There are fifteen pool tables in this place and probably fifty people. I don't think it was me dropping my napkin on the floor that caused your bad shot.
Sorry, that's just how I rationalize.
(It should be noted the accuser is a friend of mine, not a date.)
Last weekend, my mother ran into some old classmates from high school. Never having been the Keep Up With The Joneses type, she tends to brag endlessly about her children without regard for the perceptions or beliefs of others; even to those with doctor sons and magazine editor daughters. She's very happy your son saves the vision of orphans in third world countries, but did you know her daughter "gets paid ridiculously for sitting in front of a computer?!" It's true what they say, about mothers seeing only good.
I thought about this the day I finally decided to try the online thing. It sort of feels like a competition. A competition with people you'll never meet. I'm no good at this. Sure, there's a brain surgeon that models Hooters t-shirts on the side but did you know I can run slowly and read code? Honestly, who could resist me?
But a competition, it is not. I know I gave the impression that a day of stir-crazy boredom and cruel temperatures drove me to the "scary" world of online personal ads, but that's not the entire picture. Some of you know I've been thinking about this for a while, because I asked for your opinions (thanks, by the way- to those I know in real life and to those only by blog). So instead of making assumptions and listing reasons why it wasn't right, I could do something new and sign up. Now, I may be right, I may be wrong, but at least I'll have tried.
Also, it makes sense to have crossed the bridge before you go doubting the potential of what's on the other side.
I believe Mean Emailer (I'm getting one on nearly every post these days) said it best: Good. Get dating and find someone. I'm sick of reading about all the reasons this guy or that guy just isn't right. Just don't completely lose touch with reality. I cant stand one more psycho dating blog.
Precisely, Mean Emailer. Me too. But I'm a little more optimistic than that. I don't just want to stop writing about the wrong people, because Heaven knows I have met them, I have this silly idea in my head that one day I'll be able to write about something that's right. And don't worry, I won't go losing touch with reality. I know what's right for me, as I always have. If I forget, I'll just ask my mother.
Yesterday morning, I returned from a very torturous eighteen mile run. It was so hard, I spent the better part of the last half looking for the giant cement blocks tied to my legs a la sleeping with the fishes.
After I spent twenty minutes crying, trying to remember why I'm doing this, I sat on the floor of the shower -I couldn't stand but more so because of the light headedness and less the legs- and tried to think of the people I could call for some sympathy and/or advice.
I have a lot of runner friends and while that's always a great source of inspiration I more wanted to whine than anything. So, I called my sister.
She answered and I went right into my pity party. "Why am I doing this, " I asked?
She didn't know. A few seconds of silence passed and then she said "I know! Get over to Grandma's house now. I just talked to her and she has cinnamon rolls. Go eat some!"
And so I went and ate 18 miles worth of cinnamon rolls and didn't feel one ounce of guilt.
The simplest solutions are often the best.
When most of your city is snowed in, you have extra time.* You might clean your closet. You might work. You might realize your electricity has gone out and you no longer have heat. You might start to get a little cold and then you might remember you can actually do something with your hands other than type. So you might make a fire.
Sure, it's pretty simple but you were never a boy scout, or a girl scout, for that matter, so it takes a while. But you get it going, and your house is warm again.
You read a book. You take a nap. You have silence, but you might not be entirely comfortable with it. Time to think isn't something that you've had a lot of lately. And now it's all you have. Or maybe all you can't ignore.
So you think, but not about anything in particular. You remember warmer places you've been, trying to fool yourself into believing you don't live in Colorado.
You close your eyes and think of warm sand and gentle waves.
Or maybe you make a grocery list and clean the bathroom by candlelight. Cleaning is a good way to stay warm.
Eventually, though, your mind drifts again. Like back to last Sunday afternoon when you were at home, folding laundry, with football on the t.v. and you thought to yourself "this is really nice." Except, when you walked down the hall to put towels in the closet, you told yourself it was sure nice, but something was still missing. Your mind wandered then, as it does now, and you realize there are just some things about you that can't be denied.
And when that get's old, you open a bottle of wine and sit by the fire. Soon the electricity returns and you realize your house has been at a balmy 56 degrees (F) for a few hours. Should have opened the wine sooner.
So you enjoy your wine, watch some mindless television and wander around your house a little. You check your email, chat with your mom and revel in the beauty of a working furnace.
Then, you create a profile on an online dating site because when it comes to finding ways to stay warm, you just never know.
* A LOT of people worked today and had absolutely no extra time to think, muchless stay warm. I appreciate that and I take electricity for granted way too much.
This is a really tough day for me. It's 28 degrees (F) and snowing. Blizzarding, to be exact.
And I'm freezing. And you know how I feel about that.
I have a list of things running through my head that I could do:
Watch movies
Clean
Write my article that's due next week
Work
Sleep
Organize the pantry
Laundry
Read
But none of those seem particularly interesting. The only thing I'd really like to do is catch the next plane out of here. But good luck finding a flight to take off anywhere in this mess.
If you were stuck in a blizzard right now, what would you do?
It was nearly 8:00 p.m. I'd been up since 5:00 a.m. I was up late the night before. I'd been taken to lunch, and dinner. I'd had two beers. It was a long, busy day, they have all been lately. One have-to-do turns into the next. But I had to run. I had to.
Because I felt fat.
Because I felt unsettled.
Because I needed to hear my own feet under me.
Because I needed to hear my own breath.
Because I needed to be outside.
Because there's a blizzard coming tonight.
Because I don't want to fall behind in training.
Because I want to set an example.
Because I want to feel good.
Because I like the sound of the leaves on the ground beneath me.
Because I am training without a partner for the first time.
Because running between the shadows makes me feel adventurous.
Because I don't want to take it for granted.
Because my knee is finally comfortable on the downhill again.
Because Fall is as good as gone.
Because my life feels full.
Because sometimes I feel a little lonely.
Because I've figured so much out.
Because I still have a long way to go.
Because I need to relax.
Because I needed to get excited.
Because I didn't need to wear gloves.
Because I run faster in the dark.
Because I'm quite certain that whatever it is I'm waiting on may never come.
Because five minutes later I remind myself that can't be true.
Because I wanted to have fun.
Because I had pizza and ice cream and beer in the same night.
Because I have faith that I'm doing the best I can.
Because I want to work hard.
Because I have a name to live up to.
Because I never really know when I'll get another chance.
There's nothing easy about running sixteen miles. Except for seventeen, eighteen, nineteen and, well, all that follow. This particular sixteen had a few other tricks up it's sleeve, such as 28 degrees with wind and an I'm-going-to-pick-you-up-at-ten-thirty-be-ready call from my mother. Translation: wear layers and hurry.
Miles one through ten passed like any other. I got into some music, enjoyed the rising sun and remembered how the benefit of cold weather is that you have to wear gloves and therefore, have built-in snot and sweat wipers. How convenient. Then, mile eleven. I started to feel the cold. My legs started to feel tired. Really, really tired. I stopped to walk a little, that helped some. Same thing in mile twelve, and thirteen. Walked twice in mile fourteen, once in mile fifteen and the majority of mile sixteen. All in all, the run took about twenty minutes longer than I'd hoped. But, the sixteen miles were covered. I'm not entirely sure how to look at it. Not a complete failure, but not a complete success. Something in between, something unsure.
Somewhere in this uncertain run, I had a chance to think about today, this last day of twenty-six. I thought of the seasons, the travel, the work, the friends; all of it. It was a year of saying goodbye at times, and welcoming the new. It was a year of many firsts, and a few lasts. A year of learning and change and yet, a year of becoming better at being me; I did twenty-six pretty well, I think. Birthdays are so unlike long runs because they don't get harder. I suppose, though, they're just as beneficial in that each time one comes around, you're a little more prepared for what lies ahead.
I never really put much stock into those 'getting older' phrases that seem to surround us. I never thought much about the way we (hopefully) collect knowledge as we get older. Thankfully, wisdom is forgiving and allows you to posses it, even in doubt. It really does get better all the time. Or maybe that feeling is age, I don't know. The best thing is, I don't have to. That's what I really feel. The unknown is allowed now and it's not as scary as it once seemed.
I'm not sure what twenty-seven will bring. Sure, I'd like it to include good times, success, family and friends; some new, some old, some running and some beaches. Those are all things I'd like but really, I know I'll get what I need. It may not be a complete success or a complete failure, but appropriately, it will land somewhere in between.
Running has taught me many things. First, and foremost, plan ahead. You never know what the weather, your stomach or your mind is going to do until you're actually out there in the middle of it all. You need to be ready.
That said, it's also taught me to change plans. I've learned how to be okay with six miles instead of ten or twelve instead of four. I listen to my body now. Mostly. The knee injury that plagued me over the summer is now gone (hear that? That's the sound of me knocking on wood.) and I can run again. Obviously, I'm thankful. I'm not shattering any land speed records here, I'm just happy running isn't trying to break up with me anymore. But there's still a little sting there.
On Sunday, October 22, 2006, I was supposed to run the Chicago Marathon for the first time. It was a long, hard decision to give this one up. I wanted it badly, but my knee had other plans. Since there were days in the Just Run Knee Injury '06 saga in which I couldn't even walk without pain, I know it was the right decision. It was safe, and logical, and smart. But it still bums me out.
On Sunday, I'll be running sixteen miles. Yes, I know, nothing to scoff at. But it's not a marathon, it's not in Chicago and I'm not going to wake up on Monday, October 23, 2006 with the ability to say "I just ran 26 miles on the last day I was 26." And that sort of sucks. Because that was the plan, and also some of the motivation.
But I know I have a choice on Sunday, still. I know that I can wake up in the morning, go about my day, run sixteen miles and feel just as good about Monday. And 27.
Afterall, it was only a couple months ago when I could do nothing at all.
___________________________________
Good luck to all of you running on Sunday. I hope, pray, and cross fingers that it's a great race for you, all 26.2 of it.
NOTE: This story did not happen in my current office!
There's a story, of a wicked lady, who worked in a land of very lovely cubes.
The wicked lady, we'll call her Brenda, is generally a bad fit amongst all the other residents of Cubeland. Brenda's motto is Talk All the Time, Even When It's Not Appropriate. Due to this motto, Brenda's neighbors, even those on the other side of the building, know all her business.
Years ago, Brenda married a well-to-do man, we'll call him Chuck, who owned a car dealership. He built Brenda a beautiful home, bought her beautiful clothing and jewelry and even paid her credit card bill without ever actually looking at it. He should have looked at the bill. A mere three months after swearing to love and honor him forever, Brenda was unfaithful to her husband and managed to charge dinners, hotel rooms and even an airline ticket to her credit card for three more months without Chuck ever noticing.
Well, Chuck was finally tipped off when Brenda claimed to be going on a "business trip" and while Brenda was on the "trip" Chuck ran into several of her coworkers at lunch.
"Do you all miss Brenda," he innocently asked?
"Yes, she must be having fun with her sister," they responded.
"Sister?"
Chuck, being bright but not altogether sharp, finally caught on.
Brenda and Chuck subsequently divorced. About a year later, after she was certain anyone on her floor could recite her dramatic story of Love Gone Wrong from memory, Brenda started something new. Donnie, we'll call this one, was her newest "victim." (They aren't necessarily victims as they have to know they're making bad decisions on some level, but you can't help but feel bad for a guy who makes a bad decision but never dreams that it would be broadcast to the entire world- but that's Brenda.) Donnie, also a local business owner, apparently became smitten with Brenda very early on. He bought her gifts, sent her flowers and even called her during the day just to say he was thinking of her. Could it be, a true love story? A story of a changed woman? Maybe.
Except there was this one thing about Donnie that made this impossible. He was married. There is no way Brenda and Donnie's love could be the true, wonderful, happily-ever-after thing she made it out to be, because Donnie already had a wife. "Oh, that's just wrong," you say. That's wrong? What about this:
...
...
wait for it...
The wife? The woman to whom Donnie was married? His supposed happily-ever-after? Yeah, her. Well, she worked with Brenda.
That's right, the wife, let's call her Kristy, was a fellow resident of Cubeland. Kristy was smart, put together, kind and fun. And obviously, not privy to a huge part of her husband's life. Until one day, Brenda, the Queen of Brazen, brought in a memento for her desk. A photo of her new boyfriend. The boyfriend she'd openly admitted was married but was "planning on leaving his wife."
Well, Donnie never got around to actually doing that. Luckily, in saving herself, her children and her reputation of actually possessing a brain, Kristy beat him to it. Way to go, Kristy. Someone had to have a brain in this story eventually.
So now, Kristy works in another department and is happily married to a man she can trust. Chuck, also remarried, has two kids and a wife who stays home. Brenda has recently married Donnie and, as she tells it, -because you knew she would- a fairly detailed prenuptual agreement will accompany them on their journey of love. Fairytale endings are just the best, you know?
And you thought IT people were boring.
And it seems we really are always true to ourselves. Yes, we can change but at the same time, what we honestly feel at the core of who we are never really does.
Winter is coming, and I'm not happy about it.
Under a bridge.
Almost to the border.
Canada, here I come.
Obligatory rearview shot.
Welcome to Surrey.
Why, thank you.
One of many bridges in and around Vancouver.
And there you have it.
The Pacific Northwest was very dry around that time. Have you all had more rain/snow since? Still, the drive was beautiful. I recommend it and really, what more reason do you need? Ha.
Part of me feels like I've had enough of this road thing for a while. Next time I go, I want to go and stay put long enough to forget what day it is. Maybe next year.
Parts 1-4, if you must.
(Not to be confused with blogger JustACoolCat who is also so vain, but much more stylish than I.)
This time last year, I had to renew my driver's license. The one I held before was the best I.D. photo I'd ever had. It was taken the day I turned twenty-one and you could see the excitement all over that photo. I don't know what key to the future I thought I was getting that day, but the pay off was a decent photo on my I.D., so very hard to come by.
When I renewed my license last year, the woman at the counter was mean. She screeched out "next!" and the flashbulb was going off before I even had warning. I knew it was going to be bad and when my new license arrived in the mail a couple weeks later, well, bad would be putting it kindly. I had a half smile, half open eyes and, quite possibly, seven chins. Awful. I mean, if I were a missing person and anyone attempted to look for me using this identification photo, they would be in search of a 40 year old woman on drugs toting around a quart of Jim Beam.
So I carried this I.D. for the last year and each and every time I've had to hand it to someone, I've cringed. I've thought, over and over, about excuses I could use to get a new one. Could I "lose" it? No, they store the photo. Could I move? No, they just make you put a sticker with your new address on the back. Maybe I should change my name? As if I don't have enough "funny stories" on dates these days. The other day, it hit me. I no longer have a vision restriction! The information on my license is incorrect! Guess I need a new one!
So yesterday, I hoofed it over to the D.M.V. and stood in a remarkably short line. When I got to the counter, I told the woman (a much nicer one) my situation. "Oh," she said, "all you need to do is have your doctor put a sticker on the back saying you're no longer visually impaired. Or, you can pay $15 and renew it."
Best $15 I've ever spent.
When I was eighteen and moving out on my own, out of the only home I'd ever known, for the first time my mother waited exactly five days to rearrange my bedroom. Not because I wouldn't be back for holidays and summer (because I was, and more) but because she wanted room for her "crafts." Not like witch craft, think dried flowers and hot glue guns and paints, oh my!
It would be putting it mildly to say I was offended. I felt like that was still my territory and though she took care to put everything back where it was upon each and every one of my returns, I still felt like it was being taken away from me. Did she know me at all? Did she know I was in college! For the first time! In a dorm room! With people I didn't know! Going to classes! Really tough classes! With a lot of reading! With all this new pressure! And though in my mind I knew I could always go home, in my heart I felt like I had no place to go. Nothing was mine anymore. My belongings consisted of clothing, books, Target bedding, a shower caddy and a mini fridge. Nothing was the same.
Eventually, I settled into this new life. And by settled I mean tried out three colleges before I found one I liked, but that's beside the point. I started to accumulate things little by little which eventually found their way into an apartment with a roommate and a shower with shelves where you didn't have to ever move your soap if you didn't want to. It felt good to have my own space and I embraced the independence. This, apparently, was the signal flare my mother was waiting for to GIVE AWAY MY CHILDHOOD FURNITURE.
Yes, that's right, give it away. The bed that I slept in for fifteen years. The dresser in which I'd so carefully inscribed the lyrics to my favorite Debbie Gibson songs with a permanent marker because I was just so into her music. The night stand where the photo of my very first boyfriend stood, even after we'd parted ways. And she wanted to give it all away. "Because they need it more than we do" she'd say. "Because you have ABSOLUTELY NO SENTIMENTAL VALUE ON ANYTHING!" I'd accuse.
It seems a little silly now but at the time, that furniture was mine. It was the only thing I could think of that represented me and the fact that I'd lived in that house for eighteen years. It held memories and at twenty-one when just about everything felt new and uncomfortable, that stuff was old and accepting. A constant.
It took me a long time to get over that. The furniture was nothing spectacular and mom was even kind enough to hold off for a few months while I got used to the idea. But that's how long it took for me to realize that it wasn't the stuff I missed, it was the familiarity.
Today, thinking back on that, I completely understand. I didn't want a beat up dresser, she's Deb-ra Gibson now anyway. I didn't need a bed that was three inches too short. It was the familiarity, that's all. And that's who I am. I need familiar things. I need a center in the midst of the spinning circus that life can become. So when something familiar comes back to me, I can't help but give it a special place in my heart. But now, I have experience on my side. I know that "familiar" doesn't necessarily mean "fit."
When I graduated from college and landed my first big-girl job, my mother bought me a new bedroom set. It's big and beautiful and made of heavy pine. Sure, there are no frames of first loves adorning the shelves but it's got it's own story. A newer one, a less familiar one. One in which the best is just yet to be.
__________________________________________________
And now, the soundtrack to a fifth grade broken heart:
Debbie Gibson, Only In My Dreams
every time i'm telling secrets
i remember how it used to be
and i realized how much i miss you
and i realize how it feels to be free
now i see i'm up to no good (no, no, no)
and i wanna start again
can't remember when i felt good (baby)
no i can't remember when
chorus:
no, only in my dreams
as real as it may seem
it was only in my dreams
couldn't see how much i missed you (now i do)
couldn't see how much it meant
now i see my world come tumbling down
now i see the road is bent
if i only once could hold you (no, no, no)
and remember how it used to be
if only i could scold you
and forget how it feels to be free
no, only in my dreams
as real as it may seem
it was only in my dreams
What's the best way to not think about a guy? Go out with another one.
So that's what I did tonight. I met a guy for coffee and for an hour and a half, we talked about all kinds of stuff. Most important, though, is what we didn't talk about and therefore, I didn't have to think about. Other guys, of course. So that was nice.
Unfortunately, that's likely all that will come of that little meeting. Sorry to those pulling for the firefighter from the grocery store but I just don't think that's going to happen. (Short story short: nice guy, good conversation, something missing.)
I'm glad to have had the distraction, though. When a girl's feeling any sort of pressure, she needn't do more than to remind herself that yes, there are in fact still fish in the sea. Sure, somedays it feels like all those fish are of the sucker variety while other days it feels like she lives miles from the nearest shore but nevertheless, the fish exist. And they are willing to have coffee with her. And she's not likely to die alone with only her dog to witness.
I also gotta say, this blog thing? It's a good little thing to have in your corner. All your thoughtful comments were a good thing to have while getting over this speed bump that is a necessary evil in dating life. Which, by the way, I am so unacustomed to. I am not a serial dater. To have met several new people in the last couple weeks is so very foreign to me. It's making my life seem all "social experiment" and not in an entirely good way. But that, I suppose, is another story.
So thanks for your insights. I appreciate it, I really do. I've especially been reminded that one, it's okay to have a hopeless romantic side, two, I am smarter now than I was in February, and three, I can always just not answer the phone. Dear internet, you teach me so much. You really, really do.
Also, I ran 6.5 miles today at a pace 30 seconds faster/mile than my normal "fast" so I'm feeling pretty flippin' good about that too. Just saying.
After eleven hours at work and another two at a team meeting for a charity event I'm helping to put together, I walked into my house to the phone ringing.
I answered on the last ring. It was him. We've talked occasionally and seen each other only socially over the last six months. No detail, just friendly chat. The kind of contact you're supposed to have with a guy it took you a year to get over. Short, sweet and not at all emotional, adorable or caring. It worked. I got over it, finally. I found a new crush. Went out with others; a doctor, a banker, a soldier. All has been well.
"Hi, how are you?"
"Hi.... haven't heard from you in a while."
"Yeah, I know."
"What's new?"
Did the little catch-up-before-we-can-get-to-the-real-reason-I-called game here.
"Well, do you have a minute?"
"Sure, I'm just walking in the door."
"Well, I just wanted to call... and say..."
"Is everything okay? Are you okay?" Always the caring person, I am.
"Yeah, yeah... I'm good. Nothing's wrong. You're always so sweet. You're just too nice."
"Well, just making sure."
"Look, I just wanted to call you and tell you I'm sorry."
"Sorry?"
"Yeah."
"For what?"
"For letting distance come between us. You've always been so good to me and I am stupid for not seeing that."
"Uhhh, okay. What are you talking about?"
"I just mean I let the opinions of someone else make my decisions for me. Even when it felt wrong, I did it. And I'm sorry. "
"... okay, I'm not quite sure what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, really. I just wanted you to know. I guess, I guess I just missed having certain things in my life and it was time to let you know."
"Well... I, I don't know. I'm a little stunned." Stunned would be putting it mildly.
"Look, I know, and I'm sorry. And I wanted you to know that. And as for Mary, we have been finished for a very long time."
"Okay..."
"Not that that's supposed to mean anything to you. I just wanted you to know that I've made up my mind. It was wrong. It always was."
"Okay, so what? I feel like you're calling me because you're bored."
"No, not at all. Please, please don't think that."
"Well, either that or you've joined AA and you're in the 'making amends' step?"
Laughing. "No, not quite. I knew this would be weird. But it felt wrong to not apologize."
"Alright, well, thanks."
"Okay. Well, I would like to get together, if you can."
"I don't know."
"Look, no pressure. I just missed out on some things when I was wrapped up in all that and I feel like I have some making up to do. Not just with you, with a lot."
"I still don't know."
"Okay."
"I'll call you soon, okay?"
"Okay. I hope so."
"I will."
And honestly, I don't know if I can. I don't know if being over someone and only thinking of them on occasion can be permanent if you start seeing them again. Are you better now? Are your glasses clearer? Are you ever really over them?
He never knew of my real feelings. He never knew that I found his shoulder so comfortable. He never knew that all those times we were in a crowd, I'd wish it could have only been the two of us. He didn't do anything to me; he wasn't unkind or harsh. The only thing he didn't do is have the same feelings I did, at the same time.
So when I think about having dinner, about sitting across the table from him trying to catch up on life, I just don't know.
When a girl, specifically this girl, meets a guy for lunch, she does a lot of things. She might choose her outfit the night before, only to change twice that morning. She may get up ten minutes earlier than normal to spend more time on her hair. She walks around wondering if anyone else can tell that she's got a date at noon. She throws herself into work that morning hoping to be distracted. (Nothing does overcome pre-date jitters like and SQL manual, you know?)
But mostly, she wonders. She wonders how it will go. She wonders what he'll be like. Will she say the right things? Will he? She wonders what she'll order, she hates eating in front of people she doesn't know. And usually, there's nothing she can do to stop the wondering. She's not nervous, not even scared. It's normal, really, because she's always been that way. She has wondered since she can remember if there's really someone meant for her to meet, someday.
Her mind trails off and before she knows it, the wondering is wandering down the same path it always does. She goes through a laundry list of wonders. Not for him, but her own. Who will put up with her? Who can possibly compliment her? And who will understand her?
Is there someone to understand her moods? Will he understand that she gets upset when there's nothing good on the radio? Will he understand that she can't sit still if there's a load of laundry to go from the washer to the dryer? Will he get that she would trade cable television for a shelf full of good books? Will he understand that her idea of a perfect day would be floating in the middle of the ocean on a boat and not saying a word? Would he bring her a drink on the boat? Will he understand that while she used to cringe when she walked by the playground at the mall she's now finding herself relaxed by the idea of family? Will he know that she lets her dog sleep at her feet on cold nights and will he hate it? Will he know that she's as passionate about good music as she is about fighting for a good cause? Will he make her heart beat a little faster and her fast pace a little slower? Will he be able to leave her alone in the morning and to high five her after an afternoon run? Will he let her go on baking binges in the Winter and drink-mixing binges in the Summer? Will he?
She knows it's overwhelming. But that's just it, that's what she wants. She wants to be overwhelmed. She wants to bake her cake and eat it, too. And share some with a guy that, dang it, thinks it's the best cake ever baked. While she's far too old and intelligent to mistake lust for true chemistry and interest, she also knows the difference between overwhelmed and just fine. Overwhelmed is all the wondering questions ceasing because you're too excited about that very moment. Fine is when you have great conversation, a few laughs and, an hour later, realize all the wondering questions seem to have no answers. Overwhelmed is when she runs to check her messages at the end of the day. Fine is when she decides to stay at home and away from the phone on Saturday night. And that's okay. She wasn't looking for the answers all at once, she wasn't really looking for them at all. It wasn't until they didn't show up that she realized she needed them.
She knows it's a tall order. She knows she shouldn't be quick to judge. She knows it was just the first date, and that maybe he was wondering, too. But also, when a girl gets ready for a lunch date, she's sure to remind herself that if it's even a little bit right, she will know.
When I posted answers from the Q & A post last week, I forgot to check emails and therefore, did not notice there were some other questions.
Without further ado:
My only known Southern reader, Celina, asked:
What's the coolest (your Most Favorite) place you've ever been, and why?
I feel the need to say that I'm so lucky. I've been able to travel a fair bit and honestly, I've loved every minute of it. Even the crowded airplanes, slow busses and busy freeways. If I could find a way to get paid to travel, I would. I'm working on that one.
Anyway, I'd have to say my Most Favorite (do capitalize your Most Favorite, it makes it seem that much better) place is the Caribbean. The islands. The water. The shore. The boats. The drinks. The people. The mood. The music. The weather. Everything. Love it, love it, love it. I'm partial to the U.S. Virgin Islands and the British Virgin Islands but I also wouldn't mind some Bahamian or Grenadian exposure and the Western Caribbean also has it's fair share of charm (and good beer).
My only known Aussie reader, Sister Buckle, asked:
So I was wondering, was there a time you just had so much cabin fever you ignored the weather warnings and ran out the door into climatic oblivion?
Yes, I've done this a couple times. Snow and freezing temperatures aside, it's really a nice time to be out. No one else is on the road. The first time I did this, was on my first run ever, as an adult. It was mid February, fifteen degrees and snowing. I ran about five blocks and had to turn around. It didn't matter though, I was hooked. As far as the "oblivion" part, that, I expect, is closer to how one feels after a marathon than after snow.
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I also got an email from a person I like to call "Mean EMailer." He/she asked:
Do you think anyone reads your blog for fun?
Yes. Me.
(I get an inappropriate amount of satisfaction from calling Mean EMailer a "he/she.") Ha.
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Today, the girl at the counter at the juice place asked me if I wanted to try a new green tea concoction. Except, she said it in a way that made me think if I didn't answer her with a yell from my gut and a high kick, I would be escorted out.
It was like HI!!!!!! WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRY THE NEW TAHITI GREEN TEA BLAH BLAH BLAH?!?!?!?!!!! IT'S AWESOME!!!!!! I said sure so she blended it up- at the same time doing a couple cartwheels and also spelling out my name with "gimme a" preceding each letter.
She then asked me to taste it because, and I quote, "I AM ALLERGIC TO CAFFEINE SO I CAN'T TRY IT BUT I BET YOU'LL LOVE IT!!!!"
All I could think was, seriously? This is you without caffeine?
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This is for all the gals out there that think running is gross:
You are right.
Today, on my 7 miler, I noticed there were a lot of bugs in the air. It's gnat time, apparently. Anyway, I got home, walked into the bathroom and noticed that I had a gnat on me. Where, you ask? The miniscule but disgusting little creature was dead and stuck to my forehead. I do believe this is the first ever death caused by drowning in sweat.
That ought to be an overwhelmingly charming story to tell on my lunch date tomorrow.
Wait, did I just say that?
And Again
And So Is Red
I Don't Have to Rake
Fall Canopy
Almost As Good as Sand
I just gotta say, I cannot believe there's a song out there that's based on a man talking to a girl on the phone while his other "girl" is "in the next room."
Maybe it's just me and maybe I'm getting old but ew!
I know the music business is tough but is that what you really want to be known for? Singing about being a cheater? Or damn close. With all the "I have to whisper" and "you make it hard to be faithful" I'm just disgusted.
I don't even want to type the name of the band or the song (for fear a Google search land some fifteen year old here looking for those lyrics, which I'm sure would get me lots of mean emails) which is a shame because a. dude can sing and b. the song has a decent hook but still, so not okay.
Should some teenager land here looking for those lyrics, I'll say two things: 1. Cheating is not cool, ever. 2. If you are talking to another girl while your girlfriend is in the next room, she knows. She may not act like it and she may not care, but she knows. In which case, you are screwed either way because she will either break up with you and smash the headlights out of your Camaro or you are dating an idiot. See, screwed.
Alright, I'm finished.
Sometimes, you just love something and you really can't put into words why you love it.
It's amazing, fulfilling, entertaining and fun. It's a warm afternoon and a cool night, all in one. You drive down the street or you look out your window and you're in constant awe because of the way it captures you even all these years later, just like the first time.
The crunch of the leaves, the color, the change in the air all seem so familiar. It's the gentle yet obvious reminder that change is coming. It happens, whether you want it to or not.
I have such a propensity for comparing seasons to relationships, you know. Why should this one be any different? I feel like Fall (or Autumn as you refined types like to say) is like an old love.
It's something you met long ago, but are still surprised by it's ability to last. Time and time again, it is there for you and often, just when you need it. It's that soft place to land after you've been high on Summer and when you aren't ready to face the dread of Winter.
The color in the trees and the change of the winds are all a way of reminding you that the road you travel, though seeming the same each day, can really be different. If you're willing to see the beauty, it will be there for you to find it.
And all the while, it's just a reminder of how temporary life can be. The leaves that were green yesterday, are gold today and will be brown tomorrow. The problems that were new yesterday, are losing their power over you today and will be all but dead tomorrow.
So you love it. You aren't sure if it's because of the color or the cool breeze. You aren't sure if it's for the comfort or the change. But you are sure you love it because, if nothing else, you just can't help yourself.
My grandma is cool. I wouldn't hesitate to say, no hard feelings, but she's cooler than any other grandma ever. She just is. She's 80 and she tells it like it is.
Sometimes we have IM conversations.
Me: Hi Gram, how are you?
Grandma: Hi my sweetie!!!!!!!
Grandma: I am doing well. At least fair to midland.
Me: That's good.
Grandma: How are you?
Me: I'm fine. A little tired from my run today.
Grandma: Well you should come over and I'll give you some soup and then you can take a nap.
Me: I wish I had time for that. You do have the best couch for a nap though.
Grandma: Are you having trouble sleeping?
Me: Not really. I try to catch up during meetings at work. Haha.
Grandma: Really?
Me: No. But I wonder if I could sleep with my eyes open like I used to in college.
Grandma: Just practice, you'll get it. I haven't tried in a while.
Me: Since when do you sleep with your eyes open?
Grandma: I was married, you know.
Me: Hahahaha. Is that the secret to a happy marriage?
Grandma: It's the secret to staying out of jail.
Me: ....
Grandma: So you had a good run today?
Me: Yeah, I guess. I ran part of it with a boy.
Grandma: A boy. Who is this boy? And why wasn't this the first thing you told me?
Me: A boy I met while running. And I don't know the answer to your other question.
Grandma: Well what's this boy's story?
Me: He's my age, runs, and only stayed with me for half the run.
Grandma: Why?
Me: He said his mileage wasn't up to what mine was. It makes sense.
Grandma: No, it doesn't. If he likes you he should run 100 miles.
Me: We just met Grandma. It's okay.
Grandma: No it is not. He should run 1,000 miles. Like that song says.
Me: That song says "walk 1,000 miles."
Grandma: Don't change the subject.
Me: It's really okay Grandma. He asked for my number and promised me a slower-paced meeting next time.
Grandma: Well he'd better pay for dinner.
Me: Yes, okay.
Grandma: And he'd better not make you fall asleep, either.
Me: I hope not.
Grandma: That's actually a good test for any date, come to think of it.
Me: What do you mean?
Grandma: The person should not bore you.
Me: Yeah, I guess. But what about that whole thing you said about sleeping with your eyes open?
Grandma: Oh, that's a different story.
Me: How?
Grandma: When you get past the nice part of the first year or two, then you have to start ignoring the boring moments and just sleep with your eyes open so the other person feels like you're listening but you're not.
Me: What are you doing instead?
Grandma: Whatever you want to do. Think. Dream. Sleep.
Me: But don't you want to listen?
Grandma: You'd be surprised how little you need to listen to your spouse after the first couple years.
Me: So maybe he's stopped listening to you , too?
Grandma: See, that's your mistake.
Me: What?
Grandma: He never started.
Ran twelve miles this morning. I wasn't hard but it sure wasn't easy, either. I keep wondering if I'll ever have a time in my life when training doesn't equal pain. I know in a post a couple days ago, I told RunnerGirlFL that training doesn't stop hurting but sheesh, I guess someone should have told me.
Yes, I know, it's a good pain. Still, I want one of those float-on-air long runs one day. I seem to get a few miles here and a mile there, but never an entire long run. If I do have a great few miles in the middle of a run, I tend to consider that a good run but really, I'm selfish and want the entire 12 miles to be perfect. And if I'm being really honest, I'd like a negative split, too. Until then I will have to take what I'm given.
Speaking of taking what I'm given, I had a Driver Shout Out this morning on my run. Most runners will tell you that once in a while, at least, someone going down the road in a car feels the need to shout something out their window at you, the runner. Sometimes it's encouraging like "good for you" and "go go go" and sometimes, like when I was running down a long Kentucky road one Spring it's "hey good lookin', someone chasin' ya?" (I told him yes, by the way). But today was a first. I approached a crosswalk right in front of a truck. The truck was nice enough to stop for me but as I made it around the front on the driver's side, a man in a suit leaned out the window a bit and said "Should be on your way to church, young lady" as if I were out on the corner selling something, if you know what I mean.
This infuriated me. Who was he to tell me when to go to church? This stranger? This stranger who knows nothing about my faith or which services I may or may not attend. This man in this truck had the nerve to judge me? Me, minding my own business, running down the road on Sunday morning. Honestly? I rolled my eyes, took a deep breath and kept running. I wondered who he was though. I wondered why he said that. I wondered what I was supposed to get from it. Was I supposed to get some sort of message from this? I wonder if he knew that when I rolled my eyes it was my faith and beliefs- not to mention, manners- that kept me from doing something worse.
That was the most exciting thing on the run today. Otherwise, it was hot and clearly, Indian Summertime here in the Rockies (it's 80 degrees). When I returned home, covered in a combination of sweat and dried sweat that makes it look as though I took a dip in the ocean and then let the water dry on me, I saw an unexpected site.
My single, slightly scary and mysterious neighbor's car parked in the street with "Just Married" decorations hanging all over. This guy always struck me as a little odd and the times we talked, I kept it at a minimum. He wasn't overly friendly and, I guess, neither was I. I never saw a lot of people at his house, he'd just come and go quietly. So, to see that he's now married is a little surprising. But maybe this is my lesson today: don't assume. I usually don't do this, I generally feel like I'm very accepting and nonjudgemental. But I don't want to be like the guy in the truck and judge people I don't even know. So I'll be more careful to watch myself and not assume I know something about someone based solely on my perception.
And maybe one day, I will build up enough Karma or good vibes or energy to have a long run that feels fantastic from the first mile to the last.
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I've added a few names to the blogroll on the right. I am so sorry it has taken so long. Thanks to the new visitors and commenters. It's great to have you.
