I bet that's really, really bad old English. Keep it to yourself. I wasn't an English major.
So, I got this email from Sweet Baboo yesterday:
If I haven't mentioned it before then it bears repeating: I am totally the go-to person if you want to spend a lot of money and need someone to affirm your choice.
Why not? I work and earn some of the money, but I don't actually physically figure out how to make it all go where it needs to go. Sweet Baboo does all that, while making sure that I'm surrounded by a bubble of various types of insurance. I'm irresponsible with money.
Back in 2007 when I totaled my car, we were ordering a replacement. Baboo said, just offhandedly, "You know, I've never had a brand new car."
so I was all like, DUDE! You should TOTALLY GET a new car!
and he got all excited and said, Really? You think so?
and I was like, hell yes! You work hard! You should right now tell that salesman you want a new car.
I was excited. Baboo was excited. The salesman was excited.
It's just that I was very, very, very poor once, and so was Baboo. We are self-made people. I went to school for eight years, and Baboo went to school for eight years, and then we met, married, and are now comfortable. Also, all the kids are now grown and gone, along with that huge sucking sound. Now we get to buy toys. And PLAY with them.
So, the Garmin. I'm all, hell, why not? but actually, I have a viable rationale: the battery on my Forerunner 301 tends to run out within 8 to 10 hours. It is no secret that my long course triathlons and ultra runs do not end after 8 to 10 hours. I want an instrument that allows me to obsess and worry for the full duration of the event. I want it to last as long as I do. (generally, about 16 or 17 hours). Oh, and the 310 is waterproof.
Dread Pirate and I have been working on why she should get one, such as, my 301 is dirty, and it's not waterproof, so I can't wash it, and other compelling reasons.
Now, then, I invite you to contribute and practice stating why one must have such an instrument (MSRP $349.) Share and post your rationale here.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
I bet that's really, really bad old English. Keep it to yourself. I wasn't an English major.
Monday, April 27, 2009
On May 2, I'm doing a walk for the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill. This organization is close to my heart, no, not because SOME people think I'm mentally ill for doing ultramarathons and Ironman races. Mental illness has become the focus of my career. I work full time in clinical research on treatments for mental illness, and I also work part-time as a licensed mental health counselor.
Everyone should try to do something to make world a better place; this is mine. If you're interested in donating, click here: http://www.nami.org/namiwalks09/NMX/athenamisty. My goals are modest, but if the goal is met, feel free to donate anyway.
That's it. I won't be sending out any emails or calling.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
It seems like I've done things backwards in my life. While my friends were getting settled into their lives, I was on a whirlwind tour of "how badly can I screw up my life??" Marriages, kids, divorces, and finally, therapy. I think I provided cheap entertainment for my friends and relatives...if nothing else, I definitely gave them something to talk about.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Hey, mom, I was wondering, um...
Well, you know I was wondering, I really like Albuquerque a lot. If I was to come out there to live, if I could--
--could I, could I, stay with you while I--
--wow. You didn't even let me finish. I was going to say, 'stay with you while I look for a new job and a place to live.'
Wow. Um. that was fast. um. I'm not trying to argue or anything...can I just ask why?
Because it is not a good idea for grown children to live with their parents. Because if you don't have me to fall back on, you'll be more careful about decisions you make. Because I love you enough to force you to be more careful about how you live your life.
so, hey, you lived with grandma and grandpa, right?
I did. Boy, that was a bad idea! I love you too much to make the same mistake that they made.
you love me too much to...no, wait. What?
Besides, I had a child, leaving an abusive marriage, and already had a good job.
...you had...so if I had a child would, you, could I--
Sweetie, moving to a strange city with no job or place to live is how people wind up homeless prostitutes. Then they have their children taken away by Children and Family Services. I don't want to visit my grandchildren in a foster home. Do you want me to visit my grandchildren in a foster home, do you dear?
I, uh, no. Um. What grandchildren? I don't even have kids yet, mom.
That's good. They make a 3- month shot now, you know.
Dad said I could live with him if needed to.
That's sweet. Say hi to your Dad for me. Are you still in that cult?
It isn't a cult. It's a real religion. Mom--
never mind. I have to go back to work now. I love you.
I love you too, kiddo. Call me anytime.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Nearly 18 years ago I walked into Sacred Heart Hospital in Yankton, South Dakota, and you were born, my youngest, a few hours later, shy of ten pounds. If I had known you would be that big, I might have smoked or something. (I'm just kidding, obviously; please don't lecture me on the dangers of premie babies)
You, my youngest son, were ADORABLE. Big, blue eyes and white hair. I might have easily been one of those overindulgent mothers--except Sweet Baboo has reigned me in, convincing me that a man only learns respect if he's made to be respectful.
Trust me, I know it's your birthday, and that our influence has been rapidly evaporating. We've been racing to have as much influence over you as we can, while we can, so that you'll be an honorable man that respects boundaries.
I want you to be able to make your own decisions, and solve your own problems, so that your life will be easier. It's good, at least for now, for you to suffer the delusion that you don't need me to make your way in the world. Meanwhile, though, it's time you started understanding that I have a life, too. It's not all about you. Maybe I have things to do now.
MOM: I GET 2 DO THAT. U WERE SNOTTY.
I'm fearful of what you'll decide to do with your shiny-new, adult self. But in that worrying is the firm understanding that becoming an adult can be much more painful if I spent your pre-adult years rescuing you from every little thing.
Put in in the book. That's what I told you whenever you and your siblings complained about how unfair I was. Put it in the book that you got kicked off the swim team and I did nothing to stop it, that I turned you in for breaking school rules and you were put in the in-school suspension. Be sure to include that I made you walk 4 miles when you slept in and missed the bus, and that I didn't take your project to school when you forgot it, even though I could have left work to do it.
Eventually, you've been figuring out 1) not to get into messes, and 2) you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.
This is good. Very good. I see people with ruined lives because they haven't figured out those things. I don't want you to be one of them.
I'm inflicting minor pain now so that you don't have it later. Put it all in the book.
Happy 18th birthday, my youngest son.
Have a happy life.
Monday, April 20, 2009
So, Friday's message from the Economics teacher was a progress report that highlighted Mini-baboo's deficiencies. Mini-baboo, to remind you, is a senior, and has been vascillating between graduating/not graduating since January, when he must have decided that schoolwork was for suckers.
Possibly filed under parenting wisdom, teenagers are just surly homeless people that the law makes you take care of
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
BAD EATING HABITS: Since I'm big impulsive baby and MUST track my eating, I've taken the advice of several and joined The Daily Plate. It's just obsessive enough, and adds calories burned while training to my daily allotment. Both TDP and my endocrinologist agree 1400 calories is my limit, with allowances for extra activity.
THAT THYROID THING: After 2 weeks of Synthroid, I feel pretty good, and don't have a desperately exhausted feeling immediately after waking up. I seem to have more motivation for working out. If I can get my grown daughter and cats to stop waking me up, I'll have even MORE energy.WORKOUTS: I'm doing resistance training. I'm self-conscious working out in front of Sweet Baboo; isn't that weird? I'm SO GLAD days are longer! Last night, I had an awesome, short trail run, the first good one I've had in a while. I'll be training for Ironman 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake and the Tahoe Rim Trail 50K. I'll be back in the back-of-the-pack in no time. Today, I did 9 pushups. I've never done that many all at once before, and my butt was only slighyly up in the air. Then my arms gave out and I almost broke my nose. I assume that's what they mean by "working to failure".
HAIR: My hair is growing out. Soon, I will have ponytails again. You don't care, and that's okay. I do.
SOCIAL WORK SCHOOL: When I'm done, I'm never going to school again. No, seriously. I mean it. I do.
NEW JOB: It's psychiatric research, and it's very interesting. Sometimes Sweet Baboo pops in and talks with me for a few minutes when he's not insanely busy with his new job. At my other, part-time job, I developed and am now giving a combination parenting skills class and support group on one evening a week, and also have a couple of individual clients. Once I'm done with social work school, I'll hopefully be doing a combination of case-management and therapy during the day, and all my evenings will be free.
CHILDREN: My youngest teenage son is dangling precariously between graduating and having to take a class in summer school to graduate. Because he's TRYING TO KILL ME. My daughter has been calling me VERY LATE at night to vent her drama, which is never an emergency. I asked her many times not to do this, then went into my settings and set her ringtone to silence.
Betcha didn't know you could do this, did you? You're welcome.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I've done this before, always the "Little Boy" course. (Yes, the two distances are charmingly named after the two atomic bombs that ended WWII) The little boy course is 5K run, 20K bike, and then a 4K run. The bike is hilly, on mountain roads with sharp turns and steep climbs.
Hopefully, I won't, because these last pictures of my big fat butt are not what I want in a frame next to my casket.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Baboo and I are kind of eclectic, but in honor of the home's style and location I've decided to fill in the details with a few midcentury things here in there.
That's it, I guess. I'll post some more pictures soon as I finish arranging and accessorizing the rest of the house.
Possibly filed under stuff about my house that probably only I care about.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
1) The reason I'm not smiling is because I'm concentrating on my job. I'm not unhappy, or sad, or angry, (and don't need cheering up) but I will be if you don't stop yelling SMILE!! at me every single time you see me, and then waiting to see if I comply.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
2) My voice seems a bit higher and softer today - that's something I did not expect. I stopped to say something to someone and they asked me to repeat myself twice. I cleared my throat, but there wasn't anything in it. I'm not horse, or stuffed up. Weird.
3) I feel thin. I can't really describe what I mean by that, other than I think I feel more energetic, or something, instead of like I'm lumbering around making the earth shake with each step. Didja ever have that feeling? Sometimes I just wake up feeling like I'm creating a scene out of Jurassic Park.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
1) My last kid is going to graduate from high school. On time. (Whew!)
2) Now that that I have a settled, peaceful life I get to sit back and spectate on the drama of my two older kids lives. I wonder if I was this entertaining to my parents. I'm not worried about them, just curious. It's like Tevo-ing a soap opera. What will happen today, I wonder. Will Sarah find out that Juan is not who she thinks he is?
8) I'm considering maybe doing some of my events for charity. I'm thinking NAMI. I mean, more good could come of it, other than just fitness and fun. What I don't know is how much of a hassel it is or how to get started.
Possibly filed under random thoughts
I've been trying this higher-protein diet for two months now, and it's not working for me. At first, for a couple or three weeks, it was fine, but then gradually, I started feeling more and more tired, very much like the personal experiences I've read. Really tired. Like, laying down on my office floor for 15 minutes twice a day tired. Like being too tired to exercise. And, my thyroid is not so off as to lay the blame on that. This latest feeling tired is really, really dramatic, and it's gotten really bad in the past month or so.
Whenever I have a client who comes in with complaints I always ask how long they've felt this way. Then I ask them about "exceptions".
- When do you not feel this way?
- What have you tried before that works?
- What do you do that makes you feel good?
It's easy, I get to "earn" extra points by doing exercise, and every single time that I've been diligent about keeping those points (early 2005, and then again in early 2008), I've dropped about 2 dress sizes pretty quickly, hypothyroid or no, and had plenty of energy for workouts. Whenever I quit keeping the points, I'd gain a dress size or two.
Everything else I've done since then has not worked. So, I'm going back to the points system.
I looked at my diet for the past couple months, and I'm getting about nearly twice as many points a day as what has worked for me in the past. I've been retricting my carbs to make up for the extra protein that I'm supposed to get on it. Runners need more energy and carbs, not less. I was doing well on less protein in the past. I'm going back to my tried-and-true.
Of course, I am too cheap to re-join WW them and pay the dues. I have a copy of their points calculation formula in a spreadsheet, so I'm going to track all my food in SparkPeople, which is free (the formula for Excel is: =(B1/50)+(C1/12)-(D1/5) where you would input in cell B1 your calories, c1 your fat, and d1 your fiber.) See, boys and girls? There is a use for Algebra after high school.
Sounds like a lot of work. But I am so terrible at just "guessing" how much I've eaten. I have to track it. Everyone has their own thing that works for them, and clearly, this is mine. I have to take responsibility for myself instead of looking for ways out. Do I think the Synthroid will work for me? yes. But more importantly, I've had my own personal experience with a lower carb, higher-protein diet, and it's not for me.
Possibly filed under dieting
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
I'm so tired when I get off work. Anything that happens is an easy excuse not to work out. I know I feel better when I run, but it's so hard to get started.
Why did your doctor run that test? Have you had symptoms?
Dr. S sat in front of me, typing my answers into a computer. I don't know why my GP ran that test, I said. I think he does certain tests when you reach a certain age, so maybe that was it. I have had some symptoms, but I thought it was just menopause.
He started going through a list of symptoms.
Had I notice any hair falling out? Well, I didn't think so. I mean, I have LOT of hair. I haven't seen any in the drain, or on my pillow. But then, this past weekend, I turned our vacume over - the little new one we bought for the new house - and I was stunned at how many much blonde hair was wrapped around the beater brush. There was a lot. My hair stylist, meanwhile, had commented that I had "course" hair, which nobody had ever told me before. At the time, I chalked that up to her not having a good chairside manner.
Weight gain? I explained my lifestyle to him. When I got to the point where the only time in the past seven years that I've been in the "normal" range for my height was when I was training for an Ironman, his eyebrows went up, and he typed into the computer.
Family history. "Is your mother still alive?" I told him she died of heart failure at 61, as a complication of cardiomyopathy. His lips tightened, and he typed into the computer.
"Suicide," I said simply. "About 3 years ago. He was the second in his family to do that; there's a lot of depression and alcoholism there."
He continued down a list of symptoms, and asked about fatigue. "The thing is, doc, I do a lot. I work full time, and besides that, I'm usually either doing another part-time gig, or taking classes, or both." But lately, I told him, I'd complained to Sweet Baboo that I just felt old.
"What did you mean by old," he probed.
"I don't know. Just--old. Like time is running out."
He smiled a little, and typed into his computer. He's about 65, I think. Sharp as a tack--he was familiar with the psychopharmacology research that I'm coordinating at my job. But at 65, it must be ironic to hear a 44-year-old marathoner say that she feels like time is running out.
All together, he spent probably about 45 minutes with me, listened to my heart, breathing, explained things to me, answered the questions I could remember (because I forgot my list of questions) and then explained to me why he was going to prescribe what he was going to prescribe.
He told me that generic medications are allowed to deviate from their name-brand counter part by as much as 20%. He also told me that "natural" drugs, like dessicated pig thyroid, are allowed to deviate in potency even more than generics, because they are classified as "natural" and are not subject to the same guidelines by the FDA.
He checked off the "no substitution" box on my prescription. Synthroid, .5 mg
I assured him he didn't need to sell me on that point. "To be honest, doc, snake venom is natural. Spinal meningitis natural. I've also been reading up on all this, and I know that the "natural" thyroid is not bioidentical to human thyroid hormone. I'll take the stuff that's been formulated to exactly duplicate human thyroid hormone, thanks."
It pays to be educated about your condition. When I went to the pharmacy to pick up my new prescription, I glanced at the label. Hesitated. "Is this generic? I'm pretty sure my doctor said no generics."
The pharamcist went to check that the doctor had indeed checked that box, and then called out to me that it would need to be refilled again, if I didn't mind waiting a couple minutes. I went in search of an Oil of Olay product that Oil of Olay makes but nobody seems to carry. That's another story.
When I came back for the right prescriptions, I hesitated again. "How many is in here?"
"Ninetey," I was told. "It's a three-month supply."
I struggled to be my own advocate while still being a good girl. "Gosh, ninety!" I said brightly, giving my biggest Dixie Girl smile. "It sure doesn't look like ninety. These must be tiny pills." The pharmacist looked a bit put out, but then when she took the bottle I handed her, her eyes widened a bit. "I'll be right back," she said.
I finally arrived home with ninety of the right medication, and I started taking it today. "How soon will it start working? What sorts of things might I expect," was one of the questions I remembered to ask. Sweet Baboo wanted to know that, too.
The doctor had smiled, and said, "you know, that's an interesting question. Like you, a lot of people tell me they're only been feeling kind of bad for the past couple months. But then when they get on the medication, and their level is adjusted properly, they realize they've felt crappy for years."
So, I took my new pill for the first time this morning. It has to be taken with water, on an empty stomach, at least an hour before I eat. This morning at 5 am, I took my pill. But I can't help but wonder: I love my life. It's a fantasy life, in my opinion. How much better could it possibly be?
Possibly filed under thyroid stuff