no choice. I get up, and WAR ensues. I'm yelling, they're yelling blaming each other, and everyone's grounded. The dogs may even be grounded, I'm not sure. Friday night festivities GONE and threats of adding Saturday plans to the list of cancellations. Crying all around. Somewhere before midnight I turn off my light with sobs still echoing through the house. Put the lid on that day, I'm DONE.

The next morning there are I'm sorry's and please don't ground me's and I remember saying something to the effect of "I don't negotiate with terrorists". Pouts and sneers from Lil Lady go down swell with my morning coffee. She can't believe I won't let her go to the slumber party. I'm the meanest Mom ever. I am hateful and evil. At least Chillgirl has the common decency to stop while she's ahead and accept her punishment, but Lil Lady is relentless.

But I stand my ground. I will not be conquered. Its two against one but I'm still the Enforcer.

When puberty hits both girls full-force I will probably be close to menopause. Lord help us all.

Dammit...I have breast cancer.

2011-05-17T16:04:00.005-05:00

That's how I feel about it. Cancer. Dammit. I couldn't really fathom what it feels like to know you have cancer so it was easy to decide I didn't. But when my doctor called me at 6:30pm on a Wednesday and left me a message to call him back, on his private number, I knew my world was about to change.

DCIS~ Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. It's the 4th one down on the picture. Only identifiable on a mammogram as those omnious white dots, or microcalcifications. I would never have known it without the mammo screening. As far as we know right now, it's within the milk ducts and contained only there. This is good. My doc says it's "the best kind of breast cancer to have"...I know, that's a strange thing to say, right? I read that DCIS is called Stage 0 breast cancer. That's reassuring to me.

Once identified as which ducts to remove, they are excised by lumpectomy (even though there is no lump really) and radiation over a number of weeks takes care of any remnants. That could be a pain in the butt, but it reduces my risk of reoccurence from 30% without radiation to less than 15% with it. I'll take the x-ray beam at my chest for 6 weeks for those odds.

So I have a handle on what I have and how we usually treat it. I am still having tests to see if there are any other surprises. An MRI today to look at the whole chest. Hoping that shows a normal result except for the expected diagnosed area. Hormone tests should show if I need ongoing hormone therapy, which my doctor thinks I will need for the next 5 years or so. Soon the surgery will be scheduled and I can get this show on the road.

Aside from normal worries about reoccurance and pain and suffering, I'm bummed this will change my summer plans. With my girls, with my cycling and tri buddies, with my boyfriend and the beach trip we wanted to take. It's a huge unknown at this point and anyone who knows me, knows I'm not good with plans up in the air. But for once, the not-knowing is a bit more attractive than the knowing. I'm assuming I know how this will play out but Bad Luck or Karma or whatever you wanna call it may reach It's mighty hand in and yank the rug out from under me again.

I pray I will be ready, and strong enough to charge ahead, and kick this thing in its Ass.

I am not alone...deal with it.

2011-04-21T16:54:00.008-05:00

I have found myself in a really vunerable position recently and I'm not loving it. The calcification spots were back on my latest mammogram and the docs want to take a bigger chunk of my breast tissue to make sure they are still benign, like the slivers were they took 6 months ago.

Last summer I went through the first biopsy alone because I was awake the whole time, and even with bleeding from a hematoma after the procedure I went to the pharmacy to get supplies for doctoring the small incision, alone. I took care of my kids alone that night and got up alone the next morning and went to work.

This time I went to the follow-up mammogram alone, I went to the surgeon consult alone, and made the appointment for the new biopsy, alone. But I can't go to the biopsy alone this time. I will be under general anesthesia and of course I cannot drive home.

I hate anesthesia. Every time in my life I've had it I wake up nauseous and vomit. I'd rather be awake letting them talk to me while they poke and prod than go through the fuzzy, disoriented, sick effects of anesthesia. But my doctor said I'll be under. Pooey.

I'm set for the procedure on a Friday, so I have the weekend to recover. I'm not broadcasting on Facebook I'm having this done but the few people who know, thankfully want to help. Take me in the morning, bring me home, help with the kids and get dinner ready.

My only issue is I'm fiercely stubborn about showing weakness and asking for help. I seriously will probably just want to be left alone. If the anesthesia is making me sick, I will not want someone there to witness that. If I'm swollen or bruised I will want to crawl into bed and sleep it off.

I won't be down long either. I have a committment with one of the kids the next day, and will need to be up and making sure it all goes well. So in the interest of getting things done and not wearing myself out totally, I will have to let go of the reins with that and allow for my family to help.

I'm keeping positive about the biopsy results, since last time they were negative. So my stress with this day will be my physical condition after and my ability to deal with all the friendly help.

I'm used to being the boss-lady. So if I'm a bit crabby, don't hold it against me. And if I'm saying I'm fine, and asking if you can please just get out...

Get out.

Mean People Suck

2011-03-25T22:30:00.009-05:00

I don't plan on being a bitter old lady. I won't live a full life only to be one of those cranky biddies who go around with a chip on my shoulder, looking to make others miserable. I have always adhered to the Golden Rule. It seems many people skipped Sunday School when they taught this rule. Tacks in the teacher's chair, laughing at the kid with the lisp, dreaming up evil ways to make an ex suffer... no, these things don't entertain me. But as a seasoned 40+ year old, I now accept the fact that some people are just plain ole MEAN.

I heard of a friend who is out of work, but his ex-wife wants to up the child support he's still paying her even though she's remarried and what he's paying for his one child is more than I get for my two.

I get to drive with idiots on Mopac who speed up to prevent me from merging or changing lanes and I've been saluted with the middle finger more than once for just trying to myself to work in one piece.

I know noncustodial parents who opt out of their weekend nights with their kids to party instead.

I have coworkers who don't try at all to provide the customer service that I feel is the bare minimum of our job description.

I've had customers who's goal for the day is to Make the Audiologist Cry. Not really because I wouldn't cry about work stuff, but you'd think these folks would laugh in my face if I did.

Does this kind of behavior serve some purpose? Do these people go to sleep with a clear conscience? Do they ever sit quietly at some point in their day and think that maybe they behaved badly? They may have been brought up without a higher being to answer possibly. Or with spiteful parents who showed them how to step on other people to make themselves feel better. How sad.

No matter. I can ignore these people and live my life with a clear mind and heart and try to make others smile.

And besides, I believe in KARMA. And she's a bitch.

Today, Right Now, I Love My Kids

2011-02-18T22:33:00.005-06:00

Happiness is watching my two girls watching themselves on a VHS video filmed when they were 4 years and 6 months. They were so joyful and so loving with each other. Lil Lady was dancing and talking to me and trying to steal the show, and Chillgirl was quietly watching nearby, barely old enough to hold her little chubby body sitting up. Roles have not really reversed although now at age 8, Chillgirl will step up and defend herself when she really needs to be heard. That may make pre-teen LL yell louder, but we are kinda a yell-y family anyway. We all love each other and the shouting is three little women full of passion and strength as far as I'm concerned.

Lil Lady is growing up. I catch glimpses of her as she's doing her homework at her desk or gathering her things to go to the bus stop and she looks like a full-grown teenager. But then she'll be playing with her sister and younger kids and I breathe a sigh of relief that she's not in any rush. So far, she's somewhere in the middle of cultivating her teen attitude and holding tight to her Barbies and Build-A-Bears. Recently she was pointing out some boys before watching her middle school play: "I have crushes on him... and him... but my bff is going with that one until the end of the play and then she is breaking up with him. The other one says he isn't dating until 7th grade". It gave me major junior high flashbacks to hear her talk like that.

Chillgirl is my mini-me. She's got a competitive drive, walking around the house bumping a volleyball up and down. She's ready for a few more triathlons this summer and told me recently she wanted to eat what I eat, so she can be strong like me. I forever tout the need for healthy eating and getting the right nutrients like fiber and protein, and she knows the reasons behind it. I will have a lot in common with her as she gets older. This is nice because I have always been a bit of a blacksheep in my family when it comes to my sports activities.

So I have Artsy Spice and Sporty Spice. These are two sides of me and I am happy they are each happy with an outlet that I can be a part of. I'm a lucky Mom.

This 40+ year old's Take on Feast and Famine

2011-01-25T22:52:00.014-06:00

I've been inspired by some other weight-loss blogs I read to talk a bit about how I as an over 40 year old view my own health and weight issues. I go about my days and nights quietly but constantly conscious of how much I've eaten for the day, how much I moved during the day, and how much I'll weigh on the scale the next morning.

As I lay here tonight with a growly stomach, I am at peace with the hollow noises buzzing around inside my intestines. It has taken a few days of not eating anything but water past 8pm to get comfortable with this feeling, but I know it is okay to feel it. The growlies don't mean my body is starving. I'd like to think they are sounds of my body processing my food from dinner, and settling a score with the juices and gases found in the nooks and crannies of my innards. It is nourishment finding a place to lay down for the night. Was that gross? Sorry.

This go around, I have been watching my food intake carefully for the last 5 days. My current plan is low-carb. That means stopping all my favorite comfort foods like breads, cereals (seriously I'm obsessed with a full cereal bowl, with milk and fruit mixed in), pasta, crackers (another obsession), and sugary sweets. I've done this plan many times before and it always works. Always. IF I stick to it. I really can't even eat fruit or have milk or other semi-sweet veggies like carrots or tomatoes. The sugar in them ruins the whole plan.

So 2 weeks of this will kill my carb-addiction (its a real thing, google it) and I won't be craving it anymore. Most low-carb plans instruct to re-introduce healthy carbs, like wheats and grains, back in after that time period. I may or may not, depending on the weight loss.

So I eat veggies, eggs, cheese, any meats or fish, and nuts. This time I've even added tofu, mushrooms, and bacon. I forgot how much I love bacon. But to eat even a little sugar or pasta or breads negates the plan and then I am just eating fatty foods with carbs and the weight will add ON. It WILL. So right now I am loving eating the full-fat meats and cheeses, and I will sacrifice the carbie stuff for now. But damn I miss those Wheat Thins!

There are many types of diets with no-carbs or low-carbs. Anyone can find one they can live with. Me, I've never been able to do a NO-carb diet, but found that low-carb plans, some even with a cheating period of time per day (see the Drs Heller Carbohydrate Addicts Diet), is doable for me. I can restrict only up to a point.

On the other side of the healthy coin, my working-out has saved me. It is the only reason my crazy diet changes over the years haven't ended up with me weighing 200 lbs. I know this because I weighed 200 lbs (+!) with both of my pregnancies and it was YES, because of what I was eating, but ALSO because I stopped exercising. Plain and simple. My chunky-monkey body MUST have exercise or else it will balloon out. I call my body chunky because it is. I know I will always have curves and I will always have muscles. At my thinnest, in high school, I had both and even though I thought I wasn't skinny enough, in pictures I was an adorable size. That was about 30 lbs lighter than I am now. Thirty pounds! Damn this aging. Not cool.

I get bored easily so I am a triathlete. I can train for a race by running, cycling, or swimming...or swim-cycling, or cycle-running, or swim-running. I sneak my short exercises in whenever I can. Being a single mom with two active girls, I do get creative. In the summer they swim and play at the neighborhood pool and I'm doing laps. I run with Lucy the dog because she needs it too. Sometimes the girls will ride their bikes while I run. I ride on my off weekends when they are with their dad. If I can't I suck it up and get on my bike trainer indoors while I'm watching The Biggest Loser or Top Chef. I get it done. It is part of my life without fail. Even a walk with my iPod keeps my mind centered and my heart pumping. Anyone who is trying to lose weight who doesn't make a workout plan is not going to stay healthy. You can actually still eat some things you like if you make yourself exercise the bad parts of that yummy food away. Bonus!

Anyone who says weight is just a number is not overweight or has given up on a healthy weight. My number is part of my every morning routine. It regulates my mood and my eating patterns. If I ignored it and threw out my scale I could easily convince myself I was doing fine. That my pants must've shrunk in the wash. That I needed new clothes anyway. That there must be something going around making me feel sick. That I just needed to lay down or nap and I'd feel better. I could ignore that number and hope that I will say "enough" when my tummy tells me it's full. I would hope I noticed the button on my pants leaving a mark on my skin. I hope I'd recognize the lethargy and get off the couch to go for a run.

But I choose to look at that number every morning before my shower every day to know I am following the guidelines I've set up for myself. To know if I should bring a salad to work today. To know I should make time to hit the gym tonight. To know I need to get an extra half hour of sleep. It's my body and I don't need it to be at the bottom of my "healthy weight" range, or even in the range, but I've lived with this body for 40 years and I KNOW when it's healthy. The number gives me a concrete standard to adhere to. It is what works for me.

2011...And We're Off!

2011-01-02T22:20:00.007-06:00

I just re-read my last post and realized it was all about MEN, past and present.

That's all well and good, but I did have other revelations in the past year and hopefully in this new year that do NOT involved my relationship with a man. Geez-louise, I know I have more going on that that, and so now, dag-nabbit, I'm going to reflect on it.

My work has steadily become more dissatisfying. I'm not sure why this is how I suddenly feel now, but I think I will have to make a change in the coming years. I have put in 16 years with my company and feel I'm doing the same job I've always done for the same rewards and pay and lack of recognition as I have for many of those years, and it isn't fulfilling anymore. 2010 was a difficult year from start to finish. The recession finally caught up with our industry and people are scraping to replace their hearing aids with cheaper models and expecting more free services than ever before. I leave the office feeling used and abused by my clients many days, and do not have enough of the feel-good days in any given month. This sucks but it is a job and it pays the bills and is all I have right now, so I will put up and shut up for now.

I'm not worried, I do have in mind other related jobs I'd like to pursue in the future if money weren't the only issue. I have many contacts in this town and will make sure the right people know my value. It is ok to recognize my grumblings and lay some plans out to help myself down the line. I'm at peace with where I am with this now.

My kids are both in a good place after getting through 2010. Their ages are good for self-sufficiency and independence, but they still both love me and being with me. I know I have only a short time, maybe months, left with Lil Lady being my little girl before she decides Mom is a disease and won't come near me. She is already so sensitive to everything anyone says to her, as if the world is out to get her. This only applies to her immediate family as far as I know. At school things seem to be going well, socially and grades-wise. We argue about homework and studying for tests. She likes to perform with the least possible effort to get a "passing" grade. Aiyiyiyi...who's child is this? Extra Credit was my middle name in school. I loved trying to get the highest grade in class, while she is pretty damn proud of herself when she doesn't get the lowest. We have come a long way in my dealing with this attitude, but I must do better in this new year to not put too much pressure on a child who is perfectly happy being middle of the pack.

Chillgirl seems to be a bit more like me, competitive and willing to put forth more effort to do better. She lamented to me in a sad little voice recently that her teacher never gives her a "blue" on her behavior chart. I said but you always get greens, and green is the best. She said no, blues are even better for extra good behavior. I said what do you have to do to get a blue? She said I don't knooooow, all whiney. I said well you better ask your teacher what you can do to get a blue. She went and did just that. Her schoolwork, although it is only 2nd grade, seems effortless too. She gets good grades on worksheets and she likes to read an age-appropriate chapter book cover to cover to herself and actually come tell me about the story. I'm holding my breath on her, hoping she'll be a "mini-me" and blaze easily through the coming years. I have a feeling I'll need all my efforts and attention saved up for her sister.

The girls get along with each other and know when Momma's had enough and they usually get in line when needed. Being a single parent can really stink sometimes because they know I am tired. They know what things they can wear me down on. I hate giving in but I choose my battles to preserve my sanity. I'd love for them to be sympathetic to my tiredness and give me a break. And of course I worry. I worry about everything with them.

My worry about the kids is normal, I know. All parents worry, right? But I regret putting divorce in their lives and handing them the higher percentage chance of having relationship issues within the future-- distrusting adults, or being unsure about men or marriage. They have limited time with their father and that worries me. It is not my choice that he doesn’t see them as much as he should, but it is my fault for having him move out and divorcing him. That was all me. Saying that, I still try not to hold onto all the blame because he did have fault in our split, but ultimately I bear the responsibility for making my children go through many days not seeing their dad.

They seem to be fine. They are healthy, confident and well-behaved most of the time, and they have friends and good social skills. I am proud of them both, but I will still always be a worrier.

Job, kids…check. And now back to ME. I have spent the last year getting my heart in order and trying to keep myself healthy and happy too. I still have my days when things seem not quite good enough, or I want more and despair at not having a way of getting it NOW, but those days are few and most likely related to some hormonal rollercoaster going on inside of me in conjunction with the current moon-cycle. On the other days, I take advantage of every spare minute to find a mentally clean place to go. Staying involved at Church to remind myself of the importance of my actions and contemplate why we are all here. Taking care of my body with cycling, running, or swimming, either alone or with my tri-buddies-- my go-to choices for a physical release of pent up stress. I enter races or rides to give me that motivational tool and deadline to keep my head in exercise mode. The annual ski vacations and trips to visit family or friends are vital for my sanity. And chiropractic, massage, and hair/nail appointments are the other ways of being nice to me.

I expect to continue on as I have been in this New Year. I don’t know what else I can do. This is the path I have chosen for myself and my girls and we do pretty well. The two of them will lead me in new areas as they grow and have new doors opened for themselves. I am enjoying the stage we are at right now.

I love my little life.

2010~ Let's Shut this Year Down....Thank Ya Jesus~ Things are Looking Up

2010-12-27T19:01:00.011-06:00

The year is coming to a close and I am realizing I have really been blessed. I am pleasantly surprised with how well it ended up when it started out so shitty.

Last January was a new start for me, after a suck-ass holiday season in 2009. Newly single, I adopted the "fake it until you make it" philosophy and set out to have a bit of fun in 2010, all the while inside my head mourning the future I thought I'd lost with Romeo. I was busy enough to fool everyone and myself that I was okay. Ok, my BFF Cora knows better than that (sorry sweetie). I had a setback a few weeks later after deciding to see Romeo again and thinking things for us might turn around, only to have it dawn on me after one particular dinner out together last March, that he wasn't returning my hugs as wholeheartedly as he once had, and his non-committal talk was as non-committal as ever.

He'd moved on. It hit me right there during that date, and it was like a slap in the face. But also a spotlight was shining from above (God?) directly on the situation and showed me what was going on, blaringly obvious for the first time since we'd begun our breakup months before. It told me my only option was to discontinue our "friendship" totally. No contact. No emails. Nada. It was tragic but it was the second time I'd done this with him and it was the only path I could walk down to salvage my self-respect and dignity. I am immensely proud to say I have not seen or spoke to him since last March. Thank ya Jesus.

After a month of wallowing in pity, I decided to get out there and date other men. See my past blogs for my little adventure into internet dating. Like an episode of What Not to Wear, I tried on a lot of different types of men. I booked my free weekends solid with new-guy meetings. It was comical. I didn't like half of them upon first sight. I had things in common with a few of them, so I kept it friendly knowing I had no spark with them. I actually liked a couple guys more than a little, but found they were not ready to stop the dating game to find out more about me.

Ah, lessons in love, er in like...priceless. I don't regret a bit of it. Those few months gave me new confidence, and funny stories to tell my friends, and other things to think about so I would NOT think about he-who-must-not-be-named. Thank ya Jesus.

All this time I partied and traveled in an attempt to divert my attention from my despair, I had been talking with a friend I'd reconnected with on Facebook- a boy I once knew as far back as elementary school, when we both wore plaid pants and had bowl hair-cuts. We had gotten together a few weekends and had some super-great times, enjoying an easy rapport due to our common backgrounds. But he knew (cuz I told him) I was an emotional wreck and not to be counted on for much. So just our texts, IMs, and an occasional drunk-dial kept us in touch throughout the first half of 2010. As I began my little dating spree in late Spring, I didn't even mention what I was up to, but I suspected he was doing the same. There was mutual adoration and friendship between us. He was always there to talk to if I needed a male perspective.

Toward mid-summer he and I reunited at a high school reunion barbeque in our hometown, and now this amazing man is my boyfriend. I don't even mind calling him that, even though we seem too old for those terms- BOYFRIEND/GIRLFRIEND. (Will you GO WITH ME?? Check the box YES NO ) We've known each other most of our lives, with a little 20 year break there in the middle, so "boyfriend" is ok with me.

My awesome boyfriend, whom I'll call Sinatra (for his blue eyes) is one big reason for the second half of Twenty-Ten turning the tide. Thanks to Facebook (meh, hate to give FB too much credit or it's already inflated head may pop off and float away) and our old classmates' grand efforts to keep us all coming back home again, we were able to rediscover each other. And the time I spent away from him, but knowing he was quietly there in the background, was the perfect recipe for me to know what I needed and wanted FOR ME. He patiently watched and I am lucky that he waited. It was a time for big growth for me.

Now we are such integral parts of each others' lives. Our kids are happily becoming more comfortable with each other and with us as a couple. They are delighted to see us in love. We are a modern family already and even with some distance between our homes, we make it work and are moving forward with our future together.

2011 will hold exciting adventures for all of us.

Thank ya Jesus.

The Bigger Picture

2010-12-06T23:39:00.002-06:00

I recently have pissed somebody off and even though I feel justified in what I did, they do as well, but I don't find the arguement worthy of a long-term stand-off. But that is what it seems we have here.

I have watched this person grow bitter and defensive over the last few years and I have grown more and more concerned that I am losing them. They are important to me and I am surely losing them. They are losing themselves too, but I can't show them that. That is up to them to realize on their own.

I don't feel they have a support system in their lives where they can afford to lose another person close to them. I feel guilty avoiding them, but I have because I sometimes feel uncomfortable and judged around them. I don't want to keep taking steps back to make it easier on me, only to realize this person is no longer within sight.

I see the Bigger Picture and that is that People Need People. BUT we need to accept people for what they are in our lives and not expect everyone to be exactly like us. I can appreciate some of my friends' oddities and laugh with them about how different they are in their daily trappings and routines. It's okay. How interesting people are and how enlightening it is to open my mind and see a different way. I love to tell stories about my experiences. I love to listen to others' life's journies and ask them questions about them. I always can find something in common with a person, even it is just something they like to eat that I like, or a place that we have both been. I am happy to meet them and appreciate them for enriching my day.

I don't feel I need to give my time on this earth to negative people. Defensive people who feel no one understands their lives and that most people have it easier than them. We all manage what we have. We all sacrifice. I can only listen so long to a story of something bad happening to a person but then hearing them not doing all they can to improve that situation. Blaming others. Pitying themselves.

I can tolerate ups and downs. I have been there. I understand feelings about life and love and anything changing from one minute to the next. I have been there. I am a good talker and listener and do not mind trying to figure things out. I have been blessed to have people in my life who have done that for me.

I want to pay it forward. I try to make my life better by making good decisions and doing the best I can, but I also want to offer myself to others, things I can do or say, or by just listening, to give them hope. If they want it.

If a person doesn't want to hope, or doesn't know what they want, they will eventually be alone. And not just physically alone, but lost-alone. No higher being to believe in or ask for help. No friends who are really there to hear all the details and offer a shoulder to cry on. No family around them to offer unconditional love. The walls will be up to protect them, understandably, but inside those walls it will be lonely.

I pray that I can still be there to help them out. I am not one to give up on a person. I typically stay for the long-haul. I value the people in my life, especially the ones who have made me who I am. I will try to always be here for them, if they want me.

Holiday-Schmoliday...I need a Break!

2010-12-01T11:12:00.006-06:00

Why am I feeling restless this holiday season? Why do I feel so unorganized? Something is going on, and I don't like it. We made it through the tough months of fenagling the start-up of school, religious ed class, piano and volleyball practice and games. Almost every night was something after school and on weekends. I think the fast-paced daily routine is now a bit of an addiction for me. I am craving the busy-ness and don't feel right unless I'm running ninety-to-nothing. But even as I still am running errands and scheduling back-to-back activities, I don't feel right either.

Thanksgiving week flew by as I worked most of it. Even though the girls were gone that week with their dad, I didn't get much done. I'm buying gifts willy-nilly and not sure what all I've bought. Not smart. Money is tighter than ever this year since I have vacations planned for the Spring. I told the girls if they didn't see much from mom this year, they should appreciate the things they get from others in our family and realize the Spring Break ski trip will be a delayed Christmas gift. They seemed to understand that. Don't get me wrong, these two little girls are getting a nice bunch of Mama/Santa gifts. But I thank God for their wisened ages and their own Christmas Spirit! It really is nice to have kids with who you can finally reason.

I am starting to get the idea that it is imperatively necessary for me to slow down and breathe. Take in the Christmas Spirit and count my blessings. Stop with the material-driven commercials and constant holiday-related commitments. So many others are struggling more than me. My kids have birthdays this time of year and are lucky to get gifts from their friends to tide them over until Christmas Day. They have their extended family around them to enjoy all sorts of celebrations with over these next few weeks. They are ok with how things are. Their biggest concern right now is when I'm getting the Christmas decorations down from the attic.

I am so grateful for my family and my friends and my boyfriend and my job and the cozy roof of my home. I want to show them all appreciation with gifts for the season. But it is more important to let them know how much I love them. And it's equally important to keep myself calm and thoughtful during this time of year.

Ahhh, that's better...I can smell the sweetness of Christmas already.

Preserving my 8 year old's Innocence

2010-11-11T14:26:00.006-06:00

The Tooth Fairy made an appearance at our house last night.

We went through losing the first eight front baby teeth when Chillgirl was 5 and 6 years old. My youngest daughter is about to turn 8, so it's been a while since the last visit.

Both my girls got their teeth very early (starting @ 4-5 months old) and began losing them by age 4 and 5. They have kindergarten snaggle-tooth photos to prove it. At those early ages, the Tooth Fairy is a given. A pretty princess-like fairy flits down in the middle of the night and carries the stinky tooth away, leaving change behind? Hot Dang! That's a deal! They couldn't wait to get to sleep on those nights.

Now my oldest, Lil Lady, has lost all hers (heck, she's still got 12 year molars coming in- which must account for much of her current bitchiness, right?), and Chillgirl has finally got some more wigglies happening to the larger back teeth. The right side lower tooth rocked its way out on Tuesday at school. She came home with a little plastic tooth necklace with her stinky tooth inside and told me it fell out in Art. Yay!

She was up late that night, way past her bedtime, and I mentioned if she didn't get to sleep the Tooth Fairy wouldn't come. Yes, stellar parenting skills aren't they? Finally the house quieted. And Mom/Tooth Fairy fell asleep.

I get up Wednesday morning and began my usual morning routine, rousing the girls with first gentle nudges and normal-voiced suggestions of getting up and dressed, and then being ignored so onto the ever-escalating raised voice, to the all-out yelling and threats. At about the same time I realized what I'd done (or not done) Chillgirl pops up from my bed (where she ends up every night) and runs off to her room, because she remembered the same thing I did.

The Tooth Fairy! What'd she leave me? Huh? A pouty-faced sweet little girl comes back in my room..."My tooth is still there." More pouting.

And I, in all my motherly-wisdom, say "Well, you must've gone to bed too late for her. Maybe tonight." Pout. But all in all she took it pretty well for an almost 8 year old.

So last night she made sure she was in bed early, and fell asleep on time. I was on-point and did my Tooth Fairy Thang and all was good.

This AM she was brushing her teeth and getting dressed when she remembered and ran into her room to check. She came back in all pouty-faced again and said "Nothing"...with a crack of a smile in the corner of that precious face as she pretended to look sad.

Chillgirl: "Just kidding! I got a dollar!" (big toothless smile)

Then she proceeds to rub the dollar on her face.

Me: "Don't rub that on your face! It could be dirty with germs!"

Chillgirl: "Mom, it's not dirty...it's from Heaven."

DUH MOM!

Zoinks! Almost blew my cover.

Smart little Chillgirl!

New Love, New Neuroses

2010-09-23T12:43:00.015-05:00

An article I read recently likened new love to a "mental health crisis", like a drug addiction or obsessive compulsive disorder. In addition, there are cooky little pheromones and hormones causing us to run around obliviously attracting mates who are biologically compatible with ourselves.

"Pheromones are chemicals capable of acting outside the body of the secreting individual to impact the behavior of the receiving individual" (medterms.com)

Creepy, huh?

Crazy in love?

I can buy that.

I can attest to the notion that LOVE FEELS GOOD.

And who doesn't like the brandy-new kind? You want more (read: all) of the person you love. I mean all the time. To be newly smitten gives off that constant internal high, the flutters in the stomach, the feeling of amazement and wonder as to why a person is so right for us, and where have they been until now?

New love can also be distracting and flustering when it occupies so much brainpower that you walk around in a lovely fluffy mental cloud all day long. Personally, I go through my day wondering what this person is doing. Or thinking. Or who he is talking to? Or is he thinking of me? It's a wonder I get anything accomplished.

The newly dating period is euphoric. Long talks on the phone, asking tons of dumb questions like what cereals do you like and would you rather wash dishes or fold clothes? It is never boring, even when investigating the mundane. You marvel over how compatible you are with each other. You make others around you nauseous with your constant idiotic grinning and love pats and kisses when they are subjected to the two of you together. It just feels all happy and tingly to sit near each other and touch as many body parts as is publicly allowed.

What? Why is that so wrong?

As if a halo of starry sparkles and aromic potpourri is following us around, and everyone must know it.

After a while, the comfortableness sets in and the brandy-newness wears off. This is still a good stage. You are still feeling pretty special and blessed to have a partner to share every thought with and be inseparable with. You get used to being loved by someone daily and being a focal point in their life and them being one in your life.

Real life situations arise, like staying over with each other and running out of toilet paper, or dealing with each others' exes/kids/parents/jobs/etc. Reality is good. Reality is what lets you know this one is possibly THE ONE. Without a healthy dose of reality, a new couple cannot be prepared for the future. Somebody's bubble is gonna burst.

All the important and unimportant questions have been asked. Talk-time is over. Now its time for action.

In a Jack-from-Will&Grace-style...aaand BACK TO ME. I will fess up and admit this next part is truly all about me...

The action phase is where I get a bit looney-tunes. My own issues with this area begins with the fact that I'm a chronic planner as well as my tendency to ask questions about a future that hasn't happened yet and expect coherent answers like, yesterday.

I get it stuck in my head what I want it to look like, like something I saw on a cheesy rom-com, and I want to know NOW if that is gonna happen. Just tell me now, honey, how will the next 5 years go? Because if it's something I don't like, let's not waste your and my time. This gets me in trouble. This gets me labeled a control-freak, a nag, a neurotic.

Ok, ok, I've never heard a mate of mine call me those things but I am imagining this is what their internal alarms are blaring when I start asking "when?" BEEP-BEEP! FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! RUN AWAY! Poor guys.

In my current sorta brandy-new relationship, a lot of things will have to take place before we are able to reside in the same town, let alone the same house. My past history with men has always been that of allowing long courting periods as long as there is a goal in sight. I went 4 years dating before I married my ex-husband. I stayed in my relationship with Romeo for almost 3 years, always assuming our lives would merge Eventually. Well, that one was a shocker (to me) and it ended abruptly with the realization that Eventually wasn't in his plans. Sooo, in my current situation, I'm hesitant to go on blind-faith that Eventually will arrive as planned in my regimented little mind. At the age of 40, I feel I don't have years to "wait-and-see" how things will flush out.

Yes, I know. Breathe. I am trying. I have talks with myself all the time. Come on, give the guy a chance. He's saying all the right things. He's doing all the right things. He loves me. He tells me he loves me. He loves my kids. He loves where I live and isn't asking me to give up my life and move. He fixes stuff around the house (bonus!). He makes me laugh. He loves my kids. Oh, did I say that already?

Yeah, I think it is wise to take a breather on my usual mental hyperactivity and hang on for the ride with this one. He's worth it.

All Clear in the Boob Department

2010-09-16T13:34:00.004-05:00

The pain of my breast biopsy was almost gone three days later, when I called into my doctor for the results. I was supposed to hear from her after 48 hours, but seeing how it was Friday, and the biopsy was done on Tuesday, I figured my results were laying in a pile on her desk and her office staff had jammed up her schedule so she was not able to look at them.

In my humble opinion, taking a few hours a day to look at test results and then make the promised phone calls to nervously-waiting patients who are contemplating how they could possibly make it through chemo while they still coach their 7 year old's volleyball team is not too much to ask, right? I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but as a Lady Doctor, I'd be pretty damn adamant with my office staff to allow this important time in my schedule.

When I called I got the doctor's nurse line, and had to leave a message. More waiting. Finally I got a call back. From the nurse. "Everything was fine.", she said.

Wow, she went to school to learn to say that.

So I had to ask, "It was benign?" "Yes, yes, the results were benign, follow-up mammo in six months.", she said quickly. Did she have somewhere else to be? I hope it was calling other 85 ladies waiting at 4pm on a Friday to get good news. I assumed the actual doctor was making the NON-good news calls. She better be.

Thanks, Lady-who-is-not-My-Doctor.

Thanks.

Breast Biopsy...Not My Idea of a Good Time

2010-09-09T10:53:00.008-05:00

Did the breast biopsy, and I can honestly say, I'd rather get a root canal. You saw the picture I posted in my last post. Torture chamber, yessiree. Laying on my stomach with my boob through a hole so they can xray it while they are probing it...lots of pulling and prodding. Under that table there was a world of busy going on, and I was powerless to stop it.

Initially, I only had pain from the prick of the needle which numbed the incision spot, about like the needleprick from your dentist for a root canal or cavity filling. But the position I was made to lay in on that damn table had my neck and back in spasms by halfway through it. This is no massage table, people. No hole for your head to hang in its natural position while your back and shoulders are massaged into bliss. Imagine laying on a chaise lounge on your stomach, sunbathing, but with your left arm above your head, and your head staying sharply to the right. For an hour. When I sunbathe, I move around alot. Not comfortable to keep one position on a flat surface. Apparently no one's told the mammogram/biopsy people this. I finally had to turn my head awkwardly to the left just to keep from screaming out with the cramp in my neck. This didn't help at all. Here comes a cramp beginning on the other side.

I had my iPod music going and tried to doze off but they were pulling me this way and that and machines were making noise and they were flashing xrays the whole time. When they got the tissue they needed, they went to look at the xrays again, and did a few more to be sure they had the right spot. They put in a titanium marker to denote the place for my next mammogram. That stays with me. Finally I was released from the vise and my incision was patched up. I was bleeding through the gauze but I was made to do another standing mammogram in the next room to be compare to my originals. More bleeding, on the machine, on the floor, on my robe. Surprisedly, I did not get sick at any of this. I should get a medal. Oh, guess I did...a titanium one.

This Stereotactic Biopsy/through-the-hole-in-the-table procedure was done because there was no obvious lump to sample, so they had to go in guided by the multiple xrays. When it was done, I was sent home with an icepack and more gauze to try to stop the bleeding. Only Tylenol for the pain. I wandered out of there in a daze. Such a weird experience.

The worst after-effect is my neck and back still aching from the odd position and a tender spot on my breast. My chiropractor did what he could for the neck and back. Ice has helped too. My only other post-procedure woe is waiting to hear from the doctor on the results. I'm sure that I'm not the most important thing on her docket, but hoping for today or tomorrow.

First Mammogram...Another Encounter with My Mortality

2010-08-30T21:53:00.007-05:00

Next Tuesday I'm going back to my local hospital for a procedure. Two rounds of mammography in the last two weeks have shown tiny dots the radiologist is calling "calcifications" in my left breast.

This began with my first mammogram screening, which was advised after my annual woman's check-up in June. Now that I'm 40, this is what we do. Got a call back for more films, to check some things. I've been told by many people this is normal since they had no previous exams to compare to. No biggie. Last Monday I went back. The tech showed me on the previous film what they were looking to re-check. She did several more pictures, squeezing even tighter and more concentrated on the offending areas. The radiologist then came in and explained the left side showed some dots that aren't "textbook-looking" (as in obviously something to be worried about), but aren't what they'd write off as nothing, so they must, to be safe, do a biopsy to pull out the tissue and test it. So this is what I will be doing next Tuesday morning:

(from Bing Health)

Stereotactic biopsy This type of biopsy uses breast X-rays (mammograms) to pinpoint the location of suspicious areas within the breast. For this procedure, you generally lie facedown on a padded biopsy table with one of your breasts positioned in a hole in the table. You may need to remain in this position for 30 minutes to 1 hour. The table is raised several feet, and the radiologist performing the procedure sits below the table. Your breast is firmly compressed between two plates while mammograms are taken to show the radiologist the exact location of the area for biopsy. A small incision — about one-quarter-inch long (about 6 millimeters) — is made into your breast. A radiologist inserts either a needle or a vacuum-powered probe and removes several samples of tissue to ensure an adequate sample. The tissue sample is sent to a pathologist for analysis.

Yeesh, not fun. This picture looks like a torture device imposed on women in the 1700's when they were suspected of witchcraft. At this point in time, I will worry about getting through the procedure, and just resting in the aftermath. My gynocologist explained she will call me "in about a week" with the results. I fully expect to be in the 80% mentioned below:

"Being told that you should have a breast biopsy might make you anxious. But consider this reassuring fact: In the U.S., 80 percent of women who undergo a breast biopsy learn that they don't have cancer."

(from a good webpage on this: http://www.bing.com/health/article/mayo-127182/Breast-biopsy?q=breast+biopsy&FORM=FFF)

Hang in there with me friends, more to come...

Back to School for the Kids, Back to Crazytown for Mom

2010-08-12T11:03:00.008-05:00

The dreaded end of summer. I love the new commericial for that Easy Button store, what is that Staples?, where the kids show the moms the back-to-school supply list, and the moms who are all busy (in the kitchen like, icing a cake- wtf?) all faint at the sight of it. That stupid school-supply list is such a pain in the ass, I do feel clammy when the stores start printing them and putting them out. Our tax dollars apparently go toward the school's teacher's lounge's widescreen TV and the fish tank in the school lobby, because it's not going toward pencils for the kids to write with.

Aside from gathering all this ridiculous stuff needed for the kids' first day of school (4 large glue sticks-- for each kid? What the hell are they gluing over the course of the next 9 months? 100,000 popsicle sticks to build their own lockers?), its time for new backpacks, tennis shoes, and blue jeans. Texas has a "tax-free" weekend, where sales tax is waived if you go out to the stores with the throngs of other idiots trying to save 8.25% on clothes that are marked up 20% higher than any other weekend of the year.

Blue jeans can wait. Seriously. It's 102 degrees in August and September and kids here do not need to wear blue jeans. As sweaty and dirty as they end up by the end of the school day, they should probably continue to wear their summer clothes until the holes in them are so large and the stains are so dark that they go straight into the rag pile.

Backpacks? Debatable. I have at least 3 perfectly capable backpacks that my girls have laying around with play stuff in them, and a few scuffs on the outside or bottom of them. But to send them to school with the same backpack as last year? Oh, the horror! Jansport has a great business going, advertising the fashion side of backpacks. You don't want to be caught dead with last year's styles. Chillgirl claimed she NEEDED one with two zippers. Not one zipper, Mom, two. I never got a clear answer on why this was necessary. I chalk it up to 2nd grader fashion-sense. Lil Lady was so thrilled with her new backpack choice, she walked around with it on, acting out how she'll say hi to her friends when she gets to her new middle school.

Speaking of middle school...My kid will be going to middle school this year. Lil Lady can't possibly be old enough for this. How did I let this happen? She's only 11! Oh wait, that's middle school-aged. Dammit. Her entering middle school causes anxiety for her mother. I try my best not to let it show, but I had many ups and downs during my "junior high" (as we used to call it) years. High school was bad too, but I'm avoiding those worries for 3 more years.

Middle school is when boys notice girls and stop being their friends and start "going with" them. When the boys are not going with the girls, they are being mean to the girls, popping bra-straps, starting rumors, calling them names. It's when girl start watching what they wear and what others are wearing. Brand names matter. Trends are the be-all and end-all of a girls' existence.

And then there are the Mean Girls. Oh yeah, boys are bad, but girls are worse in middle school. This is when cliques are solidified, lines are drawn, and lunch tables are discriminatory. I remember. One night you are at a slumber party having a grand ole time, and the next Monday at school you are a pariah who is being scorned for your pajama choices. I fought with girls in junior high. I mean fought, as in slapping-around scuffles. I don't even know who the heck I thought I was back then. I'm a mild-mannered middle-aged woman with a slight case of road-rage, and at worst passively-aggressively huffing or rolling my eyes in a slow-moving line at the grocery store. Back then, I was on the defense, hardened by too many stupid girl-on-girl rumors gone wild and losses of a BFF over a poorly-chosen outfit from an off-brand store. Lil Lady knows none of this. She is envisioning a continuation of 5th grade and I am praying that is exactly what we'll get. But with Facebook, text messaging and cell phone calls, I feel the rumor-mill will be rampant and the girl fights will continue on as they have for centuries.

So I'm off to yet another big-box store for the oh-so necessary Pocket-Folder-with-NO-Brads- two in red, two in blue and four Non-perforated Spirals, as my summer-restored sanity is slowly on the decline.

On the first day of school, my babies will be up with the sun and headed to their new little social circles and classrooms. Learning about life from their teachers, classmates, and cafeteria-worker ladies. Homework struggles, after-school activities, the TAKS test (don't get me started on that piece of trash) and parent-teacher conferences are in my near, and no-doubt insane future.

My own lessons in Eat, Pray, Love...

2010-07-12T11:12:00.011-05:00

I've been mulling around a blog idea since I've had so much on my mind, but haven't been able to put anything into concrete thoughts or sentences. One major theme from all these musings that continues to pop up is I'm Growing Up.

I have been through teenagerhood, when I thought I knew everything. I went through my twenties, when I didn't know a whole lot of anything. I made it through my thirties, when I began to question everything.

Now I'm just barely into my 40's and I recognize the fact that I have learned from all those other eras, and that I could possibly be in the actual prime of my life.

I'm smarter now for my kids. I stay on top of their well-being and safety and mental roundness and general childhood experiences. I want them to remember these years as ones full of playing "school" or "store" with their friends and cousins, riding bikes with friends up and down our street, and challenging the neighborhood kids in a footrace. I think they will remember experiencing new things like snowskiing, Broadway shows, UT football games, and waterslide parks. They will look back and be happy and grateful I let them try to find where their talents lay, in dance, gymnastics, volleyball, music, acting or art. They have come through a divorce with bumps in the road, but an overall sense of peace knowing their parents each love them and we still are able to be friendly when they see us together. They can take pieces of each of these memories into their adult lives and tell people, "I had a good childhood".

I have learned in my career that I do not want to own a business but I want to be respected and asked for my opinions when a topic comes up on which I have years of experience to contribute. I would like to work for someone strong enough to make smart business decisions but not pompous enough that he or she cannot ask the trusted employees for help. I have learned I don't like to gush my appreciation for a good work environment or advancement in the company's ranks, but I will work hard to show my employer I am thankful for the fact that I don't hate to come into my job every day. I learned that I LOVE to travel on the company's dime. :)

Speaking of travel...I learned that I will continue to accept invitations to or plan excursions to any place in the country or world where I can see something I've never seen before. I don't even have to know much about where I'm going because by the time I leave I will know more. I want to see mountain ranges, and beaches, and ancient ruins, and beautiful stained-glass-filled churches-- any of the wonders of the world. On a smaller scale, I will plan to visit more sleepy towns I can walk around instead of drive, more islands with gorgeous sunsets and hard-working townspeople, and countrysides or farmlands with seasonal colors bursting from crops or trees I don't get to witness at home. And while I travel, I will eat...just about anything and everything.

I have learned I can be alone sometimes and I now appreciate these times. I have settled into ignoring the pull to jump on the phone or make plans to visit someone for every free moment. I can enjoy a solitary bikeride and gazing at the quiet scenery, or a long ride in the car with my favorite music blaring and the windows down, or the prayerful moments at church where I thank God for all His wisdom in bringing me so far to this place in my life. I can be at home straightening up or doing laundry and not even have the TV on, and listen to the silence, or I can take the dogs out with my headphones on, lost in thought, for a long walk. I actually take note of these instances because they were so rare in years before now, and I snuggle into them and feel at home.

And I have learned a few things about men. And a few things about my needs with men. I know all the "types" now and which are good for me and which are probably trouble. I don't feel comfortable with the overly-manicured metrosexual guy, but would like my man to own a suit and dress shoes. I need him to have an education and know something about the world or have an interesting take on it. I like a man who can talk to me, and not only by texting or email or Facebook. It seems to be rare to get a man to open his mouth and speak his mind. All the electronics today are giving men permission to turn more inward and not have much to say. I need a man to rebel against this urge.

I demand that a man at least attempt to open the door for me, even if I beat him to it. I don't need him to pay for me all the time, but he can try to reach for his wallet. I would like him to be active, and busy with his own activities but be interested in mine as well.

I have fear of a man who has not committed to a wife or children at our age as of yet. I have reasons for this, which anyone following me can refer back to, but I think I have been through all this damn growth because of my commitments and my failures of those commitments, and because of the love I have for my children. I have talked to men who have not been there yet, and I immediately get the sense that they just don't KNOW...and therefore, cannot know me. It may be shortsighted or prejudicial, but it is my experience, and that is all I have.

I am sure to have another 40 years or more to live. Wow, another lifetime. Just think of it, more decades of knowledge to revisit these current lessons and revise, edit, ignore, or laugh at them. I am happy for now, and I am looking to the future with a soothing serenity.

How TxCris Almost Bought the Farm, Thanks to a Carrot

2010-06-23T21:34:00.008-05:00

Yesterday at work a terrifying thing happened. I nearly met my Maker for lunch.

I was in my office kitchen making my salad for lunch as usual, and chomping on a raw carrot while I chopped up my veggies.

As I finished my carrot, the last piece got lodged in my windpipe. It felt like it was in the front of my throat, like I could touch it through the skin at the base of my neck. Faaack...I could breathe but it was uncomfortable...and soon my throat and chest began cramp up, in painful little spasms. I sat there a minute gulping and waiting for it to move. So I'm thinking I should try to drink water to dislodge it. So I take a swig.

The water felt like it did not go down my throat, in fact, it plugged me up, as in like a trapdoor closed on my airway. Literally-- no air. So I got up, coughing, and tried to spit it out in the sink and by now I'm wheezing and gasping for breath. Breathing in was impossible, my eyes teared up. I'm pacing and in panic-mode now.

I went in the bathroom and tried to make myself vomit, but that didn't help, and still I was barely getting air through. I was figuring out that the throwing-up tube and the breathing tube are separate and just because when your stomach is churning and throwing up makes that better, it does nothing for a stuck carrot in the windpipe.

Next I try to bounce my stomach region on a chair in the breakroom, but it was too lightweight and moved without forcing any air. Its amazing how your mind starts groping for Oprah and Today Show episodes for procedures on choking. But then I kept thinking of those 20/20 stories of people who weren't so lucky and didn't make it when help was only a person or a phone call away. So I'm starting to think 911. Would they even make it to me before I blacked out? The nearest fire station is half a block away. Would any of the EMS dudes be hot? (just kidding on that last one, but I did think that later on) This was all going through my brain in nano-seconds.

My co-worker finally heard all the ruckus from the front of our office and called back "Are you ok?" and I managed to croak "No!".

She came walking back toward the breakroom, not sure if I was kidding, and I was pacing around gulping for air, and then I just backed into her and grabbed her arms to wrap around me and she instinctively gave me 3 squeezes. It didn't force the carrot out but the water came out and I spit and could breathe a little better. Thank the Lawd!

I still could feel the carrot and it still hurt and I was walking around forcing myself to cough and leaning over and trying to vomit and nothing was moving that damn thing. I was able to breathe, just not comfortably. My co-worker stood there mesmerized at what the hell was happening, but also amazed that she was able to perform under pressure. "I'm always the panicky one!" she said with a proud smile. Told her thank you, and I do thank God I wasn't alone.

After a minute of us staring at each other and wondering what to do next, I felt the stupid carrot miraculously move down on its own and I could breathe normal again.

Bizaare. I really feel had an inkling what it feels like to drown. It's horrifying.

Here's a description of the Heimlich if anyone's interested in saving a life if they see this happening to a loved one:

If choking is occurring, the Red Cross recommends a "five-and-five" approach to delivering first aid:
■First, deliver five back blows between the person's shoulder blades with the heel of your hand.
■Next, perform five abdominal thrusts (also known as the Heimlich maneuver).
■Alternate between five back blows and five abdominal thrusts until the blockage is dislodged.

To perform abdominal thrusts (Heimlich maneuver) on someone else:
■Stand behind the person. Wrap your arms around the waist. Tip the person forward slightly.
■Make a fist with one hand. Position it slightly above the person's navel.
■Grasp the fist with the other hand. Press hard into the abdomen with a quick, upward thrust — as if trying to lift the person up.
■Perform a total of five abdominal thrusts, if needed. If the blockage still isn't dislodged, repeat the five-and-five cycle.

If you're the only rescuer, perform back blows and abdominal thrusts before calling 911 or your local emergency number for help. If another person is available, have that person call for help while you perform first aid.

If the person becomes unconscious, perform standard CPR with chest compressions.

If you're alone and choking, you'll be unable to effectively deliver back blows to yourself. However, you can still perform abdominal thrusts to dislodge the item.

To perform abdominal thrusts (Heimlich maneuver) on yourself:
■Place a fist slightly above your navel.
■Grasp your fist with the other hand and bend over a hard surface — a countertop or chair will do.
■Shove your fist inward and upward.

Man, I am blessed. I almost died eating something healthy that's supposed to prolong my life. Take-home lesson here, folks-- Chew Your Food.

Cautionary Tips from the Trenches on Online Dating

2010-06-17T13:46:00.007-05:00

ONLINE DATING STATISTICS~~

Copied from http://www.ocf.berkeley.edu/~sarahlim/statistics.html

(this article is from 2005, so I bet these statistics are a bit conservative!)

~close to 100 million single adults in the United States
~of these, 17 million looked at online dating sites in 2002, with 2.5 million paying for membership
~online dating is predicted to double by 2006
~FriendFinder.com claims over 9 million members, Eharmony.com reports 10,000 to 15,000 new users each day with more than 6,000 marriages from these relationships
~Forbes reports online-dating-service revenues topping $214 million in the first half of 2003
~Revenues from paid subscriptions reached $516 million in 2005 and is expected to reach about $640 million within three years
~48% of men and 53% of women (approximately)
~less than 20% of singles who are not using the online dating website services have had a first date in the past 30 days while for those who are using online dating websites, the figure was over 80%
~average cost to join an online dating service is $20 per month

I, for one, have not found a love-match online. In fact, I'm a bit turned OFF by the whole scene.

That is not to say others can't have fun and find a mate on these sites, so if you have plans to sign up, here is a little help from me, a seasoned (ok 3-month subscription) online dater, for navigating through the matches sent your way:

First, here are a few types of men I have seen online, the first 10 are from a CNN article I read, regarding what kind of men you girls may see when "Daily Matches" are sent to you -

1. TMI. We don't want to know about your ex-wife, your bankruptcy, or your feelings of masculine inadequacy. If you're neurotic about it, leave it out.

2. Mr. Eager. If you send us an overly long e-mail that sounds overly solicitous, we won't think you're interested. We'll think you're desperate.

3. Only Interested In One Thing. Just after a one-night-stand? With few exceptions, we're happy to show you the door.

4. The Dealbreaker. There's a difference between knowing what you want and having a list of criteria no woman could meet. Keep it real.

5. Body Obsessed. If you say you won't date "fatties," even skinny chicks won't date you. You're not a hater. You're just a jerk.

6. Stalker Boy. Keep e-mails, calls, and date requests to a minimum. We'll let you know what we want from you.

7. Material-tastic. We appreciate your toys -- your car, your motorcycle, your boat -- but we would rather hear about what makes you tick. That we like.

8. Grow Up. Your resume should include something other than trips to Mardi Gras, booze-fueled tales of debauchery, and all the hot girls you dated. We're looking for love (mostly).

9. The Black Booker. If we want you to have our real e-mail address and our phone number, we'll let you know. Asking for it right out of the gate creeps us out.

10. Chill Out, Dude. Take it slow. We're not going anywhere. If what we're both after is a relationship, let's take the scenic route to get there.

AND...a few more I'm adding to this list myself:

11. The Photographer/Artist. Don't make your profile pictures be full of still photography or artwork you did. We can ask to see those later, after we meet you, but we could care less how well you photograph a lake upon first contact.

12. The No Friends Dude. Don't take a picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror, of you, holding a camera. That's just sad.

13. The Long Run-on Sentence Writer. Your profile text should include periods, paragraph breaks, and a breath every once in a while. Lists of "she should be..." are boring and stupid. Tell us about you, and we'll decide if we are a good match for you.

14. The Dog Lover. Why are you putting your dogs' pictures in your profile list? Are we dating your dogs?

15. The Sunglass/Far Away Picture Guy. The reason there is an option for pictures is to get a feel for how you look. Call it superficial, but guys do this too. Please take off your sunglasses in at least a few of your pictures and don't post pictures of you far away. We need to see if you look crazy.

I've tried. I gave these guys the benefit of the doubt, but I'm afraid the whole pressure-to-create-a-match is too much for some of them. It's not their fault. It's not my fault. We can blame online dating instead, cancel our subscriptions, and go back to the bars over beers and grocery stores over produce for meeting new potential mates.

I think I will take a break and hang with the girls...I'll always be sexy enough for them...

What Would Weight Watchers Do?

2010-06-09T22:12:00.004-05:00

I weighed in today 1.6 lbs up from last week at my Weight Watchers meeting. I expected this because my class ring on my right hand was not loose. That's how I gauge how puffy I am on any given day. Today, all day, it was tight. Boo. I was down last week 2.8 from the week before. Yay. But I lost some of that ground this week. Boo. Could Weight Watchers help me figure out what went wrong?

What I didn't tell ole' Weight Watchers, especially the little old guy with the white hair who checked me in and was sure to point out my "gain" on my tracking booklet with his pentip, is that I turned 40 last Sunday AND swam/biked/ran a triathlon.

My heartrate monitor watch clocked me at burning over 1600 calories during that one hour and 44 minute race, and so I did not track my food for the day. I figured it being my birthday, and doing that kind of excercise gave me a free pass for the day. I didn't go out to eat after the race, I ate at home, and even smuggled a 94% fat-free popcorn bag into the movies in my daughter's little purse (what?) so I didn't overdo it. And when I say not overdoing it that was only until we had frozen yogurt after the movie and I added taboo chocolate candy mix-ins to my strawberry/banana/cake batter frozen yogurt. Hey, it was lowfat yogurt! And chopped up Snickers. And white chocolate chips. And maybe some almonds. I kinda went crazy, so I kinda forget what all went in there.

Still, it only weighed like 3 ounces on the Yogurt Experience (shameless plug- in Round Rock near the Outlets, you gotta try it) scale, if that. It's not like I won any free yogurt for having the heaviest weight and get my name on the YE whiteboard. My yogurt cup felt a little like I did at the WW meeting last week- happily underweight.

So anyway, I didn't mention all this to little old white-haired dude giving me that "sorry you sucked this week" look at my WW meeting today. Nor did I bring it up when the meeting leader asked if anyone did a 5K in any way this past week, since apparently that was the most recent WW challenge- to WALK a 5K in a week.

What should I have done? Oh hi, ma'am? Yes, I did. Umm yeah, it was a 5K on the end of a triathlon that I kicked-ass on and beat my 2 years ago personal best time on. Um, and I RAN it, yes, even the hills. Yeah, and I trained almost every day before that, with several runs and walks totally well over a 5K.

Oh, and ma'am? Did I mention I GAINED 1.6 lbs this week? What do you make of that? Shrieks and gasps, I'm sure. So, I didn't want to confuse/discourage/annoy the others in the WW meeting, and I kept quiet and sulked instead.

My triathlon friend and I are convinced it's water weight, and we are surely right, based on how much we drink before, during, and after a race like that. Or our marathon bike rides we do on other weekends. We are always puffy as hell after them. It's hot as hades out there and you MUST drink and drink and drink water, or your body will revolt and/or possibly quit. As in die. We both do WW and know we can't eat double just because we get in a good work-out. No reason to sabotage ourselves, so I am perplexed, other than my birthday-frozen-yogurt-fest, as to what my body was trying to say today on that scale.

Again, I did not speak up and spew this paradox onto the room, but I need to figure it out. It's a riddle best worked on by myself, with myself. Me and my Body will have a talk and come to some sort of agreement. I don't need that "you suck" look each week after I've busted your ass, literally, and have you, Body, show up 3 days later looking and weighing all puffy. If you, Body, can figure out how to eliminate faster, let's say in only 24 hours, then I will keep taking your ass, literally, to YE for sweet, happy yogurt treats. Deal?

The big 4-0....and all I've learned so far.

2010-05-28T23:47:00.023-05:00

I've learned a ton during my 40 trips around the sun. I don't think the lessons have been anything special in the larger scheme of things, but since I've been happier in the last few years than ever in my life, I am gathering that I actually did LEARN from all my experiences and have steadily made improvements in my choices and the general direction I'm taking in life. I'm hoping that bodes well for my next 40 years.

Ah, but starting at the beginnning, well almost the beginning, at least as early as I can remember....I learned to tie my shoes, color inside the lines, and that boys who chase you on the playground probably like you. I learned I loved gymnastics and running as fast as I could, to try to beat those boys, probably because I liked them. I learned my best girlfriends sometimes got jealous and wouldn't be my best friend for a while. I learned some of my friends got along with each other and some just got along with me. I've been able to keep friends for many, many years because I figured that one out.

I learned I liked boys and liked having a boyfriend, even if it was in name only, and we rarely were in the same space together, but wrote tiny love letters and passed them through our friends.

I learned I would be shorter and smaller than all my friends, and wouldn't need a bra until well into junior high. I learned that wasn't a bad thing because the boys popped girls' bra straps. A lot. I learned to wear shorts under my Catholic school uniform skirt because those same boys would fall down and try to look under our skirts.

I learned that older boys in high school liked the freshman girls but not for long-term. They were bored with their same-ole, same-ole girls and dabbled with the fresh meat. I learned they quickly bored with me and took off back to their junior or senior girls. I learned that the upperclassmen girls disliked me on the spot because of this. I finally learned to stop taking the taunts from those bitchy girls and fight back to save my own sanity. Eventually I learned to not date the older guys because they were not worth all the trouble.

I learned there was a boy who could love me because we were friends first and he respected me because he was brought up right, and was that kind of boy. I learned what it was like to depend on someone, and trust someone, and enjoyed my senior year with him and my other life-long friends.

I learned what I wanted to do as a major/career and which college I would attend to pursue that goal. I learned that I was ready to live on my own as soon as my parents left me and my roommate in our new apartment for the first time. I learned to keep my old friends close, but to make an effort to meet new ones and expand my circle of friends beyond my hometown.

I learned that fraternity parties were dangerous, and mixing alcohol was very, very stupid. I learned that skipping ONE class wasn't the end of the world. I learned not to put metal in the microwave. I learned that turning off your heater when you leave for Christmas break isn't smart when it freezes and the pipes burst, spewing water all down the inside of your closet and flooding your apartment with 4 inches of water. I learned how to pay bills, use a credit card responsibly, and balance a checkbook.

I learned to love another boy, who also was an old friend first, and who became my best friend and boyfriend for those college years, until we both outgrew each other (it happens at age 21) and then I learned heartbreak, and lost myself for a while, not knowing myself and because of that, not knowing what I really wanted in a man.

I learned to trust again from a nice boy who wasn't going the same direction in life that I was, but who listened to me and made me laugh and who didn't ask much of me. I took a job far away from anyone I knew and learned I could live really on my own, although I learned I did not like being truly THAT alone. Evenutally I learned this boy would stand by me and was never jealous or intimidated by my successes, and he came from a good family, and I thought he would a good husband and father. I learned I was finally ready for marriage and to begin my adult life.

I learned what family is. I learned how to build a household and make a home and be part of my own family, our team. I learned what real responsibility is, and became the person to handle the business of our little family.

By this time I was close to 30 years old. And it was then that I learned to fully and completely love someone. My babies. My little girls. They taught me I was able and willing to live my life totally beholden to them, without question. And I learned my goal in life is to be the best possible guide to a good life for each of them.

My 30s began with Motherhood in full swing. There were some rough patches. I learned that I was beginning to find myself and wasn't always happy with the choices I had made. I tried to figure out what to change, and made mistakes, but I learned from them. I learned to take care of me, for once. My babies were growing up and not as needy, so I learned what to do to lose the extra weight I'd carried after having them, and that I loved biking and running. This time with myself allowed me to examine what I was doing, and if I was happy. I learned I was not. I learned that I had a desire to see more of this world and to have friends who shared some of the activities I enjoyed.

I clung to my girls as I knew I couldn't live without them, but I had learned that their dad and my's time was up. I arranged my life so that the girls wouldn't be uprooted or jossled around, and that they knew their parents loved them even though we no longer lived together. I learned a failed marriage and a broken home made me very, very sad.

I learned I could be happy and love again, then with Romeo. I was able to have the travels I wanted, and the friends I wanted, and the confidante and best friend I'd been missing for so long. It also gave me the time to understand so much about my adult self-- the opinions and standards and needs and limitations that have grown within me over all of these 40 years, but I ended it on my terms and for my own peace of mind.

So now I am hitting this new milestone. A half-way point? Possible, but not probable. I am proud to have taken in all these lessons and have come out as a 40 year old with solid convictions, and physical and emotional strengths, and life knowledge. That sounds like a superhero, but I am most definitely not that.

I'm just a girl, who happens to be 40, and has learned to love it.

Alone on an Iceberg, er...blog.

2010-05-21T00:03:00.010-05:00

I'm not sure what I thought I'd be doing on this blog when I started it. I thought I'd put down funny thoughts and stories and make my few readers laugh with me or when I'd throw out a problem perplexing me, have someone offer advice. But now I feel like I'm avoiding it. Like I wanna whine and bitch, but don't want anyone to know how NOT-together I have it. I wanna blog for me but this forum forces me to publicize my wailings. I guess it's good for me to get it out of my head and into the light. I'm not one for airing my dirty laundry with just anyone, but the essence of a BLOG is to do just that.

Blog...what a stupid word.

Blog. Blog. Bloggity-blog, blog, blog...blaaaahhhhhhgggg....ok, I feel ready now.

Nothing really joyful is going on right now- only a lot of things to worry about, and wallow in, and mope around about. I am about to turn 40 in a two short weeks, but I'm in good shape for my age (except for my GD eyesight which has the nerve of betraying me by getting weaker), so that's not it. I guess what's weighing on me is that I have a big, effing question mark to stare at which is called "the next 40 years" of which I have no control over and don't have a clue how it will turn out. As a young person, like everyone else, I assumed I'd have my shit together and set in place at 40. Married, kids growing like weeds, work, friends, and stability and travel plans on the horizon. A nest egg to add to and depend on for those upcoming Golden Years.

I have a lot of these things, so I shouldn't be all piss and vinegar. My work is solid even in the most unsolid of economic times. My friends are awesome. I have several to choose from when I need a shoulder, or an ear. My nest egg is holding steady, maybe even growing, and since I have the stable job, I haven't dipped into it. I've traveled. My house is my own. I can buy myself or my kids things we need and even things we want. We have health insurance. We have dental insurance. Both kids have Nintendo DSes and bikes and new shoes and the cutest Walmart, Kohl's, and Target clothes you ever did see. These are the good things I have, and I recognize I am blessed.

For myself, finding a life partner is that current blackhole in my future. I was supposed to have that deal already wrapped up by now. I envy my friends who have stayed with their first loves, although there aren't many of them left. Either that or the "marrieds" are staying far away from me out of fear I have something contagious. I don't feel I even know what my type IS after my few experiences in my recent foray into datinghood. I'm starting to resent Match.com for dangling guys with alleged potential in front of me, and who I can clearly see have "viewed" me, but who apparently aren't interested no matter how high my "match percentage" is to them. Trust me, I've tweaked my profile and winked at guys in efforts to start something going, but the pickin's, they be slim.

Even the few good ones I've talked with or met I have a hard time mustering up the interest to keep it going, and apparently they feel the same. Bachelor #4 went away out of sheer neglect. That and the fact that chatting with him was about as exciting as watching paint dry. I'm starting to feel I don't want to meet my future love this way and I should maybe take a break from all the online action. The Austin area is teeming with divorced dads and I'm bound to bounce off of one without even trying. Yeah, sure. Eventually.

I also am tired. Tired every day. Plain ole' worn out, physically and mentally and emotionally. All 3 wrapped up in one big ball of apathy- and that ain't good. I drudge through my weekly routines and commitments and haven't been feeling the joie de vive, not like I think I should. I am happiest out on my bike, especially riding with friends, but all my other priorities limit me to only get rides sporadically. My kids need me and they are verbal enough to tell me that, and I feel a mountain of guilt if I take off for my own joy at the expense of theirs.

My kids' JOY is my other worry. My oldest, Lil Lady, is hitting puberty and has a mouth on her that can cut through cement when she's unleashing the angst upon her mother. She saves it up all day at school, when she doesn't understand a math theory, or her friend tells her she doesn't like her outfit, or she has to stay at the Y-afterschool for longer than she'd like...she saves it, and before we've even made the full 3 minute ride home from the Y to our house, she's begun with either hitting her sister, or telling me everything I do and say is wrong and it must mean I don't love her. She is quick to pull out the "you don't love me" when she's feeling particularly wronged. We go 10 rounds before I finally wise up and stop responding to her tirade and giving her the satisfaction of ignoring everything around me to concentrate on besting her. I finally wise up and shut my mouth and ignore her, and after trying to goad me back in and failing, she literally deflates and my sweet Lil Lady comes back to me. She still calls me "Mommy" and likes to chat about things like shaving her legs, growing out her bangs, and her future career (she's always trying to nail down her future job). When times are good, we love to snuggle on the couch and watch Modern Family and CSI together.

Then there's Chillgirl, who never knows when her sister will start to scream or hit, and because she's the littlest in the house, gets the brunt of her sister's tirades. Its quite possible (Lil Lady's counselor thinks so) that even though I divorced their dad when they were 4 and 8 years old, Lil Lady thinks the addition of Chillgirl was the beginning of the end of our marriage. She truely may believe that having a sister come into the picture complicated things between her parents beyond repair. I've told LL many other reasons why her parents are not living together, but she says she began her admittedly drama-filled persona at about 4 years old, coincidentally when her sissy came along.

But I shouldn't underestimate her sissy. Chillgirl looks at me with those big brown eyes and will still throw me a goofy face, even in the midst of a meltdown by her sister. This kid has a million funny faces to show me, like that poster of little cartoon faces showing all the different emotions they use with kids in therapy, and she will make me smile even when I've got steam coming out of my ears. Now Chillgirl is not always totally without fault. I sometimes can watch the gears moving behind those eyes and she's fully aware of how to passively-aggressively ef her sister up. And when karma works its magic, she gets her back. Oh yeah she does.

This is not to say these two little girls don't love each other. They usually play happily together and watch out for each other at school. I've walked into the Y and caught them laughing together and I've listened in the house and heard them playing "teacher/student" or "store clerk/customer". Its hilarious when they role-play. I think about growing up with a sister and she was definitely my target when I wasn't in the mood to be nice to anyone, so I keep telling myself this is all normal growing pains. This is the last week they will be at the same school at the same time together. Ever. I'm sad about that, so why shouldn't they be?

These being my biggest concerns in life, I look back on this buh-buh-blog and realize I have so much. I am in control of my own happiness now.

I now know why I started blogging in the first place.

Clarity.

Lessons in Humility: "So It Goes"...

2010-05-06T22:51:00.011-05:00

Firstly, I want to thank the guru of love who came up with the splendid idea that single people should go online and post pictures of themselves, write about themselves, and basically only represent their absolute best, yet probably untrue selves to show the world. Put on display for others to view if they are looking for someone of the same age, or proximity, or "he likes felines too/he's a middle child too" (really?).

I do see the value in this form of what I'm loosely calling "dating". I have already met some nice guys. I would not have the opportunity to know so much information about a man I might meet in a bar, or at one of the kids' ball games, or in passing during my day. I cand reply or delete at will. That I get. Unfortunately now I have the eerie feeling that everywhere I go, there are men from Match.com around me, and I'm paranoid they are looking me with quizical looks on their faces which could mean "where have I seen you before?" and me doing the same. It's really an odd sensation that surprises me I'm out in public these days.

Daily on my email I am confronted by the never-marrieds, the divorcees, and the widowers who are supposedly my matches. Some are only 86% my match...WTF is that, you ask? The guy will be "athlete and toned", but he'll be agnostic. Or he'll love dogs, but never wanted kids. Uh, ok..hello, Match? Have you even LOOKED at my profile when you sent me this prize of a man? I have two kids. Count 'em, two. So if this freak doesn't want kids, then I'm going to venture a guess that he doesn't want me. The other bathos bit of knowledge is that MY profile is being sent to THEM as a possible match. I cringe to think of them looking and answering Match's question "Does she interest you? YES/MAYBE/NO" and then them going, "eh..." and moving on to the next female 30-45 on their list.

I've had six weeks of feeling like a piece of candy, stepping out of the limo, to meet my next prince, or frog as the case may be. The four guys I've actually met have probably been good catches/matches for some woman out there, but I'm not sure Match got it right for me. These guys emailed me, based on what they saw on my profile and I answered them if I liked what I saw on theirs.

Bachelor #1: Decided to talk to him because he ran and cycled and did triathlons, and because I needed to get off my ass and meet someone finally. He was 50 years old but I didn't want to rule him out, so I gave it a shot because I knew I'd have plenty to talk about with him. We had a nice lunch but when he mentioned he had a granddaughter a year older than my youngest, I was pretty much out.

Bachelor #2: This guy was my age, divorced with kids close to my kids' age. Good job and liked things I liked. I met him for coffee and it went well but then after that, nothing much more. It was a bit dry from the start, and I hoped we'd talk more but he only emailed and texted and it never got off the ground so I stopped answering him. He'll be good for someone a lot less chatty than me.

Bachelor #3: He was a lesson in what NOT to do. He emailed and I replied and we already were making each other laugh by then. He called and we talked for 3 nights before we met and it was plain ole fun. We met at lunch and the great repoire continued. He asked if he could kiss me when I was leaving and I told him no. Then I got in the car and he leaned over and kissed me anyway. More calls and opening up about our exes and kids and families. It even worked out for him meeting me out at a live-band event with our kids there, and all went well. He kept saying how great I was, and we talked of a Friday night date the next weekend when we were both kidless. But then as that work week began he seemed a bit stressed about work and issues with his ex and daughter, and less talkative and then he said I wasn't talkative but I didn't think I was acting any different than the week before. I had made the last call on that Tuesday to him during the day to chat as we'd done the few days before. I was so stupid to ask what we might do that Friday night, and he said he hadn't even thought about it yet. But we ended the call in what I thought was good spirits, but he didn't call again that night or the next day or the next. I wasn't calling him again so I wouldn't appear stalkerish. I later thought about our last conversation and me asking about Friday on a Tuesday--that DID seem geeky and a bit desperate. Ugh. Rookie mistake.

Friday came and my BFF Cora and I already hashed out that this guy was a jerk and not considerate enough to check in with me after 3 days of no talking to either cancel the date or confirm it. I still had hope because he had been such a fun guy and I thought we had something starting. But noon came and went and then I began to think, well this is just RUDE. At 4:30pm, he calls. Starts right in with what a shitty week he's had and that he wouldn't be good company and he just needs to stay in tonight. No big surprise for me, but how do I handle it? Act shocked and/or pissed, or cool and aloof? I chose cool and aloof. Told him jokingly not to blame me for his female bosses irrationality and his ex-wife's bitchiness. That I'd been "nothing but nice"...ha...ha...ha...<<<< this was said jokingly but is typed sarcastically, as in, WTF, you are in a bad mood so you prefer to go wallow in it over going out with a cool chick (that'd be me) and having fun and forgetting your troubles? He said we'd have to "try again", and I said alright I'll talk to you later VERY non-chalantly. But in my head I was saying, Hey dude, go EF Yourself....that's what I wanted to say, sure, but nah...HE AIN'T WORTH IT. Girls! Did you hear me on this one? NO GUY is worth allowing them to pull this crap, especially when you are in the "getting to know you so you better fake the nice guy crap to me for as long as you can" phase.

Too many other profiles to scan...

Bachelor #4: So far-so good with this guy. Experienced as I am now, after 3 other whole meet-n-greets, he's doing everything right so far. No, its not fireworks and sex-talk quite yet, but he's interesting, likes skiing and cycling (BONUS!), is unattached from his ex by 6 years, and has a child who he puts first. We emailed quite a bit before talking on the phone, where not overly too much was shared, but a date for coffee was agreed upon. An email the day before the coffee-date was sent by him to check in with me and confirm the coffee-date, and the coffee-date happened as advertised. That went well, an hour, not too long, and we left each other with only a hug. I worried that couldve been it but by the time I checked my email a few hours later, he'd written a "Follow-up" letter to say thanks for meeting him and hopes to get together soon.

Yay Mr. Nice Guy...you're doing great!

Adios and Muchas Gracias, Costa Rica!

2010-04-27T20:59:00.015-05:00

"Located in the Central America isthmus, immediately north of Panamá, with ports in both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and 153 highway miles between them.
Our country holds a privileged place in the world, being found in the center of the Central American Isthmus. On its east lies the Caribbean Sea and to its west, the Pacific Ocean. It is bordered by Nicaragua tothe North and Panama to the South.

A small tropic country, Costa Rica lies between two oceans. This, combined with its complex mountainous topography, gives rise to a extensive variety of habitants. These range from tropical dry forest and lowland rainforest to páramo, with a corresponding difference in climatic conditions. In general, temperatures vary between 14 and 22 degrees Centigrade in the high Central Valley and between 22 and 28 Centigrade in the lowlands. Temperatures remain relatively stable throughout the year, although some slight changes take place according to whether it is "Summer" (the dry season) or "Winter" (the wet season). Summer usually prevails from December to April and Winter from May to November. These seasons are clearly defined on the Pacific side of the country but are much less noticeable on the Caribbean side where the precipitation is much more evenly distributed throughout the year."
http://www.costaricamap.com/ing/aboutgeneral.html#9

I am a lucky girl. I have been able to travel to beautiful places. But I had a new opportunity- to travel to a beautiful place OUTSIDE the USA. I had not gone out of our states before. Had a passport that was lily white clean. I got it for a potential trip to Canada. Didn't make that trip. Last week I got my very first stamp in my passport. Costa Rica.

Had to look on a map to remember where the country is. It's in Central America for you geographically-challenged folks (like me). Wedged between Panama and Nicaragua, with water on both sides. The Caribbean on one side, and the Pacific Ocean on the other. Flew into San Jose, the capital, which is directly in the center of the country. This trip was planned by my boss, Red Bird, because he owns a home there, so I really did not know much about about where I was going and what I would be doing. This was the way to go. I had no stress about it and no expectations. People would ask, where are you gonna be there? I dunno, I would say.

Jaco. HA-CO. Red Bird's house is on Jaco Beach. In the cuidad of Jaco. Its an hour from the airport by van, zipping through the countryside, our driver barely stopping at street signs and passing slower-moving cars or big trucks. Would've been quite scary if I had been paying attention, but I was chatting with my friends and admiring the landscape. Oh, one thing about Costa Rica. HOT and HUMID. At least 86 degrees with 100% humidity so you immediately sweat when you step outside and you don't stop. If I'd stayed longer I might've gotten used to the climate, because the locals didn't look as uncomfortable as I felt, but my sweatpores were in revolt and oozed liquid full blast. Anyone headed to this area of the globe? Take as few clothes and as light of materials as you can find. We stayed in or around water as much as possible.

The locals in Costa Rica are great. They are poor but they desire work and work hard when given the chance. Every one of the folks that helped us, whether they spoke much English or not, tried so hard to accomodate us and gave us smiles that were genuine. We did a river raft tour, a canopy (forest zip line) tour, and an ATV tour and each time our guides were so informative, so polite, so gracious. I have deep respect for the Costa Ricans.

On my last day there, I spoke with the van driver at 4am on our way to the airport and he told me of his common-law wife, his older daughter who is now married but still his "sweetie girl" and his two young children who are 10 and 4. We talked about our kids' favorite tv shows and video games they love and how his older daughter works a job but still needs her dad to help her when her bicycle gets a flat tire. Our ATV tour guide told us all about his travels, but how he still loves his home of Costa Rica, for its beauty and laid-back style of life. Carlos, our housekeeper/cook, was in the Columbian Army with bullet-wound scars to prove it, asked my boss for work around his house and kept telling him he wanted to cook for him, and when Red Bird finally agreed, he found out Carlos was an excellent and creative cook who gets pleasure from our clean plates.

Their stories all are rags to riches, but their riches are big happy families at home, enough food on the table, and a job to go every morning. They could be annoyed with us Americans, or their long hours, or their small pay, but they seemed to take pleasure in helping us out and teaching us about their country, and making us welcome. It was the cherry on top of an already super sweet dessert of a vacation. I appreciated it immensely and hope to visit them and their beautiful country again real soon.

There might've been one local who was glad to see us go....

Hasta Luego, Costa Rica!

172 miles later...reflections on my Tour de Awesomeness

2010-04-19T22:54:00.015-05:00

It started as a pipedream. To ride over 100 miles in one weekend. It has become a reality. I gained a lot more than just mileage over last weekend. Good friends, great sights, cycling comraderie, and oh yeah, an aching body and about 5 extra pounds of water weight.

I learned a lot about myself though- about my drive to finish something I start, how I can push myself to go beyond my own expectations, and how my competitiveness is my best quality.

The ride was for a cure for MS, which is so much more important than anything I took from it, so knowing all 13,000 of us were there to support that cause made me feel like Oprah or Angelina Jolie, minus my hot Brad Pitt hubby. Like we were rock stars, with people yelling well-wishes and thank yous, some in wheelchairs with signs saying "I was diagnosed with MS...",reminding us why we were there. It gave me chills every time....

I had a great team to ride with. The five of us packed up a buttload of gear and took off to Houston Friday night. The great part of this ride is it starts in Houston but we are riding HOME. The Finish Line is in front of the state capitol building in our hometown of Austin, TX. So it was a bit of a trek to make to get to the Starting Line but well worth it on the other end. We got a hotel within a mile of the Omni hotel, the official starting point of the MS150. Our sponsor team, Team Dow, due to its size planned to start at a secondary start location which actually would've made our first day trip 20 miles shorter. I was pumped about this idea. Only 80 miles the first day instead of 100? Oh yeah, count me in-- that sounds doable. Never mind that my longest single day trip before this was only 54 miles long and that wasn't my best biking-riding-attitude day. I was sure that with my training along with the frequent stops and the comraderie of this big of a group ride, I would be able to pull off 80 miles. But due to logistics with getting our bikes there and some of the team (the guys) wanting to do the Omni start, we as a group (I got vetoed 4 to 1) decided to go for it and do the Omni start and the 100 miles. In one day. With a second day of over 70 miles. WTH am I thinking? Horrible butt-pain, weakened muscles, dehydration, mental failure, bike failure, general body failure were a few of the things I was thinking...

So 5am came and up we were and away we went, into the dark rainy morning, over to the huge group of folks amassing around the Omni Hotel. As with all organized rides, 80s music was playing and an announcer was announcing loudly on the PA, so quickly I forgot it was only 6am and I was getting jazzed to head out. Rolling our bikes closer to the Start, we hear a bang and looked over in time to see some poor dude fall over with his bike, still clipped in. BEFORE the ride. If that'd been me, I'd have crawled back to the hotel. Not even out of the gate and you're already sniffing pavement. Blimey!

100 miles on a bike is called a Century Ride. This would be my first. I never in a million years thought I'd do my first Century Ride with another 70+ the very next day. Ay-yi-yi, what had I done? Off we went...the first 25 flew by and we were at the first (actually the 2nd, we bypassed the 1st) rest stop on the ride. This was a massive amount of happy cyclists in a grassy and because of the rain, muddy, area with bikes laid around everywhere and people chatting and snacking and waiting for the port-a-potties, which was where I headed. Then I grabbed a banana (my first of many on this ride), an orange, and a pack of Grandma's PB cookies (so yum, and so naughty but perfect for a workout kick), and refilled my water bottles.

After that we didn't stop again until lunch, in Bellville, TX. Another great part of the ride was the scenery-- all farmlands and fields among the small Texas towns with Main Streets and water towers and wildflowers that held the MS150 pitstops with pride. Props go to towns such as Industry, Nelsonville, Fayetteville, Winchester, Bastrop, and of course La Grange. Probably the MS150 ride was one of the bigger events of the year in their towns, with folks sitting in lawn chairs and on their porches to wave to us and cheer us on. There'd be banners and signs welcoming us, and good luck wishes on their store signs and church marquis. One man, with his yellow compact car, would stand by his car and swing a noisemaker around and jump up and down cheering for us and pointing at us and yelling who-knows-what as we rode by. He showed up no less than 4 times in 4 random locations along the way. Always excited, always happy, always cheering. Thanks to that happy Dude, because he was a welcome sight each time for us weary riders.

We rode the rolling hills through Central Texas that afternoon and ended up in LaGrange for the night. This was tons of tents set up on the fairgrounds with all the different teams and individuals bunking there for the night. We got bused to the showers at the nearby high school and back to our fancy tent for an excellent fajita dinner with our Dow team. Sleeping on cots in a huge circus tent with 200 others was a new experience for me.

I was pleasantly surprised, and my 100 miles of riding-fatigue knocked my ass out so I didn't hear the snoring, the rain, or whatever else was going on in there. Dow did it right and our tent was awesome and even the squeaky camping cots didn't suck to crash on. One BIG surprise in my quasi-camping experience? The port-a-potties. Yes, I said port-a-potties. These were no ordinary nasty open-hole p-a-ps, these were swanky, upscale p-a-ps. I could NOT believe it. They were lighted, with bath mats, and a shelf in there with bath items, kleenex box, and pot pourri. A mirror, a sink with water pumped by a floor pedal, and a toilet that flushed like a airplane potty, but with foot pedal like the sink had. I didn't ask the men if they had the same ones, but ours said WOMEN on them. Why would I ask them? Its our little secret as far as I'm concerned. I know, I shouldve taken a picture, but I didn't. I do have manners.

The overnight rain cleared just in time for our mass exodus from LaGrange and all 13,000 of us took off (in waves so it took a while) and rode off into the semi-dark for another long day in the saddle. But all I could think is, I'm going home. It made it easy. I'd heard the lore of the hoop-lah awaiting us. And 6 hours later, Austin did NOT disappoint! Tons of people lining the roads into downtown cheering us into the Finish Line. I don't think I've ever felt anything like it. They knew we'd just rode all the way from Houston. They knew we'd raised millions of dollars for Multiple Sclerosis. They knew we were tired and our butts were sore. The sheer number of people there, cheering with the majestic Capitol building in the background just filled me to the brim with pride and happiness.

I'd completed my first Century Ride and a second 72-miler day, both of which are now officially my PB, or "personal best". I pushed myself longer and harder than I'd ever done before. I flew past athletes in better shape than I, or younger than I, because the speed and the cardio is what I love on the bike. I was able to plan and execute a 3-day ordeal of which I didn't grasp the hugeness until it was finally over. And now, as my muscles are starting to feel normal again, I'm thinking about my next long ride already, as a mother with a newborn forgets her miserable pregnancy and labor pains and dreams of baby #2. And yes, I am thinking I would like to be a part of the MS150 again next year.

By golly, I think I'm addicted. Who knew?

The Tale of Two Sistas

2010-04-15T13:48:00.009-05:00

My girls. My offspring. My little mirror-images of myself. They love me, they hate me...and Lord help me, they aren't even teenagers yet!

Everyone is supposed to have a sister to be there through thick and thin, bound by blood, if only to conspire against their mothers from the moment they can talk to each other, right? I have one. Can't imagine growing up without her. Can't imagine now not having her live 3 miles away and intermixing our families on a regular basis. My poor brother never had a close sibling to commiserate with or lean on because my sister and I were less than 2 years apart, shared a room, and did pretty much everything together. We were bookends, a matched set, wore similar clothes, hairstyles, had matching dolls (mine was a white baby doll and hers was a black baby doll~~ sure, why not??). We played with the same friends, attended the same schools, and even dated the same guys (at different times- she'd love 'em and leave 'em and I'd come around a few years later and date 'em!). My mom threw her hands up at the two of us, let us pretty much run our own lives, only occasionally putting her foot down on our curfews, or how much we were able to spend on clothes (Mom was a sale-watcher, the bane of our fashion existence), or offering opinions on boys we brought home (don't think Mom ever liked a-one).

Sis was(is) younger so she was constantly up my ass, hanging around my friends, my boyfriends, needing something, whining about something, instigating something. I fully admit there were hellacious times of knock-down, drag-out, chase around the house and into the street fights. Ok, I'll be totally honest-- I knocked her down, dragged her around, and chased her around the house and into the street. I guess I was the aggressor to her instigator. We fed off each other...at time I'm sure it was a nasty sight. Now that I think about it, it explains a lot of my mother's current behaviors. My dad walked around quietly, head down, trying to stay out of it. He still does that, come to think of it.

Now, back to the two blessed mini-me's.... Karma is biting me in the oops-I-made-my-mother-a-nutso ass. Now I'm the lunatic Mom who is always a step or two behind them. Case in point, just this morning:

We get up for school/work, and as usual Lil Lady took her sweet time getting out of bed- It's after 7:00 (we leave the house at 7:30am).

Lil Lady: Mom, I just remembered I have to work the school store at 7:20.

Me: Uh, it's 7:14 now. (whining starts) Dress fast and grab an apple on the way out! Chillgirl, let's go!

Chillgirl gets her stuff and makes her way to the car, then stops.

Chillgirl: Wait I need something! (runs back in)

Lil Lady flips out: Oh My God! Leave her!

Chillgirl walks back out, in no special hurry, to us waiting in the car, to her sister who is panicking.

Me: What were you getting??

Chillgirl: A dollar, to buy 5 pencils.

This child KNOWS she doesn't need 5 pencils. She knows we are in a hurry. She suddenly didn't know how to tie her shoes this morning either. Her sister is having a conniption and she's strolling along like its a Sunday morning walk in the park. Master Instigator. I see right through that innocent act. She's a plotter, that one. The youngest ones always are. (Sis, you know exactly what that means) Build 'em up with idolization and praise, and tear 'em down with Jedi mind-tricks. Chillgirl should consider a career in the CIA. Or a spot on the next season of Survivor. Lil Lady may need therapy, but she's not without fault here. I can come up with many stories where the drama's on the other foot between these two. The know each others' buttons. And mine. I'm screwed.

Ah, the life of single mom. I am the constant referee of interactions such as these. Its two against one, and sometimes I just put in my iPod headphones, turn on my music and walk around the house oblivious to the turmoil and strife brewing around me. I get through it the best I can, and love them the most I can, and teach them when I can. Thank God we are Catholics, so guilt works really well. "Jesus would NOT like what you just did!" is commonly exclaimed around our home.

If I'm lucky, they'll grow up and stay close, and be there for each other always. I'm lucky that way, so I wish that for them. They will have different personalities and lead different lives, but they have the common ground called Family, so they are bound by that, and will thrive because of it.

Butt in saddle for 2 days/160+ miles...worth it for a good cause.

2010-04-10T10:06:00.010-05:00

Seven days and counting for my debut in the MS150 bike ride. I joined my Austin cycling buddies on the Dow Chemical team to fundraise and to ride together. The Dow team alone as raised over $120,000 for Multiple Sclerosis. Donations in my name are still accepted (hint, hint folks)! We ride from Houston to Austin in two days. This is a big deal. A big deal for the cause and a big deal because I have never ridden so far in one day, let alone two days in a row. About 80 miles on Saturday, and close to another 80 on Sunday. Why is it called the MS150, you ask? Beats me, because that route is well over 150 miles.

I decided to do this ride with my friends back in January. They were doing it,and I jumped on the bandwagon, thinking April was soooo far away. Uh, hello! How did this year go into warp-speed and it's ended up here already?

Bring it on! We are ready. We have trained. And trained. We've rode long hours in all weather conditions, cold, wet, windy (oh hells yeah, the winds this winter/spring have been a big ole booger for our training), and Austin has some of the best roads and hills to train on. I have my trusty Cervelo bike, "Dash" as I call him (her?), to carry me along the way. I've been cycling these roads for 4 years now and am proud to say some many of the hills that used to eat my lunch I have now conquered time and time again. Not to say they don't wear my ass out, but I am no longer defeat-ed, I defeat those sumsabitches!

I have battle scars. Every person who's consistently rode a bike, and especially a bike with shoeclips, has fallen down. I mean Fall...Down. Picture an old useless building being imploded and toppling down in one big piece. That is a cyclist who can't unclip before he/she hits the ground. Boom. This usually causes scraped knees/shins/hips (clipped feet and legs taking the brunt of the fall) or bruised wrists/elbows/shoulders (uselessly trying to stop the ground from coming at you). I've slid off roads onto grass and into curbs. Passing cars have sprayed gravel at me. And especially fun has been some jerky motorists honking, yelling, or shaking their fists at me and my companions. Even had one brainiac threw a full can of Sprite at us, and it barely missed my friend's helmet. Not complaining here. These are the facts of life on a roadbike.

Here's the evidence of my cycling activities today...rode out around Pflugerville and Hutto and Elgin today with my friend. Forgot to spread the sunblock all the way down my arm. The white mark halfway up is my watchband. My hands stay white because I wear gloves. I went sleeveless today to try to cover up the tan line from when I've worn half-sleeve jerseys before. My feet are white too and I have a line on my mid-thigh. Not pretty. Cycling is not conducive to the upcoming bikini season...

But as I've said before, I love it. Right now the bluebonnets and other wildflowers are rampant and beautiful, sprawling across the farms and fields we pass. Today we rode over a bridge and looked off to the side below and saw two gray mules (donkeys?) grazing hip-deep in pretty purple wildflowers and tall green grass near some woods. I wished I'd had a good camera to catch the sight. When the wind is at your back (as all cylists wish it always was), you feel like you are flying. My body is moving Dash but the wind is carrying us both.

The MS150 is a long trip, but with my friends rolling by my side, and great support from the Dow team and the MS150 ride coordination for the break-stops and lunch-stops, and our overnight stay in LaGrange at the half-way point, we will glide into Austin to the Finish Line with sore butts, but smiles on our faces.

My personal donation page:

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Bike/TXHBikeEvents?px=7622378&pg=personal&fr_id=12962

Duffy, Warwick Avenue, and a case of the Winks....

2010-04-08T23:14:00.010-05:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhZ5-L9znt8

This was me in my car this morning...except minus the awesome singing. Just had a moment of GD-IT, how did I let him do that to me? And the tears flowed. Out of nowhere. Duffy says it all. "I want to be free, baby, you've hurt me." I wish I could say some things to Romeo to make him hurt too, but I'm the bigger person. Not gonna do it. Silence is the only way I'll go, but frustration sneaks up on me and I'll have another Duffy moment, oh Mercy. Love this girl, she gets it.

I made a move. A bold move. Duffy would approve. I joined Match.com. Ugh. Wrote up a benign profile and some current pictures and let 'er rip. Apparently I'm "fresh meat" on Match this week. Have gotten a few emails. Even more "winks". This is a way of a guy saying "hey chickie, take a look over here...you like what you see?" I asked a guy friend who is on Match what the hell I do when I get winked at. He said wink back if you are interested. So I have. I've even winked a few guys myself. That will or maybe won't spur on an actual email. So far I've emailed back 5 guys who have emailed me first. I am still struck how old the guys interested in me are. I'm struck that THIS is the 40+ year old man. I know a lot of 40+ year old people, seeing how I'm almost one of them, and they don't seem old to me at all. I guess still-shot pics are not a 40 year old's best friend.

Folks at my age need to be living, breathing, and God yes, moving to show how young we still are. We are weekend warriors and we join sports we've never played before and have the uniforms, toys, and accessories to prove it. Reliving our little league roots to hang on to youth. No, I do not have agism when I look at these guys' profile pics. I give them the benefit of the doubt- and at least look through their pictures. The ones with their weekend warrior pictures included are the ones I wink at. Not agism, just lazyassism. I need a man to go out and compete with me for the best fit 40+ year old we know. We'll race each other into the ground, or to the ice-packs and ibuprofen at the very least.

I was sure to post things I do not want in a man. No fishermen, campers, or hunters please...all these "sports" seem very lazy. Beer-drinking, sit on your ass, smell like wildlife, non-cardio sports. No thanks. Save me the runners, cyclists (of course), skiers (God yes!), swimmers, volleyball players, etc. If I can kick your ass or give you at least a run for your money, you are my kind of guy.

Not sure yet if I want to move on to that next step--- meeting them. Yikes. Measuring them up while they measure me up. What a nightmare. Dry your eyes, GIRL...comb your hair, put on your makeup and a smile, dammit. Lord....or Duffy, give me strength!

The Sunday Afternoon Funk

2010-04-04T22:30:00.003-05:00

Sunday is the end of my weekend. I am never off on Mondays, so Sunday's are always the end of my weekends. I don't dislike my job, but I LOVE my homelife and freetime on my weekends and days off. Every Sunday I wake up excited to be off another day, but as the hours wear on, the happy-weekend-mood slowly slides into the blues. I literally feel it coming over me. Every single Sunday. Its a physical reaction and I can't seem to stop it.

The Funk visits whether I had a kid-weekend or a me-time weekend. Usually after a kid-weekend it hits me later in the evening because I'm busy with them, but it still comes and even the kids notice I get crabby those days. But its worse on my me-time weekends because I am alone, and especially lately, that in itself has been difficult for me. And Sunday is always a waiting game for the kids to come home and then they always suffer with the separation from their dad after a weekend with him. See, he's not a Wednesday-nights-with-the-kids-divorced-dad because he lives 45minutes away and won't drive up here mid-week for a few hours. He's a every-other-weekend-dad, Friday after school to Sunday evening. Its not a lot of time and although I know he loves them and gives them a great time when he has them, its not regular enough. So on top of my own Funk, I deal with their Funk too. Not fun.

I wish I knew how to better handle the Funk. It begins with me dredging up sad thoughts almost on purpose...wallowing in things, like missing Romeo, or feeling sorry for myself trying to figure out the dating world, or if I'm doing enough with the kids. I get very quiet and think and pray and mope. When I dated Romeo, Sundays were the days I questioned his devotion to me or the kids, and I pulled away from him, knowing our alone-time was at its end for the week. I know, that sounds counterproductive, but the Funk made me do it. Nowadays it just means all my fun activities and free time are put on hold for the week, and I'm back to the grind of my weekly duties.

The first step to changing this is hopefully admitting the Funk exists, then blogging about it :), and we'll see...tomorrow is Monday, so it may be a week before I'll know.

Boys, Boys, Boys

2010-04-02T23:58:00.005-05:00

My BFF Cora gave me the book Act Like A Lady, Think Like a Man, by Steve Harvey as I venture into a new dating world in my almost-40s. The dating world these days is MUCH different than it was in my early 20s, the last time I was out there, most likely because I am MUCH different (thank God!) than I was in my early 20s.

I have perused this book, but haven't yet read it cover to cover. So far one chapter has seemed the most useful for my current state of affairs (or potential for such).

Chapter 10 is titled: THE FIVE QUESTIONS EVERY WOMAN SHOULD ASK BEFORE SHE GETS IN TOO DEEP. Ha! Here it is, written from a man's point of view, for us ladies' education on what to be thinking of when we have met a new guy and are out on those first dates, and deciding if he's worthy. Basically he's saying, don't fear you will lose a man if you confront him with these questions. Make him be clear up front and then YOU can decide to stay or go.

1.What are your short-term goals? Plans that deem him a grown-up, heading toward something, and a place you could come along with him too.

2.What are your long-term goals? Looking at his future clearly and in detail with a plan to get it.

3.What are your views on relationships? As in with his parents, on kids, God, past relationships, family in general. Ask all the tough questions.

4.What do you think about me? Listen for specific examples of what he likes about you.

5.How do you FEEL about me? Make him dig down deep to put words to his inner thoughts about his feelings for you.

Steve Harvey's book explains these in detail and it makes a lot of sense. I remember going through whole dating cycles without knowing any of this stuff about a boy. What a waste of time! And to ASK the question? EEK! That might mean I could get an answer I don't like and I'll have to break up with him and be alone again...Lord what an idiot I was.

In my most recent dealings as a almost 40-year old, the life status and motivations of the men my age have changed drastically from back then, as have mine. I have determined 3 different "types" are out there. Now remember, I'm just a beginning dater so I hope to revise this list or amend it, so don't hate on me if I contradict myself later.

The first one is the Never Been Married guy: somehow in his 40s without being nailed down yet, hasn't had any kids and has lived alone all this time. See some of my early blogs about this guy, cuz I just got out of a relationship with him. We girls always hear, You Can't Change A Man? Well, the NBM guy is set in his ways and likes it that way. IF you ever got him to marry, the woman would do all the bending here...and not in a good way, if you know what I mean.

The second one is the Just Got Out of a Marriage guy: this one is looking for wifey #2, and fast. He's in shock that something, he has NO IDEA WHAT, went wrong and his best solution would be to shack up immediately to avoid any soul-searching for his place in the divorce that just happened TO him. JGOOAM guy probably loves the hell out of you because you are NOT his ex-wife, and he's willing to overlook all of your flaws, if he even stops doting on you long enough to see any of them. In fact he probably hasn't stopped talking about his ex-wife long enough to ask you any of the important 5 questions, and he wouldn't care what the answers were anyway, as long as you are willing to take him in, like yesterday.

The third one is the No One is as Perfect as Me So I'll Just Sleep Around guy. These guys have a superiority complex with such high-standards for marriage material, that they decide they won't even bother with all the stuff that would precede marrying someone. This guy will just get in your pants and move on to the next unworthy one. He won't ask you about you, he won't give you any time-specific information about seeing you again, and he'll talk about himself A LOT. Like a big show all about him. If you want a nice romp in the hay, the NOIAPAMSIJSA guy's your man, but don't you dare fall for this guy.

There are more to come, no doubt. I'm just getting warmed up.

iTri...

2010-03-31T22:22:00.007-05:00

I began triathlons 3 years ago. I started 5Ks and 10Ks before that but was cross-training with my mountain bike on trails, so I did a duathlon in January 2007. The Frost Yer Fanny in my hometown. In January. Oh yeah, cccold. Run-bike-Run. Once you are warmed up with the running you forget about the cold, but after its over we are waiting for all the bikes to come in before they let you collect your bike and things in transition, so we are waiting around and getting cold again...but anyway, I was hooked on the idea and the only thing left to do was a TRIATHLON!

The swim was my unknown. So I went to the gym and began laps in the pool. Then I remembered...I love to swim! I love gliding through the water, back and forth...so soothing and zen-like. I played around with my stroke, settled on a double-sided freestyle stroke. Added flip-turns. I'm a swim stud. Just watch me go.

But you only get practice at the mechanics of swimming in a lap pool. For a tri, you will swim in a lake (or the ocean if you are really brave) and you will swim with other people around you. So I made the trek out to our local lakespot and swam with the fishies. The tiny fish that actually nipped at my fingers as I stood on the step and stretched before getting in. Wishing I had a wetsuit right about then. Swam over the scuba divers who happened to be diving there. And the boaters buzzing by who threw their wakes in my face as I swam. But that wind blowing, and waves crashing and scuba dude who came up right under me (yikes!) gave me the best practice at an open-water swim I could've ever had without doing an actual tri.

My first tri was going to be a mini-tri, that means only a 500 meter swim, a 10 mile bike, and a 3k run. I trained in the pool, on my mountain bike, and running from February until Memorial Day when the tri was to be. The day before this tri, which is a big one in Austin, I had to go "rack" my bike beforehand. That means you have your number and are given a slot on the bikestands (called the transition area) and you rack the bike. There are only certain tri's you will pre-rack your bike the day before, and it is because they are very large races. No way everyone could show up the day of the race and get settled all at the same time. The racking of the bike was a nerve-wracking experience. Lots of big-shots walking around with their fancy-pants tiny bikes and turning their noses up at my Trek, a massive bulk of a beast by comparison. Intimidating to say the least. Looked at the swim start which was a deck off the town lake and some fools were already jumping in to try it even though it was kinda nippy that day and overcast. A little rain spitting too. The run was a scenic one through downtown Austin, which I had done on the 5 mile Turkey Trot and the Capital 10K already so that didn't worry me. Buh-bye Trek, see ya in the AM.

But it was not to be, that night rain began to pour, and storm, and drench all of Austin. I still got up and headed downtown hoping it would be clearing as I drove. Downtown there was not as bad rain when I arrived but I began to see people walking away from the race start area with their bikes in tow. The race is cancelled? Say what? Its barely raining! Transition was soaked, a muddy mess. No way anyone's able to get in there, get geared up for the bike and get out of there without being knee-deep in mud. Same with the run. My first tri was cancelled. Later I found out the race should've had a back up plan for weather, such as a 5K or 10k. For our trouble and our $65 entry fee. I had a t-shirt and everything. Dammit.

In my ambition to be a superstar non-pro triathlete, I had already signed up for my 2nd tri, the Danskin. It just so happened to be about 10 days later. Never fear, I would tri if it killed me! And this one just might. The Danskin is a "sprint tri", which is longer than a mini, shorter than an "olympic" or the Grandaddy of them all, an Ironman. So the Danskin was/is a 750 meter swim (almost half a mile), a 12 mile bike (in Austin its a VERY hilly ride), and a 5K run. But one great thing about the Danskin? Its all women. All very pro-women. Lots of yay-women, yay-breasts, YOU-GO-GIRL kind of attitude floating around at the Expo for our packet pick-up and bike drop off. Yeah, the Danskin is HUGE. About 3,000 racers. But a really great first tri for me because of its warm, women-friendly, huggy, kissy, thanks for coming, feel-good pep-rally ambiance. The next morning was a warm, dry pre-dawn wake and drive over the the parking area, to load the buses that took the athletes to the actual race area. Our big lake front park couldn't hold all that parking and a tri too. Spectators had to go to the race area by foot, about a 1/2 mile down the road. Sorry suckas! Found by bike by my number and got all my gear settled into an easy to reach position. Meaning laid out the bike shoes, the gloves the towel for after the swim, my water bottles, my socks, my helmet, my GU getshot (energy-laden shot of gooey blech you down between events to keep up your stamina, in case the adrenaline isn't enough), my other towel to wipe off my feet cuz that run from the water to the bikes is through wet grass, checked my tires, gears, speedometer...ah, now, only an hour and a half to wait before the race starts!

After chatting with some of the girls near my transition area, and finding out how many tri's they've done and valuable tips I hadn't thought of, I was ready to get this show on the road. The sun was up and it was finally time to grab my swim cap (specially colored to designate my swim start time, based on my age) and goggles and get down to the water's edge. Transition was closing. Did I mention my race number was Sharpied on my arms and legs? Yes, that's fun to try to clean off afterwards but it's because, duh, you can't wear your race # in the water, so if your unconscious body bobs to the surface of the lake, they will be able to identify you. After the National Anthem and some more GALS ARE GREAT pep-talking, the waves of swimmers began to take off. At the Danskin as each wave enters the water, the race leaders yell and clap and give more encouragement so you are pretty pumped up when that buzzer goes off and it's time to take off.

Luckily for me, this was Austin, and this was June, and this was a man-made lake, so the water was warm and the wildlife was minimal. No fish that I could see (with 3,000 swimmers in the area, that didn't surprise me) and not much algae to swim through or around. Just bodies. Everywhere are feet, arms, heads...you really gotta watch it. At first you kinda are doggie-paddling just to get out of the pack. The hotshots bolt out front and the breast-stroke ones lag behind, so to get my freestyle started I had to get to the outside edge of the pack to have some room. And I swam toward that big yellow buoy off in the distance. Got to it and looked for the next big yellow buoy. And so on until, miraculously I could see the swim exit. Incredible. I did it.

No rest for the water-logged and weary, run to transition to get my gear on for the bike. I did my thing and walked my bike to the transition exit to mount my bike in the proper area to take off. They time your transitions too, so you aren't supposed to lolly-gaggle...The bike route was fun. I'd been training on hills and these were no different. Except one I'd been warned about, a sharp right turn at the bottom of one hill right into a steep, but short second hill. Many girls were walking their bikes up here. If they didn't know it was coming they wouldn't have the gears in place to handle the grade or the slow-down and speed back up. I've now done 5 tri's at this same park area and don't blink at this steep hill but that first time, it was a doozy. I came up "out of my saddle", bike lingo for off my seat, and pedaled hard and made it up the grade. On my mountian bike, no less. Way to go, GIRL! The bike was over too fast and I was back in transition with jelly-legs and a GU shot, and off I went to run the 5K. Through woods and grass and on rocks and wood chips, no fun if you ask me and by this time it was after 9am and here in Texas, that's already HOT and humid out...yuck. But I was so close and not ready to stop.

Until that last mile came and it was ALL--UP--FREAKIN--HILL. Are you shitting me? At a run that was barely faster than most of the women walking it, I tredged up there and finally could hear the finishline music and announcements. Its so great, most races around here have the same guy announcing your name and where you are from as you cross over the finish line. You get a medal at the Danskin. Awesome. I'm a triathlete.

Now for the festivities and free food. Seeing fellow racers so proud of themselves admiring their medals, and watching more runners come into the finish line, with euphoric looks on their red-cheeked, sweaty faces. This is the best part of doing triathlons...the Finish Line.

I have completed 10 triathlons in the past three years. Each one was different, but all taught me a lot. The season begins now. Ive done April tri's and they are always too cold so I am signed up for one smaller local tri in June so far for this year. Will probably do at least one other before the season's out. It's a great community, especially the women, and doing one for a good cause, like breast or ovarian cancer just makes it all the more special.

The Danskin is on my birthday this year. I haven't decided if I want to spend it that way, but it could be a good way to start my 40s...with cheering, praising, loving women yelling YOU GO, YOU SEXY GIRL!! to me as I cross that finish line, sweaty, smiling, and proud.

Lovin' the Sunshine in the sky and in my head....

2010-03-30T22:45:00.007-05:00

Gettin a move on, gettin my groove on. Actually had 50% less thoughts about he-who-shall-remain-nameless today than yesterday. That's good, huh? I still shake my head during odd times during the day when the whys and the whose faults pop into my consciousness. But those thoughts are fleeting and I can honestly say I was glad to be dealing with other people's problems all day and not checking my texts or emails every five minutes.

My job as an audiologist is about listening to the issues affecting people in their lives, and these are folks who have lived many more years than me, so once the hearing aid issue is laid out, I love to hear their stories about their pasts, their families, their careers, their mistakes, their life lessons. You can always find something to learn from them. Its either do that, or shuffle them off to their next doctor's appointment like they aren't worth the tennis balls on the bottom of their walkers. How could anyone do that? Yes, some are crabby or downright ornery, but even those grouches can be made to smile when you ask them what they did for a living before retirement or about their grandchildren. My work is a big part of my identity. After almost 20 years of doing this, it is what it is, and I make the best of it. Good people at work were the Sunshine in my head part of my day.

Today after work I got to go play with my kids. Outdoor volleyball practice for my Pink Zebras team to get them a bit more coaching in a different venue. When they weren't playing in the sand, I saw a few happy smiles when serves made it over the higher net. This was the Sunshine in the sky part of my day.

New topic: "worldly success has shallow roots while interpersonal bonds permeate through and through"...from an article I found online, called The Sandra Bullock Trade, by David Brooks. He poses the question of poor Sandy feeling if it was worth it to gain such success in her career but lose the love of her life in the same moment? Studies show people in good marriages (glad to hear there are such people) enjoy happiness and fulfillment in less paying jobs more than those who are in bad marriages and high paying jobs. I won't go so far as to ruminate on marriage at this particular point in my jaded station in life, but having a good friend, even in the worst of times, brings happiness.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/30/opinion/30brooks.html

Another part of my identity is because of my friends. I have hung onto many of them for many years and make conscious efforts to stay in touch. Some people don't understand this. Some people only have a few friends they trust and they still don't talk to them all that often. My friends are the best! I can say that with confidence because several have stuck with me since elementary school. I imagine what a blessing it would be if my daughters will still be in touch with the friends they have RIGHT NOW, like I do!

These are friends from waaaay back when we wore our Luv-its and topsiders on the playground, or from high school in our acid-washed, rolled up tight jeans at the MickyD's on 146 in B-town, or from college in our windshorts and tees, with bows in our hair on the WC shuttle bus-- they all shared major milestones with me and have something to contribute still to this day to what is happening to me now. Luckily for me, I am still making new friends with my new common interests (my cycling chickies in our spandex and clip-shoes cruising up Ronald Reagan Blvd) and feel myself getting closer to them each day.

They are mostly girlfriends, but some guys have hung in there with me as my confidantes, giving me "well duh" advice in an unbiased way. I was able to just tonight check in with an old guyfriend who posted on FB he was having a hard day. He's divorced with kids at home with him too, and we are easily able to commiserate with each other's kid issues like leaving clean laundry on the floor and forgetting homework until 10pm. He vented about his ex-wife's gall at expecting him to still pay her Discover card, and I totally got that frustration he was feeling. Other guys are honest enough to tell me not to overthink things and go with my gut on other things.

Good times, good friends. Who needs an ex-bf who confuses friendship with co-dependency??

To call or not to call...eh, let him wait.

2010-03-29T23:39:00.004-05:00

Got the "hey friend, just thought you should know I've met someone, and its going well" phone call from my ex-bf, Romeo...Ok, so that's not a call most people get because their exes have common sense and more manners. But I got the call nonetheless. I sat through the call saying "well, good for you" when I felt like saying "are you shitting me with this?" and said goodbye. I mean really said goodbye. To the possibility of us finding each other again. To hoping he'll have an epiphany and he'll decide he can't live without me. To the good memories we had, since now all I think of are the jerky things he's done and berate myself for letting it go on so long. To a future of not having to get out and date again.

But no, the story doesn't quite end there. Two days later I got the "I know that was hard to hear, but it's because I haven't been honest in the last months since our break up, but you should now know I began to move on past us right away, and I feel guilty about not telling you that then" email. Oh yeah, believe it. I know-a slap in the face, no? More like a punch in the gut. I've tried the friendship angle with him over the past 5 months apart to hang on to something I was afraid to be without, as well as to come across as the cool ex-gf so he'd miss me and realize he's making a mistake. Now that lil gameplan has bit me in the ass.

Why is he doing this, you ask? Beats me! Maybe the new date he's had has given him a new lease on life and he wants to clear the cobwebs away? Maybe me texting him Hey there, thinking of you, caused him to feel sorry for me so he thought he better pull out the honesty-card and let me down easy...er like a ton of rocks more like it.

So my simple reply to that overly wordy and jackassy email was "You know what? Enough with the honesty. I've had all I can take." Hmph! There!

About 10 hrs later I get a phone call from him, which I did NOT answer, thankyouverymuch....ugh, then a text blinged..."I'm so sorry, it was stupid of me. It was not honesty, it was stupid and I shouldn't have sent it. I feel sick to my stomach. I'm so sorry."

WTF? How do I respond to that? Your whole condescending call and email were lies? I don't think so! You don't send emails unless you have something to say and you said it like 3 different ways in that email. YOU ARE OVER ME AND HAVE BEEN SINCE NOVEMBER. OWN IT! MAN UP AND STAND BY YOUR STATEMENTS!

I replied to the text, "I don't know what to say." That was last night. I haven't spoken to him yet, or emailed. My BFF Cora assured me that my silence sends the same message as reeming him out for his idiocy, but even better.

I've got to sever my ties to continue to move on. I can't ease his guilt. I can't be his friend. Not right now. Maybe not ever. My anger will fade in about a day and I will be back to consciously NOT calling/texting/emailing...as in starting to and stopping myself. Taking a deep breath and literally NOT doing something that will perpetuate the pain.

Hmmm..where will my NEW gameplan take me? :)

The Way We Are...The Story of Romeo Part Deux

2010-03-28T21:22:00.004-05:00

So Colorado- March 2009. Winter Park to be exact. Great for the kids, not too expensive. Booked one room, two beds, for four days. I guess I barged my way through the planning with the intention of bringing us all together to see if we could all be together, since up until then, we'd spent only the amount of time for a meal in a restaurant together. We had an uneventful flight and first evening, and the next day he and I taught the girls to ski. They didn't take to it at first and many tears and whining later, they finally had an A-HA moment and both fell in love with it, much like I did my first time out. This stretch of time before they fell in love, they were not happy kiddos. Lil Lady's boots were too tight and Chillgirl brought the wrong gloves and her hands were freezing. I dealt with these little tragedies alone, with Romeo standing by watching. And unsmiling, and judging, I was sure of it. As the whining continued, I decided we were not moving past this until me and the girls went back to the hotel/ski rental and took care of the problems. I assured Romeo he could stay and get a few adult runs in while we did took the shuttle back. I let him off the hook of being with two crabby kids because that is what I thought he'd want, and he took the chance and didn't insist he come with us. Chivalry is not in Colorado I guess.

A decent time was had by all after the girls got comfy and began to ski. It felt like a family vacation with skiing and exploring the mountian and shopping. Later at dinner there was an uncomfortable moment when the girls were goofing off at the dinner table and I told them to stop, and they didn't. After a few more minutes of silliness and ignoring my requests to stop, Romeo said, in a deep raised voice something to the effect of Did you not hear your Mother tell you to stop? They stopped cold, staring down at their plates, but then he added "Answer the question!" and they both sheepishly looked up and answered "Yes". I was shocked. The last part was uncalled for, but after a few minutes of total silence at the table the girls began to talk quietly to each other and seemed unphased by it. I, however, ate my dinner fighting back tears. Here I was trying to get us to all interact as a family and all he could muster up in a "family way" was scolding them in a blow-up of temper like I'd never seen?? He constantly has told me about his strict upbringing with his sweet mother and her heavy hand and his father's no BS style. Here was a blatant example of his parenting style...long fuse, big boom.

The next day after sight-seeing Romeo and I were still very uncomfortable around each other and I asked him to come for a walk with me while the girls stayed in the room to watch tv. We were silent for much of it but eventually began talking. I don't remember much before somehow getting on the subject of our future together. I finally asked the question I'd been holding onto for the better part of the last year. When do you see us merging our lives together? I didn't say marriage, that would sound like asking for a proposal or a ring. A merge. I thought it was a term he could handle. I wasn't prepared for his answer. "When the girls are finished with school and out of the house.", he said. WTF? Chillgirl was in Kindergarten at the time! In 12 years???

In an emotional come-to-Jesus talk, I explained that is not good enough for me and I cannot accept that kind of timeline. That I cannot raise them alone and then be his girlfriend on the off-weekends. He explained he wanted to make it work but it was so hard watching them go at each other and disrespect me so often. He didn't think he knew how to be a parent to them. I asked him to only consider being a partner to me, and the rest will come with time. He said he didn't know if he could/would. We left it at that with tears from both of us and that night slept holding each other tightly as my two angels slept unaware in the bed next to us.

I now know I shouldve taken that conversation way more seriously. It was such a blow, such a revelation, so not what I thought was happening with us, that I filed it away, Scarlett O'Hara-style, and thought "I'll worry about that tomorrow!". The same topic came up just about every month after that fateful trip, in one way or another. I began to feel the unrest and disatisfaction with the status quo between us, and asked for more from him, especially with hanging around with the girls. In July we had a conversation in the car once that led me to ask him to think about taking the girls somewhere, just him and them.

His response: "I don't feel comfortable with that". OH WELL, BY ALL MEANS, DON'T DO ANYTHING YOU MAY BE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH, DEAR!

I was reaching the end of my patience.

His honesty at explaining the chemistry with him and my children "just wasn't there" was making me question everything we'd built thus far. Yes, some of you might think, WELL DUH!!! But being on the inside, still deeply in love I couldn't see it in its totality. We actually broke up over similiar statements almost in July before our 2nd family trip to see my parents and family in Pittsburgh, again with the kids. We decided to go through with that trip and actually had a fabulous time but didnt even spend time with the kids much, since I planned some things for just us two, away from them. There I was, catering to making Romeo happy, at the expense of my kids getting to know this man who was still taking their mom away. Again, DUH!!?? Broke up again in August, and after his promises to "try harder" fell flat and nothing changed, I made the devasting (to me at least) decision to end it for good a few months later.

Explaining last November, yet again, how it wasn't enough to just be a "part-time lover" while I lived my double-life as a mom all but two weekends a month, he surprisingly didn't fight me. No more promises were made. He actually agreed with me. Said he couldn't provide me what I needed and he shouldn't hold me back. No overtures were made to assure me we could make it work, no late night drop-ins, no phone calls, texts, or even emails for several weeks, all through the Thanksgiving holiday, for most of which I spent alone, wallowing.

NOW I look back and realize he let me do the dirty work. He had been holding steady in his conviction that he was not step-father material and he didn't belong hanging out at my dog-hair infested house since MARCH, and I made excuses and justifications and let it ride. When I finally did the dirty work, he was RELIEVED. No need to stalk me or show up, banging on the door, with roses to get me back...good riddance...don't let the door hit you on the way out, lady.

Now it's March 2010 and I'm a year wiser. BUT Romeo and I have still way too much contact for a broken up couple. He's tried to put me on the Friend Shelf (with his other ex-girlfriend) but still told me he loves me and misses me. Mixed signals to the max. My little bruised heart has been pulled back and forth over these last almost 5 months. He was so much to me, my best friend, my lover, my equal in so many ways, but he's glad to see me go.

He's moved on, he tells me now. I have gotten out there a bit, but not in my heart. That little sucker is gonna need to take some more time to heal.

The Way We Were....the Story of Romeo Part I

2010-03-28T00:09:00.010-05:00

Don't know if I'll get through the whole sordid story in one post. It now has been over 3 years of loving someone who has ultimately let me down and has chosen to live apart from me and my family, and who has now put me on a shelf with his other past girlfriends who weren't quite the right fit for him and his lifestyle. I am finally seeing the whiney little boy behind the man, the boy who can't be satisfied with the red lollipop because he knows there's a green lollipop that might be better, and the man who lives in the box, claims to want to see outside the box, but who really is afraid to step out of the box.

My bubble is burst...but it was such a pretty bubble for a while...

Meeting Romeo wasn't instant attraction but instant curiosity for sure. Met on the volleyball court and when he, out of the blue, said "hey you got your hair cut, I like it", with a rarely seen before smile, I was smitten. It grew into a caring friendship and desire on both our parts to learn everything about one another. Tons of similarities in background- both Catholic, both have parents still together, both have been in stable jobs for many years, both graduates of UT, both Democrats, both curious about and interested in world issues, both love sports, both love travel. This meant plenty to talk about. And talk and talk and talk. We seemingly never bored of each other.

He helped me through the end of my marriage, without butting in, but patiently waiting and quietly supporting while I took care of the business of untangling myself from 14 years of Mr. Not-quite-right. Romeo claimed to want a family of his own but also said he hoped to provide something stable for me and Lil Lady and Chillgirl. We began to travel together, first skiing in SLC, where he painstakingly taught me with his slow and easy coaching style, how to love the slopes, and the art of skiing, and the mountains that surrounded us. It was a new happy place for me in more ways than one.

After the divorce was final, he began to meet with me and my girls. The girls were cautious, especially Lil Lady, who I still suspect blames Romeo for her daddy moving away. But everyone was nice to each other and the girls gave him a break and accepted him as Mom's Friend. After a while they decided he would be nice to have around and told me they didn't mind if we got married, especially if that meant we'd buy a new house, so they could pick out new rooms someday. I figured things were moving in the right directions for all parties involved.

Early indicators showed Romeo liking and getting to know the girls but also at times bringing up questions and little criticisms about their behavior and my discipline style. I gently explained my relationship with the girls and how we weren't perfect but had our ways firmly in place. He liked to point out ways that HIS parents handled things with him and how he never questioned their heavy hands and did as he was told. I chalked it up to him not understanding how kids are these days, as he doesn't have any of his own and only sees his nieces and nephews on occasion and only during holiday festive times and not in the day to day rigamaroll...

How wrong I was to assume he thought this too and that he would come around to my way of thinking once he was around us more....I also thought he might revise his desire for 2 more children once he was in a household with several already and saw how hard it was. I early on left it open for discussion us sharing a child after we married, but two at our later ages was kinda overboard for me. But on we went, traveling to Chicago for a Cub's game, because that was his favorite team, and to my high school reunion in Houston, where he smiled and nodded to my friends but basically stood off to the side with the others who didn't go to our school and waited for me to be finished socializing. He didn't realize and I didn't tell him I would've stayed out all night with my old friends if he hadn't been there. At home we hung out with his friends, ones he'd had for many years, including a few I knew from volleyball and also including his ex-girlfriend who he'd broken up with many years before but remained best friends with after all was healed and both had moved on. We were a happy bunch together but there was not room in our social life to go out with my friends or family very often and he was so quiet during the times we did, I hardly recognized him. My mother always said he wasn't right for me. But she never has liked a single boy I've been with, so that didn't phase me a bit. More on HER later for sure...

Romeo and I talked of marriage and homes, but more hypothetically, not in any real serious sense, now that I look back on it. One thing was clear to me, he did not want to move to Suburbia and I was not keen on moving my girls away from their school or town where they'd been growing up, into the city where he rented and where I knew property prices were outrageous for even a cramped small home we could barely afford together. We traveled to Tahoe and spent another great time in ski heaven around a beautiful blue blue lake. We were great at fantasyland away from home and realities of normal life.

At home, I began to realize I played the girlfriend role on my weekends when the girls were with the ex, and I played the mommy role on the other weekends, usually alone. We'd meet up for dinner with Romeo but he rarely did more than pop over to sit on the couch and watch tv at my house when the girls were there. Even on our weekends together, he and I spent most of our alone time at his place. I was comfortable there after spending so much time there, but he claimed he still felt like a stranger in my home. I gave him plenty of chances to come over more and just beebop around as if he belonged there. It never quite worked out that way. Once when he needed to do laundry, I invited him to bring it and use my machines but after he finished and went home, he called later to say he found little black things in the bottom of his "clean" basket...he thought they were fleas from the dog or cats. I have no idea what he was seeing because I would know if I had a flea problem, and I surely don't. Just one more reason for Sunday afternoon laundry time to never happen again.

As our 3rd year together began, momentum shifted. I was turning 39 and the baby-making years were slowly slipping away. He didn't talk about his own offspring anymore and we did have conversation, again sorta hypothetically, about not starting over with a newborn that would slow down our travel plans and add to college savings and such. This also is when we planned our first ski trip with the girls. I made most of the plans for the 4 of us. So off to Colorado we went....

Day one for a virgin blogger...

2010-03-27T20:55:00.001-05:00

Good evening and welcome to a peek into my life. I was born in 1970, so what birthday year does 2010 bring? The big 4-0...yee-fucking-haw. Is that the birthday people buy the black decorations and tombstones and RIP things for? God, I hope not. I hope to push that off until year 5-0, if you please. My birthday isn't for another two months but since all my friends from high school have begun to one by one turn 40, it is clear to me that this IS coming and I have no choice but to own it. One good thing is most people find out I'm 39, ahem..er...almost 40 and they say "Oh wow, I wouldn't have guessed that, you look much younger"....either they are bullshitting me or somehow I am aging well.

I have done a good job fighting off my elder years in the last years since I began having my kids. I don't remember ever really thinking about my weight or health until I saw it balloon up to the 200s during my first pregancy. THAT freaked me out and as soon as I had my Lil Lady I began to work at taking off those 50+ lbs I had so easily packed on the previous 9 months. My husband never complained but then he was not that into me physically to begin with (hence his current title "the ex") so he also didn't care or help with the restructuring of my overbloated body.

I did breastfeed my Lil Lady, but only for about 3 months since I felt chained to her and she wasn't satisfied from day one and she always was supplemented on the formula anyway. This also is my first glimpse into her now-famous complicated persona, but more on that later. I walked her mornings in her baby stroller, along with Maxie the dog, and then walked her again in the evenings. Before long I shed most of the 50lbs without much more thought to it. The last 10 were stubborn and needed me to diet more strictly along with my walks and then I even began running alone to just feel the fat and water weight sweat out of me. By her first birthday I was better than my pre-prego physique.

My second baby girl, my Chillgirl, came along with 60 extra lbs that I didn't need. Being in my early 30's with this one, the lbs came on too easily and took more effort to come off afterward. I was chasing a 4 year old and trying to breastfeed the new baby and I think I quit the breastfeeding with her by 10 weeks in. Both my girls have always been exceptionally healthy and happy, not even an ear infection, so all those Leche people out there, suck it..haha, pun intended. Anyway, I went back to work sooner with baby#2 so the weight took a while to come off. But it did. Finally I was able to show my face, and my ass, back at the gym with my volleyball playing pals on my regular Tues/Thurs evening free play nights.

So where was I going with this? Oh yeah, turning 40 but feeling better than at 30...after my Chillgirl turned 3 1/2 I decided to lose those last 10lbs that had stayed with me so I joined Weight Watchers and got up and started my running again and got a beat up mountain bike from my sister and started riding the trails near my house. Within 3 months I'd lost 18lbs and found a whole new respect for food and how to control, or try to control what was going in my mouth and how to work out this aging body of mine so that it never gets stiff or weak. I work with the elderly and see all the downsides of aging and how some people at age 90 can look younger than others at age 70. Its all about what you do with yourself.

Nowadays I've given up the volleyball nights but still coach my youngest and her team but after dabbling the last 3 years in triathlons, I've found a sport to love-- CYCLING....my mecca, my church, my happy place, my yoga...on the bike, in the saddle, with the wind whipping by me, taking in the sights of new neighborhoods being constructed, rolling hilly roads, or livestock on farms at the outskirts of town, and working over every inch of my body and keeping my heart about 145 beats/minute for hours on end. It is my most sane place to be in my busy life, and I cherish every minute out there.

As a single mom with an ex that does as little as is fatherly possible to help me out with our children, my life is not my own. I steal the hours on my bike or for my gymtime. Literally steal them. If my kids are with the ex, I plan my days around my rides or gym classes. If I have the kids, I longingly think of my cycling friends out on Saturday AMs rolling away, while I am getting sleepy girls ready for our volleyball game or a trip to the grocery. I will give up a spin class to make sure I'm home for the homework time necessary to make sure my 5th grader passes the damn TAKS test (Texas mandatory standardized bastard of a test)...I stay at home on a perfectly sunny, no-wind day and mow the lawn and pick the weeds many weekends with the kids nearby.

I'm not complaining about mothering my own children. Don't get me wrong. I love them and ache for them when they are gone from me. I worry more than most about their mental well-being having gone through a divorce at ages 4 and 8. I kept them in the only house they know, in the school theyve been in since Kinder, going to the same church and religious ed classes, with the same friends theyve known since babyhood. I've been in the same job, same office, same position for 15 years to keep a stable paycheck coming home so they want for nothing. I've coached their sports teams, and taught their RE classes, and taken them to shows, and birthday parties, and events at the University here, and playdates, and parks, and Build-A-Bear, and pretty much anything that will help them grow and have great childhood memories. Call it "mommy guilt" or better yet "single working mommy guilt" but it is all I know how to do. Ive never not worked, and never not controlled every aspect of my life and my kids' lives. My ex let me do it all because he didn't know how and didn't want to know how to be the leader. And yes, he was shocked when I was finished with having a 36 year old child as well as the two little ones and asked him to pack his shit and leave the house I paid for.

So the girls are well-adjusted kids with good grades and friends, and a good relationship with both of their parents, so after all that, what is wrong with me trying to go for a massage, or a yoga class, or a ride to shake off the crazy that comes with the previously mentioned well-adjusted kids. If I'm hanging on to my own well-being with a thread, I feel I owe it to myself to braid that thread into a rope and climb up it to be a stronger, healthier mommy.

So in my 40th year, when I am truly "on my own" (went from marriage to exclusive love-of-my-life relationship in 2.2 seconds, but that's over now too) I have to venture out and find my own damn self. I've spent all this time defined by what I am to others: wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, teacher, coach, girlfriend, employee, mentor, counselor, listener, problem-solver....

In the next 40 years...which could be the last 40 I have...I am going to continue to be all of the above, but will learn to understand ME, and define myself by what I am to ME.