NEXT EVENTS: IRONMAN BOULDER 2014

It's never too late to be what you might have been. --George Eliot

This blog is about my journey as an asthmatic, hypothyroid, formerly plus-sized endurance athlete. It's occasionally interrupted with things that have nothing to do with that or whining about my weight and horrible eating habits. "You're never too old to be what you might have been" --George Eliot

Sunday, January 31, 2010

You should know.

I'm really simplifying this, but here goes.

Your brain develops throughout your life.  I develops by forming connections between the brain cells.  It forms connections based on experiences throughout life.  Most of the brain develops before you get to middle school.

But not all of it.

The brain develops from back to front, generally speaking.  The brain doesn't finish developing until you're about 21 or 22.  The very last part to develop is in the front, the frontal lobe.

I'll leave you determine how important the frontal lobe is: It's the part of the brain primarily responsible for planning, decision-making, impulse control, and rational thought.  When it is impaired, or not developed, sensory information gets routed through the emotional center of the brain.

So if you're been complaining lately that you're teenager seems to be operating with half a brain, you're partially right.  Actually, s/he's operating with about 9/10 of a brain.

Cheers, y'all.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

The good, the bad, and the things that cut your ass.

13. GOOD: An old friend of mine from out of town was here this week. We binged together twice. I've known her since 9th grade.

12. BAD: after the first binge, we came back to find that my car had been broken into. They smashed the driver's side window to get it (Now, WTF, who chooses a Honda Fit to break into?)They stole my parent skills teaching materials, leather organizer, and my Las Vegas Marathon bag which had my brand new pink camouflage chlorine resistant Speedo, my pink swim cap from IM-Coeur D'Alene, and my pink goggles.

11: BAD: Embarrassing moment of the week, a coworker saw my the papers and other junk strewn around the car, and gasped, "Dude, they totally trashed your car looking for stuff!"
No, I had to admit, that's what it usually looks like. Minus the broken window. My car is a giant purse, and it usually looks like a homeless person's hangout.

10. GOOD: Late that night a guy called me from a local golf course; he had found my organizer and parenting manual. Yay! No word on my brand new Speedo. Goddamn it.

9. BAD: The new window didn't exceed my deductible, so it was all out of pocket. My alternative was to continue to drive up and down the freeway, looking like an insane woman, my warmest wool coat wrapped around me, singing Major Tom at the top of my lungs while tiny slivers of glass continued to work their way through all my clothing and cut my ass.
4..3..2..1..Earth below us...drifting...falling...floating weightless...calling....calling...

7. GOOD: Since my friend Sharon was in town, and had rented a Prius, she got to be my taxi. She took me to the police station, to pick up my car on the other side of town from the auto glass place, and yes, to another food binge.

6. BAD: I realized on Tuesday that they stole the cord to my computer. Just the power cord. WTF?

5. BAD: So now I have to shell out $70 for a new power cable and cord.

4: GOOD: The people who replaced my auto glass also thoroughly vacumed my car which means no more cuts on my ass, AND I found several items I thought I'd lost. Like I tell Baboo: every day is like Christmas when you're as messy as I am.

3: GOOD: Also on Thursday, I got to down to the Juvenile Detention home. We had this potential patient, but the psychiatrists couldn't agree if he was "appropriate" (read:too dangerous) for us. I was called in to be the tie breaker. No, it's okay, really: I enjoy this kind of stuff. It's interesting. It's EDGY. In my semi-blond soccer mom world, it's a nice departure.

2. WEIRD: I don't like talking on the phone much of the time. My sons know this and text me, and I text them back promptly. My daughter refuses to text or email, because it's all about her . I'll just say that out loud. She also insists on attempting to call me late at night, when I'm in class, Sundays during my long run, or when she's at an incredibly noisy place.

  • You know how on your phone you can choose an individual ring tone for each person?
  • Did you know that one of the options for that ring tone is silence?

Yeah. Guess who's going to win this round?
(Shhh. Remember, she doesn't read my blog, becuase I don't talk about her enough in it.)
Anyway could stand to practice reading and writing, I always say. Anyway, we're at an impasse.

1. VERY GOOD: I'm back to long runs. I'm going to try to finish my second 50 miler in March, so this is a neccessity. I'm also starting "Satan's Spin Class" with Sweet Baboo and DreadPirate.

...

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Things I heard last week.

I've gotten requests to maybe provide some stories from work.  I have to be careful about that, but just know that key details have been changed to protect confidentiality.


From parents:

"Well, I was taking him to school because he doesn't like the bus, and he started screaming at me because I didn't take the route he wanted me to take. He called me a fat-assed bitch. That's like, the third time he's done it, so I was like, listen mister, scream at me again and I'm not giving you any more rides to school."


"Well, she moved around the state and had to live with a lot of different family members and sleep on their couches because, you know, nobody really had room for her while I was in prison. But she was always real sweet until last year, and then you know, she started talking back to me. I just don't understand it. I never talked back to my parents."


"Well, you know, he grew up watching his father and me beat the crap out of eat other, and we drank a lot, too.  He just seems so angry all the time--I don't understand it; I told him that's not how people are supposed to act, but here he is, doing it."


"I don't really understand what you mean by 'consent' and that she has to be a danger to herself.  I thought that if I came here and asked you to lock her up, you'd lock her up."


"His social worker and I watched a video about mental disorders in children, so we're pretty sure we know what's wrong with him."



From children:


"I figured if I hit myself in the head long enough, I could get the voices to stop."


"I walk really fast so the shadows don't catch me."


"My teacher asked me where my homework was, and then she was all like, you didn't do your homework?  She was all disrespectful about it and stuff.  So I threw a chair at her.  I don't know.  Maybe I overreacted, I guess."


"I flipped out so bad and kicked a hole in the walls.  I mean, all she said was, 'it's time to get up'.  But it was just the way she said it."



and my all-time favorite:







"I hate it when my mom gets wasted.  It makes me really mad, so I make her waffles and syrup.  That way when she passes out in her plate she gets all sticky."

Saturday, January 23, 2010

NEXT UP: How I'll celebrate (or try to) my 45th

http://www.oldpueblo50.com/




WHAT: A challenging 50 mile loop course on forest service roads
WHERE: Trails through the southeastern part of the Santa Rita Mountains (part of the Arizona Trail).

  • Elevation at Kentucky Camp (Start/Finish): 5142 ft
  • Low point in course: 4031 ft, High point in course: 5847 ft
  • Avg. grade is 6% with 7,000 ft climb and 7,000 ft of descent over the 50 miles


We are bunking with FeLady for this trip.  She is kind enough to offer us a bed, in exchange for which I will regale her with stories and get her all liquored up with chocolate wine.
Threr is a CUTOFF for this one that has me in a bit of a panic. I have 15 hours to cover 50 miles of trail; given that my best 50k is 8 hours that should be quite a neat trick.
RACE STARTS: At 6 am.
First cutoff: mile 13, 4 hours
mile 19, 6 hours
mile 25, 7 hours
mile 40, 12 hours
mile 46, 13-1/2 hours
Finish line, 15 hours.






....


Thursday, January 21, 2010

Miscellaneous mid-week stuff.


I hate night classes.  I have so much trouble winding down when my class ends at my bedtime.

I joined WeightWatchers Online again.  did I mention this already?  Again, it's not about size, body image. 

It's about how much my feet hurt hauling 175+ pounds over 30+ miles. 
that's 79Kg and 50km, for our international friends.

So.  I get 22 points a day.  It's based on your current weight.  I also get 35 points flexible points I can use any time during the week.  I like to blow them at the end of the week . These are my "cheat" points.

Baboo, being over 6', gets like, a million calories a day.  So he just eats and eats and eats.  I nibble.  I'm sure that, from his perspective, he's dieting, but to me, it's like he sits next to me with bushels of food and chows down.  But anyway, the first few days, I decided not to change my eating habits, and just to track them, out of curiosity.  I figure on a what is "reasonably" healthy and just track it.  This is what got me started way back in 2005.
Here's how it looked:
  • Monday: The baker dropped off free herbed bread.  Also, I got a bad attack for sweets late in the day, and ate two candy bars (Twix and MilkWay Dark, for the curious).  Total points eaten: 37.5
    .
  • Tuesday: Denise baked cookies.  There was more bread.  33.5 points.
    .
  • Wednesday: More bread.  29 points.  I have noted that I get a sweet attack during the day, so I brought some light, fat-free yogurt, which helps. 
    And, hey: How come light fat-free yogurt is 2 WHOLE points?  No fair.  meanwhile, did I mention the lasagna?  Oh, oops.  I made this giant lasagna last Sunday.  Four-cheese, full fat, no holds barred.  We gnoshed on it when we got back from the ghost town run.  Of course, there were leftovers.  A whole weeks worth. 
    That may have something to do with my points.  Meanwhile.  I note that an orange is 1 point.  I love oranges.  Hmm.
    (If you're reading this, you'll note that I appear to have eaten my "cheat" points for the week, and it's only Wednesday.)
    .
  • Thursday: I got back on the treadmill.  No candy bars.  No bread.  Yogurt and canned fruit in the morning.  I divide my lunch in half and eat part around noon, and the other part around 4.  Then I hit Boston Market in the evening for some steamed veggies, and a skinny dulce cinnamon (grande) latte from Starbucks.  Ta-daaaaa: 21 points for the day.  I'm workin' it.  I'm workin' it.
    I note that seitan, which is pure vegetarian protein, has way fewer calories than tuna.  I can take fish oil capsules, and save myself about 3 points, which I might be able to spend on bread.

    Tomorrow....yes, tomorrow will be different.  
It occurs to me that this appeals to me in the same manner that athletics appeals to me - I'm invested in shaving off seconds here and there, or points here and there.  It works for me.  You have to find what works for you. 

I cannot believe how many points bread is.  Did I mention it's crusty bakery bread?  I don't even put anything on it.  Crusty crust and a soft white interior. 

Oh, bread, why must you be so good?  Why must your siren song make my feet hurt from carrying so much of my ass around in an ultra?  WHY? Cheese I can understand, even candy bars, but how can something so fluffy and full of holes have that many calories?  Where are they all?


And Boston market creamed spinach.  SEVEN points for a serving.  SEVEN.  Crap. 

I will busy myself with diagnosing kids some more. 

Then a coworkers walks past my office with two loaves of bread. 

Oh, help me. 

...

Teenager irritability syndrome, most recent episode surly

Okay, so let's have a conversation.  Tell me why you're here today?
It's my daughter.  She's being very defiant.  She seems angry.
Tell me what you mean by defiant.  I think defiant means different things to different people.
Well, she uses a sarcastic tone of voice.  And sometimes she rolls her eyes at me.
Hmm.  Ummhmm.  Okay.  Tell me more.  
Yesterday, I asked her to help in the kitchen, and she slammed her door.  And  she's verbally abusing her older brother.
'Verbally abusing?' 
Well, he was in her room and she yelled at him that he was a stupid idiot and to get out.


(For the record, I in no way want to minimize the pain of having a teenager. but last week i had a kid who tried to set his mother on fire.  I have to really work hard to keep a straight face for "rolls her eyes at me" and "calls her brother stupid")

How is she doing in school?
She got all As and one B.
Hmm.  well.  How long has this--all this defiance--been going on?
Since she was about 12.  She used to hang on me, follow me everywhere.  Now she seems to be embarassed by me.  She argues with me about everything.
Hmm.  Well.  I tell you what you have....
Yes?
I think you've got yourself a teenager.

Nobody appreciates my humor.


...

Thursday Thirteen: the Heavy Edition

13.  DITZY.  Thursday of last week, I forgot my purse.  I warmed up my car, chatted with Baboo for a bit, and headed out the door, across town, to work, without my purse, ID, gas card. Oh, and also, my gas light was on when I got to work.  So, no gas, no way to buy any.  $#it.  



12.  DITZY, part 2.  Luckly, I'm such a scatterbrain, that I had stuffed some bills into my computer bag, which was in my car (with no computer in it, of course) and so I was able to get some gas.


11.  SELF-CARE.  I'm getting pretty good at leaving work at work.
Still.  I read pages and pages of tragic lives.  My job involves reading pages of medical records and history, and putting together a puzzle.  The puzzle is, what's wrong with this kid?  What's the best way to treat him, her?

One thing I suspected before but never knew for sure, is this: If I believed in devils, and I believed in evil, I would believe that heroin was sent here to create hell.  For the people who get addicted to it, and the ones who love them, it is hell.  It's an ugly, ugly thing.  

Once you've looked into the gaunt face of a young teenager who has already lost the bloom of youth, and who would do anything, anything for more smack, you'll know it too.   

10.  I leave work behind by leaving it behind.

9.  Of course, I did the Ghost Town 38.5...

8.  One Saturday morning a few weeks ago, I woke up and couldn't stop crying.  I was lying next to Baboo, and he was talking to me, and I was weeping.  It was crazy.  And scary.  I didn't want to kill myself or anything.  I jsut couldn't stop crying.  I have a fantastic life.  All the rest of the day, I felt tired, and had to fight back tears.

Depression runs in my family.  My mother tried to eat her way out of it.  My father killed himself.  My sister turned to religion--I mean heavy, heavy religion.  

So I started reading stuff about natural ways to deal with depression.  I got out in the sunshine.  And I bought some fish, and some fish oil.  As you know, I have been a long time veghead.  But here it is, when push comes to shove, and it's the fish or me, I pick me.    

7.  DreadPirate really pisses me off.  Stupid perky race pictures.  how come she looks so great and I look like someone dropped an anvil on me?

6.  I broke my first non-resolution today: I joined weightwatchers.  My first day, I blew out all my extra points.  For the week.

5.  So here's the problem: There are people who like to bake where I work.  Also, the place is a "drop off" point for a local purveyor of baked goods.  Once a week: fresh-baked herbed breads, rolls...ohhhhh.  This is bad.  really, really bad.

4.  Here's my schedule:
Monday, work 7:30 to 4:30; class 6:00 to 9:00
Tuesday, work 7:30 to 4:30; class 6:00 to 9:00
Wednesday, work 7:30 to 4:30; teach 5:00 to 7:00
Thursday, work 7:30 to 4:30; class 6:00 to 9:00
Friday, work 7:30 to 4:30.

Yeah, me too.  No idea when I'm going to get most of my workouts in.

3.  Baboo and I went to the climbing gym again.  Dude . DUUUUDE.  I love this.  I somehow have to fit it in with full time work, graduate school, and ironman training.  but fit it in, I will.

2. Your tax dollars at work.  This is the first time I've ever worked in private industry since leaving college.  New Mexico hired this company last year (Google: OptumHealth Fines) to manage the state insurance (because we can't trust the government with healthcare) and they stopped paying their bills.  The state warned them, and then fined them over a million bucks.  Then they announced that they were putting this particular job up for bid.
Almost immediately, Optum got very, very stingy.  Managed care sucks, that's all I'm going to say.  But I have a plan: I'm reading the rules book for OptumHealth New Mexico closely, to do what my mentor in college told me.  He was a wise man, and he said to me once, very seriously:
Misty, rules were made to be used against the people who made them.

Amen.

1. i will not eat any more free bread and cookies.  
i will not eat any more free bread and cookies.
i will not eat any more free bread and cookies.  
i will not eat any more free bread and cookies.  
i will not eat any more free bread and cookies.
i will not eat any more free bread and cookies.
i will not eat any more free bread and cookies.

...

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

The 5th Annual The Ghost Town 38.5 (race report)

Poor Susan.

Each year she puts on this race, the town provides less and less support.  Last year the EMTs backed out at the last minute, because they got all in a snit.  This year, the mounted patrol backed out, nobody knows why.  It's gotten so bad that she has reached a point where she provides everything, with a few die-hard volunteers from the town - on her own.  It makes her a little crazy.  It makes her a little manic.

But boy, after five years, she puts on quite a race.  There's a large, pre-race meal in a large tent behind her house, and the next day after the race, there's a barbeque.  They've got a system down so that every runner is accounted for on this mountainous, challenging course. 

But, the town.  Oh, the town.  A few years ago when I accompanied Baboo on his very first ultra.  The Black Range Lodge filled up "unexpectedly" with geology students on their annual visit to the place, and so rather than tell us they had nothing, they gave us a room in a basement--a room with broken furniture that was so small it could barely contain the double bed, and Mini-baboo slept on a couch in the common area.  Did we get a break on price?  We did not.

This year, The local hotel in Hillsboro this year jacked up their rates and demanded a 2-night minimum.  What did we get for our $80+ per night?  Well, we got a bed, in a room, with running water, and electricity.  Some of the water was hot.  The cable was out--so in its place, they gave us 3 VHS movies from the early 90s (no academy award winners).
Anyway.  There's no phone in the rooms, and no cell-phone service in town, and there's no front desk, so there's no way to reach the owners and ask them about the little bill they left in your room, the one that isn't itemized, just has one thing on it: the total amount they're charging your credit card.  I'm pretty sure that's illegal.  I'm going to check.  There's no alarm clock in the room, so I put my cell phone on airplane mode and we went to bed.  And if I ever do this race again, I'm staying in Truth or Consequences.  They love visitors.




So.  Cranky locals aside...The Ghost Town 38.5.  Well, what can I say except that I was vastly undertrained. I had also forgotten the terrain, which is unrelenting.  UN. RE. LENT. ING.  Baboo, meanwhile, vastly overtrained, scampered around like a happy little elf--okay, a happy big elf--with his new camera.  I imagine that for him, accompanying me would be a lot like accompanying your grandmother on a 1k charity walk. And your grandmother uses a walker.

But honestly, if he weren't there, I might have quit.  I walked parts, hiked parts, gasped and bitched and swore at other parts.

In between, there were uphills and downhills that were soul-sucking.  I could see sweet Baboo glancing surrupticiously at his watch from time to time.  He had asked me ahead of time what was good to say and not good to say.

Well, don't look around at me with a look of incredulity and say, "Are you okay?" I offered.

What should I say?

You should say, "How are you feeling?"

I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking, if you're a middle-of-the-packer or even a front runner, that they are exactly the same thing.  I promise you.  They are not.

The out-and-back course is actually only about 36 or so miles, so there's this one spur that you only do once on the way out.  It finishes with a horrid steep climb up, and up, and up and around until you get to this guy, sitting at the top, (top photo)


and this thing, that you circle around (2nd photo).

and then you get to go back down.

After that, you got up and down some hills that get progressively rockier.

There there's a pretty, runnable part for a few miles....

Then you're about 55% done, and you turn around, and go back up and down the roads, which get progressively uncrappier.
But up until mile 30, I was still jogging, albeit downhill, and then I hit mile 32, and turned onto the road leading back down to the finish line, and that's when the switch in my brain flipped and said, "okay, this is as far as you've trained, so it's time to HURT NOW".


And hurt I did.

But I finished.  I'm done.  And today, everything stopped hurting.

At the finish, I got a big hug from Susan and a Ristra, which is a bundle of chiles that people hang by their front doors as a "welcome" in new Mexico.




IF YOU GO: Say "Hi" to Susan.  And stay in Truth or consequences, where they have real hotels with wifi and cell phone service and even microwaves in rooms, for far less money and attitude.

 If you want to save big $$, stay at the camp ground out by I-25, where there are cabins with electricity, heat, and a/c but you have to bring your own linens.  sleeps 3, $20 a night.  The bathrooms and showers are clean and the owners are awesome.

My time: 11:16 and change.  I'll be awarding that prize soon, and announce it when I do the review of the watch.


...

Thursday, January 14, 2010

A very *special* Thursday Thirteen



13.  Five years ago I got tired of being heavy and out of breath from climbing up one flight of stairs, the one right outside my classroom.

12.  A little over a year after that, I chased an 8th grader up that flight of stairs and down the length of the hallways of the school where I taught.  He finally stopped, turned around, and said, "okay, I give up.  Let's go" and wheezing, he followed me to the office.

11.  A year after that, I did my first marathon.  Six months later, my first Ironman.

10.  A year after that, I did my first ultramarathon, a 50k.  Then I did five more marathons, and six months later, I did my second Ironman.

9.  A year after that, I did my first 50-miler.

8.  So now it's five years later, and I'm going to try another 50 miler.  This time I'll RUN most of it instead of walking...hopefully.

7.  Five years ago, I had a middle-schooler at home, and worked as a school teacher, and had just started graduate school.  Now I have a gloriously empty nest (sorry, kids, but it's true: GLORIOUS) and have started another career.


6.  Five years ago I was a size 16, pushing an 18.  Now I'm a 12.  Ish.  I've dipped down as low as a 10, but 12 seems to be easy for me to maintain.

5.  Change of topic.  Last Friday, I call from HR at the new job.  "Misty, you've been picked for a ra........"  and I couldn't quite make out what he said next.

A what?  A raffle?  I got picked for a raffle? 

(laughs)  No, a random UA.

??  Srsly?

Yes.  No hurry, just, you know, in the next hour or so. 

Dude.  i was totally STOKED . I never win ANYTHING!  WOOT!  Of course, I had to go across the street to pee in the cup...which took me past WalGreens...totally great excuse to do a chocolate run although a coworker stated, very seriously, there's no excuse needed, ever, for a WalGreens chocolate run  but then I thought it might look suspicious if I darted into WalGreens on the way to my random UA, so I waited until after.
So far as I know, thyroid meds and botanical estrogens don't send off any alarms.

Oh, and the place where I gave my sample...I am totally going to keep disposable masks on hand for my next one.  Yikes.


So.  That's it.  There's no point moral here.  Just a random event from my week.

That chocolate went fast.

4. At least twice this week I've had to correct a parent because I asked their kid a question, even using the kid's name, and the parent answered.  I do it in a friendly way, but still.  STILL.  Control much?

3.  This Sunday I'll be attempting the Ghost Town 38.5 for the 2nd time.  Last year I tried it, but has some serious, wicked awful ITB syndrome.  Seriously.  I was spiking an 8 or 9 on the pain scale.  I dragged myself into the turnaround, made the cutoff, and then left the course.
Joining me on this is Baboo, who as he stated on his blog recently, is going to--seriously--go as slow as me for every race.  Okay, so if we reframe that, he's doing every race with me.  This in honor of our tenth year of wedded bliss.  Still.  I can't imagine that it wouldn't be punishing.  I shuffle.  I meander.  I stop and look at things.  I chat with people at aid stations.  I stare at rocks on the ground.  Dude is in for an interesting year.

2.  One other thought from work:  There really is no diagnosis called CrazyAsShit, NOS.  But there should be.  And it would be applied to certain parents, not kids.

1.  Yeah, I know this is late.  I'm on the go 14 hours a day now.  Don't worry, it doesn't mean I don't love you.  Still, if you insist, I'll give your money back.  Remember: satisfaction is guaranteed.

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

DUDE. Like, totally, a Thursday Thirteen.

13.  OMG.  Dude.  I so love my job.  Did I say that already?  I SO LOVE MY JOB.  DP said to me the other day, Dude, you totally get to judge people and get paid for it!!  Okay.  So, a little.  It's not judging though. It's using DSM Diagnostic criteria to formulate treatment plans.  
Potato. Potahto.  Whatever.  You decide.

12 . Oh, and they like me too.  And apparently, so does the state agency that runs medicaid, who audited some of the first couple assessments I did.  DUDE.

11.  I started running a few days a week with Sweet Baboo.  He lets me set the pace, and then he matches it.  Inexplicably, I go faster than I would alone.  Go figure.  It's fun.  Everyone should have their very own Sweet Baboo.  (But get your own)

10. ...because Sweet Baboo, the world's greatest Baboo, has stepped up and without being asked started taking over part of the stuff around the house that I used to take care of when I was either 1) teaching, or 2) unemployed.  Like, I don't even have to say something.  He just does it.  DUDE.

9.  I. Am. Not. Fat.  Why did I think I was?  And why the hell do I have to like myself first to then like the image in the mirror?  i am heavy. but not fat.  Where is all that weight?

8.  Just once a week I miss a morning workout.  I go to sleep too late, and one of my new rules is that I MUST get 8 hours of sleep.  it helps me feel good,  and alert, and like myself.

7.  Next week, school starts.  Yikes.  Dude.  9 hours of social work school: 3 hours a night after work on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.  Parenting skills training on Wednesday nights after work.  When will I run?  When will I do ANYTHING?

6. OMG.  The Ghost Town 38.5 is in 2 weeks.  No, wait.  LESS than 2 weeks.  Oh, CRAP!

5.  RU Sick of hearing how much I love my job?  okay, I'll talk about something else.  How about this: I AM SO SICK OF WINTER.  SERIOUSLY.  I mean, there's all this hype leading up to the holidays, which are essentially very beginning of winter.  After that, you're just left with about 23 hours of darkness every day for the next two months.  oh, and ICE everywhere.  WHAT. THE.  HELL.
Have I always cared this much about how little time there is to run?  Have I minded this much?
oH, YES.  I am definitely tired of winter.  As in, WINTER SUCKS.

4.  I think what I really need to do is find a good winter sport.  Then I'll have a reason to look forward to winter.  Right?  So I like, need to find something that is fun to do when the outside turns to COLD DARK DEATH.  


Anyway.  


3.  A guy I work with, a clinical director, says that he found the new movie Where the Wild Things Are, and I quote, Disturbing.  
Now, this book was read to me.
I read this book to my kids.
It has 9 (nine) sentences in it.
A behavioral health practitioner finds it "Disturbing".  His words: There's a whole lotta axis II stuff going on.  If you don't know what that means, I'm forcing you into Wikipedia land.  (Oh, it's it's not about the Apache server.)

Meanwhile.  Oh, yes.  It is SO going on my Netflix Queue.

2. I'm so digging the "BONES" series.  I could be Temperance.

1.  I may not be in the best shape for Ghost Town.  but I'll sure be ready for Old Pueblo.

St. John's, on the other hand...well, we'll see.  I'm considering bagging it, but I know that if I say that, I might be an email from DP.  I can just see it now....Subject: GAAAAAA!!

Friday, January 01, 2010

¡Bienvenido veinte a diez!



On the first day of twenty-ten, Sweet Baboo and I woke up at ten am.  EASILY the latest I have slept unless ill or injured or post-partum in perhaps as long as twenty years. Sweetface was tromping up and down the hallway, and when I gently suggested to him that there were ways to be quieter, and he stared at me, mystified and amazed. I was being quiet, Mom.  


But anyway.  We both woke up, and nearly simultaneously blurted out, "I don't want to go do a race today."  Then we giggled and dived back under the covers.

Later, Baboo went for Starbucks while I made beans, tamales, and eggs.  We settled in for the day-long "criminal minds" marathon.  Yesterday evening, we took Sweetface to the bus station.

Meanwhile, both of us are relieved that I'm employed, but I'm extremely relieved to finally be doing something that your average trained monkey couldn't do.  Of course, there's a lot of bad stuff that I have to be careful not to take home with me--I assess kids that have been abused, kids that are mentally ill, and kids that, in all honestly, are fine, other than their horrible parents.  A couple months ago I wrote a paper on self-care for people in the behavioral health professions, so I know how to take care of myself.  I vent.  I journal.  I run.

But the work is fascinating.  The atmosphere is nice, and they're decent to me, I like my coworkers, I have a  nice office, and it fits with my life's philosophy that we should always try to ease suffering and leave the world a better place.  They trust me to know what I'm doing, and leave me alone to do it.  Best of all, I'm BUSY.


If the pay were higher, it would be perfect, but I'm satisfied with things the way they are.  It's odd.  I don't have as much time to work out, but I'm still happy.  I guess there's no discounting enjoying your craft.  I mean, you spend 40 hours a week at it, right?  A sucky job has the power to really affect your life.

So.  I have a house I love.  A job I love.  A man I love.  (Who loves me back).  The kids are all grown, and seem to be doing well.  No, I'm not willowy, (perhaps I never will be) but I'm just going to focus on being strong and having fun.  Tomorrow, we're riding the Tram up to Sandia Peak, doing a little snowshoeing, and then hiking down.

Bring on 2010.  I can't wait to see what it holds!

....