Lemons may cause reflection!

When life hand you lemons (lets just assume you are also handed the sugar and vodka), make lemonade.

Today is really about a time for a bit of reflection....

First, it is my husband's 32nd birthday - Which, as with most normal adults, began with a stint at work! The last two birthday's for him have been amazing - a surprise 30th complete with out of state guests, getting up at the crack of dawn to white water raft, and a cook out with ice cream cake and a going away 31st with all of our super close friends at Dave and Buster's just days before moving out of state. This birthday was a bit bittersweet, besides aging another year (which he hates),it was his first birthday without his mother (she passed away in January), so it was a bit low key with dinner at our local Thai place and a run for cupcake supplies to make for our neighborhood block party. 

- Find joy in the little things, never forget those who have gone before you and those who have lost long before you, and remember sometimes your presence is all that is needed.

Second, one of my favorite people and friends, went in for a very important medical procedure and, of course, did it with amazing grace and humor. She is the most humbling person I know: she will tell you what you need to hear and not what you want to hear; she works harder than anyone I know; she is worldly and never uses that as a bragging point; she is there when you need her to be and even just when you want her to be; and she has a beautiful family with whom her attributes thrive. I strive to be more like her; funny, well-versed yet humble, kind, and truly soulful. She is often in my thoughts, and obviously more so in the coming weeks. 

- Find inspiration in those around you, keep your friends with you - no matter how far away they may be, and strive to keep those in your life who are important and positive influences. 

Finally, the night ended in chaos due to an arrival of a friends friend's kiddo paired with the sudden onset of the original friend's health scare. Of course, the one night I leave my cell at home (this never happens) my texts are from said friend. A mad dash to the airport, a sharing of friend's car and his friend's kiddo, and several hours in the ER (still no word) concludes with me writing my thoughts tonight. 

- Support those you can - in any way you can, know that everything is nothing more than controlled chaos, and that you should never visit the ER after midnight or on any weekend night!

In closing, when life hands you lemons (and sugar and vodka), mix it up, drink it up, and carry on - this is your life - You choose to make the lemonade or bitch about the lemons and let them rot... I have decided making lemonade is a hell of a lot better. 

Paying to be tortured

Torture is in, at least that's what many believe if you are into Fifty Shades of Grey, however I have yet to explain to myself why I pay for the ultimate form of torture (Didn't the fabulous Anastasia get "paid" for forms of abuse?!?) - running and not just any running; the running where you have to cross water, crawl through mud, and leap fire. Who in the hell came up with this concept?!? because I am sure as hell not running to finish in any timely fashion and surely not running to win a medal - my only goals include not having a heart attack and crossing the finish line under my own power (not on a stretcher); everything else is just icing on the cake. Couldn't I accomplish the same set of goals stranding myself in the woods somewhere with an IPod thumping some kickass screamo and running for approximately three miles?
I have determined that people who talk about their "runner's high" are actually just delirious - it is the same type of delirium as when you are stranded at sea with no fresh water for 7 days. I have never found my "runner's high"; I have only found that I become more creative with my profanity the further I run and the more tired I get - perhaps this is my version of a "runner's high"?
Nevertheless, I have once again signed up to run this race in about 8 weeks and amazingly it keeps me coming back. I am not sure if it is the amazing T-shirt (aren't these sold on the website?), the factor I get to play in the mud (couldn't I just make a mud pie in my own backyard?), the free beer (which I don't actually drink), or the factor that I actually cross the finish line, but I will be leaping fire with the help of some of my friends once again this year just after turning 30.
No matter what, there is something that will keep you coming back - find your "something" and go for it. As once said, "Don't let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game." This is our game and sometimes we don't get off the bench because we aren't pretty enough, thin enough, brave enough, extroverted enough, young enough, athletic enough, smart enough... We are enough - make it happen. 

Glasses make a woman sexy!

This is my confession- I love glasses like I love shoes - LOTS! However, I must also confess with both of these I am guilty of not wearing certain pairs because it is a hassle to locate them... I turned to the internet and Pinterest looking for an amazing answer to these problems, and the shoe response was overwhelming: pool noodles, tension rods, modified hangers, tubed cubbies, a closet from Heaven, and even a shoe wheel! The results for eyeglasses storage was a little underwhelming: frame with wire, plate, and a hanger... These seemed a little disappointing to me, and I gave myself a mission - to create a cute (easily displayed), convenient (easily located), and safe (no scratches) way to store my glasses, so I would utilize them more! (Especially considering I just ordered 6 more pairs.)
I accomplished my mission with a little inspiration from Pinterest and a bit of practicality. I started with the following materials: Hobby Lobby Frame - $6 (on clearance), Picture Wire - $.33ft, Swing Chain from Home Depot - $.50ft, Blue Lagoon Spray Paint - $4, Clear Coat Gloss Spray Paint - $4, Tape - $Free, and a box for safe spray painting - $Free. (I will note I am making a second frame and the spray paint will more than do both and would have done the frames if I had desired.)

All this required was spray painting and clear coating the swing chain and picture wire a color that would stand out against such a great backdrop (this took the longest time). Then, I laid out my chain, poked holes through the canvas and thin backer (NOT the backing for the frame) to run the picture wire through. I clipped the picture wire into roughly 4 inch sections, so I had enough leftover to tape to the canvas backer. Then, I ran the wire through the holes to hold my swing chain in place, twisted once, and taped the leftover to the back. I repeated this for the second chain. Replaced the backer to the frame and Voila! cute, convenient, and safe display for my glasses that will lay flat against the wall. Hope you find a little inspiration yourself! 

In honor of Father's Day...

For a father who raised me with the help of a Grandmother and, eventually, a step mother.... I love you all... 

A Reflection on Childhood

You can pick up any newspaper, read any online article, or peruse through your local bookstore to find “expert” information about how to raise children, including all the things to avoid. (Though I was always told children didn’t come with a manual!) When did we become such an infantile, spoiled and self entitled society? I fear that the generations, beginning with the baby boomers, have consistently expected more and more without the effort of work, and regrettably, have instilled this mentality into the future generations whereas this mentality has only multiplied.  Regrettably, this is a lump sum of generics and I do not feel that everyone falls into this category, only the vast majority. It is in this ideal that I reflect on my childhood and all that I “survived”; wishing for a shift in the state of people today.

-          I slept in a crib, which converted to a bed, which had drop sides, a flat mattress, sliding drawers, and shelf for knick-knacks – I made it.

-          I lived on a second floor apartment with a metal balcony – I made it.

-          There were guns in my house (we knew better) – I made it.

-          I grew up in a two bedroom apartment with one TV, family dinners, and no Xbox – I made it.

-          I was expected to clean my plate of exactly what was cooked for everyone for dinner, whether I liked it or not – I made it.

-          I didn’t have a computer – I made it (and even handwrote my first high school papers)

-          I didn’t have a cell phone or texting, there was one home phone and it was in the kitchen; Hell of a way to keep us honest – I made it.

-          I didn’t get an allowance and I was still required to do chores (no bribery) – I made it.

-          I was expected to behave in public at all times without the aid of electronic devices, whether I was at dinner, the flea market, the hospital, on a plane, wherever – I made it.

-          I drank straight from the hose (and the spigot outside of the building) and not one “specially formulated” for drinking from – I made it.

-          I was expected to respect all adults, if I talked back to any of them there would be hell to pay – I made it.

-          I stayed outside with friends until a whistle from up the street called us in for dinner (and you best make in there in the time it took you to get there at a dead sprint) – I made it.

-          I used my imagination; made indoor railroads in the basement with 2x4’s and rode my bike over them, created obstacle courses in the backyard, played Barbies, built forts, and the list goes on – I made it.

-          I ate glue, glitter, crayon shavings, and dirt – I made it.

-          I had bottles, cups, bowls, and utensils that weren’t BPA free – I made it.

-          I rode in the back of a pickup truck, in the winter, with a Christmas tree – I made it.

-          I had 3 cookies and a cup of milk as an afterschool snack every day, no more, no less – I made it.

-          I ate basic cereal for breakfast, sugary ones were only a treat every few months and there were no such things as pop tarts or pizza for breakfast– I made it.

-          I went shopping with my family, we knew better than to beg for junk food, act up in the store, run down aisles, or cause commotion in general – I made it.

-          I rarely went out to eat, but when we did I was expected to behave, otherwise I would have been removed from the restaurant – I made it.

-          I did my homework and asked when I need help; I didn’t blame my teachers, baseball practice, friends, the dog, or parents for not having it – I made it.

-          I was encouraged to be active in school (drama, chorus, musical theatre) and come before school or stay after school to work with my teachers if I was struggling with something – I made it.

-          I was expected to do well in school, there was no excuse because you can work through anything (my brother was dyslexic and still made it) – I made it.

-          I paid for my actions with consequences inside and outside of school – I made it.

-          My clothes came from where we could afford them – I made it.

-          I got a job at 16 for minimum wage and didn’t complain about it, if I needed gas, I paid for it – I made it.

-          If my behavior was severe enough, I was smacked (never beaten) – I made it and learned a lesson.

It often scares me to see many of the youth of today and their parents, the relationship dynamic has changed. I hope for a shift in the way this society is presently raising children or we are in for a surprise as we continue to fall in the rankings of etiquette, education, and morals. I am happy to say that I was raised in a way that taught me to be a well rounded, educated, and respectful adult – attributes that are often missing in children today. So, here’s to saying “screw the experts” and going back to what works; a generation of depression era parents who only knew what they had and not the things they couldn’t get, a generation who were parents first, and a generation whose family name meant more than the label on their clothing

Botox for $100, Alex!

The dreaded number. The time when black balloons and the over the hill jokes begin. It approaches unrelentingly quickly and there is no turning back - 30 is exactly two months away... Get out the wrinkle cream, calcium chews, military grade moisturizer, frozen cucumber slices, hair dye and be sure to schedule your Botox shots - break out the girdles and granny panties and put away those stilettos - kiss your youth goodbye...  It's all down hill from here, right?!?
Wrong! I think of thirty as a milestone that I am reaching and not a downtrodden "I will never be twenty-something" again (though many would say I was never actually twenty-something, just an old spirit trapped in a younger generation body).
 I made it through the horrible early teen years where acne and hormones prevail, awkwardness takes place of child like grace, body issues develop, family connections are severed (sometimes beyond recognition), and lust is synonymous with love. I made it through my late teens and early twenties where college student budgets cause ramen noodle binges, concert tickets were more important than paying your bills, your apartment is livable because it's what you can afford, debt accumulates, sleeping 4 hours a night is acceptable, and working three jobs while going to school full time is normal. I made it through my late twenties (almost) where life keeps throwing curve balls (generally in the direction of my head) my way, where an unsettling idea of being young has met being responsible, a passion for travel and knowledge abound, and the consistently inconsistent journey being taken with a life long friend and love.
I honestly cannot wait to see where life's journey takes me. Hasn't research just proven that a woman reaches her sexual maturity in her 30's and that forty is the new twenty? Haven't we just discovered everyone is a freak in seclusion with the popularity of the  Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy?!? (Amazing book if you haven't cracked its cover, do so!) This is a time to celebrate turning thirty, and I am planning on it. In exactly two months, I hope that you will join me in the celebration, wherever you are and in whatever you are doing - make it count!  <3

Baseline Data Is Always Important For Research

Today I wanted to get a “baseline” for how much work I have to do to get in some semblance of better shape… I brilliantly decided (and talked my ex-military brother into coming along) that running the stairs at Red Rocks Amphitheater would be the best place to do this. Red Rocks is absolutely astonishing, or so I am told – hell, I’ve seen The Zac Brown Band perform there on Youtube, it can’t be that bad, right?!?! I happily prepared all of my wares: Camelback full of water, gum, a snack, sunglasses, and my usual workout clothes; running capris, a baggy shirt, a well fitted (by this I mean squashing) sports bra, Adidas trail runners, and my IPod. Of course this morning upon waking the smoke from the High Park Fire (40,000 acres and counting) had smothered Denver – FABULOUS! Even my non-athletic husband said something about postponing my running, which I blew off, naturally. Luckily driving west the smoke seemed to lessen (Score: Me – 1, Nature – 0) and we arrived at Red Rocks. It was an easy drive up to the total elevation of 6400 feet and I understood all of the hype – it was beautiful, the scenery alone would be worth the run, it had to be! As soon as I walked into the gaping amphitheater, my first thought was “What in the hell was I thinking?!?!?,” along with a few other choice words. I slowly brought myself to face the fact that it was gigantic and daunting AND this is where the pretty people come to run: beautiful women with manicured nails, long pony tails, dressed in sports bras showing off their toned tummies and gorgeous men in nothing but running shorts with their IPods strapped to their arms. (Score: Me – 1, Nature – approaching equal with the High Park Fire stats) So, fight or flight?! I decided to run… up those stairs as if my life depended on it and get my baseline – 1min17secs from bottom to top – honestly not too bad for someone who felt like throwing up as soon as I reached the top. I can honestly say that after 1 hour of being there I surely don’t feel any better about me and my journey towards a half tri, though I am very proud I stuck it out and continued to run, jog, or walk as much of the theater and steps that I could – Every journey begins with the first step, right?!?! (Score: Me - 2, Nature - still near the High Park stats ---- Ahh, screw her, I ran up those steps)

Introductions!

In all of my life, I have never truly “fit in”, and I have learned to pride myself on that. Presently, it’s my body size that doesn’t fit in. I am not a whale; I don’t get mooed at walking down the street, however I am not average (or below) so I don’t get looked at either. This is not a new phenomenon for me, as I have been rather up and down throughout my life –always hovering between average and non-whale status (approximately where I am now). What is new for me is that I will be 30 in just over 2 months… Amazingly, it is not the aging that concerns me; it is the drive to want to do more challenging activities. In the dispelling of the rumors, I am active; I have completed Muddy Buddy, Warrior Dash, several 5K’s, and a 10K all within the past 2 years. I run regularly, walk my dogs, and snowboard in the winter. Amazing, right?!?!  Not all fat people sit at home.
This road has been a long pot holed one filled with detours, sickness, injuries, and disasters,but here I am starting anew. You know the old saying, “It’s not the number of times that you fall; it’s how many times you pick yourself back up again.”

I have never been one of the tiny pretty things, and that is not an aspiration I am working towards. I am working towards happy and healthy with the ability to complete a half triathlon (I’ll aim higher later – remember, make your goals attainable!)  

I hope you will join me on this crazy ride of turning, and surpassing, thirty and all the “nitty gritty” in between!