Creativity

I've spent all of thirty minutes packing for my big move (yeah, I'm a slackerrrr). Going through my book shelf, I found an old project from school. Paging through the various entries that were required, I was quite surprised by the way I wrote back then. It wasn't really something that anyone would really want to read. Sort of pretentious, and even stiff in my attempts to maintain the image I was so wrapped up in back then.

Nowadays, at least in comparison, I am much more relaxed about everything I do and have felt comfortable releasing that old image. And with that comes a natural and vibrant creativity. Thats with work, writing, riding horses and even in interpersonal relationships. Creativity meaning creating positive things (what I want), and having the flexibility and presence of mind to deal with unusual situations to create even more positive things.

Creativity, I have found, is something that does not come when there is an image to maintain. For many years I believed that if I just built up a strong enough image, defense, whatever you want to call it, that I would be invincible and I would never be hurt ever again. All those years I spent fortifying this image and confining who I was to its boundaries. And all those years I continued to be hurt, and worse, because I was hurting myself.

Only recently have I been actively tearing down the walls of my image. It took some difficult lessons and a year and a half alone here in the city of Houston. And now, I'm left with a very real knowledge of who I am, and who I want to be. I'm proud to say that this knowledge is my own, and unaffected by the thoughts and opinions of others. I am me....Roberta, and no one else.

Knowing myself, I am feeling more creative than ever. Traditionally, and in the sense of creating the ultimate masterpiece: the masterpiece of my life.

New Culinary Adventures

Mexican food has been my favorite since I was very young. What can I say? I'm from Texas. There's no shortage of delicious Tex-Mex anywhere you go - who can resist chili con queso, guacamole and cheese enchiladas??

But when I moved to Houston, I discovered Mediterranean food. Wow. I had always loved Greek salads and gyros, but I hadn't even scratched the surface. Gradually my friends at work clued me in to the great Mediterranean places close to work. Demassi's, a buffet-style place with a huge selection of foods - fresh vegetable and herb dishes, rice dishes, pita bread that literally melts in your mouth, and the best hummus in town hands down. Then there's also Hungry's Cafe, which is modern fusion Mediterranean, Murphy's Deli, with a good selection of sandwiches and salads and finally Shish-kabob, with its more traditional Mediterranean fare.

So I was inspired to seek out a Greek cook book. I found a safe experimentation platform - a collection of modern recipes.

About 5 miles from work, there is a specialty Greek grocery store. After my new acquisition, I went wild. Traditional cheeses, olives, pita bread, Greek yogurt, tahini, various fresh produce, and of course I couldn't leave without some sesame candy.

Since then I've been cooking up a storm, and my eyes have really been opened to alternative ways of preparing food. Using a mortar and pestle (which can be improvised with a cutting board), using a sieve, and boiling among other things. I've also been open to cooking foods in ways I ordinarily would not prefer - frying (though not deep-frying), and more importantly, stewing. I've tried a stewed vegetable dish that is to-die for.

There are also some unusual flavor combinations that I have found very appealing. The most remarkable was a warm potato-red onion-caper-parsley-lemon juice-olive oil combination. I never would have thought to combine those ingredients, but it was the most delicious salad I have ever eaten. I've also learned that lemon juice, olive oil and salt is like the season-all for Greek food. And can make the most simple dishes spectacular. Just try Halloumi cheese fried in olive oil served with fresh-squeezed lemon juice. Or boiled spinach drizzled with the same.

My favorite part of this whole adventure is perfecting the making of hummus. The recipe is very simple, but you've got to tweak the ingredients to make for that wow-effect. Still working on that one, but with some reading I'm making some progress. Hummus is something worth taking seriously!!

All in all, this has got me going with all sorts of new ideas for cooking. And having the opportunity to say "OMG this is so delicious!" every night has been a very gratifying experience for the taste buds.

Anyone want to come over for dinner?

Forlorn Winter Day

Forlorn winter days are such a pleasant experience under the right circumstances. Though today wasn't particularly cold, old man winter still made his presence known.

Most Fridays at work are extremely busy because of our flex schedule - the staff rotates having Fridays off. Today there thankfully were not any emergency calls nor pressing items to get out the door. And so today I was left to work on some of my ongoing projects at a relaxed pace. I had the opportunity to occasionally look out the window and take in the winter weather.

All day it rained on and off (Houston's version of snow??), with layers fog and clouds hanging in the sky throughout. My mood mirrored the subdued weather - I felt my energy lower and with it my level of tension. I was left feeling somewhat forlorn, but it was oddly comforting. Maybe it was the steady stream of hot tea, or the fact that everyone's mood matched my own. But it was nice.

When I left work I drove downtown to the YMCA closest to my apartment to go for a swim. Driving past downtown was a sight - fog sinking between the sky scrapers, and black birds circling around the tops. Images of Gotham City spun in my head.

If the temperature isn't going to correspond with the time of year, then by golly it will look like winter!

I swam, then headed home, and snuggled up in bed with the cats and a good book. Happy for one forlorn day, and with it the opportunity to slow down.

This One's for Bee

So I got tagged. Tagged to talk about 7 random things, and 8 embarrassing things. hahaha! We'll see how this goes.

Randomness:

1. Let it be known that I just made the most perfect batch of wild rice ever made. It is much more difficult than it seems. This achievement comes after weeks of soggy rice, crunchy rice, and way-too-puffy rice. Blechh.

2. My cat Oliver - he loves to be spanked. And the harder the better. Ohhh yeah!

3. Are these supposed to be about me? Or my cats? And can I cheat by taking up a whole number with this?

4. Gossip magazines are my deepest, darkest guilty pleasure. I just loooove going to the salon, because I can catch up on Brangelina and best and worst dressed!

5. I have this thing for matched pajama sets. And lots of colors - purple, blue, pink, grey, green, red. My pajama wardrobe outdoes my real deal by far - nothing coordinates better!

6. I love love love vintage clothes but I have zero patience when it comes to hunting them down. So I have essentially none.

7. Cars and people's obsession with them annoy me. It gets you from point A to point B...

And embarrassing things:

These are going to be harder...

1. Back in college I worked at Sonic for one week as a carhop. They told me that if I could skate they would pay me an extra $1 an hour. So I strapped 'em on, confident that my handful of childhood experiences at the skating rink provided all the skill I needed. Things were going well, so long as I went slowly and put on the breaks well before my destination. My head was getting bigger, and I took out an order for two Route 44 drinks to go out to the station on the very end. I was skating along without a thought, when the pavement suddenly went down sharply at the last station. My head flung back as I made a desperate attempt to cling to the end pole. Whoaaa whooaa whoaaaaaaa! My whole body convulsed trying to balance myself and that cursed tray when, sploosh! The slushes went everywhere (and the pound of sticky sugar), including all over the customer's car. Lovely. After bringing them another round (in my socks), they gave me an extra dollar "for the entertainment."

2. This isn't embarrasing for me, but for my brother. Who never reads my blog. So muaahaa! When we were in high school, he wanted so badly to be a "real" man and have facial hair. He had an adorable little cluster of black hairs in the center of his chin, and would spend an hour each morning shaving it. (In unison now) Awwwww!!! :->

3. When I was in San Francisco this summer, I was walking with a friend along Fisherman's Wharf checking out the scenery. I was busy taking pictures and oohing and ahhing when this bush jumped out at me out of nowhere! I screamed bloody murder (which...I never do...ever), only to find it was a street "performer." hmph.

I'm really reaching here. These embarrassing stories are hard to remember...

4. Ah here's one! So back in middle school (when all the kids are so understanding of each other) I was in a history class taking a test. I felt some...uncomfortable pressure...and accidentally ripped one, thereby disturbing the intense test-taking concentration of all of my classmates. I heard a few snickers and tried desperately to act casual, thinking that maybe I pulled it off (and forgetting that people can actually HEAR where it comes from and witness my red face and stiff posture). As with all those classic preteen horror stories, the boy of my dreams was sitting right behind me. He took it upon himself to inform me of my own accidental bodily functions. "Hey Roberta, did you have some gas or something?? Haha!" I had such good taste in boys back then.

5. I've got nothing else.

Well, here you go, a little window to embarrassment. And randomness.

Judgement

On the way home from work today, I was listening to the radio as usual. Most of the time it gets washed into the periphery, but today was different. There was a story on the republican presidential candidates, and a religious leader was speaking about his take on what he considered the front-runners.

His take on the viability of Mitt Romney caught my ear the most. Not his opinion necessarily, but one little phrase. "Leaders teach their congregations that Mormons belong to a cult."

That one took me by surprise. Mostly because I felt surprisingly naive for not having fully realized this before. I have no opinion of Mormons, or Christians, or Muslims, etc (nor do I express here opinion of political candidates). My issue is that intolerance is something taught and accepted on an institutional level. It's just understood that "we" are right and "they" are wrong. Do we consider them to be less than human because they do not believe as we do, share the same values and morals or live a different lifestyle?

The question to ask ourselves: have we ever lived their circumstances and understood what the world looked like through their eyes? True understanding requires moving out of our comfort zone and exhibiting patience and empathy. Very few wish to make the effort. It is much easier to categorize, judge and move on with the belief that we are superior.

For a country that supposedly prides itself on diversity and tolerance, we sure do show our true face when it comes to positions of importance. We dare not let our own values be (falsely) threatened by electing an "outsider."

Vacation Time

Ahhhhhh I am so looking forward to this week. I have one day of work tomorrow, then I am off to Canyon Lake to spend a week in the boonies. Bare minimum work stress, lots, and I mean lots of dogs, and lots of visits to the lake.

This will also allow me to do those things that have been put on the back burner lately - books I want to read, running, horseback riding, blogging, and general relaxation.

Yeah, I've got some high relaxation ambitions. I'll be turbo-relaxing. Though I'll probably slash 90% of the above. But then, that's what vacation is all about. No schedules, obligations, nothing. Looking forward to it.

I'll miss the cats, though. I've begun packing for the week, and they know that when the suitcase comes out I leave very soon after. Oliver just uncharacteristically jumped up and curled up into my lap with a forlorn meow. Poor guy... Little does he realize I've found the perfect cat-sitters! My neighbors (who love animals) have kindly offered to watch over them for the week. I will have peace of mind.

Vacation ho! Something like that.

Running and Such

Back in high school I ran cross country and track. I wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it at the time. I hate to admit it, but I really only did it because my brother convinced me. I improved as I ran more, but certainly didn't reach a point that I would call my best.

My brother graduated the next year, so I dropped it, feeling a bit intimidated.

At that time, I lacked what is known as "mental toughness," which is something that athletic coaches just love to see in their athletes. They demand it, in fact.

I remember my running back then, and how it always felt like I was always either way ahead of myself and unbalanced or way behind myself and just "tracking."

The most unpleasant and least efficient (obviously) was when I would get into that tracking state of running. I remember how it was - it was as though I was almost running in place, and fear of stepping forward (for some reason or another). It could be likened to that feeling of when your foot is asleep and are scared it will be excruciating if you move it. But then when you do, you realized you were worried for nothing.

This afternoon I had a wonderful run at Memorial Park on the mountain biking trails. I realized some way down the trail that I never track anymore on my runs (which I now enjoy quite a bit). I always have a sense of forwardness, while still keeping my balance. This also has kept me from re-injuring myself, for when I even get close to that tracking state I can feel my leg becoming strained.

All it took was taking steps forward, with the intention of moving forward. I'm not necessarily expending more energy nor am I even putting myself through any mental anguish. It was just a matter of taking that first forward step. And from that first step moving on, no one can accuse me of lacking mental toughness.

Sometimes, though, it is so hard to take that step. Like moving your the foot that has fallen asleep that first time. Your mind is screaming "no! no!" But somewhere inside you, you know that you can do it. Once you begin your forward momentum, the rewards are continuously renewing themselves.

I remember once seeing one of the best cross country runners in high school being quoted as saying committing to running has taught her a lot of what she knows about life. I didn't understand it at the time, but now that I am committed to running I know exactly what she means.

Halloween

This weekend was wonderful. It was exactly the weekend I needed.

Friday was my earned day off. I made up for all those late nights during the week by sleeping in very very late. I rolled right out of bed feeling like a million bucks. Then breakfast, dressed, and out the door to spend the whole day at the barn.

There is nothing like a day of manual labor and riding. You might disagree with me, but try working my sit-in-front-of-a-computer-for-9+-hours-a-day job and you'll appreciate it much more.

I rode 2.5 horses. The .5 being my last ride - interrupted because I had unwittingly chosen a 2-lesson horse.

The first was Tucker, as usual. And it was the usual: ride out the bucking and adolescence until we can get about five minutes of actual work in. We made some progress today, considering I can only ride him about 1x a week. At the very end, we polished the ride off with some nice cantering.

I snuck in some fun, though. Along one of the long sides I stole some sneaky glances around the place to make sure no one was watching. Seeing no one was around, I spurred him into a big gallop. That little pony sure can kick his heels up when you let him. I swear I could hear him say "wheeeee!!!!" as he spun into little rocking-horse bucks in the corners of the arena. Or maybe it was just me...

Next was Zee. I've wanted to work with him for something like a month now, but he was always being used for lessons. He was all mine now. Muahaa! We had an awesome ride, and I learned something new from him. Always always a nice thing.

That evening, I went to a costume party. I missed the "dress-up" memo. I sure did get the "have fun" message, though. So much so that Saturday was a forgotten day. I saw some kids I hadn't seen in several months, and met a whole mess of cool people. And I drank stuff that out of an orange can that was sort of fizzy, malty and yeasty. Delicious!

Sunday was the real fun - games on horseback for halloween! Most everyone had a good time bobbing for apples, playing musical horses (you can bet the horses loved that one), water relaying, and racing with an egg and spoon.

The horses even got a little excited. Those that normally were quite sluggish during lessons suddenly developed a secretariat, eagle-like focus in their eyes and galloped fiercely down the arena. Except Jack, he's always wondering where the carrots are.

Some got a little too excited. Four riders got a nice sand-dusting. Two were dumped off Zee when his over-zealous galloping turned into bucking. The others were over-zealous riders giving into the excitement and not quite remembering how to stop. There was nothing more than bruised egos and lessons learned. Some fall-quotas were met, too - in particular one girl who fell twice in one event. She should be cleared by the fall-gods for a long time.

I even got to play. I rode in the adult bobbing for apples race and ride-a-buck, where you ride bareback with a dollar under your leg. I lost the ride-a-buck, being out of shape, but I cleaned up at the bobbing for apples race.

I rode a palomino quarter horse who's a regular lesson-guy. He's used to taking it slow and loving it. By the time I got on him, he had been through a couple of races and was pretty pumped. Looked like a little barrel pony prancing around. The ringmaster said "go!" and with a little tap of my legs he was off! Before I even had time to think he was on the other side of the arena and I already had to pull him up. Whoaaa there! Then hop off this trembling horse, grab the apple, and hop back on. He went even faster down the other side, and then it was stomp on the super-breaks so he didn't run through the fence. We were on the other side of the arena even before the other riders had gotten back on their horses from chomping their apples.

I'm so sure I scared the crap out of the riding instructors with that stunt, but oh man was it fun!

At the end of it all we had to clean up. I'll say again, nothing like a hard day's manual labor. Both horses and riders earned their sleep that night.

And today, Monday. Well, it wasn't too bad. Nice to have good memories to fuel your week.

Riding Fun

My birthday weekend, I got quite a treat - a lesson with a former Olympian. Here are a few pics:

This horse is the love of my life. Eat your heart out, boys.

Happy as a horse-ridin' clam.

Whoaaa. Some serious brakes for a serious train.

Nice relaxedness. Or, as relaxed as I can be out of shape and sitting an energetic trot.

Listening.

Fall is Here!

Our first cool front blew in today, and fall has finally officially arrived to Houston, TX. For the next couple of days, at least. Then summer will return, inevitably.

We've been teased by a few "cooler" days here and there. Cooler meaning below 90 degrees (and even 90 degrees is cool around these parts). Fall in Houston generally means less-humid days. So at least there is some reward for enduring the oppressive heat of summer.

In the morning my boss called me in to her office to see the front line. Always fun to see a dramatic indication of change like that - the line went diagonally across the whole sky. Behind it were several more lines, and finally crescendoed into a thick roll of clouds underneath the cover. I went outside to go get a better look, with the weather still warm and sticky. Soon after, the temperature dropped 10 degrees or so in a matter of minutes.

Heck yeah! It's about flipping time!

After I got off work, I was ridiculously excited about going for a run. Finally I wouldn't gasp for air! It was so great, I went for an extra ten minutes. Everyone else running on the trail seemed pretty stoked about the weather, too. The regulars all had an extra spring in their step, and many had smiles on their faces. Everyone loves a break from the perma-heat and humidity.

I just looked at the ten day forecast, and it looks like cooler weather all week. Yeah!

For You Cat Lovers

This one had me rolling on the floor!

Fear

Last night the theft of my bicycles finally hit me full force.

Terrible thoughts came to me, and I became fearful of being alone. When I went to bed my eyes refused to close. I left the stairwell light on, but I couldn't decide if it would be better or worse if an intruder were to enter. If it was on, he could see me, but if it was off, then the cover of night would be on his side. My mind raced with different scenarios, and refused sleep.

I clutched the nearest blunt object to my chest - a large crystal point my mom had given me. As I lay in my bed in the faint wash of the stairwell light, I stared at the ceiling and let my mind wander.

In the stillness and amid my fear, I suddenly understood so many things. Why people do the things they do in defense of their homes and land, why there are wars, and why fear is such a powerful driving force behind so many of the horrendous things that happen every day. Laying there in my bed, I imagined what I would do if an intruder were to come.

I felt like a warrior defending my castle.

This night I suddenly had a connection to so many people that I previously had not understood.

I felt, for the first time in my life, that there are so many things worth fighting for. Safety, family, friends, and freedom from people that try to take those things from you. Most importantly, freedom from the fear that those kind of people stir in you.

Thieves

When I left at 6 am this morning, both the gate that leads to my apartment and the backyard gate were open. I closed them both, and was kind of creeped out, but didn't think much of it after that.

Later in the day I receive an email from my landlord:

"Roberta, the neighbor says that your bikes are gone. Did you take them, or should we assume the worst...."

Assume the worst, dear landlord.

Both of my bikes. Gone. Not $50 walmart jobs. Real bikes. The mountain bike - my baby, Specialized Stumpjumper. The other - vintage Team Miyata. Top of the line in its day, and one helluva ride.

....

And to think that I worked hard for those bikes, and those goons just walked right into the garage and stole them in a matter of seconds.

....

Not to mention triggering the thoughts running wild in my head right now.

....

I called the police over two hours ago with an officer yet to arrive. How protected and safe I feel.

My mom says she's just glad I'm ok. Sure I'm physically ok, but what an invasion of space that is. Complete strangers just walked right into the yard, through the back gate, and through the garage door. All while I was sleeping and vulnerable.

Makes me afraid to even take out the garbage at night.

Since I have lived here, four crimes committed within 100 yards of me - three vehicle break-ins (all the neighbors' cars), and now this. All within a year. Time to get out of this place.

And I will, believe me I will.

Bad Day Tough

I'm finally growing up and developing a thicker skin. Used to be I was shaken by anything that whispered of disappointment, anger, etc.

I'll be honest about today - it was just a terrible day. There's no deluding myself. I received an unpleasant surprise in my email, and learned that I will endure the week unsupported. Without due notice. What's worse, but there are loose ends that only I can deal with, and I'm not even quite sure how to deal with them.

In a nutshell, I spent a good part of my day madly making phone calls to figure out what the heck was going on in regards to all these loose ends. Once I finally (sort of) figured it out, I made more phone calls to get it resolved.

As seems to be my luck, I called the wrong person and said the wrong thing. Or, rather, I called the right person and caught him in the wrong mood. He was upset that I was the bearer of unpleasant news, and proceeded to kill the messenger.

I put up with it for a few minutes, feeling like a fly caught in a web. When I finally realized the guy wasn't going to cool down, I got off the phone as quickly and politely as possible.

Thing is, I couldn't fight back. Since I wasn't too familiar with the project, it was a smile and nod exercise. A painful one. One where your smile really wants to be a scowl, and your nod the finger.

When I got off the phone, I admit I was....upset. Ok, I cried a little, too. I felt like Little Bear, crying after his widdle feelings got hurt.

An epiphany shot my head up, and I realized - hey! This guy has a problem. He totally went off on a power trip and took advantage of the situation.

HA!

And you know what? For the first time, I chalked it up to a bad mood and went about my day.

My day went by, I got some work cranked out (though the process could be likened to a meat grinder), then it was a two hour commmute back home in the pouring rain and lightning. But whatever. Sometimes it's a strangely nice feeling to have a bad day. Maybe it just makes life feel more real.

Or maybe it's just because I took my power back from that (expletive) and didn't let him (worsen) the rest of my day.

Regardless, it's an equally nice feeling that it's over.

Big City

Living in Houston has the capacity to practically give me a coronary at the tender age of 25. Thankfully, it has given me some insight on what big city life is really like. Most importantly on why I never want to live in a big city ever again.

The 20 mile commute home from work today triggered yet another bout of frustration with city life.

Houston traffic is always a nightmare, but today it was extra-hellish. I actually drive against traffic, because I work outside of town and live closer to downtown (to meet the really cool people I haven't actually met yet). Usually there are about three snags that I have to get through, with relatively smooth sailing in between. Today, traffic was backed up at mile one all the way down to mile 19. Someone was looking out for me for that mile number 20...wheee...

The way it happens here...stop....and go....and stop....etc...you get the idea. During one stop, and then a go, I apparently wasn't accelerating quickly enough for the guy behind me. He honked. I ignored. Whatever. Just kept accelerating, but he was right on my tail. I mean right on my bumper. I didn't get out of the way, because I couldn't. There were cars all around me. No way I was going to accommodate this dip and risk anything to get out of the way.

This guy starts trying to swerve and change lanes, or just tell me in plain road rage language that he was pissed. Finally he found a hole. You wouldn't believe, what this guy did. He squeezes in front of a car in the right lane, stomps the gas, changes lanes again. Then, he swerves in front of me rather violently and stomps his brakes.

So I calmly change lanes, and keep driving forward, still trying to ignore the situation. I get closer to him in a different lane, and the jerk swerves into my lane and nearly runs me off the road!

At this point, I slowed down and got away. It took the remaining 18 miles for my heart to stop racing. Even mile 20 didn't make things right.

You know how they say climbing one stair lengthens your life by four seconds? Well, driving in Houston one day shortens your life by four hours. Add to that the pollution, humidity, and the pavement to reflect all that right back in your face and well, you've got quite a wholesome environment. In Houston years, I'm old enough to retire!

Ugh. One more reason to get the hell out of dodge. At least I know I don't have to live here my whole life. Next stop: mid-size city bliss. Can't wait!

Today Good

Today was a moderately good day.

I had a healthy degree of detachment today from my job. Why is it that it's so much easier to work when you don't care quite as much??? As my uncle likes to say - worry doesn't do you any good, but concern will allow you to do what you need to do. Concern to get the job done, but not worrying about doing it perfectly actually made my work come out more perfect. Go figure. Definitely made for a day that was neither really good nor really bad, just...moderately good. And good stuff.

After my...moderately good day at work, I came home and was mad excited. My tendonitis is going awayyyyy (laaaaaa), and I can ruuuuuunnnn (laaaaaaaa). So I get home, tell the cats hello (my kids?) and rush out the door to get out there on the running trail.

To back up, last night I bought an iPod shuffle. I have waited four months to buy that sucker. Four months. Now that's what I call consumer restraint. Yesterday I was looking on the Apple website and discovered that they now have a red one. So I went to the Apple store right after work, dropped the cash and walked out one happy American consumer.

Oh, and the iPod touch and iPhone - wow. Apple outdid itself. So...tempting. Someone once accused me of being an in-the-closet tech junkie...

As you can guess, I used my new gadget during my run. And it couldn't be more perfect for exercising. It's small, very light and clips on to anything. No need for a case, armband, nothing. Wonderful.

Today I remembered how awesome awesome it is to run with music. Like a soundtrack to your epic workout.

My music told a story something like this:

You're in a movie...running in step with some high-energy music, running for some big goal. Let's say winning the Boston marathon. Of course, you'll start out the underdog, but you'll keep going. Steady, like the tortoise. Unconsciously bobbing their heads to the music, the audience is mentally running with you and rooting for you. Then, there's a big windstorm...or something. And all the top athletes have worn themselves out, and your steadiness has allowed you to finish....in first place!!!! AAAAAA!!!! Of course, everyone knew you could do it, and was there to meet you at the finish line, cheering you on. The ribbon breaks dramatically across your chest as the camera speed slows and zooms on you, focusing on the tears of joy streaming down your exhausted face.

Then...you make all the major headlines, you are thrown millions of dollars in sporting goods contracts, you adopt some cause for underdogs who cant run good and want to win the Boston Marathon, and you retire at the age of 30 in Hawaii. And live happily ever after. Or...isn't that how it happens in the movies???

All this...while gasping in the Humid Houston air after only 10 minutes of running. Ah, the power of music.

After my run, and back to my apartment, I cooked an extremely delicious dinner. Pasta-topped mushrooms. Orange and yellow pepper with blue cheese melted on top of a portabello mushroom. Wow and wow. I've gone off dairy for the time being to test it out, but I just can't give up my blue cheese. It's just...too wonderful. And with this mix of veg and mushrooms, it was at its best.

Of course, dessert is always in order after a dinner like that. I decided to make chocolate mousse. I pulled out the box, anticipating a delicious treat. When....blast! I need a blender. I always forget when I buy it that a blender is needed to make it. The directions read something like this: 1. pour mixture with one cup of (soy) milk into large mixing bowl. 2. blend with blender at lowest speed for 30 seconds. Ok, this I can do. Just mix it up. But 3 always throws me for a loop - blend at highest speed for 3-5 minutes.

Well, I thought, I've got a whisk and my bare hands. If it need something other than that, than by golly its just not worth eating. Five minutes, one very sore arm and one very big mess later, I put a nicely textured mousse in the fridge. Folks, don't ever let lack of hardware deter you.

So now here I am: tired, and happy. hmmmm. I suppose with some music and cat time this evening, today could be a really good day. That, and some chilled chocolate mousse...

Whatcha gonna do?

As I was driving to Canyon Lake the other night, I was pulled over by a cop near Podunkville, Texas. One of my front lights was out, and I had been hyper-aware of it for a few days already. I was on a state highway: notorious for cops driving slowly on the shoulder skimming for traffic-related infractions.

I'm sure you all know that "oh s*^%" feeling when a cop turns around suddenly from the other side of the road. Like a snake spinning around at scent of prey, and you the mouse, wide-eyed, knowing you're a goner. I knew he was going for me. Damn.

He turned his lights on, and there was nowhere safe to pull over - no shoulder, nothing. So I turned my blinker on and kept going, but much more slowly. This was a mistake. The cop sounded the siren and turned his spotlight on me, conveying to me his irritation. So I made a bigger mistake - I suddenly changed lanes and pulled into a parking lot on the other side of the road.

The cop quickly got out of his car and switched his flashlight on me and is looking in my car. Looking no doubt for the 10 kilos of cocaine and cache of machine guns in the backseat (shhhh...).

I apologized that I took longer than normal to pull over (5-10 seconds is an eternity in cop-time), and that I was just looking for a safe spot. He was peeved, and told me that he thought something was going on in the car (note to self - Raoul Duke is a terrible role model). He also said he didn't appreciate my "stunt" to get into the parking lot.

He seemed to loosen up a bit when he saw that I was actually a polite person. But then, two more "infractions": my insurance card was expired by a week, and my address wasn't current.

I thought that maybe the cop would go easy on me, because it was pretty apparent that I was your basic law-abiding citizen. Except when I don't notify DPS of my change of address. He was, for some reason, very upset about that. The cop didn't cite me for the headlight (my big break, I suppose) but he sure as hell was pissed that I didn't change my effing address.

The town of Martindale, Texas, is also apparently very upset when the DPS is not notified of a change of address. In fact, they are so threatened by my "failure" to notify that they are inclined to charge me $157.

I also got a ticket for my expired insurance card, but that's easily fixable.

I would hate to be a cop, because I would just hate to issue citations. Especially to people who aren't interested in giving you attitude so you can justify it. How do you...deliver a ticket to such a person?

This guy returned from his car and was extremely cheery and polite. He asked me to "sign here" as though he were closing out a sale at JC Penny's. And then the parting...thank you? Do you say thank you? Have a good night? This dude just gave me two tickets that value over $400 combined. What do I even say? Hey man, thanks for the fine! I hope it helps pay for that brand new courthouse! *ding*

What an awkward situation.

So now...I've got to cough up $157. We all know how exasperating it is to spend that kind of money on those kinds of things. Don't worry, though, lesson learned. For crying out loud, don't forget to notify the frikin' DPS when you move!

I need to come up with a new name for my blog

QWERTY was just a place-holder. And not...the best. Suggestions?

Sand Arenas

I've been trying to make it out to the barn on a regular basis (regular basis means once a week), 'cause it's so good for my sanity. This weekend was no exception. I went out this morning and rode a couple of horses - Samson and Tucker.

Samson and I had a pretty good ride, as usual. He started out a bit nervous, though, because the owner of the place is now leasing a huge pasture behind the barn (and the cross-tie area). This means that while the horses are being groomed and such, the horses enjoying the new football-sized pasture are tearing around and kicking their heels up. Everyone will get used to it, but in the meantime, it was lots of whinnies and nervous energy.

Ol' Sam tho always irons himself out. By the time we got to the arena he was fine. But then, on to another challenge - the lawn mower. The barn hand tried to turn it off as I went by, but I signaled to him to keep it on, thinking Sam would be fine. Sure he was. We were doing some trotting exercises nicely around the arena, and we were pretty well in sync. Then, asking for the canter on a circle, he stepped into a stride or two, then promptly spooked to the side to avoid going near the lawn mower (which...was on the opposite side of the arena). I kept riding the circle on some sort of imaginary horse, and landed nicely in the sand with a soft thud.

Of course, every time you fall off, the horse looks down at you like "what are you doing down there?" Sam is certainly no exception, but he had such a sweet look on his face that I just laughed and patted the poor guy. Then I hopped back on and we went about our way.

Honestly, it was nice to fall in such a good way, because I was way overdue for my next. Thank goodness for sand arenas!

Then on to Tucker, who is a young 'un who just loves to test you to see if you'll let him leave hoofprints on your back. We had a wonderful ride, after getting a few things straight. Funniest thing was his canter. He wasn't too interested in trying to balance a rider on his back, so his canter strides were more like bucking-strides. It was actually kind of fun (cause his bucks are so manageable), and a good lesson because he learned he couldn't get out of it by bucking. After a few tries, we got a nice canter in. Then a long rein and a pat of gratitude.

The after-ride process is just as gratifying as the riding itself. It's always nice to know you are showing the horse how appreciative you are of him; to give something back. The rub-down, hose-down, and hanging out with him while he grazes. Then the final pat before you two go your separate ways until next week.

Now the rest of the week will be a little brighter.

Cheepmunks

Aren't the little chipmunks so cute?

Mountain Magic

Last week my mom and I spent the week in Colorado - Boulder and vicinity. We had bigger ambitions, but my mother's body protested quite a bit when we got too high up in the mountains, so we cancelled the second half of our trip and just hung out in Boulder.

It actually turned out to be a nice misfortune. I managed to get to the mountains every day to go hike and sit in the quiet.

As is likely to happen when you spend days solid around someone, my mom and I had our share of disagreements. After a particularly rough one, I decided to get some perspective in the mountains.

Sometimes, getting away is exactly what you need.

I went to the usual park off Flagstaff road, where there are endless trails to explore. As I was driving up the mountain I noticed a storm brewing in the distance, but wasn't about to let it deter me. I parked the car and started exploring a new spur of the trail.

I hiked for a good long while, all the while seeing deer, squirrels and hundreds of woodpeckers. My mind was starting to calm, and by the time I reached an intersection of trails, things were starting to look better to me.

I followed a randomly selected fork, and hiked along not sure where I was going (the best feeling ever in the mountains - when you're not terribly lost, that is...) The trail started getting significantly more difficult. I kept going, though, enjoying the challenge.

After hiking up an incline, the trail seemed to circle back on itself in front of a large group of boulders. Not wanting to stop, I looked around for anything resembling a trail. My efforts paid off, and I followed a jagged trail up the boulders.

My mind and feet were distracted negotiating the rocks, so I didn't realize immediately when I was at the top. With no more boulders to climb, I looked around me.

I had come to an open area that led to a sharp dropoff. The wind was howling. In the near distance, I could see the storm festering.

I watched it. Somehow it seemed possible to reach up and touch it. It sat there trapped over the mountains; I could hear it discharge its energy in the distance. The sound lingered as it reverberated between the slopes of the mountains. I closed my eyes for a little while and let the wind blow on my face and my ears absorb the sound.

Then, as though this moment couldn't get any better, I opened my eyes and looked up to see a golden eagle soaring with its offspring. I followed them across the sky with the wind as a backdrop until they landed on one of the thousand trees.

I knew with a touch of sadness that I couldn't stay forever. I finally rose and started walking back. Disappointed at having to leave, but knowing that the place was burned in my memory.

Post-Vacation

Whew. These first two week days have been rough. After spending a week in Colorado, work was a challenge. Maybe it was the thin air, or a week with absolutely no engagement of my mind, but my brain was just not working. Still not cranking too smoothly even as I write.

Previous vacation returns haven't been too bad, but I think that's because they weren't for an entire week. Love the week, but it makes going back all that much harder.

So today I was writing a memo to explain to x person y situation and how it pertains to z. Normally, I can bang those things out and feel satisfied that I am making my point clearly. This one, though, took me about twice as long; I printed it out to edit as usual. After reading the first paragraph, I was...surprised. Lots of choppy sentences, over-explanation, and very very repetitive.

Me: "did I actually write this crap??"

Hence the lack of blog entries since my return. Sorry, all, or um, the five people that actually read this page. I'll get back on the ball this week. Promise.

Anyway, entry to come on my trip to Colorado, once I muster the brain power and inspiration. Pictures, at least, will be up. In the meantime, wish me luck with work.

Every Puppy's Dream

Horse/Mind Harmony

This weekend I went out to the barn, and as usual, it was well worth the trip out there. Every time I go, I realize I forgot how good it is for me. Definitely need to go more often.

The ride went pretty well from the start. I always find that if you have harmony in mind from the very beginning, it tends to go quite well. The very beginning - leading him out and ensuring he is listening, on to grooming while he stands quietly, and then tacking up patiently and firmly. Cinch the girth up smoothly, get the bridle on in clean sweep (albeit this is impossible with some horses at first), then lead him out into the morning.

If you approach it this way, you've already got a good rapport going once you get into the arena. Many horses have a habit of trying to walk away while mounting (including dear ol' Samson), but we already had an understanding. Then once I am in the saddle, we started walking and focusing on rhythm.

Sing a song in your head, and work your way around the arena with him - steady, quiet and listening. Adjust just a little, and his stride will match your song. Before you know it you're not even trying, and you and the horse are easily one.

Then on to more challenging exercises, but the work flows for both horse and rider. With gradually smaller efforts you begin to make more perfect circles, release and bend, and engage the hind end.

While you are in this meditative state, your problems are solved one chip at a time in your subconscious. Each time you rise to his trot, your mind will ratchet to a fuller understanding of how to deal with a difficult situation. Cantering the center line will reassure that your feet are falling onto the right path in life. As you trot energetically and bend around a circle, you'll remember that life is cyclical. And as your ride comes to a close, the idea that life is pretty good slips into your consciousness.

At the end, I gave Samson a long rein, dropped my stirrups and let my legs hang. As horse and rider we cooled down - his stride was loose and easy, and my hands rested on his withers. The song of the birds singing, the morning light and the dew on the grass were all enjoyed through profound mental clarity as we walked around the arena.

The rest of the morning, I spent a great deal of time with Samson - rubbing him down, hosing him off and letting him graze as he dried in the sun. It was the least I could do after what he had given me. Then back to his pasture with an appreciative pat, and on with our lives we go.

Owen Boy

Well, I have finally decided on a name for "Fiona": Owen. I think it suits him, and Oliver and Owen has a nice ring to it.

Little Owen. Funny how your pre-conceived notion affects your perception of something. I was so convinced of his femininity - the soft fur, the high-pitched kitten meow, and the beautiful blue eyes. My little girl who trotted around with a feminine swing.


Now, I see the masculinity. The puffier cheeks, the jaunty strut, the confident stare.

Or are these just general cat qualities??

Perception skews. If you think its a girl, those girly qualities will come out, and vice-versa.

I could go forever calling him Fiona, my little girl, and he wouldn't know the difference. But I would.

Isn't that funny, a name and sex for the benefit of the human, not the cat. What would happen if we called our own boys girls? I hate to think. Just read Middlesex and you'll see what I mean (but at least that was an honest mistake).

I indulged in the thought of her being a hermaphrodite, actually, for a moment. Trying to search for any reason to hang on to my image of her. Hehehe. The letting go happened gradually.

Owen is nice, and my mind has settled on a male image. But he'll never know the difference. He'll just go on eating paper and chasing Oliver's tail as always.

Keep on the Sunny Side

Today at work I fetched my CDs and popped in my favorite soundtrack - O Brother Where Art Thou. Great movie, too.

The last song on the CD is "Keep on the Sunny Side". It was definitely what I needed to hear, given the events of the past week.

Here's an excerpt:

There's a dark & a troubled side of life
There's a bright, there's a sunny side, too
Tho' we meet with the darkness and strife
The sunny side we also may view

This week was rough, with an equally rough weekend preceeding it.

As though mirroring my mental state, today the weather forecasted dark clouds, and it rained all day. But then the sky cleared. Looking out the window, everything looked so clean and clear.

The sun even came out - with the still-wet trees and grass, everything looked beautiful.

More excerpt:

The storm and its fury broke today,
Crushing hopes that we cherish so dear;
Clouds and storms will, in time, pass away
The sun again will shine bright and clear.

Just as the sky clears, so will my mind.

Remember that the next time the darkness seems as though it will never go away. It is temporary, and always there is a sunny side.

Once it emerges, it is even more beautiful than before.

Central Market

Oh man. I just had the most wonderful experience. Something that only happens once every couple of months (because it's so flipping expensive).

I just went to HEB Central Market. For all of you non-Texans, Central Market is the greatest thing since sliced whole wheat bread. Anything and everything you could possibly think of is there, and the best of the best: exotic and domestic produce, messes of seafood, wines galore, fresh-cut flowers to satisfy the female heart's content, delicious cheeses, and much much more.

When you first walk in, you are greeted with a (strategic) maze of fresh produce. This is where half of my basket is filled, and most of my temptations. The colors are overwhelming, and the decision of what new fruits and vegetables to try today is a tough one. Shall it be purple wax beans? Gooseberries?

Then a meander past the awesome meat market (after picking up some ground bison), and there you are - a sommelier's dream. I'm not exactly "classy" enough (read: I don't have enough money) to get too much into wine, but I do love a good glass now and again. Sometimes they have free samples! Then on to the bulk foods, dairy (with quite a yogurt selection - I would know, I'm a yogurt sommelier!), bakery, and frozen foods.

Of course, the next part is best - the cheeeeeese! Ohhhh...the cheese. I can never choose, and resent the decision. Of course, since I am (still) hopelessly addicted to blue cheese, I've got a pick up a healthy chunk of that. Then....?? I may as well close my eyes, spin around, and see where my pointer ends up. Usually a nice goat cheese (the non-goat dropping variety), sometimes something new, and sometimes just plain ol' cheddar (from the world's largest block of it, of course).

Central Market is also the only grocery store where you are allowed to go on an empty stomach. They've got all major courses covered in samples. Veggies, meats, salsas, cheeses, and sweets. In fact, I would advise to go right before dinner.

This evening I got home from my adventure and cooked up a nice soup with ground bison, fresh produce, and some interesting feta cheese. A little bit of everything, and oh my a whole lot of yum!

Of course, my wallet is always a bit deflated after a trip to this place, but for the next week, I'll be eatin' feta and drinkin' OJ like a queen!

Chaos

Chaos. Whew. It can be eye-crossing at times.

Today work was awesome, I got so much done, and managed all the chaos associated with a busy day. I was borderline sprinting down the halls all the way until the last minute.

Days like today I feel great about being able to do my job. Being the most productive possible: juggling calls, emails and requests, keeping the temp busy, and getting things out the door. Reason to pat myself on the back. And I did, yes, because I worked my ass off today.




But damn. I walked out the door, got in my car, and put on some tunes. I picked something upbeat and energetic, but after a moment or two I was thinking I should have opted for silence. I even tried to return my mom's call from earlier in the day, and barely comprehended a word she said.

Multi-tasking, or, managing chaos, is pretty intense. My brain at the end of a day full of this is devoid of activity, and I struggle with the simplest analytical tasks.

This is fine, once in a while. There was a time, though, when I was determined to "work hard" and just about kill myself every day. Every time I got home from work, the only thing I wanted to do was nothing. And nothing was my life. Just work and home.

And now? Screw that crap, I want a life. I'll work hard, but with balance. No more staying late all the time, no more working myself into exhaustion. Not to say I won't do it if it is necessary, but working too much for the sake of working too much I will never do again.

Whew. Now its off to a warm bath, and some serious relaxaton. And perspective.

Dead Poets Society

As of a few minutes ago, I watched Dead Poets Society for the first time. All I can say is, damn, why didn't I watch this movie sooner. What an awesome film, which so effectively comments on the flaws of society and what it expects from us all.

In high school I remember reading Whitman and Thoreau: two poets whose work, among others, inspired the characters in this film, and a 17-year-old me. Ever since I was old enough to be aware of society, I have felt as though it is flawed. Both in what it emphasizes as important, and in how our desire for acceptance drives us to fulfill these empty and lonely pursuits. Reading the work of these two poets made me feel as though I was not alone in my thinking, and justified in rebelling against it.

Over the years, I have come to accept societal pressure as necessary, and not always evil. But there are times when I feel I give in to that pressure too much, and thus lose myself. It is during these times that I forget what it is that truly makes me happy.

Tonight, though, this movie reinforced my passion for living life freely and beyond what others expect. To be aware of the pressure to conform, rise above it, and follow what makes my heart sing despite those influences on the outside.

I will seize the day, and make my life extraordinary. And with that I will live life on my own terms.

To be continued...

Decisions, Decisions

Today was one of those "heavy" days, when you feel like you've got a lot of decisions to make. So much so that even the little ones seem like a big deal.

Standing in front of the closet with 4 minutes to go and no clue what to wear. Obsessing all day about whether to go to Canyon Lake for the weekend. Sitting frozen at my desk as the engine within my brain sputters and finally ceases trying to decide what to do. Wondering - should I go downstairs and get some ice cream? Should I go out to the barn tomorrow? Do I need to stay at home and be "responsible"? What should I do???

Eh. Yeah, sure, I was making a mountain out of a molehill. I needed some perspective, and I got it on the way home from work (thankfully).

It's pretty easy to view decisions as always being black and white. The right decision, and the wrong decision. This is what we (maybe just me?) are brought up to believe. Sort of along the lines of being a good person, or a bad person. No shades of gray.

So many decisions are just that - a decision, and a matter of personal preference. What's important to you? What sort of mood are you in? Do you want to have an adventure today??

You know, I'm feeling pretty mellow today, so I'll wear my favorite blue shirt. Why, I do think I'll just go to Canyon Lake this weekend - I feel like going to play! Ice cream! Yeahhh! Waistline be defied! I don't feel like going to the barn, so no, I should not go. What? Responsible?? This weekend?? Ha!

And there you go. Decisions made, and no worse for wear. Ahhhaha!

Fiona Girl?

This evening I got home, sprawled on the couch and passively watched the cats do their cat thing. Little Fiona was doing as all well-groomed kitties do: she was cleaning her fur and polishing her refined image. But while she was doing it, I noticed...something.

Suspicious, I called my mom up and asked her how to sex a cat. She said it was hard to tell, but I reported to her what I had witnessed, and she started laughing.

Yep. Turns out dear, sweet Fiona Girl is a Fiona Boy!!!

I can't deny I'm a little disappointed, because Fiona Girl was fun to say. Not only that, but I was so used to thinking she was a pretty girl. Now...a pretty boy. Not as great a social connotation. (But cats are always above that, eh?)

That's probably why "she" likes beer.



Saint Arnold's - at least he has good taste.

Now I've got to come up with a new name for him. Any suggestions?

Writing

It has now been almost two months since my first blog entry, when I felt a bit out of my skin and not quite sure what to write. I was even a little concerned , because I didn't want to seem full of myself in any way (these reflections inspired by this.) As I said before, I thought blogs weren't necessarily a good thing.

Boy was I wrong. I have found the perfect outlet for my creative energy, and even solace for when I am feeling lonely, frustrated, sad, or fill-in-the-blank.

It has been a slow letting-go, though. At first I was a little worried about people being able to read my blog. In fact, I didn't make the link public until I had something like 15 entries! As a friend put it "Wow, you have a lot of content for nobody knowing about this." Ok, so I'm a little shy...

This fear has kept me from writing freely and from my heart at times. I hate to admit that most of the time I wonder what people would think about the things I am writing about. What if they didn't like it? Agree with it? Or judge me in some way because of it?

Luckily I am becoming more capable of listening more to what is on the inside than on the imagined outside. Of not caring what others think about what I write. On a larger scale, it has helped me along on my mission to discover the true me, and stick to it. And write from the heart.

Getting there, at least. I still have those thoughts, and still don't feel my entries are as free as I would like them. But, as with everything, a slow progression, and the happy realization that I am less afraid.

Cleaning House

I just spent an hour downstairs cleaning out the garage. Very humid, creepy (crawly) and hard to do.

My object was to clean out a lot of old things. Especially those that I haven't looked at literally in years. It served as a symbolic clearing of the mind, too. Brushing those cobwebs away, moving the old stuff out and making room for the new.

There were some things I couldn't give up. Old letters, pictures, ticket stubs, and the like. My goal was actually to get a rid of a lot of that stuff, but it was just something I couldn't do. There were some things that were too pivotal in my life to pitch the physical reminders.

Looking through all that memorabilia is always something that reminds me that I am constantly changing, and constantly improving. There were a lot of things that I liked to see and remember, but just as many things that made me feel a twinge of regret, sadness or disappointment. They always say to live with no regrets, and I try, but some memories are difficult to re-experience.

Overall, it made me grateful for this last year alone, and realize that I still have a long way to go. But I am changing, in that much I can take comfort. Not only that, but that I will be ok...

Solitude

Solitude is something that I have always needed more than most people. I am naturally a quiet person, with perhaps a bit too much going on in my head; I enjoy the opportunity to put recent events into perspective. This, I have found, is best accomplished alone.

This past year in Houston, however, I have been blessed with too much of a good thing. At times I resent this quite a bit, but I must also admit that it has been an opportunity to really become familiar with myself.

It is almost dizzying to realize how much we can become the people around us. Sometimes I believe that we are only a conglomerate of the people in our lives, and just individuals in that we just absorb different traits from different people. But other times, I believe that we are true individuals, and that we just have to figure out who we are.

I can say that I am closer than ever to knowing who I am, and that, I feel, is a great accomplishment. There were times when I had no idea - I would define myself as being in a relationship with another, belonging to a certain group/subculture, or even as some sort of image I built up around myself. Of course, all of these proved to be very fragile, for if someone perceptive came along, this definition was dissolved easily.

Being alone has allowed me to sort through all of my old definitions, and despite feelings of loneliness, sadness and at times downright despair from too much seclusion, there has arisen an individuality. One without the need for props such as image, a romantic relationship, or a particular group. Solid, and real. And very satisfying, even comforting to know that it cannot be shaken, because it is truly me.

Solitude, though at times difficult to endure, is very valuable indeed.

Cycling

My freshman and sophomore years in college, I became a smoker. (Rebellion? You betcha.) Luckily, I decided that wasn't a very good idea, and came up with a strategy for quitting.

...Actually, I'm trying to make myself sound like super woman, so let me start over...

After a half dozen times of quitting, then starting again, nearly losing hope, and close to resolving that I would be a smoker forever, I decided on a whim to to go to MSC Open House and look for an athletic club to join that would motivate me to quit.

Of course, I had no idea what I wanted to join, but I knew if I spent enough time I would find something that would give me the proper drive. After a few hours of wandering around, I narrowed it down to rowing or cycling. The rowing club had a meeting that conflicted with a work shift, so cycling it was.

During the meeting, there was discussion of a mountain bike race that weekend in Comfort, TX. I didn't think much of it, but a few days later I decided I wanted to go and called up the mountain bike VP and nailed it down.

Now, Comfort is a pretty tough course. 9ish miles of rough rocks, roots and difficult hills. It was my first time mountain biking, and despite the slippery course after a light shower and the slow torture of my legs, I was hooked!

So there it is. My introduction to the great sport of mountain biking. And for a few years after that, it was a source of good friends and the time of my life.

After I graduated, I continued to ride now and again, but (very) unfortunately developed a case of tendonitis that has kept me from riding for the past year. After something about 6 months of frustration (and a bit of crying I must admit), I accepted reality and decided to let it heal. For a loooooong time.

Tonight was one of my first few (very slow) rides. I have only been riding once a week, and hoping to re-establish flexibility to the area and with the slow passage of time be able to ride as I once did.

See, cycling (now both road-riding and mountain) is one of those things that just did it for me. Something about the rhythmic cycling of the legs, the whirr of the wheels, and the zen-like concentration it took to keep a steady pace on a trail. It was powerfully meditative.

Not only that, but it was an easy way for me to make friends. It was a super-fun activity in which all skill levels could participate, and it didn't involve getting inebriated and staying out until the wee hours of the morning (although we did also do that more than a few times...)

I can't wait to get back into that. Now I just have to get my legs to cooperate with me. Or rather, I will cooperate with my legs and bring myself back up slowly. Then it will be an easy reaching of the zone, and perhaps I can make some new friends that share something in common.

Playtime

It is seriously time to have fun.

Last night I got home, and put on Wildcat, by Ratatat, the most fun song ever. This one song turned a switch in my brain: I played with my cats for an hour, did a little jig doing the dishes, sang in the shower, played with the cats again, and slept in my bed in the complete wrong direction. In my bright pink sushi pajamas.

This afternoon, I got off work, played some more fun tunes, let loose, and here I am. Now I'm venting. About how little I let myself play. And then I go nuts! Gotta get some fun in. Go out! Play in the dirt! Dance! Sing like a fool!

But no, gotta be professional, pay the bills, clean house, take my responsibilities seriously, be a big girl. What a drag!

My solution: for one week, after work, I am shrugging off all responsibilities and going to play. This is my agenda for the weekend:

1. Friday night - Mel Brooks marathon. Eat popcorn. Maybe sling back a few.
2. Saturday - go the the beach. Rain, shine, or thunderstorm, my ass is going to be sitting out there. And I'm going to play in the sand, sit in the surf. That evening, I'll be harassing a friend who lives in Galvy. Then...?? May the night lead me to good times.
3. Sunday - recover?? That evening, go play with the horsies.

Ahhhh. No cleaning, bill-paying, thinking about work, trying to be "good". Ah yes, nothing of that sort.

And it will be good fun!!