Well, not unlike many other areas of the country, it's snowing again. Enough already. I am supposed to have a rest day and now nature is forcing an unscheduled weight and core workout on me. Bastard.
I am sure you are all wondering, "Assface, what do you do on a Monday such as the day you are currently experiencing?" And to you I respond, "It's MR. Assface to you!"
Seeing as how the dog has been cooped up too much lately, I took him to doggy daycare. This should tire him out so he won't have any energy to chew socks, mittens, LEGOs, Barbies, my Garmin and the endless numbers of dirty Kleenexes my wife is producing.
Yes, my wife is sick. My wife never gets sick so this is somewhat blogworthy. She currently has a bad cold, that I really hope doesn't develop into something worse, like pneumonia, because that could happen with her. (Compromised immune system, which is, strangely the reason she so rarely gets sick - she gets a monthly treatment that gives her IS a recharge.) With her cold comes endless nose blowing and Kleenexes, then the dog hovers around like she is dropping bacon bits from her nose. We have stopped chasing him. He just chews them until the flavor is gone, they are soaking wet and then he shreds them to bits. Stoopid dog. (He is chewer and a shredder. I have to give him credit for not actually "eating" the stuff he destroys. I know because I "check" - dog owners, you know what I'm talking about.)
Later on the docket is ART practitioner #2. #1 didn't seem to know what he was doing. When I reported that it really didn't hurt coach said, "Well, that can't be right" and her ART person concurred. This guy had better know what he's doing!
All right, I better get in the car and on the road since a drive that takes 10 minutes on a normal day will now take an hour in this weather. Stoopid winter.
We got back from Las Vegas a couple of days ago and I have to say it may have been an epic failure.
That is not to say that I didn't have a good time with A and no kids and our friends and their new baby and JS. I mean, there was no drama or scandal or gun play or gratuitous nudity or hostage situations or blackmail or need for massive doses of antibiotics.
The flight there on Delta/Northworst Thursday night was actually fairly pleasant. We had a male flight attendant who was incredibly helpful and patient and, dare I say, friendly. The return flight on Sunday was not that way.
We flew back on US Airways, which is undoubtedly the WORST airline in America. (That "honor" changes depending on the airline I've flown on most recently, so for now US Airways "wins.") First off the planes were totally "ghetto" - looking like they hadn't been cleaned or updated since the late 1980's. And then there were the employees. WTF!? If you hate dealing with people, don't work for an airline where you have to "WORK WITH PEOPLE." These were some of the surliest, most redneck, fuckups I have ever seen working for an airline. The gate agent makes an announcement that the flight is full and there may not be enough space for carry-ons so they would allow you to check your bag at the gate free of charge. I had a fairly large carry-on so I walked up to get a gate check. This BITCH looked at me like I was the biggest piece of shit she had ever seen, rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah, I suppose." Well, FUCK YOU for doing your job - she had a hand full of luggage tags - that is what she was DOING! Then A says she can take hers, too. She looks at A like she is slightly smaller piece of shit than me and says, "Yours will have to with the regular luggage." No explanation why. Nothing. FUCK! (There. That is the requisite "airline" rant that you have come to loathe and expect whenever I have to travel. It's cathartic for me. Thanks.)
There was food. We ate at Nobu on Friday night. Now, I love sushi and Japanese food, but I was expecting a less than exciting experience considering the reputation Nobu has - that reputation being amazingly fantastic. Well, I have to say that it lived up to the hype. The food was phenomenal and we had a great time sitting around laughing and people watching. Saturday for lunch I insisted on In-N-Out Burger. It was my first and won't be my last. (I was aware of the "secret menu" and now I wish I would have taken some time to research it so I could have ordered something a little less "standard" - next time.) The place was packed. We took a cab from the Premium Outlet Mall (the baby needed to get out and get some fresh air after all that time in the casino) and stopped on the way back to the hotel. The cabby was super cool and said that he would stop the meter for 10 minutes, but ended up leaving it off for the entire time it took us to get our food.
I had a great cabby who drove me to the outlet mall (our "party" got separated because I was getting a massage.) Due to bad traffic on the highway he took me on back streets. There were a lot of welding shops, car service shops and other light industrial. I commented, "Well, this is a part of Vegas I haven't been before," then we ran into the strip clubs, "never mind, I have been here before." He laughed.
There was a suite. We stayed at the Four Seasons at Mandalay Bay. Yes, that sounds fabulous (and it was) but the price was right - two nights with the third night free and an upgrade to a suite for $50 - all for less than the price of hotel rooms we have stayed in in Chicago.
There were a few spa visits. That sounds kind of "metro" I am sure, but my visits consisted of two massages and too much time on an elliptical machine. I had the same masseuse both times and both times, she was standing on her toes with her elbow in my glute. I think she may have needed a nap after - she looked a little worn out. (OK any massage therapists out there - when a massage therapist says, "That was great. I could work on you for another hour," is this a compliment? Meaning you can really get in there and don't have to hold back or does it mean I am really messed up? I have gotten that a couple of times.)
We also went to a show. We saw the Cirque du Soleil show "O" at the Bellagio. I really enjoyed it. I am sure there was supposed to be some sort of a "story" but it was lost on me. Once I stopped trying to figure it all out (after about 5 minutes) I just enjoyed the spectacle.
We gambled at Mandalay and the Hard Rock. A thinks she won, but I lost so the family is probably "down" overall. It's not that I am necessarily a "bad" gambler (I did take a couple of questionable hits) I was just getting the shittiest cards. Lots and lots of 2s, 3s, 4s. We were all playing well enough to remain at the tables for a few hours each time we went, so we got our money's worth of fun. All the dealers we had were WAY cooler than I remember them. Except for one - Gary.
What is it with "Gary?" I spent 12 hours in Madison chasing "Gary" around and now in Vegas "old dealer Gary" was hitting on my wife. I wasn't there to witness it having lost and gone to bed earlier, but A and our friend T confirmed it. The first time we met Gary he was pretty entertaining. He told us the story of how a security guard about the size of A came flying into a hog-pile trying to hold down a raging Wesley Snipes and broke his arm like a twig. He also introduced us to another player who joined our table and he turned out to be a bee keeper from northern California. Some comment was made about this guy's hands and he explained that they were dirty and cracked from handling bees and wax and it was probably permanent. Normally that would totally gross me out, but I was kind of fascinated by the fact that the guy was a professional bee keeper. (And I don't drink, so it wasn't an alcohol induced fascination, which I realize makes me sound like even more of a lunatic.)
Having read this post several times I realize that my 67 year old mother had a more exciting time the last time she was in Vegas. I have become a stodgy old poop WAY before my time. Sorry to have bored you all for this long.
Well, it's that time of year. The time of year when I start to question what the hell I am doing with my life. That, or it's seasonal affective disorder, but I prefer the obsessive navel gazing and questioning the choices in my life because it makes for a better (or sadder or more self-indulgent - definitely self-indulgent) blog post.
Winter seems so ridiculously long at this point. I know! No one is holding a gun to my head keeping me here, but, as I have pointed out before, all my stuff is here and I really hate moving. And when I say "stuff" I am including my wife and kids and dog and my emotional baggage - you know, the "stuff" I have become strangely and strongly attached to.
Come mid-April it will be two years since I was laid off from my full-time job as a commercial interior designer. At this point though, everything gets rounded up, so - it's been two years since I had a job. I have done some other things in the past two years, but seeing as those were short-term and part-time they don't seem to register or count.
A thought just occurred to me - didn't I formulate a plan for the future a number of weeks back? (The same thought probably occurred to you way before it occurred to me and I appreciate you sticking with this post as this is territory we have trampled before.) Yeah, the plan. OK I just need to work the plan. All right - enough of this then.
Injury update
I will have my next PT appt. on Wed. Since my initial appt. I have been doing my exercises and feeling major improvement. I now walk up and down stairs without pain. I rode the trainer for 90 minutes and felt no residual effects later in the day as I had been - my ass still hurts, but that is just my boney butt. I will do a short run this afternoon and see how everything feels after that. This evening I do my exercises again - twice a day, already did them this morning.
This past Saturday I was supposed to run the Frozen Half-marathon (see Steve in a Speedo's report here) but opted to pass so as to not aggravate my injury or my wife or both. It was a very wise decision as the weather was less than ideal - rainy (gross,) cold (miserable) and potentially icy (dangerous - for me anyway.) I am also happy to report that neither my injury nor my wife were aggravated Saturday morning. (My wife may have been aggravated, but no more so than usual. She is married to me after all so a constant level of aggravation is included with this premium package.)
Travel update
This past weekend my lovely wife celebrated her 40th birthday. This weekend we will really celebrate it with a trip to Vegas with two of her college girlfriends, one of their husbands and a 5-month-old baby. I know and love all these people (except the baby - we've never met) so I am looking forward to a good time. I hope to have some pictures and words to prove how much fun we had. And since I am "Sober Cab" nothing is off-limits. Mmwhahahaha.
Not in a good way.
I feel like I'm training like total pro (as in a "pro-fessional triathlete" not as in a "pro-stitute") these days. I have a coach, I had a couple of days with multiple workouts, I am constantly hungry and my leg is fucked up. It seems like January is the month when serious athletes and triathletes get hurt. Just to name a few: Chrissie Wellington has a fucked up hand from falling off her bike on a patch of ice, Lauren Groves has lost the use of both arms after doing an endo in Maui, Beth Shutt is laid up, Erin is laid up, Steve in a Speedo - in pain. Frayed Laces - nursing a sore ITB (but she runs ultras so she should get over it.) Kerrie was "hurt" with a hip flexor that wasn't firing, but I call "bullshit" because she ran a sub-3 hour marathon. (Of course now she claims to not be able to walk so good.) Tasha got a new rack, so her situation is a little different, but I like to acknowledge all the walking wounded out there. Meg - gimping. D - just has "issues." I am not sure they are really "injuries" but I like to include all manner of maladies happening in January. (D - I kid. I am just jealous that you only have to worry about one sport.) I am sure I have forgotten many others who are feeling less than 100%, suffice it to say you are forgotten but not forgotten (whatever, you know what I mean.) So, I must be a "serious triathlete" because I, too, am hurt in the month of January.
Today, I bit that bullet that is healthcare and went to see the doc about my bum ITB/knee/hip. I followed the whole "keep going until it affects your stride, stroke, etc." rule of thumb and this morning at masters I just couldn't take it any more. It hurt to kick and push off the wall and swimming for me has NEVER hurt. (My fly was rocking today though.) I have an appointment with a PT on Friday morning. This will certainly be a new experience. Until then I am on easy spinning, easy running and swimming - as long as it doesn't hurt. I was also supposed to run the Frozen Half Marathon on Saturday, but I will be sitting this one out. It was a "fun" race and I don't need to push it. The weather looks to be questionable with rain/freezing rain a 70% possibility. Why would I want to run in that crap anyway? So, thank you ITB, your discomfort has saved me from different discomfort and misery that would be running in freezing rain.
Let's hope that come February everyone is feeling better and not all sitting around talking about their various aches and pains like a bunch of blue-hairs and gummers at a 24 hour bingo tournament. And let's hope my insurance covers this PT, because that would be more painful than anything my ITB could throw at me.
On my Facebook page a week ago or so I posted a picture of this great older guy with an awesome sweatshirt. The picture was terrible, but people liked it. Sitting at the coffee shop just now I see the same guy with the same sweatshirt so I asked him if I could take a picture.
He and his wife were awesome! He's 87 and she's 83. I would have never guessed. And they both had great senses of humor. I hope I am that fun and happy with my wife at that age.
Here is a picture of our living room taken December 6th.
Pretty.
Here is a picture of our living room taken moments ago.
Pretty sad.
Not much has changed. We have become "The Procrastinators." Since the start of 2010 a whole 14 days ago we haven't done a damn thing that needs to be done. There are five baskets of laundry that we trip over constantly in our bedroom waiting to be folded. And then there are the Christmas decorations.
For someone who talked so much about his dislike for the holidays, I seem to have an incredibly high tolerance for keeping the Christmas decorations around. And it seems like neither A nor I have any urgency to take them all down as A said at dinner, "We should probably take the Christmas tree down one of these days," and I replied, "uh huh," and then we went on to talk about something completely different. So what does this all mean? One of two things - A has adopted a sense of Zen for 2010 or she is medicating - self or prescribed, I am not sure. The only thing I know for sure is that I am down to two pairs of underpants so I better fold that fricking laundry before I completely run out.
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Some completely unrelated items:
The Minnesota Wild beat the Vancouver Canucks 5 -2 last night. Woohoo! Go Wild! (Clever, huh?)
Blog commenter cinthia - please send me an email (go to my profile.) I have a couple of questions for you. Thanks.
I did indeed kill my iPod with my own sweat. How am I so certain? Well, it doesn't work and a little dust of salt crystals puff out around the touch wheel and the edges of the screen when I press on either of them. Today I buy a new iPod and a WATERPROOF case. Damn treadmill running.
So, we have moved on from the treadmill updates. It has now become a part of my training regimen. I have even added myself to my wife's "health club" membership so I can run whenever I need to. It all still grosses me out and the list of shit I hate about "health clubs" grows or is reinforced every time I go (many times it is reinforced by stuff I do, but that is neither here nor there.) Anyway.
What "new discoveries" do you speak of, you ask? I have discovered that I am trimming down with all this new activity. I am not really "losing weight" - at least not that I can say for certain because I have a tendency to weigh myself when I am totally dehydrated and that is never accurate. "How are you so sure you are 'trimming down?'" you ask. It has nothing to do with how my clothes fit or comments from other people. You know, let me walk you through my discovery.
At night as I am getting ready to go to bed I probably do the same thing most everyone else does - take off my clothes, put on some pajamas of some sort, take a fist full of pills (whatever is lying around or has colors that match my pajamas) and brush my teeth. (I probably pee somewhere in there, too, followed by very thorough hand washing, but you aren't really interested in that.) I typically just wear pajama pants - I got these really kick-ass ones at Costco for like ten bucks, but I digress. So, as I am brushing my teeth I am staring at myself in the mirror and thinking the usual guy thoughts, "Damn, I really should do some 'manscaping,'" "I can't believe how gray my chest hair is getting," "Is one of my nipples higher than the other?" "Why do I even have nipples?" And as I am lost in my thoughts I start the absentminded old-guy scratching and picking. Inevitably this leads to me swirling a finger around inside my belly button. I usually have some lint that has accumulated throughout the day, so it tends to be a productive endeavor. No one wants a dirty belly button.
On many of these occasions I ponder the risk of sticking my finger too far in and poking a hole in my stomach and then wondering if my guts would spew out like a fountain of strawberry jelly or if I would just start to fly around the room backwards like someone letting the air out of a balloon. But recently I realized that my finger was "bottoming out" a lot sooner than it had in the recent past. I wondered, "Is this true? Is my belly button filling with lint that I have been inadvertently packing in there for years? No, it looks clean. Is my belly button trying to escape? No, that is just silly. Does this mean that my belly button is no longer the deep well of oral hygiene distracted fun it once was?" Keep in mind that as I am pondering all these questions I am still brushing my teeth and my finger is still in my belly button (just in case it is trying to escape.)
Then it hit me. My belly button has not changed! The flabdomen material surrounding it has begun to decrease! I have tested this hypothesis over many evenings and I do believe that I am losing some of that frustrating spare tire (now when I say "spare tire" I am referring to more of a spare road bike tire or, probably more accurately, a mountain bike tire rather than a car tire or a truck tire or, heaven forbid, one of those big dumptruck tires.) It looks like all this activity might be paying off. It might mean I need to buy new clothes again. I hope I can find some kick-ass jeans at Costco.
F: "Dad, will you help me study the challenge spelling words?"
Me: "Sure. Do you need to study the main spelling words, too?"
F: "No. I'm familiar with those."
(Do seven-year-old, 2nd graders talk like this?)
Today I hit the treadmill for the second time. Isn't two times in a lifetime more than enough? (And when I say "lifetime" I don't mean "Lifetime" as in "Lifetime Fitness" where I happened to be running on aforementioned treadmill. Although, the less time I can spend at the "health club" known as "Lifetime Fitness" the better.)
Today's run was better. First, I started it at about 11 AM rather than around 5 PM the last time. Second, the club was emptier. Although people still insisted on running right next to me even though there were tons of empty treadmills. Third, and most importantly, the run was shorter. I got new headphones that hook over my ears so they don't fall out, so that helped even more.
As I indicated before, I can't watch TV while I run or while I bike on the trainer. I picked the treadmill that wasn't directly in front of a TV. Here was my view:
I stared at that column for an hour.
At the end of it all I had successfully flung sweat all over the place. Again, why would anyone want to run next to me?
I just left it like that so the next person would know how hard I worked and they would feel inadequate. (No, I didn't. I cleaned up thoroughly.)
Afterward, I was chatting with MS - my fellow IMWI attendee and the person I "used" to get into the "health club." Anywho, she was talking about her coach. He had her do a swim test and lift, which she did while I was running. So, we were talking about what we were each doing and her coach has her quitting drinking, quitting coffee and keeping all sorts of records of her nutrition and all sorts of other "metrics." I told her my coach just gives me killer workouts to do and I do them.
Now we have a "Biggest Loser" type scenario - we are going to see whose coach will punish them the most. (And who is going to see the biggest gains - not in weight, hopefully.) It will be fun to see what happens in the "elimination room."
That is how I felt running on a treadmill for the first time since I started running over two years ago. How did I succumb to such a miserable fate? Well, I just could NOT run for 11 miles at endurance pace in single digit temps on the uneven, icy roads and sidewalks. I have either come to my senses or turned into a pussy (you be the judge.)
Since I hate the "health club" I do not have a membership, but my wife and kids do, so I went as a guest of my wife. Actually, I didn't. A and I had devised a plan where she would work out, then, when she was almost done, she would call me and I would leave the kids locked in their rooms and head to the club where she would welcome me as her guest and then leave shortly after to free the kids from their prisons. I walked in, did not see A, so I kept walking. No one stopped me or asked for a membership card. I looked for A and then sat and watched TV until she showed (it was a couple of minutes and I didn't want her to waste time looking for me - aren't I considerate?)
All the treadmills on the main floor were full but A pointed me to the ones upstairs that are reserved for "personal training." They were completely empty so I picked one in the front row at the very end. (Why is any of this important? It's not really except I thought it would keep me from being surrounded by weirdos.)
I brought my iPod loaded with fast pace house music to help pass the time, a bottle to drink and a Roctane because, hey, I am all about overkill. I started my run. All was going fine. Then I started to sweat. Not many of you, dear reader, have seen me in all my workout glory, but I am what is known as "a heavy sweater."
Not this kind of "heavy sweater."
This kind of "heavy sweater."
But without the glowering look, stubby alligator arms, ravishing good looks and movie "career."
The bouncing up and down of my stride combined with my slippery ear sweat kept making my ear buds fall out. After about a half hour of this nonsense I turned off the music and just gave up. Now I was doomed to hear everything that was going on around me. Of course, soon after I was joined to my right by Snorty-Lung-Biscuit-Coughing-Whistling-Whispering-Guy. Dude! I am like 18 inches from you and you are totally grossing me out! (He became #4,209 on the list of things I hate about "health clubs.")
One of the other reasons I hate the treadmill and the "health club" is that I am always afraid that I will end up being Sweaty-Leering-Guy. I can do a pretty good job of focusing on a distant point and not looking around, but people kept walking into my field of vision and although I was looking through them I am sure the guys thought I was staring at their crotches and the women thought I was leering at their butts. So I had to find a neutral place to look. And I can't watch TV while I run. It makes the time go even slower in my mind.
I stared at a sprinkler head in the ceiling for 45 minutes - altering my gaze only to check mileage and time. Running on a treadmill is DUMB!
To add to my anxiety I didn't realize until too late that I was right in front of the only water fountain in the area. So there I am - I have totally sweat through my shirt and shorts and I am flinging sweat all over the machine and people have to walk by me on a regular basis.
I finished my run, changed quick and the froze my ass off walking to the car. I guess it was better than waterboarding myself with a wet face mask around the lakes for about 90 minutes AND freezing my ass off.
At least I am not Smelly-Wheezy-Fat-and-Creepy Guy. (At least I don't think I am.)
My runs with other people have become few and far between. Since starting to run with "the guys" after running for a couple of years with "the ladies" I am now running more by myself. It's not that I have don't like "the guys," it's just that things have changed for my training.
First off the weather has changed - it is fucking cold! (There is no other way to describe it.) And it's dark. So, dark and fucking cold are not working for me this year. I have been doing my runs more in the middle of the day so it's not quite as fucking cold and there is some daylight so I can see where I am running so I don't break my ankle on un-shoveled sidewalks and icy snowbanks.
Secondly, now that I have a coach my runs have become longer and more intense because we are on a plan. So for now I run alone.
It's not all bad. I get to run in daylight. I get to see other lone runners, like the woman I saw on Wednesday with mascara running down her cheeks. What woman puts makeup on to go for a run, especially eye makeup when it's single digit temps and your eyes are bound to water? And she was fairly speedy so it didn't seem like she was a novice runner. There are the over-dressed and under-dressed and then there are the people I can't even see because I have icicles on my hat, eyebrows and eyelashes. (As I write this I realize I really hate this time of year - why do I stay? Because I like to talk about the weather.)
Oh, look. It's time for another run. Now where is that snowmobile suit? It looks so good with running shoes.
So, everyone does those end of the year recaps followed by resolutions or goals for the new year. I like to read other people's recaps, but I think mine would just be a bunch of bullshit. Besides (as someone already pointed out) if you read my blog you don't need a recap. And I have kind of listed out my goals already so that would be a bunch of bullshit, too. (In case you didn't realize it, one of my goals is to use as much foul language as possible in every blog post even if it appears that I might have Tourettes when I type, cocksucker bitch whore. Not really, but it sure seems that way.)
I haven't posted much for the last couple of weeks what with my complete and utter dislike of the holidays and with the kids being home from school. Let me catch you up.
We decorated for Christmas and that fucking Empire is everywhere. I am starting to not like those guys.
(F would correct me and point out that that is, in fact, a clone trooper and not actually part of the Empire, yet.)
F had his school Christmas concert. (E's was earlier and I am not sure why we don't have any pictures of her.) Notice his fashionably disheveled look and the way he wears his belt rakishly off to the side. So fashion forward.
Joy of joys! My kids learned to snowboard! Here is E carving on her heel edge (actually she probably fell there, but I like to imagine it as the perfect heel edge turn.)
Here is F also executing a perfect heel edge carve.
My Grommets!
The best part was after their third lesson the three of us went snowboarding together. (I took a refresher lesson and found that I didn't forget much.) I can not remember the last time I had so much fun with my kids. I was so proud of them. We went again the next week and I might lobby for a Colorado vacation next year.Of course presents were exchanged. Nothing too exciting for the kids or A. (This is my blog so who cares about what they got anyway, right?) I got some cool ones and some strange ones.
Cool Ones
I have to admit this was on my list. I was only half joking when I put it on there, but I was totally excited when I opened it. I haven't put it together yet. I promised the kids they could help. I also need to put all the Christmas decorations away so there will be room on the mantle for it when it's done. (Just kidding, honey!)
(No, I'm not kidding.)
I got this one, too. The funny part about this is that the price sticker already said "Willis Tower." (It was renamed like a month ago.)
I put this one together already. It is prominently displayed on my dresser. (Notice all the people in that post card staring at it in amazement.)
A got me these:
Now the whole family has snowshoes. We are planning to go to my aunt and uncle's cabin sometime this winter so we will have an opportunity to use them.
Strange Ones
WTF!?
I don't think I ever indicated a desire to kill my wife and a "friend" of her's so I am not sure where the idea for these came from. They went back to "fucking Macy's." I hate that place so much I returned them and then was bound and determined (with the kids in tow) to get something else so I wouldn't have to return. I looked for a sweater, a duvet cover, underwear - nothing! Then I decided on this:
Perfect!
There. Now you are all caught up from my last couple of weeks. On to all the new excitement of 2010.
Playing "Christmas Carols ABCs." (This is a car game we play where you name something - in this case, Christmas Carols - that start with each letter of the alphabet.)
A: "A"
E: "Angles We Have Heard on High."
A: "B"
Me: "Baby, It's Cold Outside."
A: "C"
F: "Cram It All In There."
"I believe in Santa Clause 100 percent. The reindeer - eh - only about 50 percent."
After taking a detour for a few posts to figure out my life for the next year I am returning to my standard format of discussing things that are really only of interest to me. Somehow I have managed to suck in some of you and you are all kind enough to feign interest and validate my existence.
Before I move completely on from "my life 2010" I ask you to go to the comments section of my previous post and read the anonymous comment "someone" left for me. "Someone" is not very good at hiding their identity and I appreciate that "somebody" took the time and effort to give me a big vote of confidence. "Someone" was under-appreciated in this respect. "Someone else" (me, for the easily confused) is a big dope.
OK - on to the other stuff.
The Holidays Can Suck My Balls
(These balls, not other balls.)
Ugh! I am so over the holidays! They really bring out the absolute worst in people - impatience, ignorance and insensitivity. Today alone I was almost run over twice in two separate parking lots as people raced to get a parking spot. Then, as I was waiting at the grocery store, I overheard a woman, after explaining that she was a ticket agent for Delta Airlines, say, "I know, I have to check in all those stressed out, terrible people." Nice attitude. Maybe if your company wasn't staffed by an inordinately high percentage of insensitive morons and led by a larger group of misfits who, when presented with a problem, can only come up with another fee to charge customers until we will have to pay for every sheet of toilet paper we use, those "terrible people" wouldn't be quite so stressed out. (But I digress.)
Earlier this week as I was again at the grocery store (I spend a lot of time at the grocery store) I see one of the "fabulous" mom's from the kids' school walking across the parking with her groceries being toted behind her by the bag boy (it's a free service to everyone - yes, it's fancy) walk right up to her gigantic EarthFucker 3000 (thanks RR) parked in -- the handicapped spot closest to the entrance. She had no sticker on her license plate and no tag on her mirror and is certainly more than capable of walking the same distance as other "folks." I just hate that.
I have had enough of shopping and I haven't even begun to wrap. Then there are all the people who are going to show up and all the activities we have to do with the kids. I was just settling into a nice routine and now it's all going to be disrupted so I can participate in some over commercialized event that is totally at odds with the true inspiration for "the season."
I just want these next couple of weeks to be over so we can do away with the completely unnecessary stress of shooting for perfection in every way. Doesn't anyone subscribe to my theory of marginal effectiveness? Here's hoping your holidays are marginal.
In my experience "interesting" is never a good thing. And so may go 2010, but it's only one year, right?
First off, I need to thank everyone who commented on my last post. Your encouragement, suggestions and feedback was very much appreciated.
I had a great talk with my sister over coffee today. She had some career planning questions for me which, surprisingly, I was apparently very helpful with. I know, right? "Those who can't do, teach." She also helped me clarify my plan for the year. I am going to make an effort to work the plan I outlined below. I have an idea for my first story, I just have to track the guy down, but I should be able to do that in January. So I am thinking that if I can find a unique event or person every couple of months and then write the story and market it, I will be happy with that.
This leaves me a lot of extra time which I will fill either looking for another job or actually working. What will I be doing? Well at this time I am thinking I would like to find a job working at a running store, bike store or someplace like REI. It might be Starbucks for all I know. I just need to get out of my house. Another opportunity might present itself as an architect friend of mine, recently laid off, and I are going to get together after the first of the year and see if we might want to put a little residential practice together. It's an interesting opportunity as we would be able to keep the overhead super low and we collaborate very well together. We'll see.
So maybe you, my 10's of readers (that might be a little presumptuous,) can make some suggestions of races or events that might be interesting/entertaining. I would like to find some in the Minnesota or Chicago area in the first quarter of 2010 as it will be easier to get to these. When the first few stories are successful (think positive, right?) I will then look at other areas of the country. First I need to make it through the holidays. I really find the whole thing rather tedious and stressful. Just a couple more weeks, I think I can make it.
what would you do?
What kind of a stupid question is that? I hate that question! I hate it more now, because I am posing it to myself in an effort to get the work life moving again.
Then there is this quote: "There's no scarcity of opportunity to make a living at what you love. There's only a scarcity of resolve to make it happen."
So I have been given this unique opportunity to create what I want to do with my life. Being laid off in a really crappy economy does that for you. 2010 is right around the corner and I would like to have a plan laid out for the year. But I am finding ways to hold myself back. A lot of it has to do with fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of disappointing "people", fear of disappointing myself, fear of failure, fear of succeeding. Some of it has to do with heavily ingrained beliefs of what "work" is. Work is something you do in an office, with a boss and a big salary and benefits. Oh, and work isn't necessarily fun. I need to really make a paradigm shift in my thinking (how was that for my use of corporate jargon?)
I also feel like I need to have all the details figured out before I make that first step. The reality of the situation is that if I have all the details worked out, the fun and most interesting parts go out the window. And what if someone thinks this whole idea is dumb? Truth is that someone out there will always think an idea is dumb, like every other idea out there.
In a nutshell here is my idea. I want to travel to endurance events around the country and write feature articles about the people around them. Some I might participate in, some I might just spectate at, but at each I would embed myself with some group of weirdos (basically I am thinking of you, my faithful and misguided reader) and report on the hijinks that ensue. Or don't. Sometimes when nothing happens that can be entertaining, too. You know, in an uncomfortable kind way.
I am not talking about marathons or triathlons, although I am not completely excluding them either. I am talking about events that you might read about in Obscure Sports Quarterly or you might see on ESPN 8: The Ocho (or late at night on Versus.) Events like Muddy Buddy (there is one in Minneapolis in 2010,) Hood to Coast, Ragnar, HURT 100, 24 hours of whatever - see, the lack of detail is what makes it kind of fun. (Suggestions are welcome.)
My premise is that the most colorful and entertaining kinds of lunatics tend to participate and/or follow these ridiculous events. And who doesn't like reading about lunatics. I know I do.
If nothing else I will get some great blog fodder, meet some fun, funny (potentially disturbed and scary) people. And get out of the house once in awhile for the next year.
Even as I write this I am thinking of all sorts of potential hurdles, potholes, dead ends, arguments against, etc. But here's the thing, it would be better than what I am doing now, right?
Yesterday I wrote a post about what I want to do with 2010. After much trepidation I posted it. It was up for maybe a couple of hours and then in a fit of panic I pulled it. I still have it. I just can't figure out what to do with it. It basically outlines what I want to do for fun and profit in 2010. It goes out on a huge limb for me. It's not like I want to suddenly become a doctor or astronaut or a male stripper. I have the necessary skills. It's just out of my ordinary.
Now that I have written and posted this I will be getting encouragement from people, except D who will ridicule me, to post the original, but now everyone's expectations are heightened and that makes me nervous. (See what I mean by the title - my brain is tormenting me.) Or I won't get encouragement from anyone and then what? Or I will get encouragement but you won't really mean it and then what?
Now I just sound like a crazy person. Or more like a crazy person. Or maybe none of this comes as any surprise to anyone - that I am crazy. Enough! In the words of Homer Simpson, "Shut up brain or I'll poke you with a Q-tip."
What to do? What to do?
This morning we woke up to at least 5" of blowing and drifting snow and single digit temps with below zero windchills. Needless to say, I was not running this morning as I had snowblowing and shoveling to do so the wife and kids could get out of the house. I decided to postpone the run until daylight so I could avoid being killed by a snowplow.
I finally got my run in at 3:30. A and I had gotten all the Christmas shopping done in one go and I was "malled" out. I bundled up, talked to the moms at the bus stop and took off before the monsters got off the bus. The snow had stopped, but it was still windy and cold and the blowing snow was stinging my eyes. It was even more chilly when that wind blew across the lake. Over all the run went well. I was dressed right, no cold feet (never really a problem anyway) and no slipping or falling.
When I got home I was feeling pre-tty happy with myself and how I had dressed. No bare skin, no frostbite. Then I got in the shower. Mmmm, it felt good until I turned around and it hit my ass and it was then I realized that RMB had returned. What is RMB you ask? RMB is when my ass gets cold and red and apparently numb. What does RMB stand for you ask? This:
Red Monkey ButtThis is not a new phenomenon for me. I wrote about it last year as well. Strangely, on almost the same date. This must be the time of year when my ass freezes for the first time.
While A and I were shopping at Targét Boutique in St. Louis Park, MN we were walking down an aisle and I saw this poster:
You will notice that the woman has two cups of cocoa/hot chocolate with a ton of marshmallows. I said to A, "Does that look like she might be a plus-size model?" A pointed.
So apparently Target has decided to perpetuate the stereotype of plus-sized people as chronic over-eaters. Nicely done.
Yesterday, A came home from work and I greeted her with my middle finger:
She freaked out. "OH MY GOD! What happened!? Are you OK?" I responded, "I don't know. It started to get cold and then it turned black and now it's starting to smell a little. Wanna smell it?" A says, "It looks necrotic." That's what I was looking for. It looks like my finger's dead.
Now normally I would milk the sympathy and concern for all it's worth (I don't get much sympathy or concern around the house,) but I am not that big of a jerk. (I am a considerably smaller jerk.) The dog got a hold of a fountain pen and proceeded to chew it to bits on his dog bed. When I went to scoop it up there was a puddle of black ink under it and I jammed my finger into it, thus staining it this lovely black color. Now, it just looks like I have a really dirty middle finger. It was fun while it lasted.
Finally, for some reason F decided he needed to shine a little more light on his dinner tonight. I overheard the following conversation between A and F.
A: "What's with the head lamp at the dinner table?"
F: "So I don't miss a crumb."
You will notice the wonderful dinner of scrambled eggs and bacon I have prepared for my family. Hey, I'm a provider.
My wife and I had my birthday dinner last Saturday night and I explained how I was working with a coach named Amy Kloner so she knew; a) that I was planning ahead and would be able to give her advance notice of long run and/or bike days and b) she would recognize Amy's name on my phone and emails and not ask me, "Who is this 'Amy Kloner' person and why is she calling and emailing you and making you cry!?"
I also explained that she was in Atlanta, GA so she wouldn't have to worry about her showing up on our doorstep unannounced and dragging my wining ass for an 18 mile run.
She was surprisingly accepting of my new relationship. (I did leave out the earlier 'transgression' on Facebook. I didn't want to ruin my birthday dinner being punished again for that one. You know how chicks stick together.)
So many questions. So who is my coach? Well, that is kind of a funny story. It has an interesting parallel to how I met my wife.
See, I met my wife at the Mall of America - you know, the largest indoor mall in the US. It was summer and school was out. I had been out of college and was returning from being a ski bum in Vail, Colorado for a season. We met when we were working at Eddie Bauer. This was before the mall opened. I had worked at an Eddie Bauer previously and was part of the management team that was opening this new flagship store. (That all sounds real important with high amounts of responsibility, but it really just meant that I got to carry some keys and count the money at the end of the night.) I really liked Eddie Bauer back then. They carried all sorts of gadgets and Swiss Army knives and stuff. Anyway, we had to fold tons of clothes and anyone who has worked at a major retail store like the Gap or Limited or Eddie Bauer knows there is a very specific way to fold each type of clothing. My future wife was busy folding - or more accurately refolding - a table of polos because someone else did a really shitty job. I went over to see how she was doing, you know, on a personal level, not really checking her work. We had the following conversation:
Me: "Hi, how're you doing?"
FW (Future wife): "Fine."
Me: "So, where do you go to school?"
FW: "I've graduated."
Me: "Oh, so where are you going to college?"
FW: "I graduated from college."
Me: "Oh, I see. Well, I better go see how they are doing on the jean wall."
Yes, it was that horribly awkward. And yes, I was/am that big of a dork. She thought I was that big of a dork. Months later we ended up grabbing something to eat after work because we had a store meeting and didn't have time to run back to our respective homes. We talked and started to like each other and now we are married with two kids, a dog and no exit strategy.
So what does this have to do with my new coach? Well, a few weeks ago I friended "a gal" who I recognized and had many common friends and had funny comments on people's posts. After she accepted my invite I caught the following post from her:"felt like the treadmill was shaking this morning. The girl next to me confirmed that hers was just fine. So it's all in my head (literally!). Mission aborted!"
In my infinite quest to be witty, I posted a comment saying something to the effect:
"could it be that you have gained a couple of pounds?"
I almost started a Facebook Incident. I immediately got a response from this "gal" indicating that my comment was exactly the reason that she is leery of accepting friend requests from people she doesn't know. In my infinite quest to be liked by all I proceeded to apologize, grovel, apologize more, delete my offending comment and generally reassess the decisions I had made in my life and how I had gotten to this point and would I make it another day on Facebook.
After enough groveling and I think perhaps some intervention by other FB friends on my behalf vouching for my horrible upbringing and my struggle with being a complete moron, we came to a friendly understanding - I wouldn't do that again.
Then this "mysterious gal you are all dying to know the identity of and probably already know by now and if you are D have gotten bored and moved on" mentioned she was leading a spinning class and I said she should webcast it and she laughed - ha, ha - then she mentioned about a week later she was leading another spin class and I said again she should webcast it so I could do it at home and then she asked if I had any restraining orders (I get that a lot - no she didn't ask that and I don't get that a lot and I don't have any.) No, she asked if was looking for a coach - it was kind of like when I met my wife and we went to get something to eat (see how I tied this all together like a Gordian Knot) - and we started talking and - FUCK IT! I am boring MYSELF now.
My coach is Amy Kloner! Now, get off my back!
Now that I am 41 I have decided to make some decisions. That totally makes it sound like up to this point in my life I haven't made any decisions. While it may seem to many like that is true - I have realized I have no idea where I am going with this whole train of thought. So anyway. Decisions made, right.
I have decided to buy a big boy tri bike. Next year I will be riding a Cannondale Slice - I found a deal on a special build of their top end hi-mod carbon frame with some not quite as high end components. I opted for the kick ass frame with components I can upgrade as I need or want to. Payment is made, we are locked in.
I have also found a new coach. I had a different "coach" for a short while, but the program was kind of cookie cutter and I was having a difficult time staying motivated and staying with it. This new coach is totally going to kick my ass - at my request. Especially on the bike. We are getting started right away. I am running a 5K tomorrow so we can assess my fitness and get my heart rates dialed in and everything. Again, payment made, locked in.
Now, 2010 is going to be a huge year. It will culminate with IronMan Wisconsin (IronMoo or IMoo) in September, but between now and then I have a lot of work and some races to do. Without getting into specific races, as that schedule will require more thought, here are my initial goals. I will revise these periodically throughout the year as "things change" but, this is what I think right now.
- Half-marathon - sub 1:30 - there should be a few opportunities to make a run at this. I ran a 1:33 in spring 2009 without training specifically for that kind of speed, so I am pretty sure I can do this.
- Marathon - 3:20 or faster - this may not be on the schedule this year. With only a spring marathon and possibly no desire to train that hard at that time, we may just let this one go until 2011. (Or I could just run a 3:20 or faster in the Ironman marathon, use it as a two-fer. I am SO kidding about that - I just want to finish with clean shorts.)
- Sprint Tri - the definition and distance varies too much for a goal. This will probably depend on the actual race.
- Olympic Distance Tri - sub 2:15 - this is based on 2009's Lifetime Fitness Tri at which I took the world's longest pee break. Followed after the finish by the worst GI issues I have had to date. I think this goal is probably a little light and with a good nutrition plan should be able to smoke it.
- HIM Distance Tri - 4:45 - 5:00 - This goal also might be a little light as I bonked on the run and still came in at 5:02, but with better training and nutrition I should be able to smoke it.
All these goals depend on level of fitness and where I am in my training schedule. I will probably be doing some races that I have never done before, because of timing, cost and location so that might affect results. As you can probably tell, I am already excited to get moving. Patience, self. Patience.
Since we all had so much fun looking back at year 40. Here are some of the goals I have for year 41.
- Get out of bed every morning (maybe not looking forward to this, but it's a goal)
- Stay married
- Keep the kids alive and unmaimed (you know, relatively speaking)
- Train for an Ironman (this is directly related to item two and three on the list)
- Finish an Ironman
- Bustin' well under 5:00 for a HIM
- Two weeks in Italy (this is also directly related to item two and three on the list)
- Make sure the dog still has three legs
- Get another article published (Penthouse Forum is not an option, Ian)
- Another marathon, maybe a BQ
- More blogging (or less, maybe I should put that to a vote)
- Less Facebook/Twitter (highly doubtful)
- More coffee
- More bacon
- Less big, hairy gut
- Improve my personality so that it isn't so off-putting and churlish (highly doubtful and up yours for agreeing with me)
- Fewer skirts, more pants
- Not die from stupidity (I've made it this far, but stupidity has a cumulative effect)
I chose these because they are mostly in my control. Finding a job, winning the lottery, stop losing my hair - kind of out of my control at this time.
Tomorrow is my birthday. Again. I think today is a good time review what I did in my 40th year of being. In no particular order:- Got a dog
- Volunteered at an Ironman
- Signed up for an Ironman
- Stayed married
- Ran two more marathons
- Raced three more triathlons and actually got 3rd in AG in one
- Went to Milan
- Got an article published
- Joined Facebook
- Joined Twitter
- Wasted endless amounts of time on Facebook & Twitter
- Wrote a whole bunch of blog posts
- Kept my kids alive
- Started the year with the best Christmas mind f*ck ever on my kids
- Started cooking more
- Taught at the University of Minnesota - decided one semester was enough
- Drank copious amounts of coffee
- Ate more than the recommended daily allowance of bacon
- Got out of bed every morning
I guess it was an OK year.
Don't get me wrong. I don't mind the holidays to a certain extent. Past that threshold though I am decidedly un-festive.
Part of the reason for a "festive threshold" is the amount of time I get to "enjoy" with my children. They have the whole week off for Thanksgiving along with two full weeks for Christmas. It tends to be a lot of kid time for me. It goes better if there are activities, but I am not one to plan so far ahead so I get stuck and the kids end up at home with me doing nothing. This time was a little better.
The first weekend F had a birthday party to attend. We got his friend the requisite Lego kit as a present and then we had F make a birthday card. F claims his favorite subject in school is art - I don't believe it. I also don't think he has a future writing for Hallmark.
Thanksgiving is always a "festive" start to the holiday season. We have been hosting since we were first married so he have the whole show pretty well down and we don't deviate much from the script. (Mostly we stay to script because change tends to make A a little "nervous.")
This year was pretty uneventful, except for the one brief blow-up by me and the subsequent silent treatment from A (a marked improvement from past years.)
The table looked much better than last year.
Last year.
This year. (Great job, honey.)This year I convinced A that we should do the turkey on the grill. Last year, when we had two turkeys we did one in the oven and one on the grill. People really liked the grilled turkey and I like to do stuff on the grill so hey, why not again this year?
I prepared the bird by stuffing with onions, leeks, shallots, garlic, carrots and apples. Then, the piece de resistance, I took Nueske's bacon and shoved six strips under the skin on the breasts and laid a few more strips on each of the legs. While watching Martha Stewart (who generally I abhor) on the Today show on Wednesday, she provided a wonderful tip - take cheese clothe and soak it in two sticks of melted butter and a bottle of white wine, then lay it like a blanket over the turkey covering the whole bird - no need to baste. It worked like a charm. You take it off for the last hour of cooking and the turkey turns a golden brown.
I set the coals up for indirect heat and put a pan of water and some of the leftover turkey stuffings in the middle.
Kingsford makes this awesome Hickory charcoal that gives it a wonderful flavor.
While the turkey was cooking away people were arriving. My aunt comes and always brings this great pheasant dip.
Each year she claims it's made with a different type of bird. This year it was allegedly made with Ivory Billed Woodpecker. Apparently, Ivory Billed Woodpecker is kind of spicy and really good.
After a little over four hours on the grill the thermometer hit 180 degrees and we were done. RIGHT. ON. TIME! I am very proud.
How beautiful is that!?
And then right before I carved it.
Then, after the carving was done.
And, on the platter.
F said a little prayer he wrote in school.
The kids were exiled to the kitchen table.
And then we ate. (No pictures - you don't want to see my family cramming food down their gullets and I didn't want to put down my fork to grab the camera.)
On Friday we went over to my sister's house for dinner. No one wanted leftovers so we opted for Chinese food. I, again, ate my rapidly increasing body weight in lo-mein and sesame chicken. At the end of the meal we cracked open the requisite fortune cookies. This was mine.
How incredibly accurate. (And it's even better if you add "in bed" after it.)
So I feel like I need to post once a week or my adoring public will start to get upset and ditch me for other more interesting options. (Do you like how I assume that I have a "public", that it "adores" me and that I am even remotely "interesting" much less interesting enough to keep said "public" from pursuing other "options?" How presumptuous of me. But that's how I roll. Presumptuously.)
As you can probably tell by that first sentence I have nothing to say. As you have read my blog in the past (see, a presupposition) you know that having nothing to say never stops me from writing down a bunch of words. (Don't fear, I will not go down that mis-guided road of including zombies.)
The monsters (AKA - my kids) have the whole week off. That really screws with my schedule of drinking coffee, 45 minute showers, watching Ellen and napping mid-morning, but I have risen to the occasion. Monday, F had a Star Wars themed art class for most of the day so E and I hung around the house. E decided to have a birthday party for the dog so she insisted on having a cake. I am a terrible baker. A and I compromised. She would make the cake and I would frost it. Whew, Monday complete with little drama.
Tuesday, E had a pie making class with her little cousin. F is taking a squash class at the fitness club, but he can't hit a damn thing so I took him to hit balls for an hour. By the end he was doing much better. E had the neighbor kids over for the dog's birthday. They trashed the house. But the cake turned out pretty good.
When A got home from work I volunteered to go grocery shopping to get away from the disaster area that our home had become.
When I got the store it was a virtual Cougar den. I wish I could have taken a picture of this one woman in particular. I just couldn't get a good shot, so I will paint a "word picture" for you. Late 50's early 60's (I am a horrible judge of age so imagine a 25 year old) Too tight black jeans with rhinestone fleur-de-lis on the back pockets. Sateen jacket with rhinestones unzipped to reveal a too low-cut shirt with her unnaturally tan, liver-spotted, fake ta-tas on display. Make up applied by trowel and platinum white hair. She was trying WAY too hard. It was a fun spectacle to watch.
After dinner A notified me that she was too tired to take E to basketball practice and asked if I would be willing to. I said no I would not be willing to, but that I would do it anyway. When I got there the coach informed me that A had volunteered to be an assistant-coach-type-person and that since A wasn't there I would get to fill in. I immediately got on the phone to bitch my wife out for setting me up to embarrass myself in front of a group of 4th grade girls. (I bitched her out jokingly. At least it was jokingly to her as she was laughing on the other end.) This is something that you should know about me - I suck at ball-sports. Baseball, football, golf, tennis, volleyball, ping pong, team handball, jai alai but especially basketball. I was just an embarrassment. I even caught one of the other dads looking at me like he might think I am retarded, sorry, I mean "other abled."
On a happy note - A informed me that many of the vacuous and obnoxious women on The Real Housewives of Orange County are broke and having their homes foreclosed on. Karma is a bitch!
Tomorrow is a big day for us. We have been hosting Thanksgiving since we were first married and in an apartment. Back then we ate in courses mostly because we completely mis-timed the preparation for every dish by at least a half hour. There were stern words exchanged, fingers pointed and "the silent treatment" after the guests left. This year everything should be done around the same time. Again, stern words will be exchanged along with finger pointing and the post guest "silent treatment." Don't you just love traditions? I know I do.
I started running with a new group a few weeks ago after breaking up with my old ladies running group. (Yes, I intentionally wrote "old ladies." Mean, I know. But they are neither "old" nor "ladies" so it's all good. I do still owe them a phone call explaining it's me not them and that I had some baggage I didn't fully disclose and that we can still be friends.) The new running group is all men. I find that I don't talk nearly as comfortably with men as I do with women. Maybe it's my familiarity with Costco milk jugs, "lady parts," the kids' school and fashion that doesn't mesh easily with the men's conversations about "jugs", "man parts," kids' sports and work. Anyway.
On Sunday when we were in Chicago I ran 10 miles for the first time since before the marathon. And I ran it quick. At least on the way out. When I turned around I realized rather suddenly that I had a 14 mph wind at my back - that was now in my face. The return trip was a little slower and more work. This morning I was still feeling all fired up from my Sunday run and the conversation was lacking so on the second lap I kept pushing the pace. Well, that certainly quieted everyone down, but no one dropped. It was fun to run fast with other people who run fast. When we finished there was complaining, but whatever, it's not like I plan on doing that every day.
Now, if I could just get that fired up about riding my bike on the trainer.
We were out of town for the weekend. A had a CE conference in Chicago so we made a family trip of it to see A's brothers and kids. It was a fun busy weekend. We went to the Shedd Aquarium - one of my favorite museums - and saw the dolphin show - not one of my favorites. Maybe one of the reasons I like the museum so much is that it brings back fond memories of getting stoned my freshman year at Loyola University and staring at all the fish - good times, dude. (Sorry mom, I did that kind of stuff back then. But just that once.)
We flew down instead of driving and I have determined that there is not one worthwhile airline in America. We used to have to fly Northworst, but they have merged with Delta creating the largest and surliest airline in the world. Recently Southwest has started to fly from Minneapolis to Chicago. This makes me happy because it means that Delta now has to match Southwest's prices meaning every flight Delta sends to Chicago is a gargantuan money loser. Unfortunately, Southwest is also guilty of poor quality (read: crab-ass) flight attendants. They just go about it less venomously.
The kids had to go to the bathroom (in case you don't have kids - when they need to go, they fricking need to go. Especially, F - "The Boy with the Mustard Seed Sized Bladder.") On two occasions we made the mistake of asking a flight attendant if F could hit the head (they had put the seat belt sign on for turbulence and then as we were getting into position to land.) Both times they said, " Let's see, is that light on? [the fasten seat belt light.] Yes. Well, then that means "no." And there was "a tone." (Like, "you fucking idiots, the fucking fasten seat belt sign is illuminated, so no you can't get out of your fucking seats so your fucking snot-nosed kid can use the one fucking bathroom on this plane. We are fucking Southwest Airlines! It's a fucking privilege to fucking fly with us. Now, stop fucking bothering me. Oh, and fuck you!)
The most ironic part of the trip was in Midway Airport. There was a toy store the kids wanted to browse around in to kill time, so while they were looking at stuffed animals and Legos, I looked at the airline branded merchandise which I find incredibly funny because who doesn't want to be reminded of the worst time you have ever had stuck in an aluminum tube getting god-only-knows-what communicable diseases and being verbally and psychologically abused by airline personnel? So Delta, in their infinite marketing wisdom, is offering the queen mother of all airline souvenirs.
My guess is that after you buy it; Delta will charge you $100 to open the package. If you buy it as you are boarding a plane, Delta will charge you for the package (it has a zipper after all, it counts as a bag) and they will charge for the bag the attendant doll is carrying. This little souvenir will probably set you back over $300 by the time Delta finishes with you.
Then, after you open the package the doll will stare at you with a contemptuous look. When the doll realizes you want to play with it, it will proceed to verbally abuse you, hassle you for even thinking of interacting with it and then proceed to completely ignore you while it instead giggles with Barbie and Skipper in the galley. Oh, and if you have TWO of these dolls, they will join forces to make your time with them a complete nightmare at the end of which you will wonder why you ever decided to pay money for this kind of abuse when for half the cost you could visit a dominatrix and get some actual pleasure from the whole encounter (or so I have heard.)
I met Tasha for coffee. The rest of the weekend was fun.
The End.
I currently have a Trek Madone road bike with Shimano Ultegra components and clip-on aero bars. It's only a couple years old with not a ton of miles on it. It has served me very well as a tri bike. It fits great and is comfortable for long rides in the aero bars. Late next summer I will be doing my first full Ironman. The question I have is: With limited funds and a wife with a limited taste for more gear would I be better off buying a set of deep rim wheels (I have been riding with the crappy wheels the Madone came with) OR picking up a sale tri bike with a decent frame (like a Felt B16 w/105 components) and swapping components from the Madone? A gently used tri bike I guess would also be an option.
Thoughts and suggestions are welcome. Also welcome are recommendations for brands or models and potential outlets with good deals.
Sorry this will bore some of you to tears. Everyone else with helpful suggestions - thank you. (D - just move on, you're not needed here right now.)
Every year since we were married A and I have hosted Thanksgiving at our house. This year will be no different. The big day is still three weeks away, but I am already starting to consider what to make. We always do a turkey - that's a given. Last year we did two. One we did in the oven and the other we did on the grill. Everyone LOVED the grilled turkey. I'd like to do it again this year, but we will only have one larger turkey rather than the two we had last year (we had more people last year.) In a blatant attempt to flush out lurkers on my blog I am looking for suggestions for turkey prep. At the very least I am willing to wrap it in Nueske's bacon (the best bacon in the world.) I am also looking for recommendations for stuffing. We won't do any stuffing in the bird, in the past we stuff it with tons of garlic, onions, and other delicious veggies. I have heard deep fried turkey is fabulous, but I am not willing to try something this "radical" - our family members and guests have a finite tolerance for change.
From there we are thinking about side dishes. My mom always brings sweet potatoes. She prepares them the only way any self-respecting northern Minnesotan or Wisconsinite would - with ample amounts of bourbon and marshmallows. We'll have mashed potatoes, but if anyone has a suggestion on how to improve these, that would be appreciated. Veggies have always been my mother-in-laws seven layer salad - again, an upper-midwest staple. (Unfortunately, this dish peaked in the 70's.) We'll also do either Szechuan green beans or asparagus, but those are the default options.
If anyone is looking for a turkey prep suggestion - last year one of the birds was stuffed with lemons, oranges and pineapple. I mean crammed tight. And boy was it good. That tends to lend itself more to oven preparation and I can't do it this year because it doesn't work for gravy production - which is an absolute requirement.
In other Thanksgiving prep news we have made some upgrades around the house. A relented and let me install a TV in the kitchen. This will make watching football much easier while cooking. We have also pulled the trigger and bought new dining chairs. After much investigation, sampling, hand wringing, test driving and procrastination we found some at West Elm. These are perfectly acceptable and inexpensive enough that if they don't last no one's heart will be broken. (You don't need pictures now, you'll have to wait three weeks until the table is set.)
As I sit here writing this post I can feel my ass getting bigger and my gut getting softer. I like the holidays but I really need to figure out a way to keep my weight under control. I guess we all have a cross to bear. Mine tends to be fork shaped at this time of year.
Oh, look - it's Wednesday, time for a blog post. My posting frequency has dwindled considerably I am realizing. Not for any profound reason. Life is just kind of regular. My dream world, on the other hand has been FREAKY.
I have been having triathlon dreams lately. Last night I dreamed I was going for a long run on some random tri course in the hot sun. All up hill. The day before the race. Then some dude comes cruising by me, no shirt, black shorts and a HRM, flinging sweat all over the place. I followed him to some high school where we walked into an administrator's office like we owned the place and this guy pulled an old dictionary off the shelf and handed it to me like I really needed to look up the definition of something. I do remember that the school was pretty cool. Kind of a raw concrete, brutalist style, with a funky carpet layout and lots of glass. Weird.
A couple of nights ago I had a dream that I was racing and I completely forgot what I was doing. I swam with my number bib on and it was made of printer paper so it came off in the water. Then I got to my bike and it was set up in a parking lot completely away from the other transition area - like it was transition overflow. So then I get to my bike, realize I don't have my number and have to go back to the swim exit to find. I see it lapping along the shore, but the pier I am standing on is too high so I can't reach it. I finally get it and run back to my bike and my shoes aren't compatible with my pedals. So I have to find a bike that I can use. I suddenly have a bike and I am running to the bike out in the opposite direction of everyone else. I never made it to the run, because the dog came in the room (that part wasn't in the dream, the dog actually came into the room which woke me up.)
I am sure that these dreams hold some symbolism beyond triathlon, but I am looking at it more literally. I need to be more vigilant in my off season training and I need to figure out my race schedule for the coming year.
Regarding training. I am into my second week running with "the men" rather then with "the ladies." It's going well. The guys are friendly, funny and fast. Only issue is that they have all their inside jokes and I am on the outside. It's not uncomfortable, it's just the way it is joining a group that has been together for quite a while. I'll get there. What I have learned is that vagina doctors and Costco's milk jugs hold no interest to men. Likewise, football, basketball and hockey holds no interest to women. The one subject that cuts across genders and nationalities (one of the guys in the group is from England) is poop. Men and women runners talk about poop with the same frequency, intensity and interest. It's the universal link that joins all runners. I truly believe that if you find yourself with a new group of runners and are looking for a way to break the ice or be accepted, just steer the conversation toward the last dump you took - good, bad or simply unsatisfying - and you are golden. Now, as with any subject, you can't talk about it on every run or monopolize the conversation by describing every bowel movement you have had the pleasure of experiencing. And it's probably not advisable to blatantly inquire about a stranger pooping on a run, but you will be surprised the kind of GI related information people volunteer once the subject has been broached.
I mentioned my GI issues at the end of the Twin Cities Marathon and it was good for two runs. Every port-a-potty was humorously pointed out for my benefit and stories of other's experiences with "the deuce" were volunteered for the pleasure of all. In this respect I am "in." It's a well I can go back to - just not too often.
My other training is ramping up slower. I biked on the trainer for an hour one time last week and have matched that so far this week. I am hoping for another session or two this week. I did discover that the first hour or so of "Armageddon" is actually pretty entertaining (or distracting anyway.) Luckily, I was done with my workout before they launched the titanium skinned super space shuttles and things got ridiculous. I also started my weight program. After just one time with low or no weights I am still sore. I hate this part of training and can't wait to be through the painful-stiffness cycle. One thing I do have to figure out is how to fit some yoga into the schedule. Since training specifically for the marathon after tri season wrapped up my hips have been tight which has led to piriformis pain, back tightness and even knee tweaks. I need to find a good class that I can go to consistently for awhile.
I was going to go into my goals and schedule for 2010, but I think I will save that for later. I am sure my reader has already dozed off and or moved on (thank you very little, mom.)
A "friend" sent me this IM recently. I almost peed my pants.
(Beth - this is for you, but I think everyone will get a kick out of it.
That title has nothing to do with anything. I just can't come up with any sort of witty title.
There really isn't much happening here. Fall continues to come and go and come and go in the north country. One day cold and rainy - one day sunny and beautiful - three days cloudy, cold and rainy - half a day sunny - etc. - etc. This has been one of the suckiest falls in memory. It will all just make winter seem that much longer. I better figure out something to do to entertain myself (No! Not that way, you dirty birds.) I mean in addition to running and biking on the trainer.
Speaking of running and biking on the trainer - I have started an off-season training program. Monday was my first day. It was stellar! It was also a rest day. Yesterday, was my first real day of training - one hour on the trainer. Oh, I should point out that my daughter was home sick (more about that later) so I had a terrible time finding time to do something I don't really like to do anyway. But I completed it - heart rate in the target range. This morning I ran. Not like that is any news, but I didn't run with "the ladies." I have been encouraged to run with "the guys." So "the ladies" and I are currently separated, for no other reason than they know I want to run faster. This morning's run was good. I could tell I hadn't run since last Thursday and biked yesterday, but it was good. "The guys" were very welcoming and well behaved. Actually, the conversations were considerably tamer than "the ladies" - no talk of vaginas, poop or snot. Not to say "the guy's" conversations were "better," just different (football, bars, news.) But now my back is sore. Like right in the middle. It has to be from the bike. Somewhere along the line here I have to work in some weights and core work. It's a lot to schedule!
It seems like the kids have been trading off sick days from school lately. The crazy thing is their illnesses are the most innocuous illnesses ever. No seasonal flu, no Hini flu, no explosive diarrhea - just a cough, a mild ear infection or a low grade fever with no other symptoms. E has been home four days in the last two weeks with a mild cough and a minor ear infection that is being treated with antibiotics. If I was my mom and E was me, she would be in school, but because we are not those people, she gets to stay home - and it's pure torture. She leaves a trail of destruction behind her wherever she goes so the house is a total disaster. She is a tremendous lallygagger as well. An hour of homework takes her three to complete because she gets distracted and insists on fighting with A and I about getting her work done. It is not this way when she is in the classroom. Arrrgghh! Please, go back to school!
So, there. That's Wednesday. As boring as a Wednesday can be. Carry on!
