This week has been one of dispelling first impressions. I met someone recently, made a judgement based on previous experience with similar people, steeled myself for our next encounter, predicting how the person would behave and how I would respond and how I wouldn't let my emotions get the best of me, and what do you know, this person has turned out to be a lovely, if challenging human being! Who would'a thunk it?
But before I give myself too hard a time for pre-judging, I do believe that by thinking ahead and armoring myself with enough personal power to withstand whatever this individual threw at me (again, gleaning from past experience), I was more than ready for the situation. And in the first few moments of our second encounter, I could feel the testing, the feeling around for boundaries, and having established them firmly and with clear focus, I was able to set the tone. And how glad I am that I did.
We learn as we go. Just today I had a conversation with a young person who had gotten into a rather precarious situation last night, and as the young adult explained away what had happened, I said in response, "Well, at least you've learned something." We learn from our failures much more than from our successes, and in the case of this young person, lots of lessons were learned, with no one injured or arrested, which is always a nice thing...
I'm learning that while my first impressions may not be completely accurate in judgement of a person's future behavior, my instincts are always useful in dealing with new people. But what a pleasure when my negative first assessment of someone turns out to be far from the truth, and I'm surprised to discover the blossoming of a new friendship.
Happy weekend to all.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Trails
We were hit with a stomach bug this week, each of us in turn over the course of four days. It had been years since any of us had been that sick, and I don't think we've ever been that sick as a family. Even today, the third day, I've tried to stay as still as possible. That kind of stuff can really take it out of you, and sometimes the best medicine is rest.
Where did we get it?
You shake a hand, you give a hug, you pick up a pen to sign a credit slip, and POW, the germs have been transferred. And it's often impossible to trace. There is no clear line back to the first instigator of the germ trail, and I guess really, there couldn't be.
Of course, this is unlike life in other ways, where there is a very real trail of what we do and when we do it. Apply for a credit card? Background check ensues, and you'd better hope that the identity thief who nabbed your credit information a few years back didn't do any lasting damage. Churches are getting into the swing of things with background checks and Safe Church trainings, where anyone who works with children must be screened and go through a educational seminar. Such important work for churches to do, but there again sometimes lies a trail that could be slightly awry. One misplaced digit in your social security number, and POW, you're on some list somewhere. Same name as someone else? Uh oh, you'd better have a good explanation of where you were in 1987...
Even without the information our computers give us, (just a keystroke and there is a list of everyone who has visited your website over the last several months, time, date, length of visit, etc.) we do leave trails behind, don't we? We enter into a store, and our foul mood poisons the environment so that the person checking us out snaps at the next customer. Or hopefully, our smile and genuine "thank you" to the person serving us our lunch makes that person feel valued and perhaps tinges his/her day with a brighter cast.
Same in our families. We give our spouse a casual wave, and she leaves the house feeling sort of invisible. Or we look directly into his eyes, say "I am so glad I married you" and suddenly what could have been an ordinary day turns into an extraordinary one.
We leave trails of where we've been, both in tangible and intangible ways. Let us all be more cognizant of the trails we leave behind so that our paths leave happy memories, not dust and dreariness.
Where did we get it?
You shake a hand, you give a hug, you pick up a pen to sign a credit slip, and POW, the germs have been transferred. And it's often impossible to trace. There is no clear line back to the first instigator of the germ trail, and I guess really, there couldn't be.
Of course, this is unlike life in other ways, where there is a very real trail of what we do and when we do it. Apply for a credit card? Background check ensues, and you'd better hope that the identity thief who nabbed your credit information a few years back didn't do any lasting damage. Churches are getting into the swing of things with background checks and Safe Church trainings, where anyone who works with children must be screened and go through a educational seminar. Such important work for churches to do, but there again sometimes lies a trail that could be slightly awry. One misplaced digit in your social security number, and POW, you're on some list somewhere. Same name as someone else? Uh oh, you'd better have a good explanation of where you were in 1987...
Even without the information our computers give us, (just a keystroke and there is a list of everyone who has visited your website over the last several months, time, date, length of visit, etc.) we do leave trails behind, don't we? We enter into a store, and our foul mood poisons the environment so that the person checking us out snaps at the next customer. Or hopefully, our smile and genuine "thank you" to the person serving us our lunch makes that person feel valued and perhaps tinges his/her day with a brighter cast.
Same in our families. We give our spouse a casual wave, and she leaves the house feeling sort of invisible. Or we look directly into his eyes, say "I am so glad I married you" and suddenly what could have been an ordinary day turns into an extraordinary one.
We leave trails of where we've been, both in tangible and intangible ways. Let us all be more cognizant of the trails we leave behind so that our paths leave happy memories, not dust and dreariness.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
This and That
This past weekend a couple of my preconceived notions were put to the test. And while neither was dashed completely, there were moments when how I see the world shifted just a little. And this was good, because getting stuck in a rut is one of the most self-destructive things a body can do.
I also got to spend some time with one of my best girlfriends, someone not from here, someone I've known for 15 years. It was nice reconnecting with someone who knew me before I was a mother, before I did what I do for a living, before a lot of things. It's so important to maintain connections with people, and I don't always do a good job of that.
I think I'm through my sleep issues for now. Stress and worry did it, and no matter how I changed my daily routine, calm reading before bed, changing the time of vitamin ingestion, warm milk, etc., for a couple of weeks there I could not get a good night's sleep and was beginning to be frantic and teary about it. Last night I slept a full eight hours! Go figure! It was terrific.
And that is all.
I also got to spend some time with one of my best girlfriends, someone not from here, someone I've known for 15 years. It was nice reconnecting with someone who knew me before I was a mother, before I did what I do for a living, before a lot of things. It's so important to maintain connections with people, and I don't always do a good job of that.
I think I'm through my sleep issues for now. Stress and worry did it, and no matter how I changed my daily routine, calm reading before bed, changing the time of vitamin ingestion, warm milk, etc., for a couple of weeks there I could not get a good night's sleep and was beginning to be frantic and teary about it. Last night I slept a full eight hours! Go figure! It was terrific.
And that is all.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Enough, already!
We just got back from a wonderful family trip to Charleston, where we toured the USS Yorktown. It has a great history.
I was reminded of the tenacity of all of the men who served the Yorktown during WWII, the determination, the heels dug in for the long fight. Young men, some of whom had never left their home towns, let alone visited abroad, were thrust into a situation not of their making, sent around the world to fight a war they'd only heard of on the radio and on news reels, and from those home on leave. Their families were back home, sacrificing for the war effort, praying for their safe return. The country pulled together, civilian and soldier alike.
Sometimes life calls on us to settle in for the long haul. We must put distractions aside and do what must be done. Perhaps not in a war zone, our battles are fought in our offices, our neighborhoods, our own brains. We are struggling with an addiction, or are preparing for a major project, or are fighting to hang on to a relationship, or we are clinging to a job that we feel we must keep to maintain a lifestyle we believe to be essential.
But there are those things we hang on to that we just need to let go. Past relationships come to mind. It's over, it's been over, it won't be starting back up, let it go. Your drive-bys aren't unnoticed, they're just annoying. Or maybe failed work assignments. The presentation DID stink, and it's over, you're not going to get a re-do, the world did NOT come to a crashing halt, let it go.
We hold on to so much, as if the past defines us. The past doesn't define us. It shaped us, but it's the past. And the past only has the power you give it. As I reflect on how the lives of those who served on the USS Yorktown were changed by the experience, I marvel at how well most of those men did once they came back to the real world. They let things go. Surely you can, too.
I was reminded of the tenacity of all of the men who served the Yorktown during WWII, the determination, the heels dug in for the long fight. Young men, some of whom had never left their home towns, let alone visited abroad, were thrust into a situation not of their making, sent around the world to fight a war they'd only heard of on the radio and on news reels, and from those home on leave. Their families were back home, sacrificing for the war effort, praying for their safe return. The country pulled together, civilian and soldier alike.
Sometimes life calls on us to settle in for the long haul. We must put distractions aside and do what must be done. Perhaps not in a war zone, our battles are fought in our offices, our neighborhoods, our own brains. We are struggling with an addiction, or are preparing for a major project, or are fighting to hang on to a relationship, or we are clinging to a job that we feel we must keep to maintain a lifestyle we believe to be essential.
But there are those things we hang on to that we just need to let go. Past relationships come to mind. It's over, it's been over, it won't be starting back up, let it go. Your drive-bys aren't unnoticed, they're just annoying. Or maybe failed work assignments. The presentation DID stink, and it's over, you're not going to get a re-do, the world did NOT come to a crashing halt, let it go.
We hold on to so much, as if the past defines us. The past doesn't define us. It shaped us, but it's the past. And the past only has the power you give it. As I reflect on how the lives of those who served on the USS Yorktown were changed by the experience, I marvel at how well most of those men did once they came back to the real world. They let things go. Surely you can, too.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Doing the best that you can
Sunday afternoon, the three of us went to see "The Other Boleyn Girl," (a great film, by the way). Standing in the popcorn line behind a mother and her son, we overheard the mother's exasperated voice talking on her cell phone.
"I don't like to be called a liar! Don't call me a liar!"
Now, I have no idea who she was talking to. It could have been a friend, a family member, a credit card company--no matter. It was obvious that she was agitated. And honestly, it agitated us a little bit. We were barely on time for the film, and were in a hurry to get our snacks and sit down. I thought, "Oh, great, another cell phone addict, messing up my time table."
During this call, her son, who was about seven or eight at most, engaged my husband in a conversation. It was obvious that this child was bright and cared for. To look at his mother, one might have questioned her choices in clothing and hairstyle. Her shirt exposed a midriff, her hair was an unusual color, and there she was, talking on a cell phone while there were people waiting around to get their snacks and go sit down in the theater. It would have been easier to judge her harshly, to chalk up her lifestyle as yet another example of how the world is just one big mess.
But that child was something else. Clean, articulate, intelligent. His mother was making the effort to take him to the movies, and she didn't even get exasperated with him when he couldn't make up his mind between Milk Duds and Whoppers. She smiled at him, patted him on his head, and you could tell that the two of them, no matter what kind of life they shared, loved each other dearly.
After another line opened and we got our snacks, I couldn't help but think that she was doing her best. I don't know her journey, I don't know her struggles. I do know that she loves that little boy, and that he will be a stronger man for it.
That's all we can do, really. We can do our best and then let go. I can only do the best that I'm capable of at any given time. And that best may not be very good sometimes, but it's all I've got. When I think of the mistakes I've made, some of them whoppers, I have got to allow myself a little forgiveness! I was doing the best that I could at that time. It might not be the best I could do today, but it was the best that I had then. Does this excuse me from glaring lapses in judgement? No, but it does allow a little more space for mercy, and isn't mercy toward oneself the hardest kind to muster?
So today I've focused on that, the notion that all we have is now, and all we have is the best we can do now. We can try harder tomorrow. And we can learn from our mistakes today. But before we judge ourselves or anyone else too harshly, we must remember this truth.
And we must have faith that we'll be capable of doing better tomorrow.
"I don't like to be called a liar! Don't call me a liar!"
Now, I have no idea who she was talking to. It could have been a friend, a family member, a credit card company--no matter. It was obvious that she was agitated. And honestly, it agitated us a little bit. We were barely on time for the film, and were in a hurry to get our snacks and sit down. I thought, "Oh, great, another cell phone addict, messing up my time table."
During this call, her son, who was about seven or eight at most, engaged my husband in a conversation. It was obvious that this child was bright and cared for. To look at his mother, one might have questioned her choices in clothing and hairstyle. Her shirt exposed a midriff, her hair was an unusual color, and there she was, talking on a cell phone while there were people waiting around to get their snacks and go sit down in the theater. It would have been easier to judge her harshly, to chalk up her lifestyle as yet another example of how the world is just one big mess.
But that child was something else. Clean, articulate, intelligent. His mother was making the effort to take him to the movies, and she didn't even get exasperated with him when he couldn't make up his mind between Milk Duds and Whoppers. She smiled at him, patted him on his head, and you could tell that the two of them, no matter what kind of life they shared, loved each other dearly.
After another line opened and we got our snacks, I couldn't help but think that she was doing her best. I don't know her journey, I don't know her struggles. I do know that she loves that little boy, and that he will be a stronger man for it.
That's all we can do, really. We can do our best and then let go. I can only do the best that I'm capable of at any given time. And that best may not be very good sometimes, but it's all I've got. When I think of the mistakes I've made, some of them whoppers, I have got to allow myself a little forgiveness! I was doing the best that I could at that time. It might not be the best I could do today, but it was the best that I had then. Does this excuse me from glaring lapses in judgement? No, but it does allow a little more space for mercy, and isn't mercy toward oneself the hardest kind to muster?
So today I've focused on that, the notion that all we have is now, and all we have is the best we can do now. We can try harder tomorrow. And we can learn from our mistakes today. But before we judge ourselves or anyone else too harshly, we must remember this truth.
And we must have faith that we'll be capable of doing better tomorrow.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Setting the tone
I had a conversation with a friend yesterday regarding morning people vs. night people. There are definitely some people who function better early, some late. You hope that you'll be able to fashion a life that allows you to work within your tendencies, but often we have to adapt as best we can, always straining at the bit to slip back into our natures. A night person has to take an early morning shift, or an early riser has to attend 8:00pm meetings. It's tough, and it can wear on a body, physically and psychologically.
I am definitely a morning person, and it's taken me a lot of years to figure that out. Now, please don't ask me at 4:45am whether or not I like to be up and at 'em before dawn, because I'll throw my alarm clock (which I never need during the week, as my body automatically wakes at 4:30 now M-F, even with the time change, which was weird for me this week), but at 5:05 when I'm up and dressed, it's a whole new ball game. Life is good! The sun will be rising soon! Anything is possible! Do I sleep late on Saturday? You bet, because my early rising pattern most definitely does not jive with most of society, and by Friday, I'm wiped out from 6-1/2 hour nights.
Since I've allowed myself to fall into my natural tendencies (whereas five years ago I'd let myself sleep until the last possible minute most mornings), although it's hard to get out of bed, once I'm out, things are great.
Try and allow yourself to discover how your body's wake/sleep cycles work the best. Don't presume that just because you've always stayed up until 11 every night that you aren't an early bird at heart. Yes, sleep is definitely important, critical, even. But so is having the time to do what you want in your day, and there is nothing like getting up a little earlier to make you feel like you've got more time for whatever you need to do.
If you're rising at the crack of pre-dawn and are walking around the world like a zombie, then maybe you aren't an early riser at heart, and perhaps there are other options to create a life schedule that works for you. I've actually questioned myself in the last few months, because by Thursday, I can feel myself winding down. However, if I'm honest, it's poor sleep hygiene that gets me into trouble most of the time (watching TV before bed, not regulating the temperature of the room, staying up ten minutes later than I need to, etc.) If I'm disciplined at getting the lights out early enough, I do just fine.
We're so wrapped up in an artificial time system that it can be enlightening to look and see how we would behave if the clocks were turned off. That's an idea for an open weekend or a vacation week, seeing just how you would sleep if you weren't on anyone else's schedule.
Sounds nice, doesn't it?
I am definitely a morning person, and it's taken me a lot of years to figure that out. Now, please don't ask me at 4:45am whether or not I like to be up and at 'em before dawn, because I'll throw my alarm clock (which I never need during the week, as my body automatically wakes at 4:30 now M-F, even with the time change, which was weird for me this week), but at 5:05 when I'm up and dressed, it's a whole new ball game. Life is good! The sun will be rising soon! Anything is possible! Do I sleep late on Saturday? You bet, because my early rising pattern most definitely does not jive with most of society, and by Friday, I'm wiped out from 6-1/2 hour nights.
Since I've allowed myself to fall into my natural tendencies (whereas five years ago I'd let myself sleep until the last possible minute most mornings), although it's hard to get out of bed, once I'm out, things are great.
Try and allow yourself to discover how your body's wake/sleep cycles work the best. Don't presume that just because you've always stayed up until 11 every night that you aren't an early bird at heart. Yes, sleep is definitely important, critical, even. But so is having the time to do what you want in your day, and there is nothing like getting up a little earlier to make you feel like you've got more time for whatever you need to do.
If you're rising at the crack of pre-dawn and are walking around the world like a zombie, then maybe you aren't an early riser at heart, and perhaps there are other options to create a life schedule that works for you. I've actually questioned myself in the last few months, because by Thursday, I can feel myself winding down. However, if I'm honest, it's poor sleep hygiene that gets me into trouble most of the time (watching TV before bed, not regulating the temperature of the room, staying up ten minutes later than I need to, etc.) If I'm disciplined at getting the lights out early enough, I do just fine.
We're so wrapped up in an artificial time system that it can be enlightening to look and see how we would behave if the clocks were turned off. That's an idea for an open weekend or a vacation week, seeing just how you would sleep if you weren't on anyone else's schedule.
Sounds nice, doesn't it?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Lies, lies, lies
Someone told me a lie today and doesn't have a clue that I know it was a lie. It was an interesting lie, it was entertaining, extremely creative, but a lie nonetheless. This person might consider it more deception than lie, but it's a non-truth, which equals a lie. And I see it for what it is, and it is telling me a lot about this person that I always suspected but now have confirmed.
With all of the scandal regarding NY's governor and his apparent "issues," I've been thinking about the lies we tell each other and the lies we tell ourselves.
There are big lies and little lies, if you buy that theory. Your best friend has a new boyfriend, and asks, "Isn't he cute?" What are you going to say if he reminds you of your neighbor's Basset Hound? Cute? Well.... You might choose to hedge and answer, "And I can really tell he likes you a lot!" Telling her that you think he is unattractive isn't going to serve anyone's interests, especially yours. You lie to protect her feelings, and there is little harm in it, because the truth in this case is really about perception, and the perception that matters is your friend's, because it's HER boyfriend you're talking about.
Then there are the times when the truth, while hard to spit out, really can serve well, but we choose to lie anyway. A friend asks, "Do you think I'm a bully?" You know she is, you have heard others say that she is, you know she's alienated a lot of people because of it, but can you come right out and say it? It is information that she might be able to use, and she did ask, but it's tough to say out loud. So you might hem and haw for a while before you smile, shake your head, and say, "Of COURSE you're not a bully. Everyone else is just too sensitive..." It's a lie, but it's gotten you out of a tough spot, for now. You've set yourself up in a precarious position with this lie, and it'll probably come back to haunt you.
But what about the lies you tell yourself? "Oh, it doesn't matter that I haven't had any vegetables today. I'm healthy." Or, "Drinking four glasses of wine a night won't hurt me. I'm young!" How about, "That dryer! My pants have shrunk again!" You say the things you want to hear and avoid the reality that cuts a little too close to the bone. You don't allow yourself to 'fess up and confront yourself head on. It's like a parent who is avoiding disciplining her rude teenager because she just doesn't feel up to another fight. She tells herself it'll work itself out, and goes on living in her fog of self-delusion.
Much of the time, the lies we tell each other and the lies we tell ourselves are just avoidance maneuvers, like changing lanes on the interstate to get around a slower car. Lying can buy us a little time and keep reality at bay, but eventually reality will rear its head, often when we're most vulnerable and least able to cope. And then the piper's pay date is NOW.
When we lie and get caught, like the governor just did, we're slapped in the face with not only our own judgements but the judgements of countless others who shouldn't even be a part of our struggles. Honesty is much harder than truth a lot of the time, but it's easier, cleaner, and doesn't leave much of a scar.
And that's the truth.
With all of the scandal regarding NY's governor and his apparent "issues," I've been thinking about the lies we tell each other and the lies we tell ourselves.
There are big lies and little lies, if you buy that theory. Your best friend has a new boyfriend, and asks, "Isn't he cute?" What are you going to say if he reminds you of your neighbor's Basset Hound? Cute? Well.... You might choose to hedge and answer, "And I can really tell he likes you a lot!" Telling her that you think he is unattractive isn't going to serve anyone's interests, especially yours. You lie to protect her feelings, and there is little harm in it, because the truth in this case is really about perception, and the perception that matters is your friend's, because it's HER boyfriend you're talking about.
Then there are the times when the truth, while hard to spit out, really can serve well, but we choose to lie anyway. A friend asks, "Do you think I'm a bully?" You know she is, you have heard others say that she is, you know she's alienated a lot of people because of it, but can you come right out and say it? It is information that she might be able to use, and she did ask, but it's tough to say out loud. So you might hem and haw for a while before you smile, shake your head, and say, "Of COURSE you're not a bully. Everyone else is just too sensitive..." It's a lie, but it's gotten you out of a tough spot, for now. You've set yourself up in a precarious position with this lie, and it'll probably come back to haunt you.
But what about the lies you tell yourself? "Oh, it doesn't matter that I haven't had any vegetables today. I'm healthy." Or, "Drinking four glasses of wine a night won't hurt me. I'm young!" How about, "That dryer! My pants have shrunk again!" You say the things you want to hear and avoid the reality that cuts a little too close to the bone. You don't allow yourself to 'fess up and confront yourself head on. It's like a parent who is avoiding disciplining her rude teenager because she just doesn't feel up to another fight. She tells herself it'll work itself out, and goes on living in her fog of self-delusion.
Much of the time, the lies we tell each other and the lies we tell ourselves are just avoidance maneuvers, like changing lanes on the interstate to get around a slower car. Lying can buy us a little time and keep reality at bay, but eventually reality will rear its head, often when we're most vulnerable and least able to cope. And then the piper's pay date is NOW.
When we lie and get caught, like the governor just did, we're slapped in the face with not only our own judgements but the judgements of countless others who shouldn't even be a part of our struggles. Honesty is much harder than truth a lot of the time, but it's easier, cleaner, and doesn't leave much of a scar.
And that's the truth.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Disappointments
Last week was NOT a great week. I spoke with someone over the weekend who asked, "Yeah, my week was the same, so what was up with that?" I have friends who would say that the reason the week was so dreadful had something to do with the moon and the position of planets in the sky, and I don't doubt that celestial goings-on matter to us earthlings. However, speaking with a friend today, I took some time to reconsider.
I described to this friend that last week I was frequently disappointed with the behavior of others. And she asked, "Then was it you, right?" And of course, it was. I set myself up last week. I allowed my own peeved attitude to reflect badly on people around me. It's not uncommon of course, but I'm thinking it's a bad habit that I need to break.
Right now I'm reading "Eat, Pray, Love," which by the way is a FABulous read, and I've just read through a part about controlling one's thoughts. The author has met someone who tells her that she must have control over her thoughts to find the peace/fulfillment she seeks.
I've always believed that feelings are feelings, uncontrollable, surprising, and trying to control feelings is like herding cats. But controlling thoughts? Could I buy into the notion that I really could control my thoughts and weed out those negative, self-distructive thoughts that make me grind my teeth and doubt my very purpose? Well, why not? But would I? Would I take the effort to step out of my thought patterns and direct my brain to walk down another path?
I don't know. Something to consider.
I described to this friend that last week I was frequently disappointed with the behavior of others. And she asked, "Then was it you, right?" And of course, it was. I set myself up last week. I allowed my own peeved attitude to reflect badly on people around me. It's not uncommon of course, but I'm thinking it's a bad habit that I need to break.
Right now I'm reading "Eat, Pray, Love," which by the way is a FABulous read, and I've just read through a part about controlling one's thoughts. The author has met someone who tells her that she must have control over her thoughts to find the peace/fulfillment she seeks.
I've always believed that feelings are feelings, uncontrollable, surprising, and trying to control feelings is like herding cats. But controlling thoughts? Could I buy into the notion that I really could control my thoughts and weed out those negative, self-distructive thoughts that make me grind my teeth and doubt my very purpose? Well, why not? But would I? Would I take the effort to step out of my thought patterns and direct my brain to walk down another path?
I don't know. Something to consider.
Friday, March 7, 2008
High-class problems...
Whine, whine, whine.
This has been a week of whining, to my mother in particular, who I'm sure rolls her eyes and thinks, "Oh, if she only KNEW what troubles are..."
Last year this time, when our entire family seemed to be in one health crisis after another, I would have jumped through hoops of fire to have a week like I just had, but now that our health issues have resolved, I'm whining because of this and that little thing.
It's the whole Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Once you've got the basics covered, hunger, shelter, social contact, job, THEN you can go on to nitpik at everything else.
Am I fulfilled?
Does my life have meaning?
Will I leave the planet a better place when I'm gone?
Are there people who wish that exit would happen sooner rather than later?
Gee whiz.
I expect too much from everybody, not just myself. I expect people to be charming, receptive, interested, and when they're not, I feel that I've failed. Sometimes I'm sure I have, but all the time?
Oh, it's the whole only-child-center-of-the-universe curse rearing its ugly head again.
When we (I'm speaking of me now) are too self-absorbed with how others see us, we fail to remember that we are NOT the reason most people are the way they are. Someone not responding in the way you'd like doesn't necessarily mean that you've misspoken or hurt their feelings or done your job poorly. Perhaps they don't feel well. Maybe they heard some disturbing news earlier. Maybe they're just tired and not in the mood to learn or to be entertained.
Oh, this hypersensitivity is a pain.
But again, this is a high-class problem.
This has been a week of whining, to my mother in particular, who I'm sure rolls her eyes and thinks, "Oh, if she only KNEW what troubles are..."
Last year this time, when our entire family seemed to be in one health crisis after another, I would have jumped through hoops of fire to have a week like I just had, but now that our health issues have resolved, I'm whining because of this and that little thing.
It's the whole Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Once you've got the basics covered, hunger, shelter, social contact, job, THEN you can go on to nitpik at everything else.
Am I fulfilled?
Does my life have meaning?
Will I leave the planet a better place when I'm gone?
Are there people who wish that exit would happen sooner rather than later?
Gee whiz.
I expect too much from everybody, not just myself. I expect people to be charming, receptive, interested, and when they're not, I feel that I've failed. Sometimes I'm sure I have, but all the time?
Oh, it's the whole only-child-center-of-the-universe curse rearing its ugly head again.
When we (I'm speaking of me now) are too self-absorbed with how others see us, we fail to remember that we are NOT the reason most people are the way they are. Someone not responding in the way you'd like doesn't necessarily mean that you've misspoken or hurt their feelings or done your job poorly. Perhaps they don't feel well. Maybe they heard some disturbing news earlier. Maybe they're just tired and not in the mood to learn or to be entertained.
Oh, this hypersensitivity is a pain.
But again, this is a high-class problem.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Spring, huh?
OK, so I hit the wrong button the other day, so be it. I didn't really have anything I was desperate to get out into cyberspace, so I'll let that one be a miss.
It rained last night! And the thunder! Yippee!
As we went to bed last night, the thunder and lightning was booming and flashing, and I'd seen on the news that there was a tornado sighting near by. So, being a responsible parent and spouse, I determined to listen for any impending doom rolling down our street...
Was that a freight train I heard? Or something much more sinister? Or was that a car....
What was THAT!?! Oh, that was another car.
Why is it suddenly so quiet?
Whah? Oh, that was the cat...
This went on for hours until the rain and the storm stopped, and then it just kept on going...
Do I have my presentation materials mapped out for that class on Thursday....
What should I do about training...
Could that be an issue that comes up...
I'm hot.
I'm cold.
I'm hungry.
Is my nose stuffy?
Can't sleep.
Can't sleep.
Can't remember HOW to sleep....
What is my place in the universe...
How long can I go before I die from lack of sleep...
How much sleep MUST I have to teach the 5:45am bike class this morning....
Should I even TRY to sleep now, or would I be better off just knitting something.
I can't knit. Mom taught me, and I've already forgotten.....
How do you hold the needles?
What exactly holds a sweater together?
What is a purl?
Knitting? Crocheting? Macrame? Weaving on a loom?
STOP IT! GET OUT OF BED AND READ OR WATCH TV OR SOMETHING!!!!
This went on until 3:30 this morning, when, with only an hour and a half left before my alarm, I crawled back into bed after having watched a movie and a half in the dark downstairs den.
I crawled back in, snuggled under the warm covers, and started to wonder....
Should I create a fresh handout....
How many people will be there....
Should I bring in chairs....
How detailed should this get....
Why IS the sky blue?
Where IS WALDO?
Sleep deprivation, even for one night, is toxic. It happens to me occasionally, although hardly at all compared to even five or ten years ago, and it really throws my view of reality off a couple of notches. I referred to the floor as the ceiling in my first yoga class this morning.
This should be an interesting day...
It rained last night! And the thunder! Yippee!
As we went to bed last night, the thunder and lightning was booming and flashing, and I'd seen on the news that there was a tornado sighting near by. So, being a responsible parent and spouse, I determined to listen for any impending doom rolling down our street...
Was that a freight train I heard? Or something much more sinister? Or was that a car....
What was THAT!?! Oh, that was another car.
Why is it suddenly so quiet?
Whah? Oh, that was the cat...
This went on for hours until the rain and the storm stopped, and then it just kept on going...
Do I have my presentation materials mapped out for that class on Thursday....
What should I do about training...
Could that be an issue that comes up...
I'm hot.
I'm cold.
I'm hungry.
Is my nose stuffy?
Can't sleep.
Can't sleep.
Can't remember HOW to sleep....
What is my place in the universe...
How long can I go before I die from lack of sleep...
How much sleep MUST I have to teach the 5:45am bike class this morning....
Should I even TRY to sleep now, or would I be better off just knitting something.
I can't knit. Mom taught me, and I've already forgotten.....
How do you hold the needles?
What exactly holds a sweater together?
What is a purl?
Knitting? Crocheting? Macrame? Weaving on a loom?
STOP IT! GET OUT OF BED AND READ OR WATCH TV OR SOMETHING!!!!
This went on until 3:30 this morning, when, with only an hour and a half left before my alarm, I crawled back into bed after having watched a movie and a half in the dark downstairs den.
I crawled back in, snuggled under the warm covers, and started to wonder....
Should I create a fresh handout....
How many people will be there....
Should I bring in chairs....
How detailed should this get....
Why IS the sky blue?
Where IS WALDO?
Sleep deprivation, even for one night, is toxic. It happens to me occasionally, although hardly at all compared to even five or ten years ago, and it really throws my view of reality off a couple of notches. I referred to the floor as the ceiling in my first yoga class this morning.
This should be an interesting day...
Monday, March 3, 2008
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Use it up, wear it out?
This morning, I had yet another conversation, this time with a total stranger, about using up one's body parts instead of letting them lie fallow.
I'd been listening to NPR earlier and had learned that Prince, yes the same Prince who for a time was The Artist Formerly Known as Prince, the same Prince who did Purple Rain, the same Prince whose voice and music was part of the soundtrack of my college years, is having a hip replacement.
WHAT!!!!??????
Prince? A hip replacement? Can purple orthopedic shoes be far behind?
I'd walked into a department store just after hearing this interesting bit of information, when what came over the speakers but Let's Go Crazy. Just as the song hit the chorus, a gentleman walked by saying to his companion, "Yup, that's Prince." I interjected, "Yeah, and he's getting a new hip!"
The gentleman and I talked about this for a moment, and we both agreed that it was better to have worn out one's hip from overuse than to have let it go stiff and useless from sitting on one's duff.
It's a trade-off. If you don't exercise at all, your joints stiffen up, and if you exercise too much, they can wear out. A perfect balance seems a bit of a challenge, but I guess until someone really grows usable cartilage in the lab, we'll have to muddle through. For me, as I try to hum loudly whenever I go up stairs so as not to have to listen to the grinding sounds emanating from my knees, I think I'll take some precautions but not too many. After all, I've got a life to live.
Wearing out one's hip for Little Red Corvette and the countless other hits that helped define a generation? Only Prince can determine whether or not it was worth it.
I hope he thinks it was.
I'd been listening to NPR earlier and had learned that Prince, yes the same Prince who for a time was The Artist Formerly Known as Prince, the same Prince who did Purple Rain, the same Prince whose voice and music was part of the soundtrack of my college years, is having a hip replacement.
WHAT!!!!??????
Prince? A hip replacement? Can purple orthopedic shoes be far behind?
I'd walked into a department store just after hearing this interesting bit of information, when what came over the speakers but Let's Go Crazy. Just as the song hit the chorus, a gentleman walked by saying to his companion, "Yup, that's Prince." I interjected, "Yeah, and he's getting a new hip!"
The gentleman and I talked about this for a moment, and we both agreed that it was better to have worn out one's hip from overuse than to have let it go stiff and useless from sitting on one's duff.
It's a trade-off. If you don't exercise at all, your joints stiffen up, and if you exercise too much, they can wear out. A perfect balance seems a bit of a challenge, but I guess until someone really grows usable cartilage in the lab, we'll have to muddle through. For me, as I try to hum loudly whenever I go up stairs so as not to have to listen to the grinding sounds emanating from my knees, I think I'll take some precautions but not too many. After all, I've got a life to live.
Wearing out one's hip for Little Red Corvette and the countless other hits that helped define a generation? Only Prince can determine whether or not it was worth it.
I hope he thinks it was.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Recycled teenager
This morning, I had the distinct pleasure (note the tinge of sarcasm) of volunteering at my son's middle school to help with Spring Picture Day. While I outwardly claim NOT to like other people's children, most middle school kids really are perfectly tolerable for short periods of time. OK, I'll be honest and confess that I've always been pleasantly surprised when I've volunteered for things at school before, and I was pleasantly surprised today as well. On the whole, the students were respectful and well behaved, and although many of them are really tall, I managed to be taller than most, which made me feel better (I was the shortest kid in my class until eighth grade, so I'm sensitive about such things...)
At one point in the morning, a student referred to her teacher, a woman in her 40s, as a "recycled teenager." Presumably, this was to have been a compliment.
Ugh.
I don't know that I could do the whole teenage year thing over again. In fact, it's one strong vote from me AGAINST the concept of reincarnation. I'd rather take my one life, thank you very much, rather than having to go through middle school and high school again. The awkwardness, the uncertainty, the hormones--it's a lot to go through, all at the same time figuring out your future path. And things are tougher for kids now. By middle school, choices you make about electives can have a strong bearing on high school and college options down the road. It's imperative to belong to at least one extracurricular club or activity, and not only do kids have to worry about grades, now they have this ridiculous "No Child Left Behind" junk to work through with countless standardized tests. Teachers are more stressed, creativity is put on the back burner in order to crank up those test scores. What are we doing to our kids!?!?!
But again, at the end of the day, humans are resilient, and many children are thriving under the pressure. But would I want to be a recycled teenager? Not on your life!
At one point in the morning, a student referred to her teacher, a woman in her 40s, as a "recycled teenager." Presumably, this was to have been a compliment.
Ugh.
I don't know that I could do the whole teenage year thing over again. In fact, it's one strong vote from me AGAINST the concept of reincarnation. I'd rather take my one life, thank you very much, rather than having to go through middle school and high school again. The awkwardness, the uncertainty, the hormones--it's a lot to go through, all at the same time figuring out your future path. And things are tougher for kids now. By middle school, choices you make about electives can have a strong bearing on high school and college options down the road. It's imperative to belong to at least one extracurricular club or activity, and not only do kids have to worry about grades, now they have this ridiculous "No Child Left Behind" junk to work through with countless standardized tests. Teachers are more stressed, creativity is put on the back burner in order to crank up those test scores. What are we doing to our kids!?!?!
But again, at the end of the day, humans are resilient, and many children are thriving under the pressure. But would I want to be a recycled teenager? Not on your life!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Self-care
Oh, boy. Today I go to the dentist.
I have no reference to back this up, but I once was told or perhaps I read that dentists have a much higher incidence of depression than other health professionals. From my own attitude, I suppose I can see why. When was the last time you talked with someone who was EXCITED to go to the dentist? Even if you're in pain and you know that the dentist will make that pain go away, excitement and dentistry? They don't seem to go together very well. I'm just going in for a checkup, but I'm always afraid that something will show up, some little spot that I can't see or feel but that the dentist will notice, one for which I'll receive the stern warning, "If we don't fill it soon, it'll turn into something MUCH WORSE!"
Now, to clarify, in the course of my life, I have been fortunate to have been seen by a legion of really wonderful, bright, charming, and quite interesting dentists. It has to sometimes feel like a thankless job, but it's a job that not only saves our teeth, but can also save our life, as there seems to be a strong connection between poor dental hygiene and cardiovascular disease. So please don't think I'm down on dentistry, because I'm not. I do see how imporant good oral care is to our overall health, but I just don't enjoy going to the dentist. It's a high-class problem, to be sure.
Three times in my adult life, I've gone great periods of time without seeing a dental professional. The last time was after we moved, and it was about three years between visits--I know, I know, that's not good, I realize that, but it is what it is. When I finally did find a good recommendation for a compassionate dentist, the first words out of my mouth when I made the appointment were, "Don't give me a lecture. I know what I should have been doing, but we can't go back in time and correct for that, so let's just move forward, shall we?" to which the very nice person on the line responded, "We're just happy you're making an appointment now."
Wasn't that a nice way of dealing with a reluctant patient? Not once in my visits (and, yes, there were several to make up for lost time and lost enamel) did anyone lecture me about my lapse in self-care. It had happened, but there I was, making it right.
And really, when it comes to taking care of ourselves, although we make a big deal about how important it is to exercise, eat well, stretch, strengthen, moisturize, sunscreen, floss, attend to our bodies over the long haul, what really matters, what we really can control, is today, right now. Sure, you might feel better today if you'd done a better job avoiding the fried foods over the past decade, but if you forego the fried fish for a broiled selection this evening, then you've made a positive step. And those are the kinds of steps we can make on a regular basis to do something good for ourselves. Dwelling on the past does nothing but make us feel inept. Dwelling on the "now" works. The decision you make in the next ten minutes is one you've got a handle on. You can't undo what you did yesterday or last year, but now? Yeah, you've got some control.
Do your best and then forgive yourself when you don't. Each day is full of new opportunities. As we approach our extra day this February 29th, make a committment to do something special on that day that furthers your work toward taking care of yourself. You're worth it.
I have no reference to back this up, but I once was told or perhaps I read that dentists have a much higher incidence of depression than other health professionals. From my own attitude, I suppose I can see why. When was the last time you talked with someone who was EXCITED to go to the dentist? Even if you're in pain and you know that the dentist will make that pain go away, excitement and dentistry? They don't seem to go together very well. I'm just going in for a checkup, but I'm always afraid that something will show up, some little spot that I can't see or feel but that the dentist will notice, one for which I'll receive the stern warning, "If we don't fill it soon, it'll turn into something MUCH WORSE!"
Now, to clarify, in the course of my life, I have been fortunate to have been seen by a legion of really wonderful, bright, charming, and quite interesting dentists. It has to sometimes feel like a thankless job, but it's a job that not only saves our teeth, but can also save our life, as there seems to be a strong connection between poor dental hygiene and cardiovascular disease. So please don't think I'm down on dentistry, because I'm not. I do see how imporant good oral care is to our overall health, but I just don't enjoy going to the dentist. It's a high-class problem, to be sure.
Three times in my adult life, I've gone great periods of time without seeing a dental professional. The last time was after we moved, and it was about three years between visits--I know, I know, that's not good, I realize that, but it is what it is. When I finally did find a good recommendation for a compassionate dentist, the first words out of my mouth when I made the appointment were, "Don't give me a lecture. I know what I should have been doing, but we can't go back in time and correct for that, so let's just move forward, shall we?" to which the very nice person on the line responded, "We're just happy you're making an appointment now."
Wasn't that a nice way of dealing with a reluctant patient? Not once in my visits (and, yes, there were several to make up for lost time and lost enamel) did anyone lecture me about my lapse in self-care. It had happened, but there I was, making it right.
And really, when it comes to taking care of ourselves, although we make a big deal about how important it is to exercise, eat well, stretch, strengthen, moisturize, sunscreen, floss, attend to our bodies over the long haul, what really matters, what we really can control, is today, right now. Sure, you might feel better today if you'd done a better job avoiding the fried foods over the past decade, but if you forego the fried fish for a broiled selection this evening, then you've made a positive step. And those are the kinds of steps we can make on a regular basis to do something good for ourselves. Dwelling on the past does nothing but make us feel inept. Dwelling on the "now" works. The decision you make in the next ten minutes is one you've got a handle on. You can't undo what you did yesterday or last year, but now? Yeah, you've got some control.
Do your best and then forgive yourself when you don't. Each day is full of new opportunities. As we approach our extra day this February 29th, make a committment to do something special on that day that furthers your work toward taking care of yourself. You're worth it.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
A little bit juvenile...
OK, I'm going to step back in time now to my youth, and it's not all that pretty.
I was a skinny, short (until eighth grade) kid with NO, and I mean this in all sincerity, NO hand-eye coordination, which at a school with only basketball and softball as sports I could choose, left me no alternative except to stay at home. I had size 10 feet long before I had much height, so I looked like I was wearing clown shoes. At a piano recital when I was about 11, a girl asked if I was wearing my mother's shoes. Charming.
I remember the painful expectation of gym class, when I knew I'd either be the last to be picked or the second-to-the-last for teams. Everyone knew that I wasn't fast, wasn't coordinated, and to be honest, I really had long-stopped caring. It was obvious that I wasn't an athlete, and there was no need even trying anymore. At this stage, after giving cheerleading a disastrous try--hey, we all have our moments--I'd decided to be as aloof as possible to protect myself from emotional injury, a bad habit I'm still trying to break.
The images we develop of ourselves as children really have staying power, don't they? I've been an adult a lot longer than I was a child, and yet I still haven't truly bought into the idea that I'm an athlete, and frankly, not a half-bad one. This triathlon (in which I did a remarkably decent time) really has reminded me of how far I've come in my self-perception and how far I have to go. I shouldn't have to garner praise for my physical prowess, but when I do, it feeds this part of me that is still quite undernourished. This is not the first physical challenge I've undertaken (and no, I don't think this little triathlon is something outstanding, but it's the idea of it) and done relatively well in, but I'm so incredibly excited about the little medal I won and my t-shirt that I will wear with pride, just like I've worn my first (and ONLY!!!) 10K race t-shirt until it's nearly transparent from washings.
Maybe this is why I enjoy teaching exercise so much. I know what it feels like to be told I'm a loser at anything athletic. I have been the last to be picked for the team over and over again. I understand the shame when once again I've tripped or dropped the ball. And the scars are still forming from that, which is more a testament to how seriously, deep down inside me I wanted to be a jock than to the merit of the jeers and rolled eyes of my classmates when I'd failed once again.
I like to teach exercise because it matters. I want to make everyone in my classes feel that they ARE successful in their own rights, no matter what anybody else in the room is doing. I want my students to know what it feels like to challenge themselves to something they think might be impossible, and then push through the barriers and finish it. I want to create this army of strong, healthy, powerful people who can go out into the world and show that you don't have to be the strongEST or fastEST in the room to be a force to be reckoned with.
So this little triathlon has done more than just made me confident in my physical abilities, it's reminded me of why I do what I do. I do it for the skinny, pimply kid in gym class who will grow up one day and have to decide for himself just what kind of a physical being he will be. I do it for that little girl in dance class who is always a step behind but feels that deep down inside her lives a dancer. I do it because when you feel powerful, you are better equipped at helping others to feel powerful, too.
And that counts for something.
I was a skinny, short (until eighth grade) kid with NO, and I mean this in all sincerity, NO hand-eye coordination, which at a school with only basketball and softball as sports I could choose, left me no alternative except to stay at home. I had size 10 feet long before I had much height, so I looked like I was wearing clown shoes. At a piano recital when I was about 11, a girl asked if I was wearing my mother's shoes. Charming.
I remember the painful expectation of gym class, when I knew I'd either be the last to be picked or the second-to-the-last for teams. Everyone knew that I wasn't fast, wasn't coordinated, and to be honest, I really had long-stopped caring. It was obvious that I wasn't an athlete, and there was no need even trying anymore. At this stage, after giving cheerleading a disastrous try--hey, we all have our moments--I'd decided to be as aloof as possible to protect myself from emotional injury, a bad habit I'm still trying to break.
The images we develop of ourselves as children really have staying power, don't they? I've been an adult a lot longer than I was a child, and yet I still haven't truly bought into the idea that I'm an athlete, and frankly, not a half-bad one. This triathlon (in which I did a remarkably decent time) really has reminded me of how far I've come in my self-perception and how far I have to go. I shouldn't have to garner praise for my physical prowess, but when I do, it feeds this part of me that is still quite undernourished. This is not the first physical challenge I've undertaken (and no, I don't think this little triathlon is something outstanding, but it's the idea of it) and done relatively well in, but I'm so incredibly excited about the little medal I won and my t-shirt that I will wear with pride, just like I've worn my first (and ONLY!!!) 10K race t-shirt until it's nearly transparent from washings.
Maybe this is why I enjoy teaching exercise so much. I know what it feels like to be told I'm a loser at anything athletic. I have been the last to be picked for the team over and over again. I understand the shame when once again I've tripped or dropped the ball. And the scars are still forming from that, which is more a testament to how seriously, deep down inside me I wanted to be a jock than to the merit of the jeers and rolled eyes of my classmates when I'd failed once again.
I like to teach exercise because it matters. I want to make everyone in my classes feel that they ARE successful in their own rights, no matter what anybody else in the room is doing. I want my students to know what it feels like to challenge themselves to something they think might be impossible, and then push through the barriers and finish it. I want to create this army of strong, healthy, powerful people who can go out into the world and show that you don't have to be the strongEST or fastEST in the room to be a force to be reckoned with.
So this little triathlon has done more than just made me confident in my physical abilities, it's reminded me of why I do what I do. I do it for the skinny, pimply kid in gym class who will grow up one day and have to decide for himself just what kind of a physical being he will be. I do it for that little girl in dance class who is always a step behind but feels that deep down inside her lives a dancer. I do it because when you feel powerful, you are better equipped at helping others to feel powerful, too.
And that counts for something.
Friday, February 22, 2008
I did it!
It was weird, much more mental than physical which is what I'd imagined. I got in the pool, felt good, had eaten the proper amount, body felt pretty good (I taught the 5:45 bike class this morning and helped move tables, so I had been nervous that I would feel tired going in). I did my first lap, felt STRONG, you know, like you're really on your game, and then something happened. I panicked, or my breath got off-rhythm, I don't know, but I just felt so stupid. So, as I had reminded those in my bike class who were planning on doing the triathlon, I reminded myself that it didn't matter HOW I did it, I just had to swim six laps. So, I flipped over on my back, and backstroked, breathing like I was sprinting, but able to breathe better than doing the head turn thing in the water. Thank God I have a really strong backstroke to make up for the putzing around I did when I freaked out.
Of course, having panicked and not paying attention, I SLAMMED my head into the side of the pool at the end of that particular lap, which shook me, but I kept going on, backstoking, and finished faster than I'd timed myself the other day doing the crawl, so maybe it was good not to have been rigid and force myself to stay with the crawl.
Then the bike was fine, and although that's the thing that I worked the hardest on (my heart rate was in the stratosphere the whole time, which I've not done in a while), it was the most natural, and my time for 12. 4 miles was better than I'd planned for.
Then the run. I don't care that we've evolved into upright creatures, I still question running on these two legs. Running is so hard for me, and I'd been running on the treadmill for what seemed like forever, looked down, and I'd gone half a mile. How discouraging! So I took a towel, covered up the numbers on the screen, and counted songs on my MP3 player. Then I played games with myself, "I'll look at my distance when it's been five minutes on the wall clock," or "I'll look when this song ends." I had a general idea of how fast I'd be, because of the speed I'd set, but I didn't want to watch the seconds go by one by one by one. I knew I'd give up. About a mile in, my shins were miserable, I felt like my feet were flopping, and although I wasn't really breathing all that hard, I was getting really tired. But I kept playing games, blocks of time on the wall clock and counting songs, and when I permitted myself to look at the distance again, it was 2.9 miles! I only had 2 tenths of a mile to go, so I cranked up the speed and made it.
In the middle of this process, I was NOT having a good time, but I am so very glad I did it. Right now, I don't want to do another tri, but I have a feeling that I will after I get rested for this one. It is nice to push yourself sometimes. As I heard in a song this morning, you need to do one thing every day that SCARES YOU. I definitely did my "thing" today.
Of course, having panicked and not paying attention, I SLAMMED my head into the side of the pool at the end of that particular lap, which shook me, but I kept going on, backstoking, and finished faster than I'd timed myself the other day doing the crawl, so maybe it was good not to have been rigid and force myself to stay with the crawl.
Then the bike was fine, and although that's the thing that I worked the hardest on (my heart rate was in the stratosphere the whole time, which I've not done in a while), it was the most natural, and my time for 12. 4 miles was better than I'd planned for.
Then the run. I don't care that we've evolved into upright creatures, I still question running on these two legs. Running is so hard for me, and I'd been running on the treadmill for what seemed like forever, looked down, and I'd gone half a mile. How discouraging! So I took a towel, covered up the numbers on the screen, and counted songs on my MP3 player. Then I played games with myself, "I'll look at my distance when it's been five minutes on the wall clock," or "I'll look when this song ends." I had a general idea of how fast I'd be, because of the speed I'd set, but I didn't want to watch the seconds go by one by one by one. I knew I'd give up. About a mile in, my shins were miserable, I felt like my feet were flopping, and although I wasn't really breathing all that hard, I was getting really tired. But I kept playing games, blocks of time on the wall clock and counting songs, and when I permitted myself to look at the distance again, it was 2.9 miles! I only had 2 tenths of a mile to go, so I cranked up the speed and made it.
In the middle of this process, I was NOT having a good time, but I am so very glad I did it. Right now, I don't want to do another tri, but I have a feeling that I will after I get rested for this one. It is nice to push yourself sometimes. As I heard in a song this morning, you need to do one thing every day that SCARES YOU. I definitely did my "thing" today.
Today's the day...
I'm off to help move tables, after having taught a bike class a couple of hours ago, and at 11:00 I'll be in the pool beginning my first triathlon. Yikes!
Maybe I'll do a few push-ups now...
Not.
I'm most afraid of my brain talking me out of pushing harder. No fear of the pool--what a change since last summer--a healthy respect for the bike, real dread at the run. Downloaded a few new tunes this morning to the MP3, and I've got my bag packed.
Here we go...
Maybe I'll do a few push-ups now...
Not.
I'm most afraid of my brain talking me out of pushing harder. No fear of the pool--what a change since last summer--a healthy respect for the bike, real dread at the run. Downloaded a few new tunes this morning to the MP3, and I've got my bag packed.
Here we go...
Thursday, February 21, 2008
A word to the wise...
Teaching a dinner-time yoga class can be a challenge when you've not eaten anything since lunch. Knowing this, I do my best to schedule a snack mid-afternoon so that as I'm fixing dinner for the family I'm not tempted to eat a full dinner before I lead a class through an hour of asana. The general rule of thumb is to practice on an empty stomach, but I'm a realist, and I get hungry, so I do eat about an hour before class, just something simple.
Last night, I prepared a fabulous panko-encrusted chicken breast, a lemon-mushroom sauce (very light and delicious) and steamed cauliflower.
I am not a big fan of cauliflower. I just don't get it. It's white, for pity sake, so how much nutrition can it have? But, I know there is fiber in there, and the rest of the fam likes it, so I steamed a batch to go with the chicken. Steamed, no butter, no salt, no cheese, just steamed.
I had taken a bite of the chicken, so I had a little protein in me (very little seasoning on it), and I decided to try a piece of the cauliflower. A piece. About an inch in length. Just a little floret. No butter, no salt, no cheese, just a piece of the steamed cauliflower.
Now I know better.
From the first forward-fold through savasana, my esophagus was burning like I'd been drinking battery acid, and I very rarely have any heartburn, even after extremely spicy food. What was the deal?!? It had to have been the cauliflower, that little anemic floret.
Never again. I've learned yet another lesson: no cruciferous vegetables before yoga.
And now I can, with full confidence, refuse offers of cauliflower in future. I have never liked it, it's not necessary for my health, and it doesn't like me very much when I stand on my head.
So there.
Last night, I prepared a fabulous panko-encrusted chicken breast, a lemon-mushroom sauce (very light and delicious) and steamed cauliflower.
I am not a big fan of cauliflower. I just don't get it. It's white, for pity sake, so how much nutrition can it have? But, I know there is fiber in there, and the rest of the fam likes it, so I steamed a batch to go with the chicken. Steamed, no butter, no salt, no cheese, just steamed.
I had taken a bite of the chicken, so I had a little protein in me (very little seasoning on it), and I decided to try a piece of the cauliflower. A piece. About an inch in length. Just a little floret. No butter, no salt, no cheese, just a piece of the steamed cauliflower.
Now I know better.
From the first forward-fold through savasana, my esophagus was burning like I'd been drinking battery acid, and I very rarely have any heartburn, even after extremely spicy food. What was the deal?!? It had to have been the cauliflower, that little anemic floret.
Never again. I've learned yet another lesson: no cruciferous vegetables before yoga.
And now I can, with full confidence, refuse offers of cauliflower in future. I have never liked it, it's not necessary for my health, and it doesn't like me very much when I stand on my head.
So there.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Join the club
This morning, continuing to encourage my students to join me in the in-Y triathlon I'm running next week, I spoke of how important it was to just try and finish the thing, and not worry about time. We laughed, because one participant in the class, a woman in her 60s who is fit and strong and a wonderful role model, said that she was planning on bringing lunch! (she'll start in the early morning, and this is a sprint-distance triathlon) We all laughed, because of course it won't take her that long, but she knows her body and her limitations and strengths and she's willing to do the triathlon just for the sake of doing and completing it. And, really, that's what I'm doing as well.
I know that my swimming is average at best (I timed myself this morning and surprised myself at how fast I was, but this is compared to how I was last August when I began my swimming adventure--I'm not fast compared to anyone else in the pool, I can tell you), my cycling should be adequate (when I was on the road a lot, I could hammer with the best of them, but now I'm above-average more than likely, nothing stellar), but the running. Ugh. My foot, my knees--I acknowledge that I will be in pain following the thing, but the worst thing that can happen is that I have to stop running and go to a walk, and there's nothing in the world wrong with that.
So here I am, preparing to enter an athletic event that I have no hope of doing particularly well in, and I'm thrilled. I just want to do the distance. I've always admired people, especially non-studly people, for entering and completing triathlons. This is a club in which I've craved membership.
And the swimming--rather than being the thing that scares me, I know I can do it. And last year, I wouldn't have said that. So if nothing else, this race is a celebration of the blood, sweat, and tears I put into swimming last year. A week from now at this time, I should be finishing up, I hope, or nearly finishing. Wow.
I know that my swimming is average at best (I timed myself this morning and surprised myself at how fast I was, but this is compared to how I was last August when I began my swimming adventure--I'm not fast compared to anyone else in the pool, I can tell you), my cycling should be adequate (when I was on the road a lot, I could hammer with the best of them, but now I'm above-average more than likely, nothing stellar), but the running. Ugh. My foot, my knees--I acknowledge that I will be in pain following the thing, but the worst thing that can happen is that I have to stop running and go to a walk, and there's nothing in the world wrong with that.
So here I am, preparing to enter an athletic event that I have no hope of doing particularly well in, and I'm thrilled. I just want to do the distance. I've always admired people, especially non-studly people, for entering and completing triathlons. This is a club in which I've craved membership.
And the swimming--rather than being the thing that scares me, I know I can do it. And last year, I wouldn't have said that. So if nothing else, this race is a celebration of the blood, sweat, and tears I put into swimming last year. A week from now at this time, I should be finishing up, I hope, or nearly finishing. Wow.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
What's the deal?
OK, today it's a two-post day.
I just came back from running an errand, and once again was faced with the curse of the absent turn signal. That's right, the condition that overtakes 90% of the people in this town when they're about to make a left (or right, although that's less bothersome) turn. The offender approaches the intersection, the light is red, and they sit quietly in their lane UNTIL the light changes, when that turn signal finally comes on. It's as if they're not quite sure which way they're going until that light turns to green, and then I guess they take it as a "green light" to finally make up their minds!
This wouldn't bother me except for the fact that if there is a right lane I can enter, I'm not inconvenienced at all by the left-turning car ahead of me. If I don't see a signal, I can't know if the car in front of me is turning, and I can't make an educated decision about which lane to choose.
Maybe this is picky, but it's one of those really annoying things that I'd not encountered on such a massive scale until we moved here. An acquaintance of mine is a driver's ed instructor, and I mentioned this to him one day, and he said, "Well, I try, but it's the parents and their driving habits that the kids copy."
So there. As parents, can't we lead by example on this one?
It's the same on the interstate. As I remember from my own driver's ed (which was a looooong time ago), it is imperative to use the turn signal when changing lanes. It takes no effort, and it's helpful and courteous to the drivers around you to use a signal when you're making a lane shift. But nooooooo, that's too much trouble.
Just like it's apparently too much trouble to roll your shopping cart back to the cart corral, but that's another post......
My point is this. The world has enough problems as it is without us being discourteous and charmless to our fellow humans. Saying "please" and "thank you," using turn signals, smiling at strangers--simple things that go a long way toward putting your fellow humans in a decent frame of mind. Just think if we all worked on being more pleasant and charming. Small thing? Perhaps, but I'm not so sure...
I just came back from running an errand, and once again was faced with the curse of the absent turn signal. That's right, the condition that overtakes 90% of the people in this town when they're about to make a left (or right, although that's less bothersome) turn. The offender approaches the intersection, the light is red, and they sit quietly in their lane UNTIL the light changes, when that turn signal finally comes on. It's as if they're not quite sure which way they're going until that light turns to green, and then I guess they take it as a "green light" to finally make up their minds!
This wouldn't bother me except for the fact that if there is a right lane I can enter, I'm not inconvenienced at all by the left-turning car ahead of me. If I don't see a signal, I can't know if the car in front of me is turning, and I can't make an educated decision about which lane to choose.
Maybe this is picky, but it's one of those really annoying things that I'd not encountered on such a massive scale until we moved here. An acquaintance of mine is a driver's ed instructor, and I mentioned this to him one day, and he said, "Well, I try, but it's the parents and their driving habits that the kids copy."
So there. As parents, can't we lead by example on this one?
It's the same on the interstate. As I remember from my own driver's ed (which was a looooong time ago), it is imperative to use the turn signal when changing lanes. It takes no effort, and it's helpful and courteous to the drivers around you to use a signal when you're making a lane shift. But nooooooo, that's too much trouble.
Just like it's apparently too much trouble to roll your shopping cart back to the cart corral, but that's another post......
My point is this. The world has enough problems as it is without us being discourteous and charmless to our fellow humans. Saying "please" and "thank you," using turn signals, smiling at strangers--simple things that go a long way toward putting your fellow humans in a decent frame of mind. Just think if we all worked on being more pleasant and charming. Small thing? Perhaps, but I'm not so sure...
What a difference a day makes!
You know, I think I really do believe in biorhythms, you know, the natural cyclical nature of our inner workings. My Aunt Kitty, who was one of the loveliest and most evolved people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, once gave me a formula for figuring out what are good and not-so-good days in our lives. I think I know where that formula is, and everytime I've pulled it out and done the math I've looked back and it's been a fairly accurate calendar of what turned out to be effective days as well as I'd-sooner-forget-them days. Hormones, the phase of the moon, who knows, but there does seem to be a pattern in our lives that leads us to feel more powerful some days and more vulnerable others.
Anyway, today I feel much more pulled together. I think teaching class yesterday was part of it, the privilege of leading my students through asanas and through a bike ride. So much fun, and such a kick. I couldn't ask for a better group of folks.
I also think that last night's perfect sleep is a big factor in how I feel today. I slept all the way through to my alarm--at 5:00am--with only one memorable dream, one of driving a car on ice and slipping around, just barely missing other cars and coming to a stop in front of a giant (13') television in the middle of the road. Go figure.
I've recently switched from swimming to lifting weights again. The swimming was my personal challenge, as I've (from the age of 12) been deathly nervous in the water. I really struggled with that, and for the first two months of lap swimming in the early hours of the day on Tuesday and Thursday, I would swim a lap, stop and catch my breath, and do it again, over and over. I would do this for 45 minutes, and exit the pool exhausted, hiccupping, and miserable. And then suddenly one day I "got it" and from that point on was able to swim continuously for the whole 45 minutes. It was miraculous! The problem with it was that I was losing muscle mass by not lifting weights, so I'm back in the gym again. I do so much exercise you'd think it wouldn't matter, but apparently I've trained my body to demand a high level of activity in order to function well, so I listen. There is really something quite cool about moving steel plates and dumbbells. It's empowering in a real, physical way. What a thrill to be able to deal with physical challenges when they arise.
Anyway, today I feel much more pulled together. I think teaching class yesterday was part of it, the privilege of leading my students through asanas and through a bike ride. So much fun, and such a kick. I couldn't ask for a better group of folks.
I also think that last night's perfect sleep is a big factor in how I feel today. I slept all the way through to my alarm--at 5:00am--with only one memorable dream, one of driving a car on ice and slipping around, just barely missing other cars and coming to a stop in front of a giant (13') television in the middle of the road. Go figure.
I've recently switched from swimming to lifting weights again. The swimming was my personal challenge, as I've (from the age of 12) been deathly nervous in the water. I really struggled with that, and for the first two months of lap swimming in the early hours of the day on Tuesday and Thursday, I would swim a lap, stop and catch my breath, and do it again, over and over. I would do this for 45 minutes, and exit the pool exhausted, hiccupping, and miserable. And then suddenly one day I "got it" and from that point on was able to swim continuously for the whole 45 minutes. It was miraculous! The problem with it was that I was losing muscle mass by not lifting weights, so I'm back in the gym again. I do so much exercise you'd think it wouldn't matter, but apparently I've trained my body to demand a high level of activity in order to function well, so I listen. There is really something quite cool about moving steel plates and dumbbells. It's empowering in a real, physical way. What a thrill to be able to deal with physical challenges when they arise.
Monday, February 11, 2008
One of those days...
This has just been a blah sort of day. Nothing really wrong, but I don't have any energy and I feel like curling up into a tiny little ball and sleeping for about a week. Mondays are hard, waking at 5:00am and teaching four classes, but this is different. Part of the problem is last night's fractured sleep--waking up every hour. But also, I'm at an impasse with a couple of projects and life choices, and when I get to a fork in the road, sometimes my best coping mechanism is to shut down for a day or so.
Decisions are hard, and change is hard. I need to make a change at work and I'm having a hard time gathering up enough chutzpah to do it. I also need to GO BACK TO SCHOOL and seem paralyzed at the thought of it.
High-class problems, to be sure.
It's amazing what a bad night's sleep can to do you.
One thing good today was that at 6:30 this morning I signed up for the triathlon! I'm a little nervous, but I'll make it through. It'll be nice to have a challenge that I can conquer in just one day.
Unless I'm even slower than I think I'll be...
Decisions are hard, and change is hard. I need to make a change at work and I'm having a hard time gathering up enough chutzpah to do it. I also need to GO BACK TO SCHOOL and seem paralyzed at the thought of it.
High-class problems, to be sure.
It's amazing what a bad night's sleep can to do you.
One thing good today was that at 6:30 this morning I signed up for the triathlon! I'm a little nervous, but I'll make it through. It'll be nice to have a challenge that I can conquer in just one day.
Unless I'm even slower than I think I'll be...
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Triathlon!
I've recently given my X-Bike class (5:45am!!!) a challenge--to do 24 fitness activities in the month of February, as well as one fitness activity that is way out of character and out of the comfort zone.
As an instructor, I can lead by teaching a class, but I also need to lead by example, so this afternoon my husband and I took a very wiiiiiiiiiiindy walk together. We worked a little harder than usual, pushing through the wind, which was kind of fun. My hair looks like a bird's nest, but my bones and heart are happy!
For me, my own personal "outside the comfort zone" activity is going to be a sprint triathlon, especially set up within the Y where I teach X-Bike (pool swim, stationary bike ride, treadmill run). I've never done a triathlon, but know so many people who have, people who are normal and not uber-fit. My big achilles heel is my foo (not my achilles heel, though!), so the running is an issue. The swimming I've licked--for the past six months I've been swimming laps and actually have a three-stroke rhythm that seems to work pretty well. The biking, no problems there. But doing all three together? It'll definitely be a challenge. But the worst that can happen is that I'm miserable and sore the next day, and I like the soreness from exercise, and this will hopefully break yet another barrier I've built for myself, the wall between me and the triathlon.
Do we, the formerly awkward last-to-be-picked-for-the-team kids ever get over that image of ourselves as non-athletes? I keep wondering as I enter my 20th year of fitness instruction. I guess growing up doesn't stop until we stop caring.
I really never want to grow up.
As an instructor, I can lead by teaching a class, but I also need to lead by example, so this afternoon my husband and I took a very wiiiiiiiiiiindy walk together. We worked a little harder than usual, pushing through the wind, which was kind of fun. My hair looks like a bird's nest, but my bones and heart are happy!
For me, my own personal "outside the comfort zone" activity is going to be a sprint triathlon, especially set up within the Y where I teach X-Bike (pool swim, stationary bike ride, treadmill run). I've never done a triathlon, but know so many people who have, people who are normal and not uber-fit. My big achilles heel is my foo (not my achilles heel, though!), so the running is an issue. The swimming I've licked--for the past six months I've been swimming laps and actually have a three-stroke rhythm that seems to work pretty well. The biking, no problems there. But doing all three together? It'll definitely be a challenge. But the worst that can happen is that I'm miserable and sore the next day, and I like the soreness from exercise, and this will hopefully break yet another barrier I've built for myself, the wall between me and the triathlon.
Do we, the formerly awkward last-to-be-picked-for-the-team kids ever get over that image of ourselves as non-athletes? I keep wondering as I enter my 20th year of fitness instruction. I guess growing up doesn't stop until we stop caring.
I really never want to grow up.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Karmic Balance?
This doesn't have much to do with physical fitness, but with fiscal fitness and one's view of one's own fiscal fitness as it relates to the fiscal state of others.
I currently reside in an area where the vast majority of my associates are far better off financially than I am (at least on the surface, as some of them, no doubt, are living on credit and can't sleep at night for fear of the repo man coming and taking away their high-dollar cars and leased furniture and double-mortgaged McMansions). Now, I'm perfectly well off, with food in my belly, a bed in which to sleep, a car that works, a house that will eventually be paid for. But, as most of us have experienced, there is a certain comparison that goes on between friends and neighbors (whether that comparison regards the car we drive or the school our children attend), and as well-meaning as we may be, when one is holding the shorter stick most of the time, it can be a bit wearing.
First, let me say that no matter what my financial state, I know for a fact that money does not buy happiness. Some of the most miserable people I know have more money than they'll ever spend. And to clarify, I am blessed to be able to afford not only the basics, but thankfully, a few luxuries as well. My husband and I have chosen career paths that serve our souls over simply serving our bank accounts, and while we aren't rich in dollars, our hearts are full and our souls satisfied that we've made good choices. But, again, it is human nature to wonder "what if" when it comes to seeing neighbors travelling regularly to exotic locales and installing new flooring, shingles, and a garage re-do while sending their three children to private school. One wonders.
So, today I was having one of those moments, and on my way home, I stopped by the bank to make a deposit. (There's a clue for you, I was making a deposit, not a withdrawal). I pulled up the the ATM, and hanging out of the machine was the receipt from the last person to drive through. I entered my card, pin, etc, and pulled out the receipt so that mine would print. The receipt was for a withdrawal of $20 from the person's checking account. The remaining balance was $11.57. That was it. Now, maybe, as we are next door to a college town, this was a student's bank account, and Mom and Dad had a check in the mail or a money transfer in action as I sat there, but I thought, "Whoa! What if that was me? How would I feel if that was all I had left?"
When my own receipt printed, my checking balance was $11.57 plus exactly a standard sum, (no, I'm not telling what standard sum) leaving me with quite a bit more than the person whose receipt I was holding.
I believe the universe communicates with us as effectively as it can.
I currently reside in an area where the vast majority of my associates are far better off financially than I am (at least on the surface, as some of them, no doubt, are living on credit and can't sleep at night for fear of the repo man coming and taking away their high-dollar cars and leased furniture and double-mortgaged McMansions). Now, I'm perfectly well off, with food in my belly, a bed in which to sleep, a car that works, a house that will eventually be paid for. But, as most of us have experienced, there is a certain comparison that goes on between friends and neighbors (whether that comparison regards the car we drive or the school our children attend), and as well-meaning as we may be, when one is holding the shorter stick most of the time, it can be a bit wearing.
First, let me say that no matter what my financial state, I know for a fact that money does not buy happiness. Some of the most miserable people I know have more money than they'll ever spend. And to clarify, I am blessed to be able to afford not only the basics, but thankfully, a few luxuries as well. My husband and I have chosen career paths that serve our souls over simply serving our bank accounts, and while we aren't rich in dollars, our hearts are full and our souls satisfied that we've made good choices. But, again, it is human nature to wonder "what if" when it comes to seeing neighbors travelling regularly to exotic locales and installing new flooring, shingles, and a garage re-do while sending their three children to private school. One wonders.
So, today I was having one of those moments, and on my way home, I stopped by the bank to make a deposit. (There's a clue for you, I was making a deposit, not a withdrawal). I pulled up the the ATM, and hanging out of the machine was the receipt from the last person to drive through. I entered my card, pin, etc, and pulled out the receipt so that mine would print. The receipt was for a withdrawal of $20 from the person's checking account. The remaining balance was $11.57. That was it. Now, maybe, as we are next door to a college town, this was a student's bank account, and Mom and Dad had a check in the mail or a money transfer in action as I sat there, but I thought, "Whoa! What if that was me? How would I feel if that was all I had left?"
When my own receipt printed, my checking balance was $11.57 plus exactly a standard sum, (no, I'm not telling what standard sum) leaving me with quite a bit more than the person whose receipt I was holding.
I believe the universe communicates with us as effectively as it can.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Exercise
Some people do it, some don't. Some are consistent, some aren't. What gives? What is the difference? This week I've been having the same conversation over and over with clients and friends, and I'm starting to believe that maybe one of the things I'm meant to work on this year is to try and answer this in a deliberate, thoughtful fashion.
What keeps us from exercising?
We know it's good for us, and for most of us, there is some form of exercise we find pleasant or at least not UNpleasant. Is there some basic difference in personality or character that makes one person focused and habitual in his exercise, while another simply wanders off and never laces a running shoe again? Is it nature or nurture? If we watched our parents take their evening walk after every dinner, are we more likely to pick up the habit? Is it genetics? Are some bodies more inclined to crave physical movement than others? It is socialization? If our buddies are swimming three times a week, do we feel more compelled to jump in the pool than we might if all of our buddies sat on the couch all day? Are people who exercise regularly more disciplined? And what does that mean, discipline of self? I know plenty of people who never shed a drop of sweat in an exercise class, but when you visit their house, you can eat off the floor, it's so sanitary. That's not undisciplined, keeping a house spotless, and it's certainly not lazy. What about the non-exerciser who runs a company, makes payroll every week, goes into the store on the weekend whenever there is a crisis. That person is certainly motivated, and no one could call her lazy.
Is it the difference between feeling successful and not feeling successful at exercising? There are certainly those among us who are faithful at working out and eating well, but still lack the ideal physique, and yet they keep on working. And of course there are those who are naturally gifted with lovely physiques but couldn't lift anything heavier than a purse if their lives depended on it.
I'm starting to believe, and this is after 20 years of doing this, that there truly (stop the presses) isn't one thing that makes the difference. I've known people who had parents who would rather have slit their wrists than go for a fitness walk who turn out to be marathoners. I've known children of athletes who you can't pry away from the computer. Some clients have had great support from their families when it came to squeezing in another workout, and others leave for their morning walks with kids and spouses yelling, "You're so selfish!"
It can't be something totally extrinsic, and yet determining the intrinsic seed of possibility that leads to an active lifestyle may be better left to the scientists in the lab than to me, basing my opinions on anectdotal evidence.
What I'm finding is there are certain things that do tend to hamstring us, tend to trip us up. These are things we can work on. Tomorrow I'll take some time and study this a bit further, but for now, it's time for dinner. A salad and salmon, applesauce for dessert. Yum!
What keeps us from exercising?
We know it's good for us, and for most of us, there is some form of exercise we find pleasant or at least not UNpleasant. Is there some basic difference in personality or character that makes one person focused and habitual in his exercise, while another simply wanders off and never laces a running shoe again? Is it nature or nurture? If we watched our parents take their evening walk after every dinner, are we more likely to pick up the habit? Is it genetics? Are some bodies more inclined to crave physical movement than others? It is socialization? If our buddies are swimming three times a week, do we feel more compelled to jump in the pool than we might if all of our buddies sat on the couch all day? Are people who exercise regularly more disciplined? And what does that mean, discipline of self? I know plenty of people who never shed a drop of sweat in an exercise class, but when you visit their house, you can eat off the floor, it's so sanitary. That's not undisciplined, keeping a house spotless, and it's certainly not lazy. What about the non-exerciser who runs a company, makes payroll every week, goes into the store on the weekend whenever there is a crisis. That person is certainly motivated, and no one could call her lazy.
Is it the difference between feeling successful and not feeling successful at exercising? There are certainly those among us who are faithful at working out and eating well, but still lack the ideal physique, and yet they keep on working. And of course there are those who are naturally gifted with lovely physiques but couldn't lift anything heavier than a purse if their lives depended on it.
I'm starting to believe, and this is after 20 years of doing this, that there truly (stop the presses) isn't one thing that makes the difference. I've known people who had parents who would rather have slit their wrists than go for a fitness walk who turn out to be marathoners. I've known children of athletes who you can't pry away from the computer. Some clients have had great support from their families when it came to squeezing in another workout, and others leave for their morning walks with kids and spouses yelling, "You're so selfish!"
It can't be something totally extrinsic, and yet determining the intrinsic seed of possibility that leads to an active lifestyle may be better left to the scientists in the lab than to me, basing my opinions on anectdotal evidence.
What I'm finding is there are certain things that do tend to hamstring us, tend to trip us up. These are things we can work on. Tomorrow I'll take some time and study this a bit further, but for now, it's time for dinner. A salad and salmon, applesauce for dessert. Yum!
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