A Note to Summer

Dear Summer:

I am so over you.

You are hot. And not in a good way.

You got all up in Spring’s grill and pissed her off enough that she blew town. Nice going. Now we have no spring showers, no cool nights, and no cloudy days. Just sweltering heat and sun – hot enough to bore a hole in my skull.

Did you know that I used to worship you? Yes. It is true. My first summer in Texas, 10 years ago, we hit record breaking heat waves with +35 days over 100, and I celebrated EVERY DAY. In fact, I loved the heat until last year. Apparently, it takes 8 years for you to break me.

I am quitting you. We are no longer best friends.

Oh, and if you have any of my stuff, I want it back.



Drinking my body weight in lime slushes this week may just be counter-productive to what I was trying to accomplish by working out everyday. But I DID work out every day. So that is good, right? Right? Hellooooooo....anyone?

So this afternoon I was debating the finer points of going for a run verses going to a class. I decided to go to Flex Class (same thing I did Monday that left me sore for days) only because I checked...and the evil instructor from Monday was NOT teaching today! So, YEAH!! Only she WAS teaching as a sub in place of the normal instructor. So, BOO!! She kicked my ass all over the place. In fact, right now the left half of my butt is NUMB. Now that just isn't right!

Tonight if I can stay awake past 9:00, I plan to do yoga to try and stretch out my poor aching body - which I fully planned to do last night, but fell asleep WHILE reading to the boys. I don't think I have ever done that. Freaky.


Up and Down

My weight tends to fluctuate a lot during the month/week/day. I notice clothes fit me differently on different days and I always find it a bit odd. I didn’t have this problem before I was sick last year – not to the extent I do now. I am pretty sure that it is because of water retention due to the whole heart problem thing… well either that, or I am getting old. And I don’t want to think about THAT option – so I am going with the heart one.

Just this morning right before getting dressed for work (pink French cuff shirt, black skirt, black heals – no hose, because I am a rebel like that) I weighed in at 124.8. ACK! Not that there is anything wrong with this weight – or even 50, 60, 100 pounds higher. I am just saying that for ME, it is not the norm*.

I went to work and proceeded to pee a metric ton in between meetings (in the bathroom of course – duh). I knew I was peeing a lot because while peeing, someone came into the restroom, did whatever it is they did in that stall (shoot heroin? Snort some coke? Surf porn?), washed their hands and left – all before I was done. You are welcome.

I came home a mere 4 hours later to run and work from here this afternoon, and I weighed in at 119. That is pretty much 6 pounds people. In pee. Horrendous. I am thinking all of the extra salt is to blame from last nights sushi spree, but am not sure. What causes someone to gain 6 or 7 pounds OVER ONE NIGHT? Baffling.

*Please note that I don't think YOU are fat at all. In fact I don't care how much anybody weighs - I just care about my weight. In fact, I am obsessed with it. You have been warned.


The YMCA wants to kill me.

I went to a cardio / weight class* at the gym this morning. And then I died. The end.

* Flex- Great Coed Class! Challenging weight training class utilizing adjustable barbells to fit your strength level.
Gain muscle and lose fat. All muscle groups are worked to fun and motivating music. Limit 20 participants.


Because our new camera is so effing awesome

New camera = very, very nice anniversary gift.


Job status: Not offered to me

I spent some time recently exploring another job. I was one of the final candidates for the position, and while I am not entirely certain that I wanted the job or that it was in line with what I want to do next, I REALLY wanted to be able to make that choice on my own.

I guess I just assumed I would be offered the position - mentally I was already there. Now, I have to get back into my current role and find some motivation. Where oh where is my motivation?


Walls a Crumblin'

I have a friend who moved a while ago – far, far away. She didn’t want to go, but wanted to be with her husband and wanted to give her family a foundation, so she went. She lived in a place that is so far from anything she is used to – all in the name of family. After being there a year, they have come home for a vacation and she doesn’t want to go back. She wants to stay here with the safety of her family, the familiarity of her hometown, the conveniences that this life affords her.

We talked for a long time tonight about what it would take for her to go back there with him. I suggested she write it down – everything she needed to make it tolerable. And then take that to her husband and start a discussion about her not wanting to go back, but wanting to find a happy medium. She was scared, but ready to hash it out.

Apparently 5 minutes of discussion ended in her husband saying that he was going back with or without her and she could stay here with the kids. And then - he left the house. He didn’t want to discuss it.

That wasn’t quite what I would expect someone who cared and wanted to save a relationship to do – but he may over-react at first and then settle down later. I guess we will see. For now, it looks like she is staying in TEXAS. But that makes me sad a bit, because her family might be falling apart. Wow – nothing is simple these days, is it?


Work is Funny

I am not talking about MY work specifically, although it certainly fits this description, but work in general. I find it amusing how companies seem to thrive on motivational speeches and meetings, attempting to get people fired up. I love how executives think that answering some questions and stepping down from the throne will motivate people to work harder, stay later, screw around less. And I find it a bit sad that there must be a precedent for these “meetings” – that they MUST work, which is why they keep doing it.

Personally, I am not motivated by the typical “motivational speech” or group sing-on that seems to permeate my workplace. I work because I want to be successful, I want my company to be successful and honestly, I gain quite a bit of my identity from my job. And, I find it extremely demeaning to be treated as if I am six and a little reverse-psychology or hokey rah-rah speech, hand holding, and kumbaya-singing is going to make anything better, stronger, or faster.

I sit in these meetings and find it difficult to find REAL content in all of the corporate-speak. I listen closely. I really do. I try to identify some morsel of NEW information, something that I can pluck out of the air, hold close to my heart – something meaningful and noteworthy…but I seldom find anything. I hear the same tired criticisms (we have to be a leaner organization), the same corporate posturing (we have to be better than the competition) and the same dictorial statements (we are going to do things MY way because that is what worked for me before).

Do you know what I would like? I would like it if one of our leaders sat down and said something along the lines of “I don’t really know how to get where we need to be. Our biggest issues / losses look like this…. Our competition looks like this…. The future of our industry looks like this…” and then they actually asked US what we think needs to be done – and then…listened.

I can say with all certainty that I would not suggest another motivational session, hoping that it would fix all of our corporate flaws.


Todd the Father

I wanted to write something insightful, grateful, and heart-felt about what a fantastic father you are. I wanted the words to leap off of the page and grip your heart – make you feel the way I do when I see you with our children. I wanted to. But I don’t know how.

I don’t know how to thank you for loving the girls as much as you do the boys, even though they are not your biological children.

I don’t know how to thank you for having so much patience with toddlers, when they seem to drive me right to the very edge of sanity.

I don’t know how to thank you for missing them when they are not with us.

I don’t know how to thank you for being in this 100% since the second you became a step-father and a father.

I don’t know how to thank you for helping me focus on the few important parts of parenting and letting all of the other meaningless stuff go.

I don’t know how to thank you for having them in every dream you have about our future.

I don’t know how to thank you for thinking a day playing at the park, eating goldfish and reading books is fun.

And I don’t know how to thank you for how perfect our life is.




The girls and I are on a two day girls only trip to Austin. And - it is wonderful.

We went kayaking on Town Lake for a couple of hours this afterrnoon. Cassie and I rowed our asses off. Brittany tried to keep us from hitting other boats and bridges. Sort of. I have not laughed so hard in ages.

Tonight we are headed to The Oasis for dinner and then maybe we will watch the bats take off. Or not. I hear they poop on you. I am not really in to that sort of thing.

Bets on how many MORE times we get lost?


My Reflection

I used to look at parents of multiple children and think that they knew what they were doing, that they had figured it all out because they obviously had experience.

I used to believe it was important to go to church.

I used count how many books I read every year.

I used to have time to read.

I used to eat anything I wanted without thinking about how far I would have to run to burn off the calories.

I used to lay on the beach for hours.

I used to NEVER wear sunscreen.

I used to think moisturizer was for sissies.

I used to like watching hockey.

I used to like burgers.

I used to drink several glasses of wine almost every night.

I used to spend more Saturday and Sunday mornings hung over than I care to think about anymore.

I used to think I was all grown up – at 21 years old.

I used to think that 28 was old.

I used to think I was smarter than my mother.

I used to think I had complete control over my life, my destiny.

I used to think that life was fair.

I used to hate silence.

I used to think writing was for the weak.

I used to speak without thinking about the ramifications.

I used to think being responsible was optional.

I used to think that I would never, ever change.


Write like a high-schooler much?

This is just sad....

blog readability test

Movie Reviews

Emotional Rescue

I read a lot of blogs, about many different things. But mostly I read about other people that work, that have children, that run, that are doing things very similar to me. I seem to “connect” to those that have been through divorce or are dealing with custody issues/separation/teenagers. Or those with toddlers and the tedium and whirlwind of activity that seems to follow them around. And I am starting to really feel a bond with those approaching middle age.

I read things like this or this or this and especially this and well, I don’t handle them well. Or I don’t stay stoic while doing so. I read these and I melt into a puddle of emotion.

I am in awe at how some people are so easily able to capture their emotions, analyze them, understand them, and then WRITE ABOUT THEM. I struggle with the capture part. And then I get lost in the analyze part. I NEVER understand them, and I seldom write about them…well, because then it is documented exactly how clueless I am most of the time about my feelings.

This parenting stuff is hard. It really is difficult to have teenagers and toddlers and work. It is hard to focus on Todd, to be a good wife, to give 100% in so many directions. It is hard to focus on me – do things that make me feel good, while not feeling like I am neglecting something else. It is really hard to be divorced, in what feels like a constant custody battle with the girls’ father. It is ridiculously hard (rather, IMPOSSIBLE) to try and make my younger daughter see how her terrible attitude is carving out her future this very minute. And it is just hard some more to see how much of my life has passed by while wondering “what have I done here that matters?”

I think I have been in this loop before. I feel like I am here a lot. I look at my goals, my accomplishments, my responsibilities, and I get a little dizzy. I feel the weight of so many things all of the time, and it seems like the clock is just spinning faster and faster every moment, making it difficult to do half of the things I want. What I really want is to be more laid back – be less focused on the goals. Be more IN THE MOMENT and less concerned about all the stuff that needs to get done. Which – was one of my resolutions. It is June. I am not exactly setting records with that goal.

I guess I am just feeling overwhelmed today. I am tired, and my To Do list is long enough to second as Rapunzel’s hair (and oh my god, that is a dark, dark story) and wow - I don’t know where to start. What in the HELL is up with my emotional instability today?

Random Stuff

I spent a bit of time with the girls yesterday – it was their first day out of school for the summer. We ran a few errands and grabbed some lunch and then I had to head back to work. Work gets in the way of ALL THE FUN. I did pick up a shirt more expensive than I care to share, which I love. And a dress for Cassie’s graduation. So that was good. We also looked at the world’s most expensive (and soft) Yoga pants by Lulumon. Really liked those. Really didn’t want to spend $70.00 on cotton pants.

And then? Last night I ran AGAIN! I know… I am even freaking myself out over here. It was a really difficult run. The wind has been pretty fierce in Plano over the past few days and it seemed to peak yesterday, making it horrible in the first part of the run. It was like running against a wall. The back part of the run was easy, but by then I was worn out. We went further than the day before, but I am still not up to 5 miles yet. Progress is slow…

Not much else happening around here today. Cassie graduates Tuesday, so all of her graduation parties are starting tonight. She has been given the “no drinking and driving” speech so many times, that she is refusing to drive to a party tonight. I think we drove that point home well enough. She used to say that she would NEVER EVER EVER drink. Now she says nothing of the sort. So, I doubt that will remain a goal. And really – the college drinking days WERE fun. I just hate thinking of the bad things that can happen to her… it is really hard having teenagers. I am not quite prepared for all of this.

Cole has been sick with the pukies and nasty diapers for a few days now. I am hoping (eyes squished shut tight, wishing, wishing, wishing) that all THAT clears up…cause DUDE! That is gross! And also – when are they going to be freaking potty trained already? We started this shit in JANUARY. Over 5 months ago. I trained the girls in an effing weekend. There is something wrong here. Send help.

Also on the agenda next week: The girls and I are headed to Austin for a few days. Perhaps more on that when we get back depending on how things go.

And one last thing: My friend Jana is coming back from Kuwait this weekend to visit for a WHOLE MONTH!!! She hates it there and has been looking forward to this forever. So have I. CANNOT WAIT TO SEE HER!!!


I'm The Gingerbread Man

I have now run three days in a row. I also ran last weekend. This is a HUGE DEAL. Because THAT shit is HARD.

I am awfully hard on myself, so it is difficult to feel like I accomplished anything unless I am completing a marathon. And even then I tend to think about how long it took me, and why wasn’t I faster? Hi! I have issues.

I have this little habit of going through the run in my head before I actually go. I imagine the route I am going to take, how easy it will feel, what I will feel like when I get home. In my head, it is an easy run, I don’t get hot or turn purple. I run 5 or 6 miles and get home thinking I should have gone more. Contrast that with the reality – I run 1.5 miles and am certain my lungs are on fire. I stop 3 times during my 3 mile run and dump a whole water bottle on my head. I get home and NEED a nap. See the difference?

My husband reminded me of something tonight as we were walking the last few blocks (because I was tired) – I compare my physical fitness level to his. And it is true. I do. I am comparing my current abilities with a healthy man that didn’t spend a whole summer in the ICU last year. Perhaps I could just hop back into reality now and ease up on the self abuse, no?


Fat Hairy Man

I typically drive the same route to and from work. This route takes me past a park full of ball fields, a fire station and a church. There is seldom a time when I drive by that park that I DON’T see Fat-Hairy-Man.

Fat-Hairy-Man is pushing 60 years old. His hair is thinning. It has the appearance of once dark, but now gray in many spots. His arms and legs seem short compared to his body, but nothing freakishly circus-like. He has a beer belly. He has thick dark hair all over his legs, arms, chest, and back – and I know this because he NEVER WEARS A SHIRT OR LONG PANTS. NOT EVER.

This man appears to walk around this park 365 days a year. Sometimes, twice a day. Regardless of the season, he wears running shoes – no socks, black running shorts – way too short if you ask me…and that is it. He doesn’t even carry a shirt. He is steps away from completely naked.

I make a point of looking for Fat-Hairy-Man when I drive by, mostly to make fun of him silently in my mind. Apparently I live for that kind of comic relief. I wonder why he doesn’t get laser hair removal or at least shave his neck. I imagine that his feet are molding in those shoes with no socks. I wonder if he is homeless and has no clothes. I cannot fathom how he is out in the dead of winter with nothing to protect his hairy self from the cold and wind and rain. I am stumped as to how he avoids a sunburn.

Today I ran around the park that Fat-Hairy-Man frequents. It was long. And hard. And I have to admit that I now have a tiny bit of respect for that strange hairy man.