Thirty Eight and a Half

NOT a measurement of mine. My age.

I noticed the calendar this morning and the date stood out to me. I was born on the thirteenth and married on the thirteenth, so I sorta notice that number.

Realized I'm 38 and a half as of today. What to do? What to do? Cake? Balloons? Flowers? Chocolate?

I went grocery shopping. That's not nearly as exciting as cake.

I filled a prescription for an inhaler. That's not as bad as arthritis medication. Hopefully I have a few more years before I start dealing with arthritis!

I am going to get Wendy's and take my kids to the park along with two neighbors.

Tonight I'm making a double "batch" of a dinner casserole to deliver one to a friend who just had her second baby.

So... once the evening comes and the chores are done... what to do? What to do? Discovering a surprise special occasion at the start of the day is reason to come up with some semblance of a celebration.

Found by the side of the road

One of my favorite things about running, in addition to the whole heart health and overall fitness stuff - is seeing the wild variety of things in the gutter. Today I noticed a lime wedge resting beside the busy boulevard.

A lime wedge beats a puddle of barf. In my running career, I've seen several barf piles. I imagine one of two reasons for the barf: 1) Someone on the way home from partying on the Strip couldn't make it any further and lost their lunch (more like alcohol consumption) out the door onto my running route. 2) A woman early in her pregnancy thought she could make it to church without puking out the door, but was mistaken. (Not that this has ever happened to me.)

Back to the lime wedge. There it sat. Do you know limes do grow in Vegas? But I've run this way before and there are no lime trees along the main drag. Even if it fell from a tree, I'm guessing it wouldn't fall in wedge form. Tommy Burger recently opened a new location not far from our house, and they sell killer Lime-Aid drinks. I first thought this lime hopefully originated there, but since I get fixated on drunk passengers (hence the barf story) I quickly wondered if it might instead be out of a vodka gimlet. I'm hoping for the Lime-Aid, since that less often results in DUI arrests - but it did give me something to think about for half a mile.

I would heartily enjoy knowing what other runners think about when they're out panting and sweating and covering the miles.

In your anger, RUN!

That's the Teri version of the Bible verse that says "In your anger do not sin."

I went out for another day of half-marathon training bright and early this morning. On the schedule, a "fast four-miler" according to my program. Well, lemme tell ya, I was focusing on "four-miler" more than "fast". I had several factors working against the "fast" part. Here's a list:

Several (or more) factors working against a "fast" four mile run:

The 45-ounce bag of peanut M&Ms my husband and our houseguest brought home.
Many many many annoying hills surrounding my home.
This stupid vampire book series that keeps me up too late reading.
I think my shoes are wearing out.
There's ice in the roads. Ice. The real frozen water in the gutter stuff. I actually stopped to introduce my shoes to it today, which knocked a few seconds off my time, I'm sure.
Too much butt fat. (Damn peanut M&Ms).
Not enough angry songs on my iPod.

And that last item on the list brings me back to my topic. Anger and running. VERY effective powerhouse combo! This is why when Gwen Stefani comes on and starts her semi-whacked coupling of cuss words and names of fruit I am able to suddenly pick up my pace incredibly and steam up hills and do it all effortlessly. I have anger issues, so the question is: does running help me deal with them? or does it just bring them to the surface to be dealt with the rest of my day, without the help of upbeat songs and sweat and joint pain. I'm going to ponder this more deeply tonight. But NOT over a bowl of M&Ms, no sir.

Where it all began

This photo is more significant than it might appear. Three couples and eleven children smiling in the sun on the UNLV campus. Thing about these three couples is that they all met at UNLV around 1995. In the thirteen years since: three weddings, many moves, jobs, ministries, births, and countless other experiences. As of a week ago, they now all live on the same street back in Henderson, Nevada. The "smiling in the sun" picture was taken Saturday, when they went back to where it all began and laughed and joked about a million memories. Now we look forward to making a billion more.

Molars

Kevin and I aren't amateurs. We have four kids, now - we don't panic over every scraped knee the way we used to. But at two a.m., when John was going on his fourth straight hour of screaming and wrestling us, Kevin took him to the E.R. This is easy since there is a great hospital right down the street. He had sounded a little croupy, but not as bad as I've heard - and that's what the doctors went with, even doing a standard x-ray to rule out a blockage.

Nothing. Home by four a.m., Motrin, bed. A little over an hour of sleep, then more screaming. I carried John out to the car and left the house, with its ten sleeping occupants, and drove around until the stinker passed out from exhaustion. I parked in a store parking lot and read a book and listened to birds hopping around on my van roof.

Hours and hours later, back at home and after more than half the day, Kevin came bounding upstairs to announce the appearance of a molar in John's mouth. Or two. Maybe more. Geez Louise. Of COURSE he's getting his two-year molars at fifteen months, since he had sixteen teeth by six months. Here are pictures of the sleep-stealing culprit over the past few crazy days. You'll notice he doesn't look the least bit concerned that he's been keeping us up.

Thinking he's a Wii Fit Champion:


Today. If he faced the camera, you could see the sleep deprivation in his eyes.


Yesterday. Finding a leaf and plotting how to keep us up all night later.

Hot Medical Tip #1

Let's just say you're a little moody and you try to cure it with some espresso. Being an inexperienced coffee drinker, you burn your tongue.
Here's a tip: Do NOT eat pineapple the next day. I still can't talk without pain.

Starbucks Saved My Life

It's no fun to start the new year off with PMS. All day, even through Mass, I've been glum. Like Eeyore on cold medicine. Then the neighbor girls and I headed for the grocery store and I had a bright idea - get some coffee! So many of my friends swear by it, and I was definitely in need of some mood change. It worked! Still enjoying the holiday menu, I ordered the espresso mocha - excellent recommendation, Magan - and glided through the store as my vision went from gray to cheery... VERY cheery. To the point where it dawned on me that caffeine may be the drug that keeps me from needing antidepressants. Taking BOTH might be a powerhouse, kick-your-butt dream concoction, so perhaps I'll look into that. For now, I'll end the day far better than I started.

Resolution for 2009: Once a month - as needed - buy a cup full of happy and watch my problems roll away. Til the jitters set in, of course, which are making it hard for me to type right now.