catheroominations

On most weekends, I like to have at least one down day. My idea of a down day includes a leisurely wake-up, some tea and cereal and then spend the day doing a whole lotta nuthin’. At the least, I like to be home early on Sundays to just chill before getting ready for the work week. I used to have down days a lot (when I was single I often had too much of the down days), but ever since we bought this house, there is always something to do. Back in the days of renting someone else’s space, sometimes both Saturday and Sunday had the possibility of being down days. Oh, to be a sloth again! But ever since I started training with Team In Training this season, at least one day of my weekend involves running, and that running usually happens at the wee hours of the morning. That leaves one day open for nothingness. But Sundays have become catch-up day since on Saturdays I’m milking the fact that “I just ran 12 miles, so please wait on me. I’m going to sit here on my butt all day now.”

This weekend, there will be no down day. There will likely be no down hour even. Not that I am complaining. I’m fortunate to have friends to hang out with and keep me busy. Even still, it’s going to be a busy two days. Check out my weekend schedule:

Saturday

5:00 am Wake up, eat breakfast and get dressed for my run
6:00 am Leave the house
7:00 am Run double-digit miles
10:30 am Ice bath at home
11:00 am Shower and get back in the car for a 45-minute drive
12:30 pm My good friend Jason’s 40th birthday BBQ
2 pm Drive home from BBQ
3 pm Bow chicka bow wow. Or something.
6 pm Get ready for TNT fundraising party
6:30 pm Leave for TNT fundraising party
10:00 pm TNT fundraising party ends
10:30 pm Home and asleep early on a Saturday night

The next day is a bit more manageable. But still, not a down day.

Sunday

Sleep as late as possible before getting ready to meet Matte’s cousin for breakfast/brunch.
After brunch, my friend from North Carolina is coming to see our new house.
3 pm BBQ at a friend’s house in honor of NC friend’s visit (which was originally planned for my house, but my friend graciously offered her house instead. Thank God.)
7 pm Home to do laundry for the coming week, and wonder where my weekend went

Could someone find me a holiday to celebrate on Monday so I can add a down day to my weekend? I’m part Lithuanian, so if you could find a national holiday in Lithuania, I might be able to get away with that. Actually. Wait. Monday, August 11 marks the 3rd anniversary of my first date with Matte. So that should entitle me to a day off. In fact, production at work should just shut down in observation of that momentous occasion. I think I’ll look into that.

What about you? Are you the type who likes to go-go-go? Burn the candle at both ends, like my mom likes to say? Or do you need some lazytime on your weekend?

Jeez. I buy a house and then travel for work and forget all about my little blog over here. Please do not report this neglect to the authorities. I promise to be more attentive from now on.

Because you’ve been so patiently waiting for me to post something, I’ll be sure to wow you to insane proportions. Or not.

Five Things…

I love

1. Matte. Matte. Matte. Not the foundation. Not the paint. Not the photo paper. The husband. He is the cat’s pajamas.
2. Running with Team In Training. I ran tonight for 3 miles, in over 90-degree weather. Because I love running. I hate running in sweltering heat, but not as much as I love running.
3. 3-day weekends
4. Blue skies free of smoke. They were here for a couple of days, but then they left and so did the foothills.
5. Our house. It’s not completely unpacked yet, but it’s ours, and I love it.

I hate

1. Excel spreadsheets emailed to me without being formatted for printing.
2. People who flake, especially contractors.
3. Ants. In my house. Covering the food in the cats’ bowls. Disgusting.
4. Dolly Parton singing on the Target ads while toilet paper flashes on the screen.
5. The large callus on my big toe. From running.

I should be better about

1. Taking and processing photos
2. Remembering to do things
3. Keeping in touch with people
4. Getting to work earlier
5. Adopting and keeping healthy eating habits
6. BONUS: blogging

…sometimes it’s because you just bought a lemon tree.

… and maybe with this lemon tree, you have visions of fresh-squeezed lemonade, lemon sorbet, chicken piccata, lemon vinaigrette, lemon meringue pie, margaritas, hefeweizen, lemon bars, garnishes for cosmopolitans before you go see Sex and the City on the silver screen.
keep reading When life hands you lemons…

It took me awhile, but I finally got around to this.

Dear Body,

I don’t appreciate you. Except when I really need you. And that’s not even appreciation. It’s taking you for granted. Also, I never actually thanked you for all you did for me in my first half marathon. I pushed you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. And you persevered for 13.1 miles. Sure I gave you walking breaks, but even those were hard on the feet. So thank you from the bottom of our heart, for sticking with me for 3+ hours. I know I hurt you that day. You reminded me for the next two, every time I tried to rise from my chair. But I hydrated you and gave you rest and ice, and we both recovered. Just a warning: we’re going to be doing that again this summer. So get ready.

Now. I need to get some things off our chest. Speaking of that, the boobage area is rather un-big for my liking. There’s nothing I can do about that, aside from having a doctor slice it open and put silicone-filled balloons in there. But I’d rather spend the money on a vacation, or a Nikon camera, or put it in the house fund. Plus, it’s not entirely your fault, but that of genetics. Thanks small-boobed ancestors. I’ll be writing to you later.

keep reading Letter to my body

This afternoon at work, as I walked by the coffee pots, I smelled something. Something different and not at all office-like. It wasn’t the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. Or that of a steaming hot mug of Earl Grey tea, or hot chocolate with a dozen miniscule marshmallows bobbing about. I can’t completely describe what the smell was, only that it was familiar. And unpleasant.

Yes. The smell. That smell. Of stale coffee, microwaved Cup-O-Noodles and anti-bacterial hand soap combined with the stench of uneaten hospital food, freezer-burned ice cubes for making ice chips, and pink plastic pitchers. And suddenly I was there. At the oncology floor of Stanford University Hospital in 2002. In an instant I was transported to the kitchen, where caregivers would come to grab a popsicle for their father, mother, sibling or their not-really-a-boyfriend-but-I’m-sticking-by-him-through-this-because-I-love-him. Where caregivers could escape the rhythmic inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale sounds of the pump as it dripped a toxic but necessary concoction into their loved one’s veins. Sometimes I would come into this haven and want to cry. But I never did. Someone might see me and my reputation as “a rock” would be shattered. And we couldn’t have that, could we?

Depending on that day’s menu, I’d often inspect the neglected food trays to see if anyone left their Oreo brownie. (Nearly every day, I’d have nothing to eat but a Nuts Over Chocolate Luna Bar and a grande nonfat latte.) Most of the time I came up empty in my quest for the bland chocolate squares. But the Jello cup was still there. (How is it that hospitals can even make Jello taste worse?) And maybe there would be some mashed potatoes, or a wilted salad left on the plate. No thank you. I avoided the anti-microbial and liquid diet entrees. Nothing exciting on those trays. On the rare occasion that I did find an Oreo brownie or two, I horded them like a Chipmunk storing nuts for the winter. I never ate them though.

Since I had the 6 pm to 7 am shift, my caregiver uniform was a pair of pajamas. The pants were covered in a tiny leopard print and the black tank top had a cat appliqué made of the same print. I shuffled across miles of that plain white linoleum tile in my puffy leopard Dearfoam slippers. Rawr. Caregiver disguised as fierce feline. Oh, and that fashionable pilly gray fleece I wore. Why are hospitals so cold? How many times I asked that.

Some nights, if he was allowed, I would bring him food from the Outback. A baked potato couldn’t hurt, but stay away from the skin. Most of these fancy Outback dinners, barely picked at, wound up in the fridge on our very own shelf. Inevitably the square Styrofoam boxes wound up in a pile in the garbage can because of his vanishing appetite. But popcorn was always welcome. And it went nicely with American Idol. Some nights were 2 baggers.

For a second today I remembered the feel of the stiff white sheets on my makeshift bed (which was no more than a pink vinyl chair that collapsed flat). I felt the coldness against my shoulders. The unforgiving “mattress” that made slumber nearly impossible was more like a box spring. Those sleepless nights are long gone.

Those days were a lifetime ago. And I have worked to lock these memories in a part of my mind where I am safe from them. But today I was back there. Back in those dark days, all because of my keen sense of smell.

This post is random and haphazard.

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Take a look at my “sideblog” over there —> (on the side, get it?). Feed reader peeps will need to come over to the actual blog to see it. I’ll be putting bits of tiny randomness (rumblings, if you will) there from time to time.

Also, if you leave your feed readers and come on over, you’ll see I updated the photos in my header to brighten up the place a bit.

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You have just over a week to get your answers to me on the logo alphabet quiz. We have someone seriously in the running for First Prize, so get those mental juices flowing! If you’ve already emailed in your guesses, you can send more in as you think of them. I’ll combine all your answers on April 1.

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I don’t usually blog about my dreams, but this one was pretty interesting (and I actually remembered it when I woke up.)

I was dating Jack Nicholson. I was spending a lot of time with him and almost missed dinner with my friend Paula because of it. (I am, in fact, having dinner with Paula tonight, so it was eerily real when I was dreaming this.) As I was driving to meet her, I called to say I’d be late and “Oh My Gawd! I have to tell you about who I’m dating! You’ll never believe it!” As news got out, I found that my friends were not too happy about this new man in my life. Several tried to sabotage my new romance. One of my guy friends did some major research and snooping and found a photo of Kevin Spacey at Jack’s house. Kevin was wearing boxer briefs and a bow tie and he was holding a cocktail of some sort. He appeared to be dancing. Kev’s photo was inserted in a card sent to a guest at the drinking night at Jack’s. The note inside the card went on and on about how much fun they had “that weekend” and “isn’t Jack the greatest? I love him.” My guy friend heard from this carouser that Kevin and Jack were secretly a couple. I didn’t believe my friend at all. I said “but he was with Lara Flynn Boyle!” And my friend said “Yeah. So? Do you really think he was hittin’ that?” I had to admit he had a point. Also, after a few of months of dating, Mr. Nicholson had still not tried to “hit” me. I thought he was being respectful and gentlemanly. He did want me around all the time, and he bought me lovely things (a new camera!) but, as it turned out I was not his type exactly. And yes, he was wearing those sunglasses through the entire dream.

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If anyone can tell me when F/X is putting new eppies of Rescue Me and Damages on the air, I will be ever so grateful.

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And lastly, did you hear about Charlie Rose’s shiner? This man has priorities, is all I’m sayin’. Read about it here.

I came across this today while signing up for…erm…Weight Watchers. I’m going to be old this year and hell if I’m starting my oldest year yet being a unable to fit into the majority of the clothes in my closet.

But really, is this necessary? Really?

I could use y’all’s support on my journey, so pardon me if this blog becomes a semi-journal of eating habits. Don’t worry, I’ll try to throw in a few cat stories here and there to make it extra entertaining!

Also, Team In Training has suggested that I mentor some runners next season, and how can I do that when I have to lug around all this junk in my trunk? I’m supposed to motivate people! But I guess it would be motivating to be able to run faster than one’s mentor. So maybe I should keep this extra cushion around me.

Nah. I’d rather be hawt, and kick my mentees’ butts all over the place.