Today I made a major life decision. I'm officially committed to a job and moving to Chicago. I know what my salary is going to be and when I am going to start.
It wasn't an easy decision for me. I had doubts. I know that the work and the pay will be good, but I'm not so sure about everything else. I love my mid-sized Midwestern city. I love my friends. I love that I know where everything is, and I love that I know what to expect. I'm a bit afraid of change - I've never been good at change. I'm scared of starting over in a new place. I'm scared of having to learn where the post office is, how to drive in city traffic, and how to navigate a bus system. I'm scared of being lonely and alone. I'm scared of leaving my comfort zone. I'm scared that I'll fail.
For the past couple weeks, since I learned that I hadn't gotten a different job, I've walked around with a knot in my stomach. I've been unsure whether my stomach hurt because my instinct was saying don't go there or because I was afraid of making the wrong decision. Every time I thought about my choices, my mind whirled and my stomach clenched.
I'm not sure I made the right decision. I'm not sure I'll be happy. I'm not sure if I should have waited and explored other options. I'm not sure if things were meant to be.
For the first time as an adult, I've accepted a job that doesn't make me want to jump up and down with joy - I have no desire to go out and celebrate. I feel unsure about whether "congratulations" are in order. Instead, I wait in nervous anticipation of what the future holds.
I don't like change, but several months ago, I committed to myself that I was going to attempt to make this change. I've made my choice - now I have to wait for the results.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
I am my mother's daughter
As a child and teenager, I used to roll my eyes and be mortified by the fact that my mom would talk to strangers. She would randomly sit down next to someone and suddenly they would know my entire life story. Sometimes she would speak to people without prompting and they clearly wouldn't want to talk to her. But more often, people would approach her and chat away for hours at end. I was always embarrassed.
Recently, I've decided that I've got more of my mom in me than I previously thought. I am approached by random and talk to random people. I'm sure many of you remember my experiences with meeting people on a train, in a grocery store parking lot, and in the sauna at a gym. My recent random meetings have now expanded to include at a free hotel happy hour and at an outdoor ice skating rink. Here's the stories:
A week or so ago, I was up in Chicago for some interviews (still waiting on the results, I'm freaking out a bit) and was staying at a pretty nice boutique hotel in the River North area of the city. My hotel had a free cocktail party from 5:30 to 7:00. After a long day of interviewing (caught a flight at 6 am, finished interviewing at 4:30), a drink sounded pretty good. I had dinner plans to meet up with some friends around 7, so I figured, what the hell, I'll just go to this happy hour and enjoy a nice glass of wine by myself. When I got up there, I noticed a group of gentlemen (two older guys and a guy about my age) sitting at a couple tables and chatting. I sat down next to them and shortly was drawn into the conversation. The guy my age was moving to Chicago and was up there looking at apartments. I gave him some advice about neighborhoods and we all chatted amicably for the next hour or so.
Shortly after 7, one of my friends called to say she was on her way to pick me up. I knew the boy had no plans for the evening so I invited him along. After thinking about it for a minute, he said sure. Before my friend got there we talked some more in the lobby and he got my number. I think the dinner conversation probably scared him off (it was overly girly and gossipy), but it certainly made for a fun evening. I doubt I'll hear from him, but that totally made my interview trip more exciting.
Then last night, I decided to go ice skating at Steinberg rink (its a large outdoor rink in Forest Park). The ice was almost perfect and there was practically nobody out there (cold and windy night). The older guy who was out there chatted with me for a little bit, but then we drifted off to other things. After a while I noticed that I was being pretty much tailed by someone else. I had my ipod on, and he asked me a question, so I had to pull the ear buds out from under the earmuffs to hear him. I then proceeded to spend the next hour skating with him and ended up driving him home (he doesn't have a car and took public transport to the rink and it was cold and windy out).
I think he was trying to ask me out to dinner when he commented on the fact that he always ends up eating out even though he has leftover at home (and I of course was oblivious and commented how I ate out way too much last weekend and needed to eat at home). Then he asked me if I would be skating on Saturday afternoon again. I wouldn't commit. Part of me wondered if he was just being polite or if he liked me. And, if he liked me, why ask the vague, "will you be there again?" question - why not just ask for my number? Anyway, we'll see if I see that one again.
So, yeah, I talk to strangers - hell, I invite them to dinner and drive them home.
Recently, I've decided that I've got more of my mom in me than I previously thought. I am approached by random and talk to random people. I'm sure many of you remember my experiences with meeting people on a train, in a grocery store parking lot, and in the sauna at a gym. My recent random meetings have now expanded to include at a free hotel happy hour and at an outdoor ice skating rink. Here's the stories:
A week or so ago, I was up in Chicago for some interviews (still waiting on the results, I'm freaking out a bit) and was staying at a pretty nice boutique hotel in the River North area of the city. My hotel had a free cocktail party from 5:30 to 7:00. After a long day of interviewing (caught a flight at 6 am, finished interviewing at 4:30), a drink sounded pretty good. I had dinner plans to meet up with some friends around 7, so I figured, what the hell, I'll just go to this happy hour and enjoy a nice glass of wine by myself. When I got up there, I noticed a group of gentlemen (two older guys and a guy about my age) sitting at a couple tables and chatting. I sat down next to them and shortly was drawn into the conversation. The guy my age was moving to Chicago and was up there looking at apartments. I gave him some advice about neighborhoods and we all chatted amicably for the next hour or so.
Shortly after 7, one of my friends called to say she was on her way to pick me up. I knew the boy had no plans for the evening so I invited him along. After thinking about it for a minute, he said sure. Before my friend got there we talked some more in the lobby and he got my number. I think the dinner conversation probably scared him off (it was overly girly and gossipy), but it certainly made for a fun evening. I doubt I'll hear from him, but that totally made my interview trip more exciting.
Then last night, I decided to go ice skating at Steinberg rink (its a large outdoor rink in Forest Park). The ice was almost perfect and there was practically nobody out there (cold and windy night). The older guy who was out there chatted with me for a little bit, but then we drifted off to other things. After a while I noticed that I was being pretty much tailed by someone else. I had my ipod on, and he asked me a question, so I had to pull the ear buds out from under the earmuffs to hear him. I then proceeded to spend the next hour skating with him and ended up driving him home (he doesn't have a car and took public transport to the rink and it was cold and windy out).
I think he was trying to ask me out to dinner when he commented on the fact that he always ends up eating out even though he has leftover at home (and I of course was oblivious and commented how I ate out way too much last weekend and needed to eat at home). Then he asked me if I would be skating on Saturday afternoon again. I wouldn't commit. Part of me wondered if he was just being polite or if he liked me. And, if he liked me, why ask the vague, "will you be there again?" question - why not just ask for my number? Anyway, we'll see if I see that one again.
So, yeah, I talk to strangers - hell, I invite them to dinner and drive them home.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
sometimes things don't go quite as planned
Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I've had some stuff going on in my life that I can't really write about. Until yesterday I hadn't run in over a week, and I think the half marathon may be off my plate this spring (though we shall see).
The good news is that I'm doing really well; I've had some great interviews, and I feel very optimistic about a future in Chicago.
The bad is pretty terrible. Horrible things happened. I had friends who were personally affected and my workplace was somewhat involved. I feel some guilt, some anger, and some fear. I was in complete shock. On to of that I had a minor medical crisis. Nothing serious and I'm completely fine (though had to undergo a somewhat painful procedure that I will not recount here).
Last week sucked.
This week is better. Hopefully next week will be even better.
Weight: 167.6
Miles: 4 yesterday, elliptical today
The good news is that I'm doing really well; I've had some great interviews, and I feel very optimistic about a future in Chicago.
The bad is pretty terrible. Horrible things happened. I had friends who were personally affected and my workplace was somewhat involved. I feel some guilt, some anger, and some fear. I was in complete shock. On to of that I had a minor medical crisis. Nothing serious and I'm completely fine (though had to undergo a somewhat painful procedure that I will not recount here).
Last week sucked.
This week is better. Hopefully next week will be even better.
Weight: 167.6
Miles: 4 yesterday, elliptical today
Thursday, January 31, 2008
doubling up
Last night, I ached when I went to bed. My legs felt like jelly. My arms could hardly be lifted over my head, even my face hurt (I think I have a slight sinus infection). Yesterday, I ran my four mile pace workout. It felt great. I'm very happy with my speed - running 1/2 a mile at a pace that I could barely maintain for a quarter mile a couple weeks ago was pretty cool. After my run, I cooled down, took a body shower, ran to the downtown grocery store, grabbed a quick high calorie dinner (mmm quesadillas), and drove over to the rock climbing gym. I knew it wasn't going to be a good day for climbing cause just taking the steps up four flights to get my car in the garage was hard. I always thought I climbed too much with my arms, but last night, with completely blown legs, I proved that I actually use my legs quite a bit. I sucked last night (couldn't make it to the top on any wall - I'd start shaking about half way up), but it was way fun.
After that, I drove home and started packing. This weekend could be pretty major for me in the work area of my life so wish me luck. By the time I climbed in bed last night, I was utterly exhausted physically, but I still couldn't sleep. I had hoped that the physical exhaustion would help, but instead I lay there slightly uncomfortable from muscle soreness and got thought about my excitement and nervousness...its gonna be a long weekend.
Weight: 166.2
Miles: 4 (43:40 - slow 1 mile warmup, 400 meters fast, 200 slow (repeat), 1/2 mile fast, 400 meters slow, 400 meters fast, 200 slow (repeat), 3/4 mile slow cooldown)
After that, I drove home and started packing. This weekend could be pretty major for me in the work area of my life so wish me luck. By the time I climbed in bed last night, I was utterly exhausted physically, but I still couldn't sleep. I had hoped that the physical exhaustion would help, but instead I lay there slightly uncomfortable from muscle soreness and got thought about my excitement and nervousness...its gonna be a long weekend.
Weight: 166.2
Miles: 4 (43:40 - slow 1 mile warmup, 400 meters fast, 200 slow (repeat), 1/2 mile fast, 400 meters slow, 400 meters fast, 200 slow (repeat), 3/4 mile slow cooldown)
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
cookie dough
As some of you may know, I have a bit of a binge eating problem. I generally live in denial that its really a problem, and most of the time, I manage to suppress the general urge to binge. Still, certain foods are trigger foods, and no matter how bad I know they are for me, I can't resist eating myself sick. For me, cookie dough is one of those foods.
Most of the time, I can pass the prepackaged rolls at the grocery store and not even think about the craving. Most of the time, I don't long for the taste and the full feeling that comes from cookie dough before I get sick. I don't generally buy it (unless I'm really depressed and well, ok, sometimes when I'm super stressed). But, when its in the house, sitting there, open, with no purpose other than snacking - ohhh...how evil and tempting.
My roommate bought a tub of cookie dough for her birthday party. She intended it to be a drunk food - possibly to bake cookies with, mostly to be eaten with a spoon. She opened the container earlier that day (and how proud of myself I was that I didn't open the GIANT TUB of cookie dough that had been sitting in my fridge for three days and dig in before then), and that was a good portion of my lunch that day. I ate it again the next day, and the one after that, and the one after that, and again today. I've gorged myself on giant spoonfuls. I think a good part of my continued hangover on Monday was due to dough consumption rather than alcohol consumption. As long as it sits in my fridge, I am tempted and generally give in to that temptation. The sad thing is, I don't even like chocolate chip cookie dough - I love sugar cookie dough, but the chocolate chips make it ... blah:-P yet still, I eat and eat and make myself sick.
Sometimes, especially times like this, I worry that I should seek treatment for my binge food eating. Why do I do this to myself (note that I would NEVER buy a GIANT TUB of cookie dough on my own - although I have been known to buy a roll of cookie dough and eat myself sick on those too)? Grrr...
Run: 5 miles - 1 hour, 1 minute
Weight: 169.2
Most of the time, I can pass the prepackaged rolls at the grocery store and not even think about the craving. Most of the time, I don't long for the taste and the full feeling that comes from cookie dough before I get sick. I don't generally buy it (unless I'm really depressed and well, ok, sometimes when I'm super stressed). But, when its in the house, sitting there, open, with no purpose other than snacking - ohhh...how evil and tempting.
My roommate bought a tub of cookie dough for her birthday party. She intended it to be a drunk food - possibly to bake cookies with, mostly to be eaten with a spoon. She opened the container earlier that day (and how proud of myself I was that I didn't open the GIANT TUB of cookie dough that had been sitting in my fridge for three days and dig in before then), and that was a good portion of my lunch that day. I ate it again the next day, and the one after that, and the one after that, and again today. I've gorged myself on giant spoonfuls. I think a good part of my continued hangover on Monday was due to dough consumption rather than alcohol consumption. As long as it sits in my fridge, I am tempted and generally give in to that temptation. The sad thing is, I don't even like chocolate chip cookie dough - I love sugar cookie dough, but the chocolate chips make it ... blah:-P yet still, I eat and eat and make myself sick.
Sometimes, especially times like this, I worry that I should seek treatment for my binge food eating. Why do I do this to myself (note that I would NEVER buy a GIANT TUB of cookie dough on my own - although I have been known to buy a roll of cookie dough and eat myself sick on those too)? Grrr...
Run: 5 miles - 1 hour, 1 minute
Weight: 169.2
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
I'm officially old
Sunday was my roommate's birthday, and we had a big party on Saturday night. I don't drink much these days - maybe have a beer three times a month, so my binge drinking on Saturday night was a bit much for my body.
I had anticipated the fact that I was going to feel like crap on Sunday. I figured I wouldn't get my long run in on Sunday, but it didn't matter cause I didn't have to work on Monday. Surely I could easily run my 5 miles on Monday. Not so much.
Monday, I actually felt worse than Sunday. My stomach was still rebelling (I never threw up, but just curled up in a ball and wanted whatever was eating my stomach from the inside out to finally die). I ate nothing for most of Monday and didn't get dressed or leave the apartment. So, I didn't get my 5 miles in that day either.
Now, I'm torn. I think I'm just going to continue with the schedule and pretend that I didn't skip the five...or maybe run five tomorrow instead of the three that's on my schedule...stupid hangover...
I had anticipated the fact that I was going to feel like crap on Sunday. I figured I wouldn't get my long run in on Sunday, but it didn't matter cause I didn't have to work on Monday. Surely I could easily run my 5 miles on Monday. Not so much.
Monday, I actually felt worse than Sunday. My stomach was still rebelling (I never threw up, but just curled up in a ball and wanted whatever was eating my stomach from the inside out to finally die). I ate nothing for most of Monday and didn't get dressed or leave the apartment. So, I didn't get my 5 miles in that day either.
Now, I'm torn. I think I'm just going to continue with the schedule and pretend that I didn't skip the five...or maybe run five tomorrow instead of the three that's on my schedule...stupid hangover...
Friday, January 18, 2008
addiction
So, I've known for quite some time that I'm addicted to caffeine. I can't go a day without a jolt or I get terrible headaches. But, I always thought that I was just addicted to caffeine. I never would have guessed that it was also soda - not just the drug, but the product.
The first couple days of my no soda ban were easy. Switching to coffee instead of soda was fine in the mornings. I sort of like the ritual of brewing coffee - the warm comforting rich bitter smell waking me up and easing me into my day. I like filling up my mug and hopping in the car to go to work. It feels very grown up.
Still, a few days ago, I began to have a slight understanding of what an alcoholic feel like (I'm not comparing, but beginning to understand just how hard it actually is). For the past week or so, around 2 pm, I've started craving a Diet Pepsi. I want it so bad. I used to get one every afternoon at that time, and I know I have the fifty cents in my desk drawer and that the soda is mere steps away. I think to myself, "Its just one soda. One soda won't hurt you. It will help you get through this long afternoon." But, I have somehow managed to resist.
The problem is, I know its never just one soda. If I let myself get one, I'll want one again tomorrow. I know that having one an afternoon will lead me to start buying 12 packs again (and going through about 3 twelve packs a week). Maybe I don't need to give up soda forever (though I suspect that I do), but still, for right now, I know I have to resist.
No run last night, instead I managed to deal with some car issues, buy new running shoes, and work late - gonna run 3 tonight.
Weight: 167.4
The first couple days of my no soda ban were easy. Switching to coffee instead of soda was fine in the mornings. I sort of like the ritual of brewing coffee - the warm comforting rich bitter smell waking me up and easing me into my day. I like filling up my mug and hopping in the car to go to work. It feels very grown up.
Still, a few days ago, I began to have a slight understanding of what an alcoholic feel like (I'm not comparing, but beginning to understand just how hard it actually is). For the past week or so, around 2 pm, I've started craving a Diet Pepsi. I want it so bad. I used to get one every afternoon at that time, and I know I have the fifty cents in my desk drawer and that the soda is mere steps away. I think to myself, "Its just one soda. One soda won't hurt you. It will help you get through this long afternoon." But, I have somehow managed to resist.
The problem is, I know its never just one soda. If I let myself get one, I'll want one again tomorrow. I know that having one an afternoon will lead me to start buying 12 packs again (and going through about 3 twelve packs a week). Maybe I don't need to give up soda forever (though I suspect that I do), but still, for right now, I know I have to resist.
No run last night, instead I managed to deal with some car issues, buy new running shoes, and work late - gonna run 3 tonight.
Weight: 167.4
Thursday, January 10, 2008
ode to the basement bomb shelter
Recently I read an article about how gyms are what are making people fat. I don't really buy the substance of the article, but it got me thinking. A lot of the gist was that the modern bells and whistles of a gym do more harm than good. People think they are supposed to be entertained at the gym. Overweight people are intimidated by the skinny people, giant mirrors, and complicated machines. They think that doing a few reps on a weight machine will do the trick. I have found that for me, the gym environment really does make a big difference about whether or not I go.
My current gym is a perfect example of this. Its on the first floor of a federal courthouse in a drab windowless room. It was built in the space where the day care would have been, except, I work in the first federal courthouse built after Oklahoma city, and well, they decided that a day care was a bad idea. There are two tv sets that are constantly set to CNN. There are no mirrors. There are four fans in the place, and the magazines are whatever other people have brought in and left behind the desk thing by the door. There is no pilates room, or separate weight area
(the Marshals have their own training room - not to be shared with the common folks), or juice bar, or laundry service.
Its pretty basic stuff: six treadmills (only four that can take running, two are for walking only), two regular bikes, one recumbent bike, two spin bikes, six ellipticals, two rowing machines, a pair of stair climber, weight machines, and free weights. That's it. There are no personal trainers or membership fees. No time limits on the cardio equipment.
I love my gym. Its simple and easy. Its never crowded after work (although lunch time can be busy). I never feel like I'm being judged for my workout. On days like today, its perfectly ok for me to run two miles and then hop on a bike for 20 minutes.
I think I do best with simple places with people who leave you alone. Last year, I joined a 24 hour fitness. The manager guy who always remembered me and said hi, creeped me out. I dreaded going to that placed lined with windows to the outdoors, mirrors, hundreds of televisions, and blasting music. Just walking into the brightly lit interior made me feel inferior. I don't know why. It was a beautiful gym, but I never belonged there. My membership lasted all of six months. Even though I had that beautiful gym that was available 24 hours a day, I instead mostly headed down to the basement bomb shelter that was the free gym at work. I felt safe and secure there. It feel good to be spending a significant amount of time down there again - it makes my mom sad though, cause no way am I meeting any guys at the gym...
Miles: 2
Weight: 170.2 (don't know why its up right now, I'm still doing WW and I've been good - gonna keep trying - I know weight can fluctuate and its not the end of the world)
My current gym is a perfect example of this. Its on the first floor of a federal courthouse in a drab windowless room. It was built in the space where the day care would have been, except, I work in the first federal courthouse built after Oklahoma city, and well, they decided that a day care was a bad idea. There are two tv sets that are constantly set to CNN. There are no mirrors. There are four fans in the place, and the magazines are whatever other people have brought in and left behind the desk thing by the door. There is no pilates room, or separate weight area
(the Marshals have their own training room - not to be shared with the common folks), or juice bar, or laundry service.
Its pretty basic stuff: six treadmills (only four that can take running, two are for walking only), two regular bikes, one recumbent bike, two spin bikes, six ellipticals, two rowing machines, a pair of stair climber, weight machines, and free weights. That's it. There are no personal trainers or membership fees. No time limits on the cardio equipment.
I love my gym. Its simple and easy. Its never crowded after work (although lunch time can be busy). I never feel like I'm being judged for my workout. On days like today, its perfectly ok for me to run two miles and then hop on a bike for 20 minutes.
I think I do best with simple places with people who leave you alone. Last year, I joined a 24 hour fitness. The manager guy who always remembered me and said hi, creeped me out. I dreaded going to that placed lined with windows to the outdoors, mirrors, hundreds of televisions, and blasting music. Just walking into the brightly lit interior made me feel inferior. I don't know why. It was a beautiful gym, but I never belonged there. My membership lasted all of six months. Even though I had that beautiful gym that was available 24 hours a day, I instead mostly headed down to the basement bomb shelter that was the free gym at work. I felt safe and secure there. It feel good to be spending a significant amount of time down there again - it makes my mom sad though, cause no way am I meeting any guys at the gym...
Miles: 2
Weight: 170.2 (don't know why its up right now, I'm still doing WW and I've been good - gonna keep trying - I know weight can fluctuate and its not the end of the world)
Sunday, January 06, 2008
The park again
Today I ran with a friend. It was my first scheduled "training run" for the half marathon. I forgot how hard hills are, especially the hill at the end of my street. I'm sore and tired and it feels fantastic.
The required run was actually 3, but we ended up doing something more like 3.6 or 3.8 cause well, I needed a pee in the middle. When your bladder calls during a run, not much to do other than be in pain or find a bathroom. I chose bathroom.
Today was also weird because of the weather. The temps here were in the upper 70s today - it was downright strange. It was super humid too. Everything was sticky and the sweat didn't have anywhere to go. The bathroom at the visitor's center was so humid that the metal part of the toilet was wet with condensation.
Miles: 3.4+ (google maps guestimate - tomorrow I'm calibrating a Nike+Ipod sensor - yay!)
Weight: 168.6
The required run was actually 3, but we ended up doing something more like 3.6 or 3.8 cause well, I needed a pee in the middle. When your bladder calls during a run, not much to do other than be in pain or find a bathroom. I chose bathroom.
Today was also weird because of the weather. The temps here were in the upper 70s today - it was downright strange. It was super humid too. Everything was sticky and the sweat didn't have anywhere to go. The bathroom at the visitor's center was so humid that the metal part of the toilet was wet with condensation.
Miles: 3.4+ (google maps guestimate - tomorrow I'm calibrating a Nike+Ipod sensor - yay!)
Weight: 168.6
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Come on baby light my fire
I've never run any significant distance at this weight before. Last year when I was training for the half marathon I maintained a weight that was generally just shy of 160 pounds. I wasn't pleased to be running at that weight at the time, but accepted that was where I was at. It didn't really make thing too difficult - all my running tights still fit, my shirts, etc. This year, I'm 10 pounds heavier and now I've got some added complications-
Friction. Last night when I started running on the treadmill in some loose fitting workout pants (not tights)...I noticed the sound of my thighs rubbing together. Honestly, I was actually a bit concerned - there seemed to be enough friction going on for me to light a fire. Although I can say that it didn't end up altering the run, it wasn't entirely the most comfortable thing. I'm thinking it might be a good thing if I can lose some weight before the long runs kick in.
Weight: 169.6
Miles: (last night) 2.6
Friction. Last night when I started running on the treadmill in some loose fitting workout pants (not tights)...I noticed the sound of my thighs rubbing together. Honestly, I was actually a bit concerned - there seemed to be enough friction going on for me to light a fire. Although I can say that it didn't end up altering the run, it wasn't entirely the most comfortable thing. I'm thinking it might be a good thing if I can lose some weight before the long runs kick in.
Weight: 169.6
Miles: (last night) 2.6
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
on again
I dislike New Year's Resolutions, in part, because of their reputation. New Year's Resolutions mean trying to change for a couple weeks and then forgetting about it when life intervenes. That's why, while I'm making some changes, I refuse to refer to them as resolutions.
First, I've given up soda. As of my return from Chicago for Christmas, I haven't had a single drop of soda. I'm still addicted to carbonation so I'm back to carbonated water (go through about a twelve pack of cans in 4 days). This is because I've noticed a pattern: I gain weight or have more difficulty losing weight when I'm drinking soda (diet soda, sugar soda, it doesn't matter). I don't know if that's corralation or causation, but regardless, I'm not drinking soda. I do best on a water/carbonated water/coffee routine (note that I'm not giving up caffeine - coffee and tea are still acceptible).
Second, I'm training for a half-marathon again. I know that by the end of my training last year, I was sick of it and couldn't wait to not have training runs on my schedule anymore. For that reason, I'm not signing up for the race yet. I've got the training runs in my calendar and a training partner all lined up. If the end of March comes around, and I don't want to spend my Sundays hitting the trails in Forest Park, I won't. But, I think I will want to. I enjoyed the actual race immensely, and I love having a committment to myself to be running. It gives me an excuse for being obsessive about my exercise.
Third, I signed up for weight watchers online, and I'm going to lose the weight that I've gained since the broken arm (and hopefully a bit more). I know that as the training ramps up this is going to get more difficult, but I also know that I have to do this. My weight will only keep going up if I don't do something about it and I don't want to be the round thing I was when I graduated college ever again. Hopefully, in the next couple of months (while training is still relatively light), I can lose the 10 pounds that are currently making me feel bad about myself.
Finally, I'm posting my stats here again even though they embarrass me. I've become depressed about my lazy girl on the couch weight gain (or broken elbow weight gain) and I know I can't really hide it from the world anyway since you can see it on my face and in my waist. So:
Weight: 171 (ug, how did it get this bad!?!)
Training: Running 30 minutes (about 2.5 miles) with a 4 minute walking cooldown afterward
First, I've given up soda. As of my return from Chicago for Christmas, I haven't had a single drop of soda. I'm still addicted to carbonation so I'm back to carbonated water (go through about a twelve pack of cans in 4 days). This is because I've noticed a pattern: I gain weight or have more difficulty losing weight when I'm drinking soda (diet soda, sugar soda, it doesn't matter). I don't know if that's corralation or causation, but regardless, I'm not drinking soda. I do best on a water/carbonated water/coffee routine (note that I'm not giving up caffeine - coffee and tea are still acceptible).
Second, I'm training for a half-marathon again. I know that by the end of my training last year, I was sick of it and couldn't wait to not have training runs on my schedule anymore. For that reason, I'm not signing up for the race yet. I've got the training runs in my calendar and a training partner all lined up. If the end of March comes around, and I don't want to spend my Sundays hitting the trails in Forest Park, I won't. But, I think I will want to. I enjoyed the actual race immensely, and I love having a committment to myself to be running. It gives me an excuse for being obsessive about my exercise.
Third, I signed up for weight watchers online, and I'm going to lose the weight that I've gained since the broken arm (and hopefully a bit more). I know that as the training ramps up this is going to get more difficult, but I also know that I have to do this. My weight will only keep going up if I don't do something about it and I don't want to be the round thing I was when I graduated college ever again. Hopefully, in the next couple of months (while training is still relatively light), I can lose the 10 pounds that are currently making me feel bad about myself.
Finally, I'm posting my stats here again even though they embarrass me. I've become depressed about my lazy girl on the couch weight gain (or broken elbow weight gain) and I know I can't really hide it from the world anyway since you can see it on my face and in my waist. So:
Weight: 171 (ug, how did it get this bad!?!)
Training: Running 30 minutes (about 2.5 miles) with a 4 minute walking cooldown afterward
Thursday, December 20, 2007
In Memoriam - Karen Flaschar
Throughout my life, music has always given me "the tingles" down my spine. It makes me feel the power of something greater than an individual, and no song has done that more frequently and consistently than this one. Flasch, this will always be your song in my mind. Today, for the last time, your choir, years and years of students, came together to sing it one more time. You've changed so many lives, and you will be missed.
The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord lift his countenance upon you and give you peace. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you. The Lord be gracious, gracious unto you.
The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord lift his countenance upon you and give you peace. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you. The Lord be gracious, gracious unto you.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Sometimes standing in someone's shadow isn't a bad thing
As a teenager, all I wanted to do was escape from my brother's shadow. To this day, whenever I run into someone who I went to high school with that is a few years older than me, I always ask if they knew my brother. And, they always do. My brother was cool; he was smart; he was popular. Teachers loved him (or hated him, but either way they remembered him); he was on the pep squad; he threw keg parties every Friday night; he got in to Princeton; his friends were beautiful; . It was a big shadow.
I somehow managed to be as close to the opposite as him as was possible without being a dumbass. Instead of sports, I was into the arts. Instead of hanging with the cool kids, I got cozy with the Goths. I blended into the crowd. I excelled at the things I was good at and ignored everything else.
Since then, I've moved on quite a bit. Somehow in the intervening years, my brother and I have become more and more similar. Similar patterns through college and law school (although at very different schools for both). Along the way, I've consistently turned to him for advice. He's helped with choosing where to study abroad, taking the LSAT, studying for law school exams, interviewing for summer associate positions, applying for clerkships, and now he's helping me with my post-clerkship job search. Through all of this, his advice has been invaluable. He gave me 1L outlines to teach me to outline and looked over my resume.
Last week he discovered that he had made partner at the law firm he's been working at. Its fantastic news, and we are all very excited. I'm just about to start my legal career and he is settling into his. I've become envious of the life (particularly the family) that he has, and I've come to realize that its pretty great to have someone breaking the trail in front of you, even if that sometimes means standing in their shadow.
I somehow managed to be as close to the opposite as him as was possible without being a dumbass. Instead of sports, I was into the arts. Instead of hanging with the cool kids, I got cozy with the Goths. I blended into the crowd. I excelled at the things I was good at and ignored everything else.
Since then, I've moved on quite a bit. Somehow in the intervening years, my brother and I have become more and more similar. Similar patterns through college and law school (although at very different schools for both). Along the way, I've consistently turned to him for advice. He's helped with choosing where to study abroad, taking the LSAT, studying for law school exams, interviewing for summer associate positions, applying for clerkships, and now he's helping me with my post-clerkship job search. Through all of this, his advice has been invaluable. He gave me 1L outlines to teach me to outline and looked over my resume.
Last week he discovered that he had made partner at the law firm he's been working at. Its fantastic news, and we are all very excited. I'm just about to start my legal career and he is settling into his. I've become envious of the life (particularly the family) that he has, and I've come to realize that its pretty great to have someone breaking the trail in front of you, even if that sometimes means standing in their shadow.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Mary Poppins
On the subject of television, we recently DVRed Mary Poppins, and last night I watched a good portion of it. I had forgotten how lovely this movie really is. As a child, I was an obsessive movie watcher. My three main movies (pretty much every weekend) were The Parent Trap (original Haley Mills version), Swiss Family Robinson, and The Sound of Music. Occasionally, I would throw in Babes in Toyland or Alice in Wonderland (both of those movies totally freaked me out - and to this day I'm not entirely sure why). On even rarer occasions I would watch Mary Poppins (I think this movie got lost for a while and that might explain why it didn't make it into the regular rotation).
There is nothing like the sound of Julie Andrew's voice to bring me back to childhood though. Like her character in Mary Poppins, to me she seemed to be "practically perfect in every way." Just listening to her speak makes me smile (while I'm typing this, I'm thinking how amazing it is that I've never seen the Princess Diaries movies). I think Julie Andrew's voice is what made me want to sing. No one has quite the same lilt or diction. But Julie's voice alone isn't what makes her so special in the movie. Its her facial expressions and timing and the combination with Dick Van Dyke. I had forgotten how magical the whole movie is. I think I'm going to have to buy it for my niece and nephew.
There is nothing like the sound of Julie Andrew's voice to bring me back to childhood though. Like her character in Mary Poppins, to me she seemed to be "practically perfect in every way." Just listening to her speak makes me smile (while I'm typing this, I'm thinking how amazing it is that I've never seen the Princess Diaries movies). I think Julie Andrew's voice is what made me want to sing. No one has quite the same lilt or diction. But Julie's voice alone isn't what makes her so special in the movie. Its her facial expressions and timing and the combination with Dick Van Dyke. I had forgotten how magical the whole movie is. I think I'm going to have to buy it for my niece and nephew.
Television
My addiction to television over the past couple of years has rapidly grown. My first year of law school, my home was a complete telecommunications desert. I didn't have a phone line or cable or internet (thank god for the Panera a block away with free Wi-Fi). I spent the majority of my time at my boyfriend's apartment so this wasn't so terrible. The lack of basic entertainment items didn't really alter my perception of that apartment much as it was a complete roach infested sink hole - so nothing could make it seem much worse.
For my second two years of law school, I sucked it up and paid for high speed internet, but refused to pay for cable. I accepted life with bad rabbit ears and only 4 stations at any given time (I could get either Fox or ABC, but not both). I learned to love the wonders of Antiques Roadshow, This Old House, and the News Hour with Jim Lehrer because PBS was the station that came in the strongest. I hardly ever thought about the fact that I was missing cultural phenomenon like The Hills or Project Runway. I was content with my Netflix subscription and my PBS.
Last year, I moved into a house that already had cable, and I quickly resumed old habits from college - watching reruns of Charmed in the morning as I ate my breakfast, making it home on Wednesday nights for whatever show was currently competing for attention on Bravo. I got to know the Girls Next Door (and I was embarrassed by our relationship). I knew I could watch Law and Order at practically any time of day or night.
Still, this was not enough for me. A couple months ago. My roommate and I got a DVR. This wonderful device has changed my tv watching experience. No longer do I even consider the television schedule when making plans. Most evenings after work, I come home to the comfort of that day's rerun episode of Gilmore Girls. I don't have to wait for commercials.
And now, because my cable bundle was expiring, I just upgraded. My father had taught me well - whenever you get the higher bill, you call the cable company, tell them that you see that your deal has expired and ask what they can offer you now. Normally, my dad doesn't get the help he wants until he gets transferred to the disconnect people who will do whatever they can to keep your patronage. Today, with a half an hour of my time, I managed to secure myself a new deal. For approximately $8 more than I was previously paying, I have a new deal - faster internet and HBO. The price tag for cable keeps going up, but I can't seem to stop myself. I'm just getting myself in deeper and deeper. Its scary where an addiction will lead you...
For my second two years of law school, I sucked it up and paid for high speed internet, but refused to pay for cable. I accepted life with bad rabbit ears and only 4 stations at any given time (I could get either Fox or ABC, but not both). I learned to love the wonders of Antiques Roadshow, This Old House, and the News Hour with Jim Lehrer because PBS was the station that came in the strongest. I hardly ever thought about the fact that I was missing cultural phenomenon like The Hills or Project Runway. I was content with my Netflix subscription and my PBS.
Last year, I moved into a house that already had cable, and I quickly resumed old habits from college - watching reruns of Charmed in the morning as I ate my breakfast, making it home on Wednesday nights for whatever show was currently competing for attention on Bravo. I got to know the Girls Next Door (and I was embarrassed by our relationship). I knew I could watch Law and Order at practically any time of day or night.
Still, this was not enough for me. A couple months ago. My roommate and I got a DVR. This wonderful device has changed my tv watching experience. No longer do I even consider the television schedule when making plans. Most evenings after work, I come home to the comfort of that day's rerun episode of Gilmore Girls. I don't have to wait for commercials.
And now, because my cable bundle was expiring, I just upgraded. My father had taught me well - whenever you get the higher bill, you call the cable company, tell them that you see that your deal has expired and ask what they can offer you now. Normally, my dad doesn't get the help he wants until he gets transferred to the disconnect people who will do whatever they can to keep your patronage. Today, with a half an hour of my time, I managed to secure myself a new deal. For approximately $8 more than I was previously paying, I have a new deal - faster internet and HBO. The price tag for cable keeps going up, but I can't seem to stop myself. I'm just getting myself in deeper and deeper. Its scary where an addiction will lead you...
Thursday, December 06, 2007
I've been thinking...
Lately a number of blog posts have been floating around in my head. Unlike some of the posts that have been written and deleted, there was nothing wrong with the posts floating in my head. They weren't offensive. I didn't feel like I had to censor myself. No, I just never got around to actually writing them down. My mind has had time to think about things, but the thoughts never quite crystallized and my hands didn't fly over the keys.
I was going to write about the book Eat, Pray, Love, but I just read somebody else's blog post on the subject, and I'm not sure I have much to add. I was listening to commentary during On Point on NPR recently, and the book also came up there. I was surprised that the commentators hadn't read it. (I know I just said I wasn't going to add anything, but now I think I have to add my two cents). I enjoyed the book. It made me examine my own belief systems, the value of my life, where I'm headed and where I want to be headed. It made me think. But, I didn't love it.
The first two sections of the book are very strong. While I don't share much of a common experience with Ms. Gilbert, I empathized with her. I was jealous of her travels in Italy and was intrigued by her spiritual voyage in India. I wished I felt I had the ability to take a year off for self discovery. I wished I could spend days and weeks glutinously devouring food and thought and feel good about myself. Still, I did not find her time in Indonesia to be as compelling. She seemed to boring and normal in Indonesia. While she attempted to portray herself as something more than the average tourist or ex pat in Indonesia, I didn't quite believe this portrayal. She calls her Indonesian stay the "balance" portion of her trip, but I had difficulty seeing how it had anything to do with balance. Maybe I just didn't understand it, but that seemed to be the weakest part of the book.
I wonder if part of my disconnect was also a wonder about Ms. Gilbert. How did she become the person her book portrays? What was so broken about her marriage? Why did she leave that marriage to be with a man who did not have the emotional ability to make her happy? Has she actually dealt with her problems, or is she merely masking them in a cloud of self love? While these questions are ultimately irrelevant in my enjoyment of the book, they remain in my thoughts. I read the book on the recommendation of a friend. He had talked to me a bit about my depression and my lapsed faith and felt it could be good for me. While I think that some of the messages of the book did speak to me, I do wonder if perhaps he and others believe that we should regard Ms. Gilbert as a model. Based upon what I know of her, I'm not convinced that she would make a good model for me.
Anyway - that's a random smattering of thought on something I really know nothing about. I'm not a book critic - I just a girl who reads a lot.
I was going to write about the book Eat, Pray, Love, but I just read somebody else's blog post on the subject, and I'm not sure I have much to add. I was listening to commentary during On Point on NPR recently, and the book also came up there. I was surprised that the commentators hadn't read it. (I know I just said I wasn't going to add anything, but now I think I have to add my two cents). I enjoyed the book. It made me examine my own belief systems, the value of my life, where I'm headed and where I want to be headed. It made me think. But, I didn't love it.
The first two sections of the book are very strong. While I don't share much of a common experience with Ms. Gilbert, I empathized with her. I was jealous of her travels in Italy and was intrigued by her spiritual voyage in India. I wished I felt I had the ability to take a year off for self discovery. I wished I could spend days and weeks glutinously devouring food and thought and feel good about myself. Still, I did not find her time in Indonesia to be as compelling. She seemed to boring and normal in Indonesia. While she attempted to portray herself as something more than the average tourist or ex pat in Indonesia, I didn't quite believe this portrayal. She calls her Indonesian stay the "balance" portion of her trip, but I had difficulty seeing how it had anything to do with balance. Maybe I just didn't understand it, but that seemed to be the weakest part of the book.
I wonder if part of my disconnect was also a wonder about Ms. Gilbert. How did she become the person her book portrays? What was so broken about her marriage? Why did she leave that marriage to be with a man who did not have the emotional ability to make her happy? Has she actually dealt with her problems, or is she merely masking them in a cloud of self love? While these questions are ultimately irrelevant in my enjoyment of the book, they remain in my thoughts. I read the book on the recommendation of a friend. He had talked to me a bit about my depression and my lapsed faith and felt it could be good for me. While I think that some of the messages of the book did speak to me, I do wonder if perhaps he and others believe that we should regard Ms. Gilbert as a model. Based upon what I know of her, I'm not convinced that she would make a good model for me.
Anyway - that's a random smattering of thought on something I really know nothing about. I'm not a book critic - I just a girl who reads a lot.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
traveling
I'm not a good traveler. This isn't really news; I've never been a good traveler. Flying makes me feel sick. I get nervous that I'm going to miss my plane, but if I get there too early I get bored from waiting too long in the airport. I don't like airport food, but I always eat way too many calories anyway (stupid Swedish fish).
Anyway, last weekend I flew to DC for a baby shower and to visit a law school friend. The flying was actually remarkable good. I had direct flights at good times. I dressed well - wasn't too hot or too cold on the plane. I wasn't seated next to someone who smelled like a bar (ug, my last trip involved this at 8 am and even though I wasn't the one who was hungover, I wanted to throw up).
The interesting moment this time actually came on my way back to my apartment - riding the metrolink. The airport here is an endpoint for our public transit system, so it waits a while on the tracks at the airport. As I'm sitting there reading my book, I notice this guy. He gets on the train, sets down two large bags, and leaves. Doesn't just move a couple seats from his bags, doesn't go to talk to somebody, doesn't go help someone else get their stuff on the train. Just, leaves. No one else seems to notice.
This is when I discover that if someone wanted to have a terrorist attack near me (or apparently those other people as well), they could easily do it. Even though I am well aware of the signs in the train that say, "please notify personnel if you see bags left unattended" especially at the airport where they are saying that every five minutes, I didn't report those bags. I didn't want to cause any trouble. Instead, what I did was calmly get up and move to the other end of the train. I decided that if the guy didn't come back before the train left the station, I would press the help button. Luckily a few minutes later, the guy did come back and sit with his stuff so my freaking out a little bit was for nothing. Still - part of me worries - what if he had intended to blow up the train. Certainly no one would have done anything.
Anyway, last weekend I flew to DC for a baby shower and to visit a law school friend. The flying was actually remarkable good. I had direct flights at good times. I dressed well - wasn't too hot or too cold on the plane. I wasn't seated next to someone who smelled like a bar (ug, my last trip involved this at 8 am and even though I wasn't the one who was hungover, I wanted to throw up).
The interesting moment this time actually came on my way back to my apartment - riding the metrolink. The airport here is an endpoint for our public transit system, so it waits a while on the tracks at the airport. As I'm sitting there reading my book, I notice this guy. He gets on the train, sets down two large bags, and leaves. Doesn't just move a couple seats from his bags, doesn't go to talk to somebody, doesn't go help someone else get their stuff on the train. Just, leaves. No one else seems to notice.
This is when I discover that if someone wanted to have a terrorist attack near me (or apparently those other people as well), they could easily do it. Even though I am well aware of the signs in the train that say, "please notify personnel if you see bags left unattended" especially at the airport where they are saying that every five minutes, I didn't report those bags. I didn't want to cause any trouble. Instead, what I did was calmly get up and move to the other end of the train. I decided that if the guy didn't come back before the train left the station, I would press the help button. Luckily a few minutes later, the guy did come back and sit with his stuff so my freaking out a little bit was for nothing. Still - part of me worries - what if he had intended to blow up the train. Certainly no one would have done anything.
Monday, November 19, 2007
doll
So, this story isn't really mine to tell, but I felt the need to share.
One of my friends works at a major national law firm. She's a second year associate. A few days ago, a client she worked with was at the firm finalizing a settlement. She wanted to say hi and mentioned it to a junior partner. Right at that time, the client (a 35ish year old man) came out of the office, saw my friend, and said, "hey doll." So didn't really know how to respond to that, but justsort of smiled and said hi.
Later, in passing, she mentioned it to the junior partner in a non-complaining type way, but still making it clear that she didn't know what was up with that. He had noticed the "doll" comment, but told her he thought she had "that kind of a relationship with the client." He thought she had encouraged that kind of familiarity.
What's up with that. I mean, from an older client that might not be quite so weird, but from a young guy? How could he think it was okay to call his lawyer "doll?"
One of my friends works at a major national law firm. She's a second year associate. A few days ago, a client she worked with was at the firm finalizing a settlement. She wanted to say hi and mentioned it to a junior partner. Right at that time, the client (a 35ish year old man) came out of the office, saw my friend, and said, "hey doll." So didn't really know how to respond to that, but justsort of smiled and said hi.
Later, in passing, she mentioned it to the junior partner in a non-complaining type way, but still making it clear that she didn't know what was up with that. He had noticed the "doll" comment, but told her he thought she had "that kind of a relationship with the client." He thought she had encouraged that kind of familiarity.
What's up with that. I mean, from an older client that might not be quite so weird, but from a young guy? How could he think it was okay to call his lawyer "doll?"
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Its a bad year for boots
I had a sad experience at nordstroms last night. As some of you may know, the half yearly sale started yesterday. I love the half yearly sale - its a great way to get good shoes and clothes at reduced prices, all with nordstroms service. Plus, nordstroms has a fantastic collection of shoes. But, this year it left something to be desired.
I went to the store last night with a specific goal in mind. I'm over pointy toed boots. I have big feet and pointed toed things just make big feet look bigger. Specifically, what I wanted was a nice pair of rounded toe (or square toe if cute) black ankle/mid calf boots with a moderate and attractive heel. Something that looks good under pants, and isn't too uncomfortable. I found nothing.
The pickings were slim on the not knee high boots, and man, they were all either pointy toed or really ugly. After finding absolutely nothing in the sale section, I ventured into the rest of the shoe department, but my luck was little better. I did find one acceptable pair, but I'm tough on shoes. I tend to get the heel caught in sidewalk cracks so I'm much better off with a stacked heel than with a leather covered heel. The one pair I found that I didn't love, but might well buy, have a leather covered heel. Why is shoe shopping so difficult.
(oh and I am totally against flat boots - they make me look short and fat and I'm not ok with that).
I went to the store last night with a specific goal in mind. I'm over pointy toed boots. I have big feet and pointed toed things just make big feet look bigger. Specifically, what I wanted was a nice pair of rounded toe (or square toe if cute) black ankle/mid calf boots with a moderate and attractive heel. Something that looks good under pants, and isn't too uncomfortable. I found nothing.
The pickings were slim on the not knee high boots, and man, they were all either pointy toed or really ugly. After finding absolutely nothing in the sale section, I ventured into the rest of the shoe department, but my luck was little better. I did find one acceptable pair, but I'm tough on shoes. I tend to get the heel caught in sidewalk cracks so I'm much better off with a stacked heel than with a leather covered heel. The one pair I found that I didn't love, but might well buy, have a leather covered heel. Why is shoe shopping so difficult.
(oh and I am totally against flat boots - they make me look short and fat and I'm not ok with that).
Sunday, November 04, 2007
3 for Friday
Friday night was eventful...and I have three unrelated things to report so here we go:
L fucking L
On Friday night we were supposed to go to this new wine bar. When we got to the wine bar, we discovered that there was a two hour wait to be seated. There was no way that anyone I was with would be willing to wait for two hours for food and wine (at 7:30 at night) so we left. We agreed to go to another bar that was "just down the street": Llywellyn's - but I didn't know how to spell it at the time. Now, none of us knew how to get there, but we had a general idea. After driving for a little bit and being completely unable to find it, I decided to call 411. The conversation went something like this:
411 woman: What city and state please?
Me: Webster Groves, Missouri
411: What city and state?
Me: WEBSTER GROVES, MISSOURI
411: I'm sorry, what city and state?
Me: WEBSTER GROVES, MISSOURI!!
411: Alright, thanks, how can I help you?
Me: Yeah, I'd like the address for a restaurant called Llywellyn's. Its L L something...
411: What kind of a restaurant is it?
Me: Um, a bar restaurant?
Car load of Girls: ITS A BAR!!
Me: Um, its a Welsh pub.
411: How do you spell that?
Me: UM... L L...um
Car load of girls: L fucking L!!
Me: L L E...um, I don't know
Car load of girls: L fucking L! How many restaurants start with L fucking L?
411: Can you tell me what street it is on?
Me: No,if I knew what street it is on, I wouldn't be calling you.
411: um...Right
Me: I'm sorry, you're not really helping me. I'm gonna hang up now.
Random Meeting
I haven't seen my ex, the last guy I was in love with, for over two years. I haven't spoken to him or called him or emailed him. The closest I've come to having contact with him was having one of my co-clerks tell me she had judged a law school competition with him and thought he was cute and that I should date him (she had NO idea that we had a history) and my other co-clerk dealing with him on an appointed case and her finding out that he was engaged. I almost never think of him.
On friday, I walked into the bar and suddenly there he was, coming over to say "hi." It was awkward and weird. I'm glad he came over cause ignoring each other would have been terrible, but it just made me feel off all night long. So strange too. When I asked him what was new with him, he didn't tell me he was married, even though he was clearly there with his new wife. The one thing this drove home to me was that it is really time to remove his name from my cell phone. I hadn't even realized he was still the phone book until I was scrolling through later that night...Its time to let go of that one.
A diagnosis
Finally, I have some explanation for what is going on with my arm, and it came from an odd source. This weekend one of my roommates best friends visited us from Chicago. I hadn't previously realized it, but it turns out she is an occupational therapist with a specialization in hands, wrists, and elbows. When she heard my problem as we sat in that bar on Friday night, she couldn't help but ask, "do you mind if i take a look at it?" I couldn't have minded less and was excited to hear what she had to say.
Finally, someone explained in terms that I could understand what is holding me back. It seems that my doctor telling me that "you're really tight" actually has a logical meaning. The thing that connects my bones together in my arm is super tight, tighter than it is supposed to be, and that's a big part of what is keeping me from getting my supination back. Apparently, the bones need some room to move in order to be able to turn properly. Talking to Rose made me feel so much better about the future of my elbow.
L fucking L
On Friday night we were supposed to go to this new wine bar. When we got to the wine bar, we discovered that there was a two hour wait to be seated. There was no way that anyone I was with would be willing to wait for two hours for food and wine (at 7:30 at night) so we left. We agreed to go to another bar that was "just down the street": Llywellyn's - but I didn't know how to spell it at the time. Now, none of us knew how to get there, but we had a general idea. After driving for a little bit and being completely unable to find it, I decided to call 411. The conversation went something like this:
411 woman: What city and state please?
Me: Webster Groves, Missouri
411: What city and state?
Me: WEBSTER GROVES, MISSOURI
411: I'm sorry, what city and state?
Me: WEBSTER GROVES, MISSOURI!!
411: Alright, thanks, how can I help you?
Me: Yeah, I'd like the address for a restaurant called Llywellyn's. Its L L something...
411: What kind of a restaurant is it?
Me: Um, a bar restaurant?
Car load of Girls: ITS A BAR!!
Me: Um, its a Welsh pub.
411: How do you spell that?
Me: UM... L L...um
Car load of girls: L fucking L!!
Me: L L E...um, I don't know
Car load of girls: L fucking L! How many restaurants start with L fucking L?
411: Can you tell me what street it is on?
Me: No,if I knew what street it is on, I wouldn't be calling you.
411: um...Right
Me: I'm sorry, you're not really helping me. I'm gonna hang up now.
Random Meeting
I haven't seen my ex, the last guy I was in love with, for over two years. I haven't spoken to him or called him or emailed him. The closest I've come to having contact with him was having one of my co-clerks tell me she had judged a law school competition with him and thought he was cute and that I should date him (she had NO idea that we had a history) and my other co-clerk dealing with him on an appointed case and her finding out that he was engaged. I almost never think of him.
On friday, I walked into the bar and suddenly there he was, coming over to say "hi." It was awkward and weird. I'm glad he came over cause ignoring each other would have been terrible, but it just made me feel off all night long. So strange too. When I asked him what was new with him, he didn't tell me he was married, even though he was clearly there with his new wife. The one thing this drove home to me was that it is really time to remove his name from my cell phone. I hadn't even realized he was still the phone book until I was scrolling through later that night...Its time to let go of that one.
A diagnosis
Finally, I have some explanation for what is going on with my arm, and it came from an odd source. This weekend one of my roommates best friends visited us from Chicago. I hadn't previously realized it, but it turns out she is an occupational therapist with a specialization in hands, wrists, and elbows. When she heard my problem as we sat in that bar on Friday night, she couldn't help but ask, "do you mind if i take a look at it?" I couldn't have minded less and was excited to hear what she had to say.
Finally, someone explained in terms that I could understand what is holding me back. It seems that my doctor telling me that "you're really tight" actually has a logical meaning. The thing that connects my bones together in my arm is super tight, tighter than it is supposed to be, and that's a big part of what is keeping me from getting my supination back. Apparently, the bones need some room to move in order to be able to turn properly. Talking to Rose made me feel so much better about the future of my elbow.
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