Costco Hot Dogs

I think they probably put cocaine in Costco's hot dogs. I mean, it's a hot dog, but it's the bestflippingjuicytastywonderful dog you ever ate. It's a dollar fifty, and you get a drink with that. How are they making money? It's not a tiny hot dog... it's bigger than a regular one actually... it makes my head hurt thinking about it. How on earth, do they do it? Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you walk in the door and a hundred dollar bill floats out of your wallet. You just went for milk but somehow the 4ft box of "After 8's" seemes like a necessary purchase. Did I mention I love After 8's and I won't buy milk at Costco???

Now that I'm packing lunches every day for my sweetie pie, I can't seem to keep soup in the house. She loves bringing Chicken Noodle Soup in her Hello Kitty thermos. I would make it, but my soup never tastes as good, at least not to a 3 year old. I give Campbell's the kudos they deserve... she eats it with avengance.

I hurt myself this weekend. I was hanging Christmas lights in the living room window, and I was standing on the couch. My foot sank in between the cushions... I thought nothing of it. Until I tried to pull my foot out and it was caught. I'm assuming on a spring. I couldn't get it out and it started hurting. I didn't feel it go in because it went through the hard calloused (I know, sexy) pad of my foot. I had to rip my foot out and left a decent chunk of it behind... Of course my baby runs to get me some toilet paper for the bleeding and comes back with one square... she was thrilled though to go get me a piggy band aid and put it on for me. Let's just say I'm "limpsalot" today. Only I could get a Christmas Decorating wound. I need a new couch.

To top off an already stellar weekend, I then lost my 3 year old at a large kids Christmas Party on Sunday. I lost my mind and after it took 5 people 10 minutes to find her, I almost hauled off and hit her. Instead I grabbed her and hugged her. My crying scared the daylights out of her, but nowhere near the fear I had felt. My head became a nightmare of every crazy awful story I had ever heard about kids getting snatched. My heart fell into my stomach and still resides there. I've never felt so panicked in all my life before. Never been so utterly terrified. She's 3 and she doesn't get it. She's too little, no matter how many conversations and Bearstien Bears books we read about strangers. She doesn't understand that if there is ever a place for a creeper to grab a little kid, it's a place like that. She doesn't know about the awful things people are capable of doing to little girls. She doesn't know I would die if anything happened to her. She doesn't know.

How are you ever supposed to let go of them? I'm afraid to let go of her hand now.

Real Disappointment

If there is one thing I've learned in this life, it's that people are going to disappoint you. People you didn't think would, or could. People you didn't think had that power. Sooner or later, everyone will disappoint you. Your husband or wife, your kids or parents, siblings and dare I say it... even your very best friend.

It's amazing how age affects the way you deal with those disappointments. In my teens I would have cried for weeks and been crushed over a best friend hurting me. In my 20's I walked away. Now, in my late 30's I cried, then I thought about walking away, then I decided that forgiving someone who isn't perfect and made a bad choice is what is actually better for me. Anger dissipates, disapointment wanes... as we get older our friends, the really good ones, become part of our insides, part of our makeup. The loss of one of them is a much bigger deal than it was when I was in my 20's. My 20's where the most important thing (or so I thought) was the man who happened to me next to me at the time. Although I've always placed a high value on my friendships, I was still naive enough to think that I would be a little old lady with her husband, the most important relationship, by her side. Now I know differently. Yes I love my husband, but he's not my insides. He barely knows me. It will be my friends who I'm sitting in a nursing home with, playing cards and waxing each others lips. Look in any nursing home... how many couples do you see? It's a lovely fantasy, but as far as realism goes, it will just be another disappointment. Be good to your friends. Respect the lines, respect the relationship. And when your friend falls down, pick her up and dust her off. They will disappoint and maybe even piss you off... you'll get over it.

I won't lie, I feel different. My friend, the disappointer... she knocked me for a loop. I said I would forgive her and get over it, but it feels different now. Like trying to go back to holding hands after you've had sex. I don't know if it's possible. But I know who I am, and I know how I work. I've said my piece (and a mean piece at that) and that usually means I can get over it. It's when you never get to say your piece that you hang onto that anger. So I'm not angry anymore, but it is different. I guess it has to be. Hopefully not forever. Everything changes and I guess this does too. In 15 years we've never had quite this big a hill to climb. Or maybe we did, but we were holding hands climbing together. Now I don't want to hold her hand and although I've agreed to walk with her, I won't hold her hand for a little while. huh... makes it harder on both of us doesn't it?

I'm Baaaaack...

Work has been brutally crazy. I new summer would be my busy season, but I did not expect the shitfest that has been job since June.  As the snow fell yesterday I cheered and danced with the knowledge that many construction sites would start to shut down and not start up again until spring. I’m thrilled to be able to settle in and hopefully get some of the work done that has been piling up for months.

I’m still a chub. I “ran” the marathon and use the term loosely because I walked most of it. I guess I should say I “completed” the marathon. That is definitely closer to what I actually did. I didn’t love it. I didn’t drop an ounce of weight because of it which if I’m being honest, was the most disappointing part of the whole thing. I killed myself training for it and have barely run since. I think I did too much to fast and I need to just accept the fact that a runner I am not. Jogger, sure… skater definitely but I prefer the treadmill to outside, won’t jog without music and stop when I get tired… I prefer to do one minute jog, 3 minute walk… I enjoy my workout when I do that. So that’s what I will do.

Ringette has started and my feet ache on the ice, but I am attempting to work out 3-4 times a week and allowing a game to count as one of those times. I will be going to the gym today. No games until next week. I try to watch what I eat but I seem to be bouncing between the same 5 pounds that I have been for 3 years. I drop a few, I gain them back the next week. I drop I gain I drop I gain. I eat well all week, I eat like a horse on the weekend. I eat well all week and weekend, I gain. I eat McDonald’s twice in one week, I lose… I’m at a “give up” stage again… especially knowing that Christmas is coming and it’s going to be a frenzy of dinners, parties and merrymaking. What’s a girl to do? As I already said… “give up”.

Not forever, but for now. It’s typical of everyone who spends their life struggling with their weight. You get to a point where “fuck it” is all you can deal with. Last night I cooked chicken breasts with rice and carrots. It was healthy but my husband and daughter had to douse it in soya sauce and bbq sauce because of me and my “health food” as they put it. Coming from a guy who has eaten more than half of his daughters Halloween candy, I can’t expect much. He loves grease and sauce and sugar and is not a fan of veggies. So I try, but those damn mini chocolate bars beckon me.

That being said, I find to avoid snacking at night, I’ll go to bed at 8:30. Which is pretty sad. I will usually lay there and read or do a crossword, but my mind wanders to the cookies in the pantry and I need to turn out the light and go to sleep to forget about it. I’m sad. A sad pathetic overweight bulimic who forgets to purge… Ha… I’m really just being silly. I know I will always struggle. Partly because of never feeling good enough anyway, and partly because as I age, things don’t generally get firmer or better… so the battle is never going to be won or lost. Just always fought.  If continually fighting it is the best I can do, then that’s what I’ll do.

4 Miles and a P. Eng. with my dog.

April 4, 2011

Ahhh April… the sun is shining, the snow is melting, the potholes are enormous and I got a new puppy! He is wonderful… I wanted to go as far from the Beagle breed as I could find since I have had the worst luck with Beagles. I actually was thinking of getting a female just too really change it up but my husband said “no more vagina’s in this house, I’m already outnumbered” so alas, my boy…

I pretty much went on Google and typed in “good with kids, small, low shedding, intelligent dog breeds” and a Westie is what came up. There were a few others, but I found the Westie to be what I wanted. He is of Scottish heritage so we've decided to call the little man "Laddie". He will  be a dog I can take running with me when I’m not doing a “long” run.  He’s been with us a week and I’m smitten. I’ve taken him on two walks without a leash and he just follows me.

Sunday was a “long run” day and after my epiphany of realizing that if I want to maintain any kind of endurance, then I need to do run/walk intervals I was a little worried about what I could accomplish. I talked to Miss E and she assured me that the run/walk interval training was a widely known and acceptable way to train for a marathon. I’m so lucky to have her in my corner. I would have given up long ago if not for her and her encouragement.  After our group run was cancelled due to… well let’s just say “inclement” weather (it was disgusting outside to put it bluntly) I headed to the Y at 8am to see how 4 miles would go for me.

I started out with a 5 minute warm up and then started running. I went for 3 minutes and then walked for 1. I kept that interval as I could feel my lungs strain for the last 30 seconds or so, but not enough for me to start wheezing. I ran the 3/1 interval for 4 miles. I felt tired and was super sweaty and LOVED it. What a different feeling when you can actually accomplish something without feeling sick… When I tried running for ten minutes and then walking, I would be wheezing and coughing and couldn’t get enough rest (unless I walked for the rest of the workout) to get my lung capacity back. Tomorrow I will aim for a 4/1 interval. That’s how I will build up my speed, by spending more time running. If 4/1 is too much then I will go back to 3 and NOT WORRY about it. I’m running. I did the math after to calculate my WW points and I ran for a total of 45 minutes… So good for me!!

Having Asthma since I was 13 years old has wreaked havoc on a lot of things in my world. I remember the time I was on the ice and I hadn’t even skated a shift… there must have been something in the air that triggered it, but I went down like a ton of bricks and I could barely crawl to the bench. The attack was so bad my parents hucked me in the truck, in full equipment, and drove me to the hospital where they proceeded to cut off my equipment, hook me up to oxygen and pump me with drugs. My lungs just shut down… I was blue and scared and I think I gave my poor mother a coronary. 

I was always the slow one. I was always the shortest shift. I hated track and field when it came to the running events because I always COULDN’T BREATH!! The worst part was that they never believed me. The teachers or whatever… No point in crying about that, if you’ve never had it you don’t get it. I remember I would have attacks and then I would be so exhausted. I would play a ringette game when my Asthma was not under control and I would suffer for hours, if not days after. I struggled to breath. Stairs were brutal, the cold wind, spring time, cats… it never f*cking ended. Finally my doctor realized that using my rescue inhaler 10-12 times a day was no way to live and sent me to the Asthma Clinic. There they put me on a daily Steroid medication and I’ve since had much more control over my Asthma. Haven’t had a bad attack in years.

Now I’m running. I’m developing my lung capacity, and sweating my ass off and I love it. I love that I am able to do this. I have a long way to go, but if I am anything, it’s determined, and I will eventually get there! Will I be slow? Yep. Will it likely take me well over 3 hours if not 4 to do the half marathon? Yep. But I will do it. That’s my goal this year. To finish. Now that I feel like I’ve found a way that I can train and progress, I am confident about the marathon. I don’t care if I come in dead last, as long as I don’t come in dead. Ha. As long as I cross that line.

 

On a side note, I officially got my P. Eng. Last week. After 5 years of University, Close to 60 grand in debt, 4 years of working (Miss A set me back a year, but well worth it…), after a report every 6 months, training courses, tests, references and a lot of waiting, it’s done. I actually closed my office door and cried a little. It’s finally done. In 2001 at 28 year old, I sold my house, quit my job and went back to school. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s over. I did it. Officially. P. Eng. Baby. BOOYA!! 

Death by Mini Egg

I had a brutal weekend. Food wise I mean… Let’s see, just to break it down, I had probably 2-3 CUPS of mini eggs, I had 2 hotdogs and a small hot fudge sundae from DQ, I had pizza for supper last night, on Friday I had about a bottle of wine to myself as well as enough junk food (and some not-so-junky food) to kill a horse. I completely lost my mind. I was tired and lazy and except for a bit of cleaning on Friday after work, I literally did sweet eff all for the rest of the weekend. I had intentions of running the track at Pan Am on Sunday morning but when I checked (at 7:30am) to make sure they were open early, I found out the track was “closed until further notice”. So I had mini eggs for breakfast instead.

I haven’t called back Jenny Craig to tell them I quit, but I did put WW in my work calendar as a meeting so no one could schedule me for something else. So Wednesday I will be back at WW and I intend on hitting it with full force. Apparently no plan at all results in weekends like the one I just had, and well, frankly, that can’t happen again. At least not for a very long time.  I’m not playing the blame game; I’m not going to try and make excuses or “figure out” what’s wrong with me. I had a lazy fat weekend. Move on. I was tired and I had a good time with my friends on Friday night and that’s it.

I went for my run at lunch time and as I expected, it was tough. I made it three miles but it was a struggle. Took almost 45 minutes so there was obviously a few walking breaks in there. I warmed up but then ran for 10 minutes. It seems like when I my first run is “longer” then I struggle with the rest of the run. After I did the ten minutes, the next one was only five… then four for a few of them then lower and lower. The last five minutes I forced myself to run and I could definitely hear Darth Vader running along with me.

Now all things aside, I have noticed that I’m not sore today. My hips are usually sore enough that when I get up out of my chair I’m limping for a good 10 steps or so until they loosen up. Although I have started taking Glucosamine because I’m 100 years old. Ha.  Seriously though, perhaps my body is starting to adjust… and my pants feel a little looser. Not a lot, but a little.

So even the fact that I had a bad food weekend, I will continue on. The exercise is working. Having a goal is working. Would it all work faster and better if I would quit the mini eggs?? Probably…  but seriously, who buys a 2 pound bag of mini eggs and leaves them in the pantry to torture me? MY husband. What a loving, supportive man I have don’t I?? But I'm not blaming him. I am the master of what I put in my mouth.  Let's just hope HE remembers that next time he brings home Mini Eggs.

The end of a season

March 9, 2011

Why can they make vitamins that look and taste like gummy bears, but not cauliflower that is somehow more appealing? I hate cauliflower. It smells like farts when you cook it.

I haven’t been neglecting my writing; I’ve been neglecting posting my writing so there will be a few entries all on the same day. Sunday night I had Ringette and we won, which then advanced us up the playoff roster and we played Monday night. Which we lost so that knocked us out. We lost a game the Saturday before which I missed due to my Jamaica travels. I found myself sad that Ringette was over this year which was a bit of a switch since I’ve been finding myself relieved at season’s end the last few years. Since I started running and working out, it’s definitely enhanced my game on the ice and I was feeling like I was actually contributing (and skating my buns off) rather than feeling bad about “dragging” my team down. I’ve sucked the past few years. I know I have, you can’t carry around this much extra weight and not have it affect your athletic prowess. J Needless to say, I was finally feeling like an asset on the ice and now the season is over. So that made a little sad.

I missed two soccer games while in paradise and last night put me back on the field. I was worried about my calf… and I played like I was worried about my calf. I couldn’t break into a sprint at all because I was terrified of ripping the muscle like I did a few years ago at softball and being out of commission for over a month. This marathon has become really important to me and not being able to train/run for a long period of time because of a sucky soccer injury (I say sucky, because we really had a sucky season of losing) would be devastating to someone of my fragile running mind set. I’m already teetering on the edge of the fence about my abilities to pull off the 13 miles… Taking a month out of my training might topple me over to the fat side.

Anyway, my sucky playing aside, we lost. Which means soccer is over for the season now too. My winter sports are done for the year and part of me is glad to be able to concentrate on running, my baby girl and the spring clean up that is going to be necessary at my house. But part of me is sad to not have that specific one hour a week where I get to forget everything but the sweat and the game and the cheering… because you know I’m all about the cheering. E and I were thinking of playing soccer this spring/summer, but after this winter… I think I might like to just train and have the freedom to go to all the kids games and hang with my rat baby. Besides, I’ve realized, I don’t really care for co-ed sports. Boys are dumb and testosteronie.

If I had a gun...

March 4

World War Three happened at my house last night. To put it bluntly, my husband sucks ass. I’m seething with anger right now and anything I write is going to be completely one sided and my view only as it should be since it’s my flipping blog. We have been discussing sending our rat baby to BH for months now. I knew it was going to be a long road of convincing since my husband is often referred to the “cheapest man on the planet” but I figured after we went to the facility TWICE and saw how great it is, spoke to the Principal and she told us all the pros of girls only education, after we talked for hours and AGREED that we think A isn’t getting enough stimulation… I though that he would see that it is a fantastic opportunity for our ONLY daughter and realize it’s the best thing we could do for her. Alas I was wrong. Not only does the almighty dollar speak far louder to his pea brain but he also found it necessary to make a comment about how “he will have to do everything”. As I type it I can’t even believe he said it. I CAN’T BELIEVE HE SAID IT. I’m so angry. I’m so sick and tired of his bullshit and putting his bank account before us. I guess I let it go when he did it to me, but now he’s doing it to her?? He’s a son of a bitch. I’m already preparing for next year. I will pay for it myself and he can SUCK IT. In a big way.