Tremendous Blondette

No one really wants to read another blog about me and my lapsed fitness. But, too bad.

I realized today as I put on my fat skirt, truly seeing myself in the mirror, that I never figured out how to be fit in my current lifestyle. I think back to the shape of my days when I was in my prime–get up, drink coffee and check the internet, purge, work out, eat lunch (Subway, a smoothie and honey wheat pretzels, or a salad) while watching daytime tv or playing on the internet while listening to music, shower, get dressed and go to work.

So, my days are bit different now. I get up between 5 and 6am, shower, maybe do my hair and makeup–depends what time it is and how early my first meeting is, and head to work–where I will remain until 6, 7, 8, or 9pm. If I do leave between 5:30 and 6:30, it’s usually because I’m going to work from home.

I ask, where is the time for the gym? Why haven’t I made it a priority after all the blog posts, resolutions, and realizations? Is it really that hard to leave work at 5:30 and go to the gym? Nope. Really. It’s not. So why don’t I?

This is the question I am pondering today.

I do some of my best work in the wee hours of the morning. I’m no longer tired. The time is wavering between 2 and 3am, I’ve watched several late night talk shows, Scrubs, and now all that’s left are infomericals and world news. And I’m still working on this research and analysis. At one point I got very tired and wasn’t sure I’d finish. I also took a break between dinner and starting on this write up. The whole thing evolved as I began. I’m now working on algebraic equations and statistics. I love math.

Not the most exciting blog post ever, but it may explain any odd behavior on Wed, Sept 24th.

Okay, it’s just about 3:30am and I need to be up by 6:30am so I better tottle to bed!

Naps are a beautiful thing-just ask Tammi or one of my 3 cats.

*Not pictured: Tammi

Just like anything else pleasurable in life, there are rules that must be followed to ensure safety is maintained. To make sure everyone understands proper napping etiquette, I’ve created a handy guide to the rules of napping. I guarantee (sorry, no refunds) if you operate under these rules, you will enjoy many hours of unconscious bliss.

The Rules:

1. Pets: Pets can greatly enhance your napping experience or greatly hinder your solitude. If at all possible, take 10 or 15 minutes pre-nap to vigorously play with pets. (I prefer the feather on a sting attached to wand type toys as I have to do little work to get maximum cat exertion. Laser pointers also work well.) This will help make sure your pet is also ready for a lie-down.

   They may also join you once you’ve settled on your napping surface. If said animal is prone to attacking feet or other body parts, consider feeding animal to deter them, playing with them for several minutes, or locking them in another room. If none of these options are successful, consider screaming in pain and terror. Your shrieking is likely to confuse or scare the attacking pet.

   Sometimes pets are ready to snuggle. Once you’ve removed their butt from your face (what? your pets don’t sit butt first on your face? hmm) move slowly and gently into your desired position, being aware of the pet on or beside you. Generally if you follow these rules of movement, the pet will reposition itself with little issue.

2. Blankets: Blankets are an essential item for napping. Even if you do not start off needing one, pretend you’re a boy scout and be prepared. At some point during your napping experience, you are likely to get a chill; a throw blanket should be easily accessible.

   Only you know what texture and weight of blanket works best for you. It is recommended that you have several diferrent types of blanket for changing conditions. *

   As with many other satisfying experiences in life, length is important. You, the napper, should be able to comfortably cover your feet and pull the blanket up under your chin for maximum benefit. Frozen toes can ruin a nap.

   *I prefer very soft blanks such as chenille, fleece, or fake fur.

3. Pillow(s): It is advisable to try a different approach to pillows when napping versus going to bed for the night. You may find you enjoy a thinner pillow, or even no pillow while napping. The goal is to be comfortable, but not to completely settle in for the night.
4. Bras: It is advisable to remove bras while napping if the bra contains an underwire. If you are in shared company (aka not alone) it is best to keep your bra on unless you are tempting a guest. See #7
5. Pants: Pants are optional when napping. If possible, remove them, particularly if it is hot and you have been sweating. Your bits need to breathe. This is not advisable if you are not alone or with people who will not appreciate your pantslessness. Like bra removal, pants removal can also be used to tempt a guest napper. Use with caution.
6. Position/place: couch, chair, bed

We recommend sleeping on your stomach if on a surface that allows extension of the body (couches, beds, floors). If you are napping on your bed, we recommend sleeping with your head at the opposite end (foot) of the bed. If you choose to nap in a chair or at your desk (it’s possible) we recommend complete exhaustion (for believability and really, who can sleep in a chair or at their desk unless they are hungover, on drugs, sick, or just completely sleep deprived?), use of Benedryl or other allergy medications, or . If you are caught, you will need a good excuse for your sudden unconsciousness. We also recommend getting a book on narcolepsy and positioning it within easy view at your desk or on a side table. In dire cases, open a browser tab or window (GET TABBED BROWSING PEOPLE) and open it to a web search for narcolepsy.

7. Guests: Guests can be a very rewarding add-on to a nap. However, sometimes guests are unwanted and repellent techniques must be employed to get rid of unwanted interlopers. (See #1) Repellents can be fake snoring, moaning, hogging of blankets, hogging of space, excessive and/or inappropriate touching, body odor, flatulence, or excessive chattiness.
8. Lights: We recommend leaving some light on for napping unless nap is being used to cure a headache or migrane. If possible, find a nice sunny spot and enjoy the warmth.
9. Noise: The only noise recommended during a nap is that of a television or music. All other noises should be avoided. Take defensive measures if necessary. Television and music must be non-scary or overly loud.
10. Time: Naps should not be started later than 5:30pm in the evening and should end by 7pm. It is best to nap in the late morning or early afternoon (I enjoy 3pm naps) for maximum benefit.
11. Length: Acceptable length of nap depends on the following variables: health of napper, time of day, and day of week. If napper is ill, the rules of napping do not apply. Time of day will constrain napper if and only if nap is not begun by 5:30pm and ended by 7pm. Day of week will limit napper to time of day depending on napper’s schedule (work, school, housework). Take advantage of precious Saturday and Sunday hours to nap, but try to keep the length to 4 hours or less.
12. Frequency: Multiple naps can be taken during the course of one day as long as they fall within the time guidelines set forth in #10. Naps can be taken daily if necessary or desired.
13. Food: It is generally not recommended to eat before a nap that is to last between 45 minutes and 1:5 hours. Shorter and longer lengths tend to give the body the time to digest, but overeating prior to napping can lead to stomach aches, heart burn, and acid reflux upon awakening. Major holidays such as Thanksgiving are excluded from the eating prior to napping rule.
14. Contact: contacting a napping person is rather a tricky business. You must respect the nappers need to cut off from the sound of his or her phone. For this reason, please remember the following:
    • You may call someone who is known to be home napping within 15 minutes of discovery that they intend to nap. After 15 minutes you are being rude and trespassing upon valuable relaxation time. This rule does not apply if napper is bound to obligations and has only a certain window of time in which to nap. If napper has 1 hour or less for nap, the 15 minute rule no longer applies and you’re a jerk if you call them.
    • You may send text messages during naptime. This includes multimedia messages (aka pictures of your cats). These are fun to wake to and nappers feel very important and loved when they wake to several messages.
15. Responding: Responding to calls and texts while napping is not advisable. You must not allow people to tread upon your bliss. If you recieve a call within 15 minutes of napping, you may answer at your own risk. I recommend caller ID. Replying to text messages is okay, but be aware that if you reply people know you are somewhat awake, therefore I recommend only replying if you add a disclaimer that you are still in naptime bliss. You may also simply read the messages and not reply until you have decided you are finished with naptime.

Remember, these are merely basic guidelines for napping. Used properly, these rules will guarantee happy napping for years to come.

Today I felt productive. I’ve ranged from sleepy defiance to joyful productivity. Etudes of purpose and wonder streaked through my core. (I make my life a musical.)

I wandered through Target, not really caring if I looked lost. In fact, when one of the Target employees asked if she could help me find anything, I sweetly replied, “I’m just wandering.” Her quick, quizzical look was replaced by acceptance and she moved on. ( I ended up finding a great deal on Lean Pockets -5 for $9 (I only bought 2) and Campbell’s Chunky Soup — $1.52.)

A song’s been with me since yesterday’s knitting group. In the video, one half of Montgomery Gentry looks likes he’s going to cry every time he’s shown singing. But there’s something natural and easy about the song…

Wake up in the morning
Get to living my life
Making sure that I’m all that I can be
Went to church on Sunday
There was a moment that came
I swear it was like the Lord spoke right to me

So now I’m slowing it down and I’m looking around
And I’m lovin’ this town and I’m doing alright
Aint’ worried ’bout nothing except the man I wanna be
I’m thinking it’s time to be livin’ the rhyme
When I’m singing a song about nothing but right
And it’d sure be nice if you would roll with me

This song is my day.

My living room curtains drape the floor beneath the window. They’ve been knocked down more than once by an overzealous cat and now bare the marks of cat puke and hairball. I very much want to rehang them but wonder, “how long will they last?”

I feel physical, connected in all forms: mental, emotional, and physical. My right calf is still sore from yesterday’s intense pre-dawn cramp. However, I feel fluid, like a dancer. My body wants movement and remembers poses and strength not often practiced. Stretch, lean, pose. Somewhere inside I am lithe and lean, protected by a thick, soft rind of fleshy curves. My world is highly sensual and I hum on the borders of need.

I’ve just finished reading “The Time Traveler’s Wife” and I’m a bit restless with the digestion of a completed story. It’s not a book that makes you giddy or warm. It breaks from reality (the main character is a time traveler and his wife meets him for the first time when she is six and he is 42) but it is very much real. It does not wrap itself up easily into a formula common of fiction. It lives. Perhaps this book is partially at fault for my current state of self-awareness.

Now Sunday wanes into evening and the work week approaches. It will be a 4 day week at the office for me–I’ve taken Friday off for no reason in particular. Poor Sunday night is wonderful and tragic. I enjoy the cozy family feeling but dread the anxiety of living under someone else’s time. The pace is fast, but I’m thankful for the weekend and my chance to slow it down and look around and remember who I am.

la la la la la laaaaaa la la la laa lalalaaaaa la la la la la

“but remember when i moved in you
and the holy dove was moving too
and every breath we drew was hallelujah “*

The morning of my college graduation, I sat in my messy dorm room in preparation of the commencement ceremony. I found myself listening to “Hallelujah” on repeat. (That’s a little Jeff Buckley right there.) It is a song that haunts. Soft and pressing, it’s also like a ball bouncing around in your chest, rebounding on every inner longing until you feel like you are going to pop. [Some of you may remember the Rufus Wainwright version of this song from the movie "Shrek." I hope you are not having visions of green ogres exploding.] While the lyrics aren’t particularly applicable to the event of graduation, the passion and conviction in the execution is dead on. I can’t listen to Hallelujah without the swelling need to hold on to something intangible.

I almost didn’t graduate college on time. As it were, I was on what is often referred to as “the Five Year plan.” Like any good member of the Five Year Plan, I landed myself on academic probation for a while. What I didn’t learn in the classroom (because I didn’t show up or because I fell asleep) didn’t matter. I already knew what it was to excel in academics—school was never hard for me. Been there, done that, ruined a few curves. When I wasn’t in the classroom learning I was learning a lot about other things. Yes, there was a lot of drunken stupidity and irresponsibility, but there was also a lot of friendship gained. Most people experience certain things when they are adolescents; I needed to catch up to my peers.

After paying the price of poor decisions, I had to be disciplined and responsible. My last year of college was long hours, scattered sleep, lots of Taco Bell, a serious case of strep (which may have actually been mono), bronchitis, and conscientious student behavior. I had more than one “must win” situation my final semester of college. Thank goodness I excel under pressure.

I can still see the yellow legal pad that I used to document each task that needed to be accomplished during that last month of school. (We’re talking 20 page papers etc.) I made it through commencement chewing gum (against the rules) and singing “Jingle Bells” (it was May) and whispering to my friend whom I was fortunate to get to sit by.

So, it’s obvious that I’ve lived a life of accomplishment and failure. Sometimes the accomplishments are flat and provide much less excitement than anticipated. It could be that I become numb and cannot believe that I’ve come out the other end.

Congratulations, but Why Are You Telling Me This?

I wasn’t going to write tonight. After working on client projections for several hours with my laptop growing hotter by the second, I felt only the desire for a supine position and a cool breeze. But, the nagging part of me that feels guilt for not doing what is good for me (and something that brings me fulfillment) drew me to my computer. It’s like working out or eating right. It takes a lot of effort when you’re tired and stressed out and all you really want to do is go into a coma or disappear from existence until you’ve forgotten why you were so tired and stressed. Amidst the 50+ drafts longing to be adopted and given a home on the published side of this blog, I knew which I was going to choose for this Tuesday night. Surprisingly, I ended up stopping mid-post to finish another entry.

Robert Frost said “In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: It goes on.” According to Frost, this means that no matter what we achieve, or fail to achieve, life still gives you the chance to keep trying. We cannot stop it except in death or incapacitation.

It’s pretty exiting when you realize you always have choices. Sure they aren’t always pleasant, and can be complicated, but you always have a chance to live your dreams. Your dreams may change- maybe you found the gold at the end of the rainbow, or maybe you decided that you no longer wanted to find the gold? And what of the journey? (No, I am not going to quote more Frost at you.) Don’t discount the beauty of the path that takes you from beginning to end. The path is where you see the daisies, hopping bunnies, and babbling brooks. It’s where you sprain your ankle tripping over rocks and meet the cute doctor who becomes more than your doctor. (I’ll stop there before I end up writing a romance novel.)

It really seems there are two types of goals and dreams: those that involve a set end point and those that are themselves just the beginning of something new. I can dream of getting married, but that is far different from a dream of a happy marriage. I can dream of reaching a goal weight and running a 5k, but that is different than being fit and healthy for the rest of my life.

My main goals (say it with me now!) are to get married, have a family, finally reach my fitness goals, and be a published writer. I doubt these goals will change, but what will I want once I have achieved success in each of these? Granted, marriage and fitness are ongoing, so once they have been achieved initially, one must create new goals for maintaining and deepening what one has already achieved.

What do you dream when you’ve lived your dream? What happens when you succeed in reaching the summit? Do you just give up and say “well, hell I can die content” and drift or do you say, “now I want this” and start a new adventure? Do you rest in contentment, or do you pursue something new?

I think you just have to constantly set new goals for yourself and keep dreaming. But, what is the difference between a goal and a dream? A dream is an ambition, a desire and a goal is an objective.

You can mould a dream into a goal, but a goal is not a dream. They have different spirits. I daydream constantly. Sadly, there’s a paradox that comes with dreaming. Dreaming keeps me sane-providing release, distraction, and hope; but it also forces me to evaluate the true state of things against the ideal state of things. It can feed despair and depression.

Graduating college was a dream and a goal. Once I had achieved it, I had to focus on the next step: finding a job. And not just a job, but a career. And not just a career, but a career that made me happy. And when that career no longer satisfies me, when my dream changes, I must set a new goal.

We never stop dreaming. There is always something else. There is always something we could do differently. Somewhere else we could live. Someone new we could meet. Opportunity and choice is always there.

*If anyone is interested in listening to the song, let me know.

Apparently, my cats don’t think I feed them enough. (morning, when I get home from work, and before bed.) I keep their food in a closed cabinet in my kitchen.

Tonight:

I was cradling my little black cat, Tebe, when I decided to write this. He’s the most relaxed cat I’ve met; that is, when he’s not being crazy. He’s the smallest of the crew, a bit more of a people cat than most, likely attributed to the fact that he was bottle fed as a baby because he was found motherless. What I love about Tebe is that he let’s me hold him, hug him and just breathe him in. He also plays fetch and randomly jumps on me.

In general, I don’t blog about my cats. I mention them, but I’ve never truly sat and written about them. They are singularly the most annoying, dirty, cutest, softest, funniest parts of my life. (wait, did I just describe myself?) Yes, I am a single woman with more than one cat. But, what’s wrong with that? They help keep me balanced and provide affection and companionship that I lack. I’m not a very “touchy” sort of person unless I know it’s okay to be that way with someone. My kitties are a different story. They come to me! Okay, so, maybe a kitten flopping on your face makes it difficult to breathe, but once you scootch them over and get them re-situated, you have a little space heater!

Baby Oliver loves water and ceiling fans. He can’t resist the opportunity to overturn a glass of water (or his water bowl) and one day, he’s going to catch that crazy fan. He sits atop the television in my bedroom and contemplates (very seriously) lunging for the blades. He sits on the bed, staring up at the fan, circling and mewing towards the draft (in fact, he just performed this act.) He also loves his Gracie cat. He follows her wherever she goes, nudging her for affection. Sometimes she obliges and licks his face, but she’s the dominant cat, so she gets away with growling and swatting too. Most of the time it’s a combination of the licking and playing.

And that brings me to my first kitty, Gracie. She’s been with me for 4 years now. (hard to believe!) Within 5 minutes of bringing her home, she ran away and hid in a wall for a week. We thought she’d gotten out of the house and run away for good. I even looked for her in the rain. She’s still the most reserved around people (aka she hides under the bed when company comes over) but she’s also a silly fluff ball who will nap with you and lick your face until you push her away. (and you will because her tongue is rough and it hurts)

So tease me if you will comrades, but I break for cats.

It’s a day of rest and anxiety. Sunday morning is perhaps when I feel most myself. The hours are my own. I wake to my own rhythm. There was a time when my perfect Sunday was spent with the newspaper, coffee, breakfast, and CBS Sunday Morning. I like that I can opt in or out; choosing instead to remain snuggled in bed, or rise and take on the chores of the world. Or to simply move to my couch and stare at the trees whose leaves are now lined with the amber of autumn.

While I enjoy Saturday morning, it is marked by eagerness and restlessness that comes with routine and joyful expectation, aka “plans.” Each Saturday morning, three ladies (ha! if you can call us ladies–well, April counts) take turns hosting a breakfast knitting group. We commence at 9:30am (well, Tammi does) and my current project is a lovely multi-yarn scarf. I would say I’m about half done with the scarf and fairly confident it will be ready to make its debut before the first snow of the season. [Note to self: buy new coat.]

I am the only single girl in the group, which at times makes me sad because I really have nothing to add when conversation turns to the male ones and I feel a bit of a disconnect (and to me connecting with others is as essential as blood), but the way the other girls talk about their men gives me hope and though I cannot relate, I can appreciate. Indeed, it fills my heart to hear April talk of her husband because it leaves no question that soul mates exist. (awwwww) People aren’t perfect, circumstances aren’t perfect, but you can be perfect with someone else. I have no doubt about whether I would appreciate the very small things. This is how I know I can make it.

Today has been a day much needed- my work anxiety has been at a minimum as I’ve managed to focus each moment on the softness of my couch, the aroma of the cinnamon candle, and the story in the book I’m reading. My chores will wait. Yes, Sunday. My day.

My lease renewal options truly suck. My current rent is $615. To some this will seem cheap, but I am frugal.

Option A

• Rent increases to $625 per month.
• Must give 60 day written notice if I vacate prior to end of term (12 months)
• Responsible for cancellation fee equal to one month’s rent ($625)
• Forfeit Security Deposit (what about my pet deposit???)

But get free carpet cleaning!

Option B

• Rent increases to $640 per month.
• Must give 60 day written notice if I vacate prior to end of term (12 months)
• Eligible for Security Deposit refund, less damages

No carpet cleaning

Basically, I spend $30 more a month for no extra services and to maybe keep my security deposit (yeah right)–trust me, they haven’t been doing any upgrades round here (SEE “Fitness Center”–aka, old treadmill, elliptical, and weight machine.) There’s still a skanky bird’s nest (which was cute for a couple days) and bird feces all over the breezeway, cobwebs, dead bugs and debris (“PLEASE COME VISIT!” it screams.)

I like my apartment well enough I suppose. I tend to wish I had a bit larger bedroom, a coat closet, another bedroom or alcove for my desk so I could have both a desk and a dining room table (though I have a dining room table waiting for me at my grandma’s place–I just have to con someone with a truck and a desire to carry bulky items into helping me. If I don’t pick it up soon, they are going to give it to someone else.) I also don’t like the flooring and cabinets in the bathroom and kitchen. I’d prefer hardwood floors too.

I do like my location, my fireplace, the exterior and my neighbors are pretty tame. The geese and ducks aren’t so bad either. (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to take a picture of the ducks standing in a row and tried to send it via picture text to people. It’s a rather embarrassing number. And I don’t think I’ve ever been successful.)

My ideal home has hardwood floors, a gas range, a fireplace (in the bedroom too!), a dining room, a window seat, crown molding and other architectural detail (I like old houses), a window overlooking mature trees, and a decent location.

My place is okay-I’m not home all that much and I have every modern convenience I could need. So why am I ready to move?

“Post #11″ leads the procession of the unfinished blog entries. It wanted to tell everyone how I long to finally learn from my mistakes and find stability and joy.

“The Devil Wears Prada” was to be my comparison of my life with that of the main character of the book with the same title by Lauren Weisberger. I remember reading the book and both hating and empathizing with Andie. I even used the word “parallax.” And of course, I adore Anne Hathaway.

And let me summarize “For Three Days Only”

4 events. No turkey consumed. No stuffing consumed. Yes, it was just another Thanksgiving(s).

You so would have wanted to read that, right? What’s more engaging than a vegan, angst filled holiday?

These are three of approximately 50 posts that sit unfinished, unpublished, and unshared.

Like the Army, I want every post to be all it can be. Each post has tremendous potential for being all the things a good blog post should be: funny, insightful, entertaining, long-winded (oh wait), engaging, and true. Admittedly, I get caught up in trying to achieve perfection with each post and most fall short. I set out with a specific thought in my mind and often times that thought morphs as I begin typing. It might fall flat in one paragraph (or less!), my perspective might change simply by thinking through the idea, or I may not know where I want the post to go. I could also just be lazy.

I have a lot to say but I want it to read in a pretty fashion that follows the rules of writing- with only minor style touches (you have to learn the rules before you can break them.) I cringe when I notice I’ve started most of my sentences with “I” or repeated words, phrases, or syntax.

Posts must evoke emotion and flow. So, I sometimes struggle to post. Rarely do I just sit down, write, and post. Most posts sit for one day to a week–if they don’t get posted within a week, they are likely to end up in the post purgatory known as “saved drafts.”

Even this post has taken a couple days to complete. One section was actually stolen from another abandoned post.

My goal is now to post daily. I’ve a knack for thinking of topics or lovely sentences, but I do seem to have trouble with discipline. I now implore my audience to submit topics– pretend you are a writing teacher. What assignments would you give me?