Some Things Relating to Sally

I've started dabbling in thinking about completing some longer runs on Saturdays.  It's all very reminiscent of days two springs ago, but I'm not saying anything official yet.  

So with that dabbling comes the thinking continually about schedules of running and eating the proper fuel and in general, being a good human who drinks a lot of water - probably enough to fill a bathtub daily.  Also, comes knowing that really the only night in which a person can be a little more loosely with things is Saturday night.

I really love the feeling of schedules.  It is comforting to me and strengthens the skill of waiting for the good stuff, the skill of being patient thwarts off the evil of instant gratification.  

Wine tastes better when it is waited seven days for and is enjoyed slowly out of an enormous glass while watching When Harry Met Sally.  Can you believe I'd never seen this gem before?  Clearly, that makes no sense.  

All I need to say is that Sally makes total sense to me.  That statement sums it all up.  Total sense.  Ordering at restaurants shenanigans and all.  

Kindred spirit.  Fist pump.  Elbow bump.  Hip swing.

Hey Simple!

This morning, I showered at the YMCA after I ran.

Sounds very simple yes, but boy did it take some coming around to get to that simplified fix.  

Last night after running outside (insert wet dog smell here) and then tanning (insert bad bad coconut smell on top of wet dog smell here) (another insert here I know it's bad to tan and I promise it's not very often)...where was I?  After all of that smelly business and a round of packing for Arizona in which I was the most proud of myself ever for packing without internal combustion and odd issues arising, I went to shower.  Flipped the handle to hot like always to get it good and steamy before adjusting and cold was it.  Cold COLD.  

Which led to a quick discussion of crap, the hot water heater finally kicked the bucket after flirting with death for years.  Crap.  

And then I went into mild internal combustion.  

Bad timing!  This is really bad timing!  I have to be ready to get on a plane when I leave here for work in the morning.  I smell so so bad right now.  I have to like have time to make sure I have my toothbrush and blush brush packed in the morning.  I smell so so bad right now.  I have an early meeting at work. 

Mainly being the issue of I smell so so bad right now.  Followed closely by crap I suppose this is going to cost money.  

So then finally after lots of combustion (acting a fool) and after thinking I'd have to pack everything and shower at Brittany's or Karen's in the morning without my normal trip to the Y because of the time factor, it finally came to me, "Hey.  How about you just shower after your run in the morning at the Y and throw sweats on and come home and finish getting ready and pack up the last minute stuff for your trip then?  Like put a towel and your shampoo and conditioner in a bag with clean sweats and that's all you have to do."  

Hey light bulb moment.  

And here's where my humble flag is flying.  Being all proud of my non-ridiculous packing turned quickly into ridiculous behavior from a hot water heater death.  Yeah, I'm not all the way there yet.  Wherever all the way is.

I really dislike when that reaction happens to me.  Big problems.  There are big problems and big hurts and disappointments and this was definitely not one of them.  I work on reaction business all the time and apparently still need to keep on.     

All this leads to the simple fix of I showered at the Y this morning and all was just fine with the world.  A new hot water heater will make the everything steamy again and that's how that story goes.

Sometimes I get these fun little gifts in the mail with notes about how the person who did the gifting enjoys reading this space.  About how they relate to my perspective or about how they laugh or cry or feel a connection to some words that have come from my fingers.  

Sometimes I think to myself that it's time to hang up this place.  But usually right about that time is when I get a sign of life out there and then it becomes much less of Hello?  Am I talking to myself?  Bueller? and more of a beautiful connection in a small world.  

Perspective from all, including hot water heaters.  

PS to the you know who you are who sent me this best ever, and I mean really best ever, travel coffee mug...thank you.  Thank you for your thoughtfulness and thank you for reading about zits and the rest of this jumble. 

Breathable Air

My goodness, I feel like a switch went back to normal on Sunday.  It just felt better.  It feels better.   

The snow is melting and the air is breathable and warmish and we ran outside.  With our feet wet and our lungs finding their way with non stale gym air, we ran.  I had to yell a bit.  It was necessary.  After being cooped up for much too long, since what literally feels like since Thanksgiving, being outside felt like the best of highs.

The high lasted all of Sunday and is still quite possibly lingering now two days later.  It's amazing what melting snow and the promise of soon spring does for a person.  

And maybe the high felt even sweeter since it's been a tough time around here lately.  For me in personal ways and for my family in other ways and just in general...it's been the yicks.  Life is full of yicks.  It's also full of better.  

I don't have any more answers for anything today than I did a few days ago, but have come to peace with I don't have to know all the answers all the time.  Yes, series of choices define a life but a life is not defined by a plan.

Real Soon

I know that on an evening real soon, I'm going to bake an apple pie in Arizona with the door to the outside open and a glass of white wine in my hand and my parents doing their thing around.  I know this and I can not wait for this.

Share Sharing

A couple of things happened on my way to work on Friday morning.  Now it's a Wednesday and I still remember both, so clearly they were share worthy.   

Number one being I realized a song I really quite enjoy that goes something like this, "Story of my lifeeeeee...something something...frozennnnn...something...Story of my lifeeeee..." is from One Direction.  One Direction!  As in a boy band.  The realization of this had me wondering if it meant I was so out of cool there isn't a redemption hope or if it meant boy bands are back.  I think the fact I was a teenager during the Backstreet Boys and N*Sync days answers both of those questions.  I'm not cool nor will boy bands probably ever be back, if they were ever even a real thing to begin with.  Uffda that was a lot of thinking for a song that goes something like this..."Story of my lifeeeeee...something something...frozennnnn...something...Story of my lifeeeee..."

Number two being I kept thinking about a zit I popped the night before.  It was like truly, the perfect zit.  I wish all zits were like that and I'd even go so far as to say I'd like to order up one of that variety approximately two times a month as it quenches a picking fever in me.  It grew right between my upper lip and my lower nose in the volcano style.  Big and deep.  So right away, I thought oh this will be one of those ridiculous ones which hurt like hell but never actually do anything and then I will pick at it and it will scab and be there for a solid thirteen days.  But then!  On that fateful evening, I thought just for the heck of it I'd try to give it a pop.  And POP.  It popped!  Like a dream.  If you are a zit popper and fellow pick fever-er, you will know what I mean right now.  It made the squeak noise and was a ball of fire hitting the mirror.  The best part was the squeak.  No traces left behind.  And then this morning, poof.  It was gone like .  The perfect zit!  Ever since, I've been a bit obsessive thinking about it.  

Sometimes I think why do I write this stuff down.  And then mostly I think because I like to.  Who doesn't want to hear about boy bands and perfect zits?

And seriously, I want another one of those squeakers soon!  I'm sick.  Really.  Plus I have really big hair and like to smell the heads of babies.     

A Rut Fix

Eyes closed in a squint, shoulders raised, cheeks up, laughing feels so good.  So good.  Physically something happens I swear and mentally too, of course.  

Every once in awhile I will get stuck in a couple of days without laughter through my pores, a rut so to speak.  A routine rut more specifically, it's a floating through the motions of the every day with just that, the emotions of oh this is just another every day.  Usually during those days, I feel different as if something is off kilter, askew.  Then, something pee your pants style will happen and the laughing comes back and I'm all squeeze hugging it and yelling where have you been?!  That's what has been missing!  

Find some things to laugh about.  I must always find some things to laugh about.  My heart is much happier with eyes closed in a squint, shoulders raised, cheeks up...I just know it.

Also this article.  Is so spot on.  I am giving up saying I'm busy for Lent.  I don't really do the entire give up for Lent thing, so really I'm just trying to give it up.  If you catch me saying I'm busy, give me one swift slap on the cheek and then tell me to laugh instead.

One last PS and it's for winter.

Dear Winter,
Please leave.  Thank you.  Your long past your welcome stay is causing me to do things like take pictures of raspberries with the sunlight as a backdrop to grasp at some form of spring.  The sunlight was through the window of course because of you.  You winter you.
Sincerely, 
Me