United Breaks Guitars...

Of Course It Did...

A couple weeks ago I was putting some laundry away, and came upon a couple of stray socks in the drawer. I really liked these particular socks, so I'd been holding onto them in hopes that their mates would turn up eventually. But the last time I saw them was in Massachusetts. I've moved twice since I saw these socks, and they haven't surfaced, so I decided it was time to cut the strays loose. It was just a couple of socks, but it still felt good to clear out that bit of unnecessary stuff.

Two days later, I was dressing the Littler One in a new-to-him sleeper. I had just pulled it from one of our bazillion bins of baby boy stuff. The sleeves went on just fine but I ran into a bit of trouble trying to do the footies. I couldn't get the one leg on right. Upon further examination I saw that something was stuck in there. What was it? You guessed it: the mate to one of the socks I had just thrown away...

A week or so ago I decided to reorganize the spice rack we got as a wedding gift back in '98. I emptied & washed all the containers, relabeled them, and filled with spices we actually use, as opposed to the 11-year-old, full jars of stuff like pickling spice & dill weed.

Tomorrow I have a meeting for my moms' group, and everyone's bringing food for a new member brunch-ish thing. I volunteered to do an egg dish, so I was trolling the 'net for recipes. I found one that looks pretty promising--eggs, taters, bacon, cheese, etc. I'm gonna bake it first thing in the morning, but I assembled it tonight to save time. I did have to leave one ingredient out, 'cuz we didn't have it. What was that ingredient? You guessed it: dill weed...

Sooner or Later...

...it had to happen. We were in Babies/Toys R Us the other day, and His Highness and I took a restroom break. Of course, he didn't actually use the restroom. In fact, he is anti-potty these days, but that's another post.

He quite enjoys exploring all the restroom has to offer, however, and the Babies R Us one is particularly well-equipped. I can't speak for the men's room, but the ladies' restroom has fold-down chairs anchored to the walls, where moms can stash their kiddos so they can do their business without worrying about little ones crawling away on a germy floor. Plus the Koala-thingies (fold-down changing tables). I am beginning to plan where I shop and eat based on the Koala-thingies. Not that I won't go anywhere that doesn't have them, but it does affect time and scheduling. Just saying.

His Highness is too big for the wall-chairs. He likes to point them out, and then hover closer to the potty so he can point out the exact nature of what I'm doing, as well as any color and/or aroma. Probably very entertaining to those who overhear. Normally he likes to do the flush, but Babies R Us has the automatic flush so he settles for gleefully giggling at the crazy-loud schwissssshhhh as everything goes down the drain. Then we do the hand-washing, and sometimes the paper towels or air-dryers, but not at Babies R Us because while the dryers are awesomely efficent, they are also unreasonably loud. I know they're unreasonably loud because His Highness loves loud noises, and these dryers freak him out to the point that he says, "No hands dryer, Mommy."

This time, he hit pay dirt--the machine that dispenses feminine products. Now, many places charge for this convenience, but they are free at Babies R Us (smart Babies R Us). Plus the machine looked to be broken somehow--the handles were sticking out at weird angles and there were spare fems stacked on top of the machine.

On my way to the sink I said, "Leave it," but His Highness had to mess with those stick-y-out handles. Washing my hands, I was standing at the sink going "Leave the handles alone!" but of course they were too tempting. He was rewarded with a little boxed treasure, and was quite disappointed when I wouldn't let him take it.

"NO, Your Highness."

"But I want it!"

"No, it's not for you."

"Whassat?"

"It's for ladies, not for little boys."

Thankfully that was enough for him. It's only a matter of time before he will require more detail, though. Can't wait for that conversation...

Run the Race to Receive the Prize...

The main reason I didn't run any races for about 10 years is that I get disproportionally nervous about racing. I'd been brought up with the "do your best no matter what" ethic, which is a good thing, but for some reason my best includes getting way too nervous about screwing up. I had a hard time finding a healthy balance and calming down enough to "just go for a run," as my HS cross country coach would tell us.

Once I was out of school I thought it would be fun to do some races without any pressure, and soon found out that a whole lot of the pressure was self-imposed, because it didn't go away. After I'd run a few 10K's, it dawned on me that I didn't have to keep putting myself through the stress of racing. So I stopped. I kept running, but only for fun...by myself or with friends, but no clubs or formal anything.

When we got to California I needed something that was just for me, so I thought "Hey, I wonder if there's any running stuff in the area." Lompoc was a nice place to ease into a few races because it was small and because no one knew me. At worst, I could be a slug and everyone would think, "Oh, there's that slow chick," and I'd be gone by fall. And then, as it turned out, I had some decent times, which was a great bonus, and I thought "Hey, this is fun. I could do this more often and enjoy it."

So since I had the Littler One my goal is to be able to do the Bolder Boulder 10K next May. It so happened, though, that the opportunity arose for me to Run for the Fund while we're in Phoenix, and I thought "Hey, I can do a 5K in December." It's been good motivation to get my butt in gear, running-wise, and get my miles up. 2.5 miles per week just wasn't cutting it.

So I've been gearing up. Similar to two summers ago (I miss you, Central Coast weather. I don't miss you, Central Coast snakes), I've been running twice a week. My norm is to do 3-mile runs, which makes sense since I'm planning for a 5K. I would really like to work up to 3 times per week; I just haven't kicked myself in the butt & done it. 3 miles 3 times per week is sustainable for the long term. I can keep up with that.

So far I haven't actually been running a full 3 miles. Instead I've been sticking to the 2.5 mile loop that spits us out at the playground. It's just so dang convenient, and fun for His Highness. I'm thinking it won't be too much of an issue come race day, though. The last several jogs we've been out in 20 mph or so winds which, combined with the double jogger and rolling hill terrain, make for some nasty resistance training. We'll be in Phoenix for almost 2 weeks prior to the race, so I'll lose my high-altitude red blood cell advantage, but I'm still pretty optimistic.

This is the first time in about 10 years that I'll be racing anywhere near anyone I know, with the exception of the Cat Daddy. As much as I say I'm not in it for the competition anymore, I want to look good for my friends. I don't want to go out too fast & burn out midway through, or twist an ankle, or anything.

I have a bit of a warped fear when it comes to stuff like that. I think I've hung on too hard to the idea of God teaching us stuff through our circumstances (which he does sometimes), to where I get afraid ahead of time about what he might be planning to teach me by botching something I'm looking forward to (or allowing it to be botched, perhaps). I would never say it out loud because it sounds so crazy, but I think deep down I believe God doesn't want things to go right for me unless I act & think perfectly about it. And even then, he may just smite me for spite to remind me he's the Alpha (& Omega. Har har.).

So I'm already checking myself--trying to figure out how I'm supposed to feel about the race, and looking forward to it, but not too much (idolatry). Wanting to want to place, but afraid to admit it fully because I don't want to look dumb when I get there and there are a zillion runners and I'm nowhere near the front of the pack (pride). Looking forward to seeing so many friends, but nervous about what they'll think of my running abilities (as if they will be evaluating me, or even paying attention for that matter).

I've got issues.

I seriously need to relax. These are my friends, for heaven's sake. Their love for me is not contingent on my running abilities. In fact, probably very few of them have ever even seen me run. Not that I want to screw up, but if I did, I think they would still want to go grab some Jamba with me after (Mmmmm, Jamba).

Not to mention the part about God not being out to get me. Maybe the race will go great, or maybe it will be a disaster, but most likely God will not be using it specifically for a painful object lesson. Sometimes a race is just a race.

So my gameplan at this moment--other than maintaining my whopping 5-6 miles per week--is to try to get back to "just go for a run." And maybe talk to God about the whole thing and see what he thinks I should do, if anything. I like to think he'd sigh and smile and tell me to relax. I think that's a good plan...

Nice One, Lightning McQueen...

So then this morning, I'm sitting there, feeding the Littler One. His Highness skulks up, unobtrusively grabs the baby puffs (which he knows he is not supposed to take), mutters "Ka-Chow," and runs off with them.

Cute...

On the Day After Halloween...

...one ends up having conversations like the following:

"You ready for lunch, Your Highness?"

"I'm not hungry, Mom; I want candy."

He 'gets' Halloween this year. He really, really gets it...