Quick Bloglette

Here's yet another clue that I'm getting old and lame.

Despite the infectious, silly fun that is Katy Perry's new song "Last Friday Night," I can't help focusing on the fact that it glorifies teenage binge drinking and sends a really mixed message.

"It's a blacked out blur but I'm pretty sure it ruled." Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. Noooooooo.

Yep, it's official. I'm old and lame.

Happy Thoughts (14)

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Maybe Getting "Old" Wouldn't be ALL Bad

A sweet friend pointed out why I may be freaking out about getting older.  We just finished reading Water For Elephants.  I'm telling you, that book is about the worst picture of getting older that one could ever find.  (Once I see the movie, I'll share my opinion on both it and the book.  So, stay tuned.)

Anyway, when I see pictures like this, I wonder if getting older might not be ALL bad.

Beautiful Weather means Playing in the Park

Pizza (and doughnuts) in the park with a few of my favorite people in the world was a delightful way to spend a Saturday evening!

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Catching Up Over Tiramisu

My cousin just recently moved to Nashville.  Since that's just a hop, skip and a jump from Chattanooga, I got to have dinner with her one night last week.  We had so much fun together I completely forgot to take the lens cap off my camera.  Suffice it to say, it's a trip I'll be making frequently this summer!

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Training for a 10K

I've got my eye on the Riverbend 10K in June.  (a bit overzealous??)  The fun part is that the handsome hubby is getting in on the training!  Woo Hoo.

Steaks on the Grill that Smell so Good they 

Draw the Neighbor's Attention

What made you Happy this Weekend?

Catchin' Up

Here's what's been going on for the past couple of weeks in a few quick tidbits.

(Thanks, Rachael, for the great idea that I am now blatantly stealing)

*I had a birthday and I freaked out.  I don't usually freak out at birthdays.  In fact, I usually eat them up and lick the plate clean.  But this time was a little bit different.  I freaked out hard core.  It wasn't the aging leads to dying thing that had me freaked.  I can honestly say that for the first time in my life I am NOT afraid of dying.  Heaven sounds good to me.  Not in a, "I WANT to die," kind of way.  But in a, "Life is probably always gonna be kinda hard (period)," kind of way.  Knowing that, Heaven sounds like a really nice alternative.  So nope it wasn't the dying aspect of the birthday that made me all weird and mopey.  It was the getting old factor.  I'm petrified of getting old.  I don't want my mind and body to start to give out.  I don't want to be "out of it." (and that's already happening... what's this "BBM" thing all the kids are doing?) I don't want to get OLD.  Therefore, my birthday brought a bit of anxiety.  But I've stuffed all those issues and am feeling much better now.

*On the bright side of the birthday, I got a new fancy schmancy camera.  We bought a Sony Nex and I'm still in the process of figuring out how to use it!  I'm just waiting for the sun to come back out so that I can take it outside and play around with it.  Stay tuned for some stunning photography around here.  (I'm setting the bar a bit high there probably).

*A girl I used to know in real life defriended me on Facebook recently.  It doesn't bother me that much since  I'm working on being okay with the fact that not everyone is going to like me.  What is annoying though is that when I see her at the gym (small town woe) she goes out of her way to make eye contact and smile really big at me.  That, to me, just reeks of fakity fake fake. Plus, it's annoying.  And possibly passive aggressive.

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*With all the hype I've been seeing in the Twitter world about Pinterest lately, it was a bit frustrating to find myself "wait listed" when I tried to check it out for myself.  Wait listed?  Really?  The whole thing kind of makes me feel like I'm back on the grade school playground being picked last for kickball.  Not that I was ever picked last (yes, I was).  Has anyone else experienced the Pinterest "wait list" phenomena?  Does it end relatively quickly?  The past 12 hours have been a HUGE lesson in humility and patience for me.

*Never eat a giant Red Robin burger, two baskets of fries and a hot fudge sundae before teaching an hour long dance class. Even if the burger is free for your birthday and the fries are hot.

What's been going on with YOU?

When I Was Older and Wiser

Q: How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?

A:  Age has always been something that has kind of confused me.  In a culture where youth itself is idolized but young people are encouraged by the media to dress, think & act as adults I'm often a bit dizzy. 

It's next to impossible for me to look at an individual and accurately guess their age.  This I blame on my own family's seemingly non-existent or at the very least slllllllllooooooow moving aging process.  It's true.  Maybe it's our oily skin, but we're constantly getting the, "No way you're (insert age here)," comment.  Or perhaps it's that we all act like a bunch of children that throws people off... that's probably a whole other post.  Or perhaps it's a discussion to be had with my analyst.

All that physical aging stuff aside, I always felt much older than I was.  Maybe it's because I'm an only child and my parents talked to me like I was an adult from a pretty early age.  Maybe it's because I had a false sense of just how much I knew and just how mature I really was.  But, I really didn't ever feel like I was a "little kid".  I've felt old mentally ever since I was young physically.  I spent a LOT of time trying to convince others exactly how old I really was in spite of my appearance.

(me when I was older and wiser)

There was a distinct moment however when I realized that my physical aging had caught up to where I felt like my mental age had always been.  I used to volunteer at a High School.  I did the choreography for their annual musicals and occasionally forged (appropriate) friendships with the students.  One of the dancers had gotten tickets to an InSync concert and knew that I was a fan.  STOP JUDGING, JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE IS IMMENSELY TALENTED.  She came to me and said, "Will you go to the concert with me? My Mom will only let me go if I bring an adult."  I was so ecstatic, and I wondered what "adult" we could talk into taking us.  Then it hit me.  I was the chaperon.  I was the adult.  Finally!

Now, to answer the question...  That cliché, "age is just a number" is a cliché for a reason.  Age IS just a number.  I feel much younger now than I ever felt when I really was young.  Now I look in the mirror at my 30 something self and wonder, 'How it is that I'm considered a responsible adult?"  I've been given a mortgage.  They let me drive a car.  I'm encouraged to vote and make decisions with lasting effect on myself and others.  I can stay out as late as I want, eat whatever I want and choose who I want to associate with and when.  Now that I've been given all the responsibility (that I thought I was mature enough to handle 20 something years ago) there are days that I think to myself, "How did this happen? Am I really prepared for all of this?"

Most days I feel like what I imagine an 18 year old would feel like.  I've got all this freedom and I'm considered an "adult", but I'm just making things up as I go along.  And regardless of number, I feel years younger than I did when I was a child.  I guess it takes a lot of living and learning to understand how little you actually know. 

Your turn, how old do you feel?

As part of my Day Zero Challenge, I've pledged to answer 50 Questions That Will Free Your Mind. Today I began my mind opening journey by tackling question number one.  For more information or to answer the questions yourself visit Marc & Angel Hack Life.

 

A Simple Realization

Do you ever have days where you wake up and you are just incredibly satisfied and content?

Ya, me neither.

I'm kidding.

Today was actually one of those days.

I had an incredibly joyous weekend hangover*. It was the start of Fall Fashion Week. Outside it was a rainy, blustery day full of lightening and blowing leaves. Basically, I was blissed out.

Then, a blogger commented that I look like I love my life. That one simple comment stopped me in my tracks. She put into words exactly what I was experiencing.

I do love my life. She was totally right.

How awesome is that?

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I! Love! My! Life!

{It’s been awhile since I said that.}




*Not THAT kind of hangover.  A weekend hangover is the leftover happiness from all the amazingness that the weekend included.

Photo Challenge - Day 06

Day 06 - A Picture that Inspires you

OK, ok, so I didn't take this picture.

But I {heart} it and the website where I found it!

Saturday I began a special brand of torture.  I started running.

I've tried to be “a runner” a couple of times in the past with very little success. (Probably because I HATE RUNNING) But since I put that pesky, "Run a Half Marathon" on my Ultimate To DO list I'm trying it again.  I figure, I'm 34 in my 30s now and not getting any younger.  It certainly will not be EASIER to run a half marathon when I'm 40 than it is today, right?  So, there's no time like the present.

I've run 3 days this week using a super cool app called C25K (Couch to 5K, cute, no?).  It's made the first stage of endurance building a lot easier because it does all the thinking and planning for me.  And Lordy knows that if I'm exerting the energy to run, I'll be damned if I'm going to think too.  No way. No how. I figure I’ll take small steps toward the big goal. I'll run a 5K first, then a 10K and if I'm not dead or bored then I'll run the half marathon to cross that sucker off the list and return to my life o'sloth.

Which brings us all up to date and begins to explain why I'm so inspired by the picture above.  Right now, every minute that I'm running is torture.  I'm hot, winded and waiting for the end to quickly come.  But, after I've finished - when I'm home and the sweat has finally stopped POURING out of every pore in my body and I'm properly re-hydrated looking back - I love running.  I love that sense of accomplishment.  I love how energized I feel.  Looking back makes me look forward to the next time I get to go out there.  This picture is the exact thing that has motivated (and will hopefully continue to motivate) me. The runner isn't this picture’s subject; the road she's already completed is the star of the show. That’s just like me! The road that I've traveled is my inspiration. The miles that I've already run make me want to run MORE. Now, I ask you, is this picture PERFECT or what?

*This fantastic photo can also be found here.  Thank you, Caity, for this inspirational shot!

Ladies and gentlemen, check out more inspirational photos over at Village.  Krystal and company are taking some great shots!  Don't miss out.

Yet Another Sign of Aging

Remember how I mentioned that I had some sort of mysterious ankle injury? There was nothing broken or sprained just some faint bruising, a bit of swelling and some minimal pain. Anyway, I stayed out of Cardio Dance for a whole week allowing it to rest and recover. Uh, huh. An ENTIRE Week. You read that right. And you better believe that THAT took some serious restraint. But, so, ya, I did it and I’m pleased to report that when I returned to class last week the ankle was feeling much better. Woo Hoo. It was sweet recovery all packaged up in some minimal sacrifice yielding great reward. Really, that’s how life should ALWAYS work out if you ask me.

All’s well now except for one minor thing. Every time a storm comes rolling in my ankle starts to throb like crazy. It isn’t the type of pain that I was experiencing before, now it’s some sort of dull ache deep in my bone. And I'm not even being overly dramatic or hypochondriatic (wait, is that even a word? – well, if it is or if it isn’t I'm totally NOT being it). It has happened three {1. 2. 3} times in the past few days!

YOU GUYS.
I have old woman weather alert ankle!

Picture me sitting in a rocking chair with my teeth in the glass beside me. I'm rubbing my ankle and saying something like, “I believe there’s a storm-a-brewing.” Honestly, that appears to be the direction my body is taking me.

Normally I would argue that I'm waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too young to be predicting storms with my bones.
But, the throb in my ankle has convinced me otherwise.

I'm assuming a prune heavy diet and support hose can’t be too far away.

image borrowed from nsxjesse on photobucket.  you can find it right here.

So, about this healthcare reform…

JUST KIDDING!!

Do you really think I’d spend today’s post talking about health care reform when there is MUCH more important stuff to discuss? NO. WAY. If you want to crab or cheer about the healthcare package, get your butt over to Facebook. That’s all anybody’s talking about.

Instead, consider this space an oasis from the debate and the snarky rhetoric today, because it’s my BIRTHDAY! Now, I take birthdays pretty seriously. Perhaps it’s my narcissism or my overly active preoccupation with all things ME, but I love me some birthday celebrating.

This year's birthday (and keep in mind it’s only half way through) has been a particularly fun one. Not because of the food I’ve eaten – though I did have a wonderful FREE lunch at Abuelo’s with the handsome hubby and I intend to eat my weight in Provino’s garlic rolls for dinner. It isn’t the terrifically generous gifts I’ve received. It isn’t that it snowed on my birthday for like the second time in 34 years. It isn’t all the well wishes of friends and family via telephone calls, text messages and Facebook posts. This particular birthday is amazing because for (possibly the first time in my life) I feel contentment.

It’s true. Despite the fact that I’m living far away from my family and many of my friends, despite the fact that my marriage isn’t perfect *gasp*, despite the fact that we are making some cuts to accommodate for my “fun”employment, I am content. And let me tell ya, contentment that isn’t based on circumstances is the most peaceful, delicious feeling in the world. I’ve been given the most splendiferous birthday gift that I could have ever received. I haven’t done anything to earn this contentment. I didn’t have to buy it (though I’d probably have found a coupon for it… have I told you about my insane coupon savings yet? Your jaw would hit the floor!) I just woke up and experienced it.

Happy Birthday to me! And thanks, God, for this most excellent birthday gift.

The Right Way

My husband takes a boat load of vitamins everyday. Perhaps it started when he was a bachelor and his meal planning for the week included several varieties of hamburger helper and ice cream as a main course to mix things up. Because of the multiple bottles and his career that calls for leaving home at a moment's notice, weekly he portions out his vitamins into a pill box. You know, those flip top plastic boxes with separate compartments for each day of the week? You've seen them when you visited Grandma. Over the past three years of being married to him I've begun to take a few pills myself. I just mean I'm taking a multi-vitamin now, and my melatonin, and calcium because I'm getting older and my bones are decaying. Good times. Anyway, thankfully, the hubby had an extra pill box laying around that he shared with me. Now I don't have to open 12 vitamin bottles every night when the alarm goes off at 10 PM. (Yes, I have to set an alarm to remember to take my pills... I'm that old absent minded.) And every night I too use a pre-filled pill box and try to convince myself I am not 73 years old.

The other night, the alarm goes off and we're in the middle of watching some show... probably Matlock or Murder She Wrote at the rate we're going. Hubby graciously pauses it so that I can run and take my pills. I warn him that it'll be a second because I'm outta days and I have to get reset for the week. To which he responds, "Why don't you fill your pill box on Saturday like every normal person does?" This statement struck me as all kinds of funny at that moment. Half because he said it genuinely. Like there is a RIGHT way to do it. And half because I felt the need to defend my pill box filling practice. Like there is a RIGHT way to do it. And if you know me, I was ready to defend my pill box filling practice - to the death. Like there is a RIGHT way to do it. Seriously. We were just talking about filling a pill box. Like there is a RIGHT way to do it.

The whole thing got me thinking about marriage. How much of our marital stress is really just us carrying in our own way of doing things all bundled up in the misunderstanding that it's the RIGHT way of doing things? I'll answer my own question. A whole stinkin' bunch. We got married in our 30s. (Well, I was almost but 30. My husband is MUCH older than I am. Winky smiley face.) So, we had already spent several years figuring out how to do life as adults. Because we both managed to stay out of jail, remained gainfully employed, weren't crippled by debt and were functioning in relatively comfortable interpersonal relationships we estimated that our individual ways of doing things were RIGHT ways... in most instances THE right ways. As it turns out, some of our ways aren't necessarily RIGHT ways, they are just our ways of doing things. Now, I don't think this phenomenon is unique to those who marry a little later. It doesn't take 30 years for most of us to form opinions of how to do life nor to assume that our opinions are correct. Am I right?

I use my husband's pill box filling practice as an example because it is mildly entertaining. Rest assured, I have many, many of my own policies and procedures that I expect him to adopt. All the while scoffing at compromise and insisting on my RIGHT way, STILL. Three. Years. In. The whole pill box episode just allowed me to look at the issue calmly. When I felt myself blood thirsty over whether to fill the box with vitamins on Wednesday or Saturday, I realized how ridiculous I was being. And it opened my eyes about marriage again. Cool, huh? Navigating marriage, more specifically marital compromise, is really difficult. But, it's so good for us. It's quite literally breaking me, in really great ways and in a plethora of areas where I NEED to be broken. And that's a good thing, even if it's painful.

The thing is, I fill my pill box on Wednesday because I started using my pill box on a Wednesday. So, I ran out of vitamins on a Wednesday and NEEDED to re-fill the pill box on a Wednesday. There wasn't some philosophical reason why I did it this way. That's just how I always did it. The vitamins didn't work better because I did it that way. It didn't take less time to fill the pill box on Wednesday. That's just how I always did it. My way wasn't RIGHT it was just MINE.

So, even though it sounds like a silly - even incredibly minor - change to make, on Saturday I filled my pill box.

Must Have Left My Swag at Home

I was driven home from work last night by this really lame, scary old and painfully out-of-touch woman.

It was not a pleasant drive.

Here's how it went:

Song comes on a TOP 40 station and though the artist has a painfully unpleasant distinct voice and I've heard it daily for the past week (meaning it's popular) I have no idea who said artist is or what the heck he is talking about.

old.

I Shazam it only to discover it's Soulja Boy.

old.

All I could think is, "This is the most annoying, grating, artistically bankrupt piece of noise I've heard in a long time."

old.

So I turned on NPR.

Say it with me, people. O.L.D.

Big Girl Wish List

I remember how excited I was each year when the Sears Wish Book made it's way to our house. I would spend hours and hours pouring through the catalogue, circling items that were MUST HAVES. There were toys and clothes and all kinds of stuff that would make my world so much better. Things that, if they didn't appear under the Christmas tree, might end my young life... or at the very least, leave me devastated and wanton. (Yes, I have always been a drama queen - it isn't something you develop, in congenital.)

Lately, with my newly found domesticity, I'm in need of a few new toys. This time I'm longing for big girl tools to make my projects more successful. The list will probably continue to grow as I get more and more gutsy. Who knows what projects I might be willing to tackle? But for now, the list is rather short. It's components are far from glamorous. In fact, as I consider what items are going to grace said list, I'm feeling like a middle aged spinster... but, I'm pushing past that shudder producing self portrait and making the list anyway.

• Sewing Machine
• Staple Gun
• Hot glue gun
• Cast Iron Skillet

See, in my quest to be crafty and to make our house a home, I've come across projects that look pretty doable. But, often I'm stopped short due to my lack of tools. Anybody have anything that they'd like to donate to the cause?

Memory Lane - Graduation Edition

With all the high school and college graduations going on, I've gotten a bit nostalgic. Digging through old pictures is one of my FAVORITE treats, and this seemed like a perfect excuse to do just that.

Let's take a walk down memory lane...

Yes, that is my high school graduation shot. Good thing I have these pictures to prove I was there, because there isn't much of the evening that I remember. I graduated from Parkway South High School in 1994. That's right. 15! years! ago! Judging from the pudgy cheeks and humidity affected hair, I definitely would say I've gotten better with age. I'm there with my Pops, Mom and the BF at that time. I include him because in those days he was my world, and quite frankly, a high school graduation picture without him just wouldn't be complete.

I had to throw this shot in, just because it's one of many big hug shots of me and my Grandpa Paul. Without a doubt one of my all time favorite photos.

Six years and many, many packages of ramen noodles later came college graduation. Go ahead, get it out of your system... Yes, it took me 6 years to graduate from college. I did take some time off, but I also messed around a lot. You know, changing majors and whatnot. Once again, Mom, Dad and my grandparents were on hand to watch me collect my diploma.

That was 9 years (and 10 jobs) ago! I graduated with a BA in Interdisciplinary Studies with emphasis in Psychology, Sociology and English Literature. Those last 2 sentences really make me sound like an employer's dream don't they?? What I find entertaining is that today I'm not any more certain what I want to be when I grow up than I was then... On the bright side, my attitude has changed. Back then I felt pressure, like I needed to figure it out. Now, though, I'm more comfortable just waiting to see where life takes me.

subscription dilemma

so, i got an offer in the mail to subscribe to better homes and gardens for a year, super cheap. and i have to admit, i'm feeling conflicted. it is appealing, after all the deal is great and i do desire to have a better home and perhaps even one day a garden. but, i'm worried that if i get a subscription it will officially enter me into the domestic, married and old demographic. it's one thing to buy the occasional domino or a (now defunct) cottage living, but to officially subscribe to better homes and gardens??? i feel like that might be crossing a line i'm not yet prepared to cross.

for years the only magazines that have found my name on the little white mailing label are in style, us weekly and mother jones. all of which make me feel like i'm keeping current - fashion, gossip, lefty politics - and make me feel "with it". but better homes and gardens? i just can't help but feel a knot in the pit of my stomach. when did i settle down and become a grown woman looking to "get organized: 45 smart ways to cure clutter forever"? because i still really feel more like a "super easy sexy hair" kind of gal.

the next decade

this birthday brought me officially into my 30s.

i was crazy busy this time last year and not cognizant of the milestone that i was passing by turning 30. my new, "less hurried" lifestyle has allowed me to be more contemplative at 31. it's time to be realistic about what is and what is to come. i've noticed significant changes between "me" in my 20s and "me" in my 30s. now, i'm not talking about the obvious changes that have had more to do with my choices than my age. i'm talking about the "gifts" that i have received courtesy of the maturation process.

- my metabolism is definitely slowing down. it hasn't come to a screeching halt yet, thank God. but there are now visible consequences to pigging out.

- when i'm on my feet for hours at a time, i ache afterwards. and this ache doesn't only last for a few hours, it lasts for a couple of days. my feet and my back now go on strike when they are mistreated.

- one of my birthday wishes was for a day that i didn't have to do housework. housework, seriously? when did i start doing housework?

- dying my hair isn't just for fun anymore. there is now an objective. i have a specific reason to sit down in the colorist's chair.

- 40 doesn't seem that old. honestly. i look at friends and family who are 40 and beyond, and they aren't old like 40 year olds used to be.

i'm sure as this year passes i will receive more and more gifts. i wish that i could say that i was looking forward to all of them... luckily, i can say that those negatives have been accompanied by some positives too. 30 has brought me a newly found comfort in my skin. i feel less apologetic about who i am and how i look. i feel less inclined to try to be someone i am not (well, except for the hair color!!!). i've embraced my pale skin, my birthmark, my sweaty hands and my less-than-hourglass figure. even more importantly, i better understand my personality - both its strengths and its weaknesses. so despite the "gifts" that i keep receiving, the positive differences make me optimistic about this decade and what i have in store.