I fell off the running wagon after my half-marathon in February. I've heard that it's actually quite common to take a break after running a long race that required months of training beforehand. Or maybe I just told myself that so I wouldn't feel bad about hiding my running shoes in the back of the closet. And I'd be lying if I said that I couldn't seem to find the opportunity to get out and hit the pavement. I can do three miles in a half hour, so there's really no excuse to not get in a run a few times a week...but somehow I found plenty of them.
Running is not overly enjoyable for me. I don't like being out of breath, I don't like sweating, and truth be told, I just really don't like exercising in general. For a good portion of my life thus far, I didn't really need to exercise. I moved around just fine, and I was able to regulate my weight by just eating less. But as I get older, it's not just about weight anymore. My job requires a certain level of fitness. I feel better and I look better at a certain level of fitness. I can do more physical things with less pain and suffering at a certain level of fitness. It sounds like a no-brainer. But dangit, if it wasn't for the sweating and the breathing and everything else, I wouldn't have a problem with exercising. It wasn't so long ago that my friend's daughter asked me to push her on their tree swing, and I'll be damned if I didn't get out of breath while doing it, and also had a sore back afterwards. That right there was a bit of a wake-up call that I needed to take better care of myself. Because at 30 years old, being sore and out of breath after pushing a 50 pound kid on a swing is just not acceptable, and it's only going to get worse as I get older.
So why running? I've dabbled in lots of different kinds of exercise throughout the years...Tae Bo, treadmills, spin classes, aerobics, exercise bikes, yoga, weight-lifting classes...some or all of those required a gym membership, or frequent access to an exercise facility. Unfortunately my line of work and my lifestyle doesn't always make it easy to find either of those things. Some gyms don't do short-term contracts, or they charge exorbitant monthly fees for short contracts. Sometimes the most accessible gyms were 10+ miles away. Sometimes the gyms nearest me didn't have classes or facilities that resonated with me. Running is something that I can do anywhere, and all I need is a good pair of shoes and great sports bra. A shirt and shorts are nice to have too. There's no excuse not to run if I have access to the clothes and a road. And that's how I have to do most things in life...I sold my house when I started travel nursing so I wouldn't have an excuse to come back home when I hit a rough patch. I try to keep healthy snacks in the house so I don't have an excuse to sit and tear through an entire bag of chips. When the going gets tough, I have to decrease the options to one and just go with it. It works most of the time. I'm still Dorito-free!! And at the very least, running is a great way to get outside, get some fresh hair, and take advantage of some natural Vitamin D.
I recently got back into running while visiting friends in Florida in April. My friend Ellen is a good motivator, as is Simon. I was getting out about 4-5 times a week...if not for a run, then at least for a brisk walk. I've got another half-marathon on the horizon in August, which is also motivation for me to lace up those runners. I really wish I could find more 10-mile races. I feel like the most available races are 5k, half-marathon, and full-marathon. When I did the half-marathon in February, I wanted to quit at mile 10. Things had been going really well up until that point. Those last three miles were such a struggle, and thanks to the idiot designers of the race, all the hills came after mile 10. Thanks for that, Disney...oh, and thanks for making us run the entire race on service roads, and finish by the dumpsters behind Epcot. I'm not bitter or anything. :( And it's not like I was trying for a certain time or a certain pace...I just wanted to finish the thing with my body still mostly intact. And for the most part, I did. I don't know how that happened, but after finishing the race and taking a quick nap, I spent the rest of the day walking around Epcot with my friends. It was like I had never run the race at all.
Recently I was chatting about running with a girl I went to high school with, and she gave me some advice on running in minimal shoes (sometimes referred to as barefoot shoes). I was really skeptical at first, because I've been wearing shoes that are really built up in the arches for years. I have high arches and my feet also tend to pronate, or sag in at the ankles when I'm putting weight on them. I figured that if I didn't have any support there, I would quickly be heading towards an ankle injury. But I was curious and I did some research, I bought a pair, and I started walking in them. I was amazed at how good they felt, at how I didn't get any blisters from them, and most importantly, how my feet don't pronate in them. I have no idea why they don't, because if I throw on a pair of Converse my ankles are sagging so badly that they ache after only a few minutes of wearing. There's something to the construction of the minimal shoes that somehow provides adequate support without interfering with my natural "barefoot" stride. I did a four mile run/walk (mostly running) in them today, and everything was fine. Better than fine. My regular running shoes, at the very least, would have given me a blister (although less so now that I'm no longer running in cotton socks...that was part of the problem).
Today I didn't hate running as much as I usually do. Running here in Arizona is such a struggle. At 7,000 feet of elevation, I'm literally gasping for air much quicker than usual. I finish a run out of breath, with legs that aren't tired. I'm forced to run a lot slower here to better regulate my breathing. There are days when I just want to throw a little fit right on the trail and have Simon go get the car and come pick me up...which wouldn't work so well when we're miles out into the woods, but I still think about it anyway whilst chugging up a hill, dust in my mouth, feet tripping over rocks...it sometimes gets pretty unpleasant. I think I've found the method that works best for me, and it's walking a little bit, then running a little bit more. I don't think I'll ever be one of those runners who actually runs an entire race. That sounds like too much work. I'm okay with running most of a race. As long as I do more running than walking, I'll be happy with myself. And I think that's just what you have to do if you're going to be successful at anything in life. I can't set my sights on beating anyone or anything...I just have to focus on finishing. Because if I beat myself up too much over anything, I'll quit doing it because I can't stand the failures. Going easy on myself with this whole running bit has really helped my attitude a lot.
In addition to running, Simon's sister gave me a list of random little exercises to be done in the house, either before or after a run, or just on their own. Some days I skip the run and just do the exercises. I've only been doing the exercises for a few weeks, and I'm already noticing that I'm toning up in areas that haven't been toned in quite a while...years even. It's nice to see that all the pain and suffering is eventually worth it...hahaha! And given that the exercises only take about 20-30 minutes to get through, there's no good reason that I can't get to them everyday.
I remember hearing a quote once that went somewhere along the lines of 80% of exercising is getting the motivation to do it. I think that's true. At least it's true for me. I'm not dealing with injuries, or access, or a tight schedule...I'm dealing with motivation, which should be the easiest obstacle to overcome. Still working on it. :)
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Sunday, May 26, 2013
May 26th...or...Trying to be Socially Aware is a LOT of Work
Over the past few years, I've been trying to be more aware of where my food comes from, where my clothes come from, and what my support for certain businesses might say about me as a person. I tell you what, it is a lot of work. I'm sure if I knew more about everything I use, eat, and wear on a typical day, I'd be shocked. If I was able to abstain from every product that had an offensive CEO, business model, or manufacturing process, I'd probably find myself starving, naked, and homeless. I feel like unless a person was somehow able to be fully sustainable, there is no way to avoid organizations who don't have the best interests of the environment or human rights in mind. It's impossible. It makes my head spin.
I try to buy American when I can. But what does "Made in America" really mean? I drive a Jeep, which is the product of an American company. But where were the parts made? What were they made with? Are the workers making the parts treated fairly and compensated fairly for their work? Do they work in a safe environment? Was there anything even remotely American about my Jeep by the time it was manufactured, assembled, and delivered to the dealership I bought it from? Is it even possible to purchase a vehicle that was made and assembled in America? I have my doubts. Still...if I have the option to purchase an item that was made in America versus made somewhere else, I typically try to go with the American product. Providing that it's actually a decent product. I don't want to waste my hard-earned money on an inferior product just because it's American. American companies still need some motivation to make quality products if they're going to edge out the foreign competitors.
A lot of people I know boycott things that are made in China. I think China is an easy scapegoat. I tend to try to stay away from Chinese things as well, but I can't help but wonder about the workers. Is life better for them now that they are manufacturing things to be sold on American soil? Even though their wages are minuscule compared to what they would make over here, are they still better off? The Chinese government apparently doesn't feel the need to provide, acknowledge, or take care of its poorest of citizens, as demonstrated by their construction of walls to shield the poor from view during the Olympics in Beijing. And it's not just the social aspect of buying products from China that keeps me away, it's the overall poor quality of a lot of Chinese goods. I don't know if this is the fault of the Chinese workers themselves, or if it's just evidence of the vast corner-cutting that a lot of companies are taking to mass-produce all the crap that they think we Americans need (more like want) in our day-to-day lives. Every time I wander through a store lately I marvel at the excess. All the racks of clothes, and their clearance counter-parts from a few months before. Obviously those things didn't sell, so why are we seeing the same thing in a different color a few months later? Is that necessary? Someone higher up obviously thinks so, and they're trying to trick us into thinking we need the newest things all the time too. These companies are creating a demand where there really isn't one. Case in point, I have four pairs of running shoes. Four. Why do I need four pairs of running shoes? I don't need four pairs of running shoes. Technically, I only need one, as I can only wear one pair of running shoes at any given time. But I have four because there is a certain pair that I like, and it's been rumored that they are going to quit making them, so when I find them for a good price, I buy them. It's silly. It's stupid. I tell myself that, but there's this little voice in the back of my head telling me that if I don't get them now, I might never get them again. As if there won't ever be anything else that will work. Even when I'm trying to be aware of all of this, I still get sucked in.
I try to make good choices with the food I eat as well. I found it almost comical when I went to a grocery store in Florida and could only find oranges that were imported from Chile. Or when I lived in California, a mere hour from the town of Gilroy which literally reeks of garlic from all the garlic they grow and process...but in the grocery store the garlic was imported from China. What the what?? Why are we importing things that we are perfectly capable of growing right here in the US? However, given that other countries have more strict regulations on GMO's, maybe I'll start seeking out the imported fruits and veggies. I try to buy organic as much as I can, but it adds up, and organic has become trendy, which means that retailers try to take advantage of that fact by jacking up their prices. And there's a lot of semantics at work with the food industry. "Organic" is not the same as "made-with organic." You put one organic ingredient in a box full of preservatives and crap and suddenly you've got the word "organic" on the box. In my grocery endeavors, for example, I've noticed that there are several different types of eggs. You have your regular eggs, your cage-free eggs; your cage-free organic eggs; your cage-free, free-range, organic eggs...amongst others. Am I being tricked into buying the $4 a dozen eggs by semantics? What does "free-range" or "cage-free" really mean, and who is regulating it? Because I think the argument could be made that those giant chicken and turkey barns where the birds are packed in so tightly that they run the risk of dying due to close proximity of the body heat of their chicken/turkey counterparts, spreading all their germs and illnesses to each other, could technically be considered "cage-free." If you put a chicken outside in a 2 foot by 2 foot pen, then fill the pen full of GMO corn, is it then both free-range and cage-free? I guess the only way to really know what you're getting is to go to the source, which is difficult given the way big companies have taken over the things we wear, eat, use, and drive. It's so much easier to wander into a store and buy the carton of eggs that doesn't have a broken one it, than to try to find a local farmer who lets his chickens wander around his property all day.
I really need to utilize a CSA (community supported agriculture) more. There is one here in Flagstaff and I just haven't been there yet, but I really need to go. Simon and I found a butcher here in town who contracts with local farmers for his meats for most of his products. We've already eaten some of the chicken from his place, and it was fantastic. So flavorful. Unlike those pale, over-inflated chicken breasts we see in the grocery store. I'll never forget the time I bought chicken from Sam's Club. Seriously, those chicken breasts were the size of turkey breasts...they were huge. They actually tasted good, but I found out later it was because they had been infused with a chicken broth solution. So...I came to the conclusion that the chicken itself didn't taste like chicken, so they had to infuse it with chicken flavoring. Gross.
Lately I've been a little more focused on human rights. I'm a supporter of human rights no matter your color, creed, sexual orientation...whatever. If you're a human, you deserve to be treated equally. Except for pedophiles. I think they all ought to be taken out back and shot and have that be the end of it. It sickens me to know that my tax dollars are feeding, clothing, and providing shelter for those monsters...oh, and that my tax dollars are also providing them the means and access to legal council and multiple appeals, in the hopes that they'll get off on a technicality. And it's not even about the money...those people have harmed children, the most innocent of human beings, and they don't deserve our compassion, our food, or anything else that we as Americans enjoy. ANYway...hahaha...I get so off track sometimes. Gay rights have been in the news a lot lately, and I support them. I wrote a post recently on my feelings towards gay rights, so I won't get into it again. But if you'd like to see how I feel about it, feel free to check it out here. There are several companies who are openly against gay rights, and I no longer give them my business. One of the bigger ones, and most disappointing for me, was the Salvation Army. They are very openly anti-gay, and in the past I not only donated a lot of my things to them, but I would randomly shop there as well. And who hasn't dropped a few coins in those little red buckets at Christmas time? I'm happy to say that in the last few years my coins have stayed in my pocket, and I've taken my charity elsewhere. I know Salvation Army does a lot of good for a lot of people, but they're not willing to be charitable to all people, so they've been nixed from my radar. A list of some of the more anti-gay companies can be found here. Some of them might surprise you. In contrast, a list of companies who support the gays, can be found here. Neither of these lists are all-encompassing, and so my research continues. I did find that Starbucks is very supportive of homosexual rights, which makes me happy since I go there so often. I'm sure someone will burst my bubble and inform me of their bad behavior elsewhere though. *sigh*
Recently I had posted my delight on FaceBook about the impending opening of a Jimmy John's here in Flagstaff. I've loved Jimmy John's for years, and have even dabbled with the idea of someday having their sandwiches involved in my someday wedding...as the food at the reception...Simon and I will not be exchanging sandwiches as a sign of our everlasting love and fidelity...hahaha! After my comment was posted, a friend of mine commented back that she doesn't support Jimmy John's because the CEO, Jimmy John Liautaud, is a big-game trophy hunter. I was disappointed to hear this, as I think all forms of trophy hunting are pretty awful. There is no good reason to trophy hunt, other than for the purpose of bragging rights...and honestly, I think it's a little bit sociopathic to kill something just because it's there. Not that I'm against hunting...there are many different reasons that people hunt animals. Foremost, I think if you're going to go out and kill something with the intention of eating it, go for it. If you want to keep some sort of memento of the thing that you killed and ate in the form of taxidermy or what-have-you, more power to you. In my someday house, I want to have a fish on my wall...preferably one that I've caught myself, and if not, then I'll take a picture of one and get a replica made...no harm done. I understand that there are times when hunting is necessary to decrease populations of certain animals that have become too large, posing a threat to the animals themselves..."thinning the herd," if you will (mostly this happens when the Apex predators have either been eliminated or are too small in number). I also understand that there are times when an animal must be killed because it was in danger of harming people and attempts at relocation were not successful...a friend of mine had to shoot a black bear in northern Minnesota to keep it from attacking, injuring, or killing his mother. These things happen.
I had kind of put the rumored hunting exploits of Jimmy John to the back of my head. Not because I didn't care, but because I wanted to think about it and I wanted to do some research before I made a decision on whether or not I will continue to fill my belly with his sandwiches. I thought to myself that if he was hunting responsibly, legally, and sustainably, then maybe I would be all right with it. And then I took to the internet. I was sickened and repulsed by the photos of him standing next to an adult African elephant that he had killed...a leopard...a giant grizzly bear. I question the "legality" of hunting elephants. I would have to assume that in certain areas in this world, anything is legal if there is enough money on the table. I don't know that for a fact, but I'm suspicious. Given the fact that the gestational period of an elephant is about two years, I think that hardly qualifies as a "sustainable" kill for Mr. Jimmy John. Is is an accomplishment to take down an adult elephant? Given the fact that it takes an entire pride of lions hours to take down a single elephant, I guess I would say so. Does that mean people should be going out onto the savanna with their guns to take down elephants with a few bullets? No. I don't consider that an accomplishment at all. I consider it cowardly, wasteful, and incredibly disrespectful to the animal itself. The fact that a leopard is considered an Apex predator, meaning that it is at the top of the food chain, also calls into question the sustainability of the kill. The grizzly bear was also upsetting, but not so much as the elephant and the leopard. I know that in the U.S. there are seasons for bear hunting just as there are for deer, turkeys, elk, etc. These seasons are short, and the number of animals killed are regulated by the DNR. However...I highly doubt he ate that bear. But maybe he did. I don't know where he killed that bear or what he did with it afterwards. Perhaps it was a nuisance bear that had been relocated several times. I guess I tend to think that the DNR would take care of animals like that themselves and wouldn't take over-stuffed CEO's out to get their jollies along with them for those types of hunts. But...I have to assume that a man who would kill an elephant and a leopard for sport wouldn't be killing a bear solely because it was a nuisance or because it posed a threat to human beings.
I'm so repulsed by him and those like him. When I heard he was a big-game hunter, I was hoping that maybe it was water buffalo or something along those lines...pack animals that have gigantic herds and who might not miss a member. I can't get the image of that dead elephant out of my head. And it makes me feel awful knowing that the only reason he was able to hunt elephants in the first place was because he made so much money selling sandwiches. If you care to see Jimmy John's hunting exploits, head on over to this website. It's not pretty. I also found the website of the safari company he used, Johan Calitz Safaris. Apparently they have leases on certain parcels of land, and there are quotas that they have to stay within in regards to the number of animals that they are allowed to kill. As far as who sets these quotas, I'm unsure. Here is their most recent newsletter, informing clients of their updated quotas and restrictions. I like how they list elephants as "dangerous game." Dangerous to whom? People with rifles traveling out into areas where they have no other earthly business other than to kill animals in their natural habitat? And maybe elephants can become nuisance animals just like bears or any other wild animal can. I'm definitely not disputing that elephants are dangerous...I certainly don't ever want to come into contact with one, especially not in the wild. However, no information is given on the website or in the newsletter in regards to how the animals are dangerous, what they have done, or where they may have wandered to categorize them as dangerous. From what I've read about elephants, they are extremely intelligent animals with very acute senses and complex social structures...not exactly the type of animal that's going to make a habit out of seeking out humans. What could an elephant possibly want with a human being anyway? It seems that most of the documented negative human/elephant interactions happen when a human wanders into elephant territory. Check out this list of the most dangerous animals in Africa...notice how the human being is #3, ranked above the elephant, at #4 (personally, I think it's a toss-up between the human and the mosquito as to who is responsible for more deaths). I also find it interesting that, according Johan Calitz, the elephants are categorized by the weight of their ivory, not by how dangerous or destructive they are. So...the dangerous animal just happens to have something very valuable attached to it...but maybe that's just coincidence? And what do they do with the rest of the elephant once the ivory is taken? Just leave it out there to rot? I'm guessing the type of person who travels all the way to Africa and pays to hunt elephants really doesn't care about their destruction, their danger, or what happens to them or their herds after they are killed. I just question the integrity of a person who goes out in an air-conditioned, guided safari with the intention of shooting an otherwise unobtainable, defenseless animal. Little to no effort is required on the part of the hunter, making the term "hunter," in this instance, an inappropriate moniker.
Oy...the burden of being socially aware. It's so much easier and less work to be unaware. This week it's African safaris that have me all worked up. What will it be next week? And it's incredibly hard to pick which things I care about without talking out of both sides of my mouth. For instance, I'm upset about Jimmy John trophy hunting, yet I have a pair of leather boots that I adore sitting in my closet. I know the leather industry is horrible. I've been avoiding looking into it too much because I know I'll be horribly disturbed by it. I like to think that leather comes from the cows that are already being killed for meat anyway, but I know that's naive. As a product, I really like leather. It's durable, it's long-lasting, it's comfortable, and if you take good care of it, it'll last longer than you will. And the smell, how I guiltily love that leather smell. People have using animals for leather for about as long as they've been using them for food. Which is worse? The leather industry or African Safari hunts? I guess that varies from person to person. I have to pick and choose which things are important to me and my personal philosophy and be okay with knowing that I'm not always going to be making the right decisions. And what's right for me isn't the same as what's right for someone else. And it's not possible to be anti-everything...unless I want to homeless, naked, and starving...which I don't...that sounds horribly unpleasant. The best I can do is try to be as aware as possible, and if something goes against my personal philosophy, I have to decide what I'm going to do about it, if anything. And being aware doesn't necessarily change anything. Chik-fil-A isn't hurting because I don't eat there, and neither will Jimmy John's. The Salvation Army will continue to spread its message of homophobia disguised as goodwill. Bad things will still happen to good people. But...I can feel better about some of the choices that I personally make, and know that I'm trying my best not to support exploitation, or hate, or senseless killing.
I try to buy American when I can. But what does "Made in America" really mean? I drive a Jeep, which is the product of an American company. But where were the parts made? What were they made with? Are the workers making the parts treated fairly and compensated fairly for their work? Do they work in a safe environment? Was there anything even remotely American about my Jeep by the time it was manufactured, assembled, and delivered to the dealership I bought it from? Is it even possible to purchase a vehicle that was made and assembled in America? I have my doubts. Still...if I have the option to purchase an item that was made in America versus made somewhere else, I typically try to go with the American product. Providing that it's actually a decent product. I don't want to waste my hard-earned money on an inferior product just because it's American. American companies still need some motivation to make quality products if they're going to edge out the foreign competitors.
A lot of people I know boycott things that are made in China. I think China is an easy scapegoat. I tend to try to stay away from Chinese things as well, but I can't help but wonder about the workers. Is life better for them now that they are manufacturing things to be sold on American soil? Even though their wages are minuscule compared to what they would make over here, are they still better off? The Chinese government apparently doesn't feel the need to provide, acknowledge, or take care of its poorest of citizens, as demonstrated by their construction of walls to shield the poor from view during the Olympics in Beijing. And it's not just the social aspect of buying products from China that keeps me away, it's the overall poor quality of a lot of Chinese goods. I don't know if this is the fault of the Chinese workers themselves, or if it's just evidence of the vast corner-cutting that a lot of companies are taking to mass-produce all the crap that they think we Americans need (more like want) in our day-to-day lives. Every time I wander through a store lately I marvel at the excess. All the racks of clothes, and their clearance counter-parts from a few months before. Obviously those things didn't sell, so why are we seeing the same thing in a different color a few months later? Is that necessary? Someone higher up obviously thinks so, and they're trying to trick us into thinking we need the newest things all the time too. These companies are creating a demand where there really isn't one. Case in point, I have four pairs of running shoes. Four. Why do I need four pairs of running shoes? I don't need four pairs of running shoes. Technically, I only need one, as I can only wear one pair of running shoes at any given time. But I have four because there is a certain pair that I like, and it's been rumored that they are going to quit making them, so when I find them for a good price, I buy them. It's silly. It's stupid. I tell myself that, but there's this little voice in the back of my head telling me that if I don't get them now, I might never get them again. As if there won't ever be anything else that will work. Even when I'm trying to be aware of all of this, I still get sucked in.
I try to make good choices with the food I eat as well. I found it almost comical when I went to a grocery store in Florida and could only find oranges that were imported from Chile. Or when I lived in California, a mere hour from the town of Gilroy which literally reeks of garlic from all the garlic they grow and process...but in the grocery store the garlic was imported from China. What the what?? Why are we importing things that we are perfectly capable of growing right here in the US? However, given that other countries have more strict regulations on GMO's, maybe I'll start seeking out the imported fruits and veggies. I try to buy organic as much as I can, but it adds up, and organic has become trendy, which means that retailers try to take advantage of that fact by jacking up their prices. And there's a lot of semantics at work with the food industry. "Organic" is not the same as "made-with organic." You put one organic ingredient in a box full of preservatives and crap and suddenly you've got the word "organic" on the box. In my grocery endeavors, for example, I've noticed that there are several different types of eggs. You have your regular eggs, your cage-free eggs; your cage-free organic eggs; your cage-free, free-range, organic eggs...amongst others. Am I being tricked into buying the $4 a dozen eggs by semantics? What does "free-range" or "cage-free" really mean, and who is regulating it? Because I think the argument could be made that those giant chicken and turkey barns where the birds are packed in so tightly that they run the risk of dying due to close proximity of the body heat of their chicken/turkey counterparts, spreading all their germs and illnesses to each other, could technically be considered "cage-free." If you put a chicken outside in a 2 foot by 2 foot pen, then fill the pen full of GMO corn, is it then both free-range and cage-free? I guess the only way to really know what you're getting is to go to the source, which is difficult given the way big companies have taken over the things we wear, eat, use, and drive. It's so much easier to wander into a store and buy the carton of eggs that doesn't have a broken one it, than to try to find a local farmer who lets his chickens wander around his property all day.
I really need to utilize a CSA (community supported agriculture) more. There is one here in Flagstaff and I just haven't been there yet, but I really need to go. Simon and I found a butcher here in town who contracts with local farmers for his meats for most of his products. We've already eaten some of the chicken from his place, and it was fantastic. So flavorful. Unlike those pale, over-inflated chicken breasts we see in the grocery store. I'll never forget the time I bought chicken from Sam's Club. Seriously, those chicken breasts were the size of turkey breasts...they were huge. They actually tasted good, but I found out later it was because they had been infused with a chicken broth solution. So...I came to the conclusion that the chicken itself didn't taste like chicken, so they had to infuse it with chicken flavoring. Gross.
Lately I've been a little more focused on human rights. I'm a supporter of human rights no matter your color, creed, sexual orientation...whatever. If you're a human, you deserve to be treated equally. Except for pedophiles. I think they all ought to be taken out back and shot and have that be the end of it. It sickens me to know that my tax dollars are feeding, clothing, and providing shelter for those monsters...oh, and that my tax dollars are also providing them the means and access to legal council and multiple appeals, in the hopes that they'll get off on a technicality. And it's not even about the money...those people have harmed children, the most innocent of human beings, and they don't deserve our compassion, our food, or anything else that we as Americans enjoy. ANYway...hahaha...I get so off track sometimes. Gay rights have been in the news a lot lately, and I support them. I wrote a post recently on my feelings towards gay rights, so I won't get into it again. But if you'd like to see how I feel about it, feel free to check it out here. There are several companies who are openly against gay rights, and I no longer give them my business. One of the bigger ones, and most disappointing for me, was the Salvation Army. They are very openly anti-gay, and in the past I not only donated a lot of my things to them, but I would randomly shop there as well. And who hasn't dropped a few coins in those little red buckets at Christmas time? I'm happy to say that in the last few years my coins have stayed in my pocket, and I've taken my charity elsewhere. I know Salvation Army does a lot of good for a lot of people, but they're not willing to be charitable to all people, so they've been nixed from my radar. A list of some of the more anti-gay companies can be found here. Some of them might surprise you. In contrast, a list of companies who support the gays, can be found here. Neither of these lists are all-encompassing, and so my research continues. I did find that Starbucks is very supportive of homosexual rights, which makes me happy since I go there so often. I'm sure someone will burst my bubble and inform me of their bad behavior elsewhere though. *sigh*
Recently I had posted my delight on FaceBook about the impending opening of a Jimmy John's here in Flagstaff. I've loved Jimmy John's for years, and have even dabbled with the idea of someday having their sandwiches involved in my someday wedding...as the food at the reception...Simon and I will not be exchanging sandwiches as a sign of our everlasting love and fidelity...hahaha! After my comment was posted, a friend of mine commented back that she doesn't support Jimmy John's because the CEO, Jimmy John Liautaud, is a big-game trophy hunter. I was disappointed to hear this, as I think all forms of trophy hunting are pretty awful. There is no good reason to trophy hunt, other than for the purpose of bragging rights...and honestly, I think it's a little bit sociopathic to kill something just because it's there. Not that I'm against hunting...there are many different reasons that people hunt animals. Foremost, I think if you're going to go out and kill something with the intention of eating it, go for it. If you want to keep some sort of memento of the thing that you killed and ate in the form of taxidermy or what-have-you, more power to you. In my someday house, I want to have a fish on my wall...preferably one that I've caught myself, and if not, then I'll take a picture of one and get a replica made...no harm done. I understand that there are times when hunting is necessary to decrease populations of certain animals that have become too large, posing a threat to the animals themselves..."thinning the herd," if you will (mostly this happens when the Apex predators have either been eliminated or are too small in number). I also understand that there are times when an animal must be killed because it was in danger of harming people and attempts at relocation were not successful...a friend of mine had to shoot a black bear in northern Minnesota to keep it from attacking, injuring, or killing his mother. These things happen.
I had kind of put the rumored hunting exploits of Jimmy John to the back of my head. Not because I didn't care, but because I wanted to think about it and I wanted to do some research before I made a decision on whether or not I will continue to fill my belly with his sandwiches. I thought to myself that if he was hunting responsibly, legally, and sustainably, then maybe I would be all right with it. And then I took to the internet. I was sickened and repulsed by the photos of him standing next to an adult African elephant that he had killed...a leopard...a giant grizzly bear. I question the "legality" of hunting elephants. I would have to assume that in certain areas in this world, anything is legal if there is enough money on the table. I don't know that for a fact, but I'm suspicious. Given the fact that the gestational period of an elephant is about two years, I think that hardly qualifies as a "sustainable" kill for Mr. Jimmy John. Is is an accomplishment to take down an adult elephant? Given the fact that it takes an entire pride of lions hours to take down a single elephant, I guess I would say so. Does that mean people should be going out onto the savanna with their guns to take down elephants with a few bullets? No. I don't consider that an accomplishment at all. I consider it cowardly, wasteful, and incredibly disrespectful to the animal itself. The fact that a leopard is considered an Apex predator, meaning that it is at the top of the food chain, also calls into question the sustainability of the kill. The grizzly bear was also upsetting, but not so much as the elephant and the leopard. I know that in the U.S. there are seasons for bear hunting just as there are for deer, turkeys, elk, etc. These seasons are short, and the number of animals killed are regulated by the DNR. However...I highly doubt he ate that bear. But maybe he did. I don't know where he killed that bear or what he did with it afterwards. Perhaps it was a nuisance bear that had been relocated several times. I guess I tend to think that the DNR would take care of animals like that themselves and wouldn't take over-stuffed CEO's out to get their jollies along with them for those types of hunts. But...I have to assume that a man who would kill an elephant and a leopard for sport wouldn't be killing a bear solely because it was a nuisance or because it posed a threat to human beings.
I'm so repulsed by him and those like him. When I heard he was a big-game hunter, I was hoping that maybe it was water buffalo or something along those lines...pack animals that have gigantic herds and who might not miss a member. I can't get the image of that dead elephant out of my head. And it makes me feel awful knowing that the only reason he was able to hunt elephants in the first place was because he made so much money selling sandwiches. If you care to see Jimmy John's hunting exploits, head on over to this website. It's not pretty. I also found the website of the safari company he used, Johan Calitz Safaris. Apparently they have leases on certain parcels of land, and there are quotas that they have to stay within in regards to the number of animals that they are allowed to kill. As far as who sets these quotas, I'm unsure. Here is their most recent newsletter, informing clients of their updated quotas and restrictions. I like how they list elephants as "dangerous game." Dangerous to whom? People with rifles traveling out into areas where they have no other earthly business other than to kill animals in their natural habitat? And maybe elephants can become nuisance animals just like bears or any other wild animal can. I'm definitely not disputing that elephants are dangerous...I certainly don't ever want to come into contact with one, especially not in the wild. However, no information is given on the website or in the newsletter in regards to how the animals are dangerous, what they have done, or where they may have wandered to categorize them as dangerous. From what I've read about elephants, they are extremely intelligent animals with very acute senses and complex social structures...not exactly the type of animal that's going to make a habit out of seeking out humans. What could an elephant possibly want with a human being anyway? It seems that most of the documented negative human/elephant interactions happen when a human wanders into elephant territory. Check out this list of the most dangerous animals in Africa...notice how the human being is #3, ranked above the elephant, at #4 (personally, I think it's a toss-up between the human and the mosquito as to who is responsible for more deaths). I also find it interesting that, according Johan Calitz, the elephants are categorized by the weight of their ivory, not by how dangerous or destructive they are. So...the dangerous animal just happens to have something very valuable attached to it...but maybe that's just coincidence? And what do they do with the rest of the elephant once the ivory is taken? Just leave it out there to rot? I'm guessing the type of person who travels all the way to Africa and pays to hunt elephants really doesn't care about their destruction, their danger, or what happens to them or their herds after they are killed. I just question the integrity of a person who goes out in an air-conditioned, guided safari with the intention of shooting an otherwise unobtainable, defenseless animal. Little to no effort is required on the part of the hunter, making the term "hunter," in this instance, an inappropriate moniker.
Oy...the burden of being socially aware. It's so much easier and less work to be unaware. This week it's African safaris that have me all worked up. What will it be next week? And it's incredibly hard to pick which things I care about without talking out of both sides of my mouth. For instance, I'm upset about Jimmy John trophy hunting, yet I have a pair of leather boots that I adore sitting in my closet. I know the leather industry is horrible. I've been avoiding looking into it too much because I know I'll be horribly disturbed by it. I like to think that leather comes from the cows that are already being killed for meat anyway, but I know that's naive. As a product, I really like leather. It's durable, it's long-lasting, it's comfortable, and if you take good care of it, it'll last longer than you will. And the smell, how I guiltily love that leather smell. People have using animals for leather for about as long as they've been using them for food. Which is worse? The leather industry or African Safari hunts? I guess that varies from person to person. I have to pick and choose which things are important to me and my personal philosophy and be okay with knowing that I'm not always going to be making the right decisions. And what's right for me isn't the same as what's right for someone else. And it's not possible to be anti-everything...unless I want to homeless, naked, and starving...which I don't...that sounds horribly unpleasant. The best I can do is try to be as aware as possible, and if something goes against my personal philosophy, I have to decide what I'm going to do about it, if anything. And being aware doesn't necessarily change anything. Chik-fil-A isn't hurting because I don't eat there, and neither will Jimmy John's. The Salvation Army will continue to spread its message of homophobia disguised as goodwill. Bad things will still happen to good people. But...I can feel better about some of the choices that I personally make, and know that I'm trying my best not to support exploitation, or hate, or senseless killing.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
May 18th...or...I'm Having a Day
I'm having a day. One of those days that come around every so often when even though things are going right, they feel like they're going wrong. One of those days where a stupid man might be inclined to question as to whether or not I'm on my period (I'm not). One of those days where I just want to curl up in a dark room, hide my head under a blanket, and sleep away my bad attitude (actually, I can't sleep with my head under a blanket, it makes me claustrophobic). Instead of taking a nap, I'm going to type it out. Mom always told me that if I'm having a bad day, I should just write it all down on a piece of paper and then put it away. She's a smart woman, that Sharon. I owe a lot of who I am today to her.
Every time Simon and I move for a new assignment, I have a day like today. I know it's going to happen, there's rarely much I can do to prevent it. And the slightest little thing will set it off. I woke up rather pleasantly this morning. I actually slept in past 5am, which doesn't happen often after gaining two hours in the switch from Minnesota Time to Arizona Time. I've been trying to keep myself up at night in an attempt to sleep longer in the morning, and today was my first successful day. Not that I really minded getting up at 5am...I was impressed with everything that I could get accomplished before 10am. It was a weird feeling having to actually kill time waiting for Target and the Post Office to open. Maybe the sleeping in made me crabby. I don't know.
Maybe it was Simon rushing me through the grocery store this morning. Call me crazy, but grocery shopping is somewhat zen for me, particularly when it's early in the morning. I like to wander up and down every aisle, see what's on the shelves, check my list and cross things off as they make their way into my cart. Simon hates grocery shopping. He's got a one-track mind when it comes to grocery shopping...get in, get the kale, the beets, the wraps, the tunafish, the cheese...and get out. Fortunately for him, he can survive on a diet of kale, beets, wraps, tunafish, and cheese...unfortunately for me, I cannot. So that's why I wander. Thinking about different recipes I've got in the queue, what I'd like to make this week, what sorts of things I'll have to buy. I'm always thinking ahead. Sometimes too far ahead, which is why we have so much food left over at the end of our assignments. I'm sure grocery shopping with me is as stressful for him as grocery shopping with him is for me. It's just one of those things that you can't do anything about, and so it's really not worth the trouble of getting upset about. However, due to the rushing, we forgot to get pepperoni (my fault) and mayo (his fault). But we did remember most of the stuff...and a couple bags of jalapeno kettle chips somehow made their way into the cart. No idea how that happened.
So then we came back to the condo. Oh, the condo. What a freaking disaster. I'm trying to keep a good attitude about the place, but it's really been a struggle. My first mistake was agreeing to pay $2,000 a month for a place that I had never seen (and $2000 a month is a steal in Flagstaff in summer months...the cost of living here is outrageous). I'll know better for next time. Not that all the pictures in the world could have prepared me for the broken washing machine, the broken stove, the filthy kitchen, the broken-off lightbulbs, the filthy carpet (dirt and pet stains), the broken ottoman, the broken dining room chair, or the recliner that smells like the inside of a smoker's car. However, judging by the decor, I would never have agreed to rent this place had I seen pictures beforehand...I don't think it's been updated since the early 80's. I about lost it. I wanted to break the lease and move elsewhere, as the manager at the apartment complex that Simon and I had rented at in the fall and winter months said she would love to have us back. Upon moving in to the condo, I spent more than two hours wiping down every single surface in the kitchen, I washed every single dish in the cupboards, including soaking several pots and pans that still had food in them. There was literally grease on everything. There were also about 8 bottles of pepper, and 7 containers of salt, amongst other things...they went in the trash, as there was no way to know how old they were. The empty spice containers were pitched as well...who puts empty spice jars back in the cupboard? Throw that crap out, for the love of Pete! Broken dishes, microwave containers to which there were no lids, lids to which there were no containers...I could go on, but I won't. This writing is supposed to be therapeutic and here I am getting myself all worked up again.
On the positive: the stove is being replaced on Monday. Hooray! A couple repair guys came to inspect the washing machine, and apparently it needs a new motor. The manager of the lease company is aware and is working on it...luckily I over-pack on every assignment and probably have enough clothes to get me through the month of July without needing to do a single load of laundry (that's no exaggeration...ask Simon about having to load my bags into the trailer, and also about his one drawer in the dresser). The maintenance guy came over today and replaced a bunch of the light bulbs and repaired the fixtures that had broken bulbs in them. And luckily for us the place isn't riddled with cat urine like our place in St. Cloud last summer, nor was there a commode waiting for us in the master bedroom like our place in Florida two winters ago. So there are some positives. There are a lot of windows that let in a lot of light, our condo is built into the side of a hill so we get lots of nice breezes coming in (good thing, since a lot of rental places in Flag don't have air conditioning), we have a spare bedroom for guests to stay, the living and dining areas are very open and spacious, the internet and cable works, the dogs didn't mess immediately upon entering the place, which is their typical MO...there are a lot of good things that I should be focusing on.
I think I've got my bad attitude narrowed down, and it's mostly due to the impatience of moving into a place that isn't actually "mine." Especially a dirty, poorly maintained place. And it never will be mine, so long as I keep up with this traveling job. And I know that. I'm aware of it, and most of the time I'm okay with it, but there are days (like today), where I just want to walk across my own carpet, sit on my own couch, and drink a glass of orange juice out of my own cup. I want to walk into a house and know that there's a place for everything and everything is in its place. And that's just not possible right now. Simon tries to be supportive, but these sorts of things don't bother him like they bother me. Simon has very simple, basic needs when it comes to where he lives. I don't know if I'm more bothered by things because I used to own my house or because I had been living on my own for several years and I had developed certain ideas about how things should be. Maybe it's because I'm a girl and I care more about these things more than he does. He's always had roommates, and usually he was living in their houses, so he's never really had his own space or had the need to worry about the space. And I'm not ragging on him at all...it's just that on days like today, our differing expectations and tolerance of our living space become painfully obvious. He tolerates clutter and having things out of their place because then he can see everything and knows where it is. I, on the other hand, can't stand clutter and want everything that isn't being used to be put away and out of sight. So when Simon sees nothing amiss with the state of a room, all I see is clutter and things that should be put away (it's that whole right-brain/left-brain thing). It is what it is. And it's not normally an issue...except for when I'm having one of my days. And in the broad scheme of things, what does it really matter if things are sitting out?
On the plus side, I'm glad to be back in Flagstaff. Something about this town just resonates with me, and I could definitely see myself settling here for good someday...in my own space with my own carpet and my own couch and my own cups. Simon and I went out to eat at Satchmo's last night with our friends Jim and Jess, and I had the most amazing andouille sausage po'boy...seriously, I don't know if it's possible to top that sandwich. It was nice to spend a night out with friends. It's nice to have friends to spend time with. It's nice to feel the sunshine on my face every day, and to know that I'm going to go back to work with a fantastic group of people. I got some good news yesterday that Brie's new condition isn't life-threatening, but is in fact a common case of hip displaysia complicated by right hip arthritis (apparently this is very common in pugs, and the vet was surprised that Brie wasn't having issues with it before). She's not in pain, she's not suffering...she's just an old lady. An old lady who fell and ripped the toenail off her front left foot leaving her right leg as the only one without an issue at the moment. But she's happy, she's healthy, and that's really the best outcome I could have hoped for.
So yeah, lots of good going on. I feel better now. Thanks for listening to me whine and complain about a life that really doesn't leave me with much to whine and complain about. It's just one of those days.
Every time Simon and I move for a new assignment, I have a day like today. I know it's going to happen, there's rarely much I can do to prevent it. And the slightest little thing will set it off. I woke up rather pleasantly this morning. I actually slept in past 5am, which doesn't happen often after gaining two hours in the switch from Minnesota Time to Arizona Time. I've been trying to keep myself up at night in an attempt to sleep longer in the morning, and today was my first successful day. Not that I really minded getting up at 5am...I was impressed with everything that I could get accomplished before 10am. It was a weird feeling having to actually kill time waiting for Target and the Post Office to open. Maybe the sleeping in made me crabby. I don't know.
Maybe it was Simon rushing me through the grocery store this morning. Call me crazy, but grocery shopping is somewhat zen for me, particularly when it's early in the morning. I like to wander up and down every aisle, see what's on the shelves, check my list and cross things off as they make their way into my cart. Simon hates grocery shopping. He's got a one-track mind when it comes to grocery shopping...get in, get the kale, the beets, the wraps, the tunafish, the cheese...and get out. Fortunately for him, he can survive on a diet of kale, beets, wraps, tunafish, and cheese...unfortunately for me, I cannot. So that's why I wander. Thinking about different recipes I've got in the queue, what I'd like to make this week, what sorts of things I'll have to buy. I'm always thinking ahead. Sometimes too far ahead, which is why we have so much food left over at the end of our assignments. I'm sure grocery shopping with me is as stressful for him as grocery shopping with him is for me. It's just one of those things that you can't do anything about, and so it's really not worth the trouble of getting upset about. However, due to the rushing, we forgot to get pepperoni (my fault) and mayo (his fault). But we did remember most of the stuff...and a couple bags of jalapeno kettle chips somehow made their way into the cart. No idea how that happened.
So then we came back to the condo. Oh, the condo. What a freaking disaster. I'm trying to keep a good attitude about the place, but it's really been a struggle. My first mistake was agreeing to pay $2,000 a month for a place that I had never seen (and $2000 a month is a steal in Flagstaff in summer months...the cost of living here is outrageous). I'll know better for next time. Not that all the pictures in the world could have prepared me for the broken washing machine, the broken stove, the filthy kitchen, the broken-off lightbulbs, the filthy carpet (dirt and pet stains), the broken ottoman, the broken dining room chair, or the recliner that smells like the inside of a smoker's car. However, judging by the decor, I would never have agreed to rent this place had I seen pictures beforehand...I don't think it's been updated since the early 80's. I about lost it. I wanted to break the lease and move elsewhere, as the manager at the apartment complex that Simon and I had rented at in the fall and winter months said she would love to have us back. Upon moving in to the condo, I spent more than two hours wiping down every single surface in the kitchen, I washed every single dish in the cupboards, including soaking several pots and pans that still had food in them. There was literally grease on everything. There were also about 8 bottles of pepper, and 7 containers of salt, amongst other things...they went in the trash, as there was no way to know how old they were. The empty spice containers were pitched as well...who puts empty spice jars back in the cupboard? Throw that crap out, for the love of Pete! Broken dishes, microwave containers to which there were no lids, lids to which there were no containers...I could go on, but I won't. This writing is supposed to be therapeutic and here I am getting myself all worked up again.
On the positive: the stove is being replaced on Monday. Hooray! A couple repair guys came to inspect the washing machine, and apparently it needs a new motor. The manager of the lease company is aware and is working on it...luckily I over-pack on every assignment and probably have enough clothes to get me through the month of July without needing to do a single load of laundry (that's no exaggeration...ask Simon about having to load my bags into the trailer, and also about his one drawer in the dresser). The maintenance guy came over today and replaced a bunch of the light bulbs and repaired the fixtures that had broken bulbs in them. And luckily for us the place isn't riddled with cat urine like our place in St. Cloud last summer, nor was there a commode waiting for us in the master bedroom like our place in Florida two winters ago. So there are some positives. There are a lot of windows that let in a lot of light, our condo is built into the side of a hill so we get lots of nice breezes coming in (good thing, since a lot of rental places in Flag don't have air conditioning), we have a spare bedroom for guests to stay, the living and dining areas are very open and spacious, the internet and cable works, the dogs didn't mess immediately upon entering the place, which is their typical MO...there are a lot of good things that I should be focusing on.
I think I've got my bad attitude narrowed down, and it's mostly due to the impatience of moving into a place that isn't actually "mine." Especially a dirty, poorly maintained place. And it never will be mine, so long as I keep up with this traveling job. And I know that. I'm aware of it, and most of the time I'm okay with it, but there are days (like today), where I just want to walk across my own carpet, sit on my own couch, and drink a glass of orange juice out of my own cup. I want to walk into a house and know that there's a place for everything and everything is in its place. And that's just not possible right now. Simon tries to be supportive, but these sorts of things don't bother him like they bother me. Simon has very simple, basic needs when it comes to where he lives. I don't know if I'm more bothered by things because I used to own my house or because I had been living on my own for several years and I had developed certain ideas about how things should be. Maybe it's because I'm a girl and I care more about these things more than he does. He's always had roommates, and usually he was living in their houses, so he's never really had his own space or had the need to worry about the space. And I'm not ragging on him at all...it's just that on days like today, our differing expectations and tolerance of our living space become painfully obvious. He tolerates clutter and having things out of their place because then he can see everything and knows where it is. I, on the other hand, can't stand clutter and want everything that isn't being used to be put away and out of sight. So when Simon sees nothing amiss with the state of a room, all I see is clutter and things that should be put away (it's that whole right-brain/left-brain thing). It is what it is. And it's not normally an issue...except for when I'm having one of my days. And in the broad scheme of things, what does it really matter if things are sitting out?
On the plus side, I'm glad to be back in Flagstaff. Something about this town just resonates with me, and I could definitely see myself settling here for good someday...in my own space with my own carpet and my own couch and my own cups. Simon and I went out to eat at Satchmo's last night with our friends Jim and Jess, and I had the most amazing andouille sausage po'boy...seriously, I don't know if it's possible to top that sandwich. It was nice to spend a night out with friends. It's nice to have friends to spend time with. It's nice to feel the sunshine on my face every day, and to know that I'm going to go back to work with a fantastic group of people. I got some good news yesterday that Brie's new condition isn't life-threatening, but is in fact a common case of hip displaysia complicated by right hip arthritis (apparently this is very common in pugs, and the vet was surprised that Brie wasn't having issues with it before). She's not in pain, she's not suffering...she's just an old lady. An old lady who fell and ripped the toenail off her front left foot leaving her right leg as the only one without an issue at the moment. But she's happy, she's healthy, and that's really the best outcome I could have hoped for.
So yeah, lots of good going on. I feel better now. Thanks for listening to me whine and complain about a life that really doesn't leave me with much to whine and complain about. It's just one of those days.
Friday, May 17, 2013
May 17th...or...You May Want to Skip This One if You're a Homophobe
So Minnesota just passed legislation to legalize same-sex marriages. It was a long time coming and I'm glad it's over and done with so that we can move on to the next thing. I think it's embarrassing that it took as long as it did, but I'm so proud to be a Minnesotan these days. It wasn't so long ago that women weren't allowed to vote, or that blacks and other non-whites weren't allowed to use the same bathrooms, drinking fountains, or even entrances to stores as white people. We look back on that now and it seems ridiculous that it was ever an issue. I hope that in a few years, the majority of Americans will feel the same way about same-sex marriage.
After the final vote came in for Minnesota to legalize same-sex marriages, I posted a little blurb on my Facebook page, thanking Minnesota for respecting civil rights. I know that posting things on Facebook leaves a person open to all kinds of praise and criticism, and so I should have been prepared for a little backlash. And I did get some, but not much. And for some reason I just keep thinking about it. Not that it's affecting my day-to-day life, but I just don't understand some people's thinking or logic. The person in question is apparently a cousin of mine...she's a cousin of my mom's so I don't know what that makes her to me...all I know is that we are related. I don't know that I've ever actually met the woman face to face. When she friend-requested me a few years ago, I accepted her request because whether I knew her well or not, we were family. For the past few years, it seems that the only time she would make a comment on my Facebook page was to criticize my support of homosexuals and the Democratic party. Just little snippets here and there, and by no means was she the only one coming after me for my politics or my tolerance.
Her comment to my praise of same-sex marriage went something along the lines of this: "What a sad day for our state and country. There WILL be repercussions for this. You wait and see." I was instantly enraged. She wasn't threatening me personally for the legalization of same-sex marriage, but she was indeed making a threat. I had a whole retort prepared for her, and I almost posted it. I wanted to rip her up one side and down the other. Mostly to ask her what sort of "repercussions" she was referring to. Were we all holding hands and dancing through the tulips singing about how great life was prior to gay marriage becoming legalized? If a tornado rips through a part of Minnesota and people die, will gay marriage be the culprit? And if so, how does one go about proving that? Because I'm pretty sure your college educated meteorologist would explain that tornadoes are not caused by homosexuality, but are, in fact, caused by proven weather patterns. I wanted to ask her how she thought her day-to-day life was going to change now that women could marry women and men could marry men. Does she even know any gay people? Or, to phrase it differently, is she completely unaware of the fact that she probably knows and is possibly related to gay people? In lieu of starting a Facebook battle, in which neither side was going to budge from their ideologies, I decided to delete both her and her comment from my Facebook page. Let her post all the bigotry she wants on her own page...I refuse to tolerate it on mine.
I don't get how people blame bad things in the world on homosexuality. I truly do not understand it. Hypothetically speaking, if all the gay people in the world somehow one day decided to be straight, who then would all the badness in the world be blamed on? Really, I would like to know, because fundamentalists always need a scapegoat. According to them, things can't just happen because someone was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or because weather patterns change, or because a mentally unwell person somehow had access to firearms. Probably they would go after (and already do) people getting abortions. Guess who's not getting abortions? Gay couples. Gay couples have to try even harder to have children than straight couples. So what's worse? Being gay or getting an abortion? I'm sure they're both equally bad and equally detrimental in the opinions of fundamentalists...but somehow the gays seem to be the ones in the spotlight. Maybe it's because gay people are more obvious. They have the "audacity" to happily walk around in public holding hands with their partner. Most people who have abortions don't go around singing the praises of the procedure, and therefore remain mostly anonymous.
I think if you took away the religious aspect of why people hate homosexuals, you would find a person who is very intimidated or maybe even repressed by sex. The thought of two men or two women having sex with each other is so foreign and so repulsive to them. I don't think about it. I'd rather not think about anyone having sex, and to be honest, it's none of my business. I remember when I was younger people would talk about how they walked in on their parents having sex, and they would go on and on about how traumatized they were by it. I didn't really want to think about my own parents having sex, but figured that if I had to, I concluded that sex between two consenting adults is a good sign of a healthy relationship. Simple. Easy. Kept me from thinking about the How and more about the Why. And the sort of sex that might be going on behind closed doors is no one's business but the people carrying it out. I'll have you know that I have friends who possessed ball gags, hand cuffs, strap-ons, double-headed dildos, and more...and they used them. Frequently. These people were not gay, they were straight. A man and a woman. If a straight man enjoys a dildo up his butt, does that make him gay? And if it does, is he then directly responsible for all the deaths caused by a school shooting? Is he also directly responsible for the death for a Marine killed in combat on foreign soil? Does my friendship with him make me responsible as well? I don't know where fundamentalists come up with this stuff.
Well, I kind of do. It's fear. Fear of something different, fear of something that they've been told is an abomination from day one, never once taking the time to think outside the box, or to think about it for themselves. A gay person is no different than a straight person. And just because it's now legal for them to be married, it doesn't mean that gay people are going to try to start stealing away people's husbands and wives. It doesn't mean that they're going to start flaunting their relationships to the masses any more than straight couples do now. I've been hit on in bar by a lesbian exactly once in my life. And let me tell you, it was a heck of a lot more pleasant and respectful than the many advances I've had by men over the years. Once I told her that I was straight, she apologized, told me she thought I was beautiful and then she left. She didn't try to pull my top down, grab my boob, grab my butt, or continue to hit on me anyway, which is more than I can say for some of those aforementioned men.
So I guess in conclusion, I didn't write this to change anyone's mind about homosexuality. I think people will continue to believe what they believe and they're entitled to that...just as I am. Mostly I wrote this as a sign of support...not just for my homosexual friends, but for anyone who isn't treated fairly just because they're perceived to be different. We all deserve equality. I think if people could put the same amount of energy that they put forth towards their hatred into something productive, you'd find a lot more happy people in this world.
The End.
After the final vote came in for Minnesota to legalize same-sex marriages, I posted a little blurb on my Facebook page, thanking Minnesota for respecting civil rights. I know that posting things on Facebook leaves a person open to all kinds of praise and criticism, and so I should have been prepared for a little backlash. And I did get some, but not much. And for some reason I just keep thinking about it. Not that it's affecting my day-to-day life, but I just don't understand some people's thinking or logic. The person in question is apparently a cousin of mine...she's a cousin of my mom's so I don't know what that makes her to me...all I know is that we are related. I don't know that I've ever actually met the woman face to face. When she friend-requested me a few years ago, I accepted her request because whether I knew her well or not, we were family. For the past few years, it seems that the only time she would make a comment on my Facebook page was to criticize my support of homosexuals and the Democratic party. Just little snippets here and there, and by no means was she the only one coming after me for my politics or my tolerance.
Her comment to my praise of same-sex marriage went something along the lines of this: "What a sad day for our state and country. There WILL be repercussions for this. You wait and see." I was instantly enraged. She wasn't threatening me personally for the legalization of same-sex marriage, but she was indeed making a threat. I had a whole retort prepared for her, and I almost posted it. I wanted to rip her up one side and down the other. Mostly to ask her what sort of "repercussions" she was referring to. Were we all holding hands and dancing through the tulips singing about how great life was prior to gay marriage becoming legalized? If a tornado rips through a part of Minnesota and people die, will gay marriage be the culprit? And if so, how does one go about proving that? Because I'm pretty sure your college educated meteorologist would explain that tornadoes are not caused by homosexuality, but are, in fact, caused by proven weather patterns. I wanted to ask her how she thought her day-to-day life was going to change now that women could marry women and men could marry men. Does she even know any gay people? Or, to phrase it differently, is she completely unaware of the fact that she probably knows and is possibly related to gay people? In lieu of starting a Facebook battle, in which neither side was going to budge from their ideologies, I decided to delete both her and her comment from my Facebook page. Let her post all the bigotry she wants on her own page...I refuse to tolerate it on mine.
I don't get how people blame bad things in the world on homosexuality. I truly do not understand it. Hypothetically speaking, if all the gay people in the world somehow one day decided to be straight, who then would all the badness in the world be blamed on? Really, I would like to know, because fundamentalists always need a scapegoat. According to them, things can't just happen because someone was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or because weather patterns change, or because a mentally unwell person somehow had access to firearms. Probably they would go after (and already do) people getting abortions. Guess who's not getting abortions? Gay couples. Gay couples have to try even harder to have children than straight couples. So what's worse? Being gay or getting an abortion? I'm sure they're both equally bad and equally detrimental in the opinions of fundamentalists...but somehow the gays seem to be the ones in the spotlight. Maybe it's because gay people are more obvious. They have the "audacity" to happily walk around in public holding hands with their partner. Most people who have abortions don't go around singing the praises of the procedure, and therefore remain mostly anonymous.
I think if you took away the religious aspect of why people hate homosexuals, you would find a person who is very intimidated or maybe even repressed by sex. The thought of two men or two women having sex with each other is so foreign and so repulsive to them. I don't think about it. I'd rather not think about anyone having sex, and to be honest, it's none of my business. I remember when I was younger people would talk about how they walked in on their parents having sex, and they would go on and on about how traumatized they were by it. I didn't really want to think about my own parents having sex, but figured that if I had to, I concluded that sex between two consenting adults is a good sign of a healthy relationship. Simple. Easy. Kept me from thinking about the How and more about the Why. And the sort of sex that might be going on behind closed doors is no one's business but the people carrying it out. I'll have you know that I have friends who possessed ball gags, hand cuffs, strap-ons, double-headed dildos, and more...and they used them. Frequently. These people were not gay, they were straight. A man and a woman. If a straight man enjoys a dildo up his butt, does that make him gay? And if it does, is he then directly responsible for all the deaths caused by a school shooting? Is he also directly responsible for the death for a Marine killed in combat on foreign soil? Does my friendship with him make me responsible as well? I don't know where fundamentalists come up with this stuff.
Well, I kind of do. It's fear. Fear of something different, fear of something that they've been told is an abomination from day one, never once taking the time to think outside the box, or to think about it for themselves. A gay person is no different than a straight person. And just because it's now legal for them to be married, it doesn't mean that gay people are going to try to start stealing away people's husbands and wives. It doesn't mean that they're going to start flaunting their relationships to the masses any more than straight couples do now. I've been hit on in bar by a lesbian exactly once in my life. And let me tell you, it was a heck of a lot more pleasant and respectful than the many advances I've had by men over the years. Once I told her that I was straight, she apologized, told me she thought I was beautiful and then she left. She didn't try to pull my top down, grab my boob, grab my butt, or continue to hit on me anyway, which is more than I can say for some of those aforementioned men.
So I guess in conclusion, I didn't write this to change anyone's mind about homosexuality. I think people will continue to believe what they believe and they're entitled to that...just as I am. Mostly I wrote this as a sign of support...not just for my homosexual friends, but for anyone who isn't treated fairly just because they're perceived to be different. We all deserve equality. I think if people could put the same amount of energy that they put forth towards their hatred into something productive, you'd find a lot more happy people in this world.
The End.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
May 13...or...Time...I feel like I have none of it.
So this blogging "every day in May" thing turned out to be anything but. Then I thought maybe I would do a "blog almost every day in May," but I'm not really succeeding in that either. So I decided that I'm going to change it to "blog more in May." I think I can do that.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
May 7th...or...I Really Hate Goodbyes
It’s no secret that I’ve been called a crazy dog lady for quite a few years. I got my first dog, Lady, back in 2001. Brie followed in 2002, and Cooper joined the two of them in 2004. I didn’t think having three dogs was all that weird. After all, having two isn’t much more work than having one. And three...well...three was a bit of a stretch. But living in Rochester with a fenced yard made it relatively easy for me to manage them. Doing the traveling gig with three dogs has presented its challenges. Simon and I have traveled to some pretty neat places with some options for some pretty fantastic day trips, but the dogs have always stifled us a little bit. We could either board them somewhere or just not go...too frequently the option of bringing them along just wasn’t there. There are a lot of dog-unfriendly places in this country...understandably so, but still. More often than not, we elected not to go, since boarding three dogs is pretty expensive, and that adds up quickly. Not that I minded too much...I knew when I was getting my dogs that I was in this for the long haul, and that I wasn’t going to depend on other people to take of them too often. Every now and then was all right, but I know them better than anyone else on this planet, and so of course I’m under the assumption that I can take care of them better than anyone else. So, logically, I should probably be the one taking care of them.
This past January I had to put my oldest dog, Lady, to sleep. I had had her for almost 13 years, and she was almost 16 years old at the time of her passing. She was a good dog and a good friend. Even though I had known for some time that she was declining and that the end was near, it was still really hard to say goodbye to her. There really was nothing that could have prepared me for that. Her end was peaceful, quiet, and she was with Simon and I, her two most favorite people (in that order...Simon was her favorite...haha!). So that was that and I thought maybe I would have a reprieve from dealing with that sort of thing for a while.
I fear that too soon it’ll be little Brie’s turn, and it just breaks my heart. In the last few months she’s gone from a mostly agile little pup who could jump up on the couch with no troubles, to a rickety old thing who has difficulty holding a squat to go to the bathroom. Her hindquarters have significantly weakened, and what little hearing and vision she had is mostly gone. I distinctly remember years ago watching an elderly pug trying to take a poop at my apartment complex, and the poor thing was so atrophied in the hind end that it tipped right over onto its own turds. I remember wondering to myself why the owner didn’t do the humane thing and put the old bugger to rest. Brie tipped over while pooping today. And suddenly here we are...at that same spot I was 5 years ago, only now it’s me and my old bugger. Funny how life comes full circle like that.
I told myself when I started to notice Brie’s decline that there was no way I could put 2 dogs down in one year. Of course, we tell ourselves all kinds of things to make us feel better when we’re getting a particularly harsh dose of reality. And I’m not one of those people just raring to run to the vet to put my dog down so I can be relieved of the burden of caring for an elderly dog (and it is a burden, but it’s one I choose to bear because she’s my pup and I love her to pieces). But I refuse to let my animals suffer. They would lay down their lives for me, they give everything they have just to be with me...the least I can do is give them a comfortable exit from this world. But I don’t think that we’re quite there yet. She still plays and tries to run around, still loves to snuggle and cuddle, and her appetite hasn’t been affected in the slightest by all of this...she’s still a little porker. She doesn’t appear to be in pain, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she must be. If she can’t run and jump and squat normally, then she’s got to be uncomfortable, at the very least. I know that being mostly blind and deaf is stressful for her...she’ll wander from room to room looking for me, and if I’m not moving around or making noise, she’ll walk right by me, not even realizing that I’m there. When there are multiple people in one room, she’ll wander from person to person sniffing each person’s leg until she comes to the person she’s looking for. 9 times out of 10, that person is usually me (there is no disputing that I am Brie’s favorite...which is convenient, since she drives Simon crazy). She then gets all excited once she’s found me, as if she had been on a days long quest through the mountains to reach me...this happens quite often. It’s both cute and sad at the same time.
So I’ll continue to watch her. To do what I can for her. And like I did with Lady, I think I’ll know when it’s time. Selfishly I want her to stay with me for as long as possible, and I think she’ll do what she can. But when she lets me know that it’s time, I’ll hold her in my arms, thank her for all the good years she gave me, and gently say goodbye. Simon said it best when he said that what’s saddest about old dogs is that they remain so mentally sharp, usually right up until the end. The mind is willing but the body is shot. It’s so unfair that our most loyal little beasties are cursed with such short little lifespans. I guess I’m thankful to be a part of their little lives at all.
Things I’m thankful for on May 7th:
Spending time with good friends in the sunshine
Simon in the driver’s seat
Pho with Abby and JD
Snuggled in the bed with my puglets
Bacon
Red-headed birdies on the feeder
T-shirts and flip flops
campfire smell in the air
Monday, May 6, 2013
May 5th...or...Why I Should Start Wearing Make-up Again
So...I'm not a huge fan of make-up. The last time I wore make-up was on New Years Eve and I broke out in a rash, prompting me to throw it all away. I've since purchased some foundation and powder from Origins, the skin care line that I currently use for my face wash. It's still in the packaging.
Simon, his mom, Deb, and I were looking through photo albums last night and we came across a photo of Simon and I before his cousin's wedding back in the fall of 2007. And I looked fantastic! My hair was straight and shiny (an anomaly for September), my boobs were miraculously sitting higher than normal (again, an anomaly since I was wearing a strapless bra), and my make-up was wonderful, particularly my eyes. It's amazing what a little eyeliner and mascara can do for a person.
I'm a lazy person. That's part of the reason I don't wear make-up. Another reason is because I wear it so infrequently that I think I look like a clown when I have it on. I never really did learn how to properly apply make-up. I used to make my college roommates put it on me when they insisted that a night out called for more glam and less hooded sweatshirt (although there were times that I totally rocked the make-up with the hoodie...at least I think I did, they might have other opinions about how that all came together). And then there's that whole rash thing.
But that picture. I just keep thinking about it. Then I think about the extra time I would have to add to my already strenuous daily regimen (to me...I'm flossing everyday now, remember) for make-up application. And then I think about how it wouldn't take up that much time. And then I think about how I don't know what I'm doing. I ponder watching some YouTube videos on basic make-up application. And then I think about getting caught in the rain and having it all run down my face. No make-up probably looks better than rain sodden make-up. I have all kinds of excuses not to wear make-up, but mostly it's laziness.
And I can't help but wonder if this is one of the many lamentations I'm going to have as I continue to age. I'm already going through it with my hair, which gets more and more gray by the day. I've had people ask me when I'm going to start dyeing it, and I've also had people tell me they respect my courage to go gray naturally. But it's not courage...again, it's laziness...of course. And maybe it's a little bit frugal...dyeing my hair and keeping up with gray roots sounds like a lot of work. And let's be honest, when I barely find the time to floss everyday, there's no way I'm going to keep up with gray roots. And given how dark my hair is, gray roots would look absolutely absurd. But I struggle with the grays. I spend less and less time in front of the mirror these days because I really don't care to see them. Not that I spent a lot of time in front of the mirror to begin with, but the time I spend fussing over my hair has decreased as the grays have increased. The only time the grays are somewhat charming (and that's debatable) is near Christmas time when I tell little kids that I have tinsel in my hair. Other than that, I consider it mostly an eyesore.
But back to the picture...I definitely recall applying make-up more frequently when Simon and I were first dating. And it's gotten more and more sporadic as the years have gone by. I don't know if my relationship and my aversion to make-up are in any way related, but it seems that they could be. Simon likes me just fine without make-up. He thinks I look pretty without it, and I think he appreciates the lack of time I spend in the bathroom, fussing over something that he doesn't really feel is all that important. So I guess I picked the right guy in that aspect. Maybe I just need to quit looking at old pictures of myself...hahaha!
And so it goes. I'm mostly happy with myself, and I know that aging is probably never easy for anyone. I just need to focus on what's good in my life right now. Thinking about eye make-up from 6 years ago seems a little silly in the broad scheme of things.
Things I am thankful for on May 5th:
Simon taking the time load up my scooter into our trailer for the long trip south
Caramel rice krispie bars
Playing card games with well-behaved children
Gurdy's funny little noises
Abby and Deb rocking it out in the kitchen
Spending time with family
Finding the motivation to try a new work-out regimen (and it only takes 15 minutes! Bonus!)
Simon, his mom, Deb, and I were looking through photo albums last night and we came across a photo of Simon and I before his cousin's wedding back in the fall of 2007. And I looked fantastic! My hair was straight and shiny (an anomaly for September), my boobs were miraculously sitting higher than normal (again, an anomaly since I was wearing a strapless bra), and my make-up was wonderful, particularly my eyes. It's amazing what a little eyeliner and mascara can do for a person.
I'm a lazy person. That's part of the reason I don't wear make-up. Another reason is because I wear it so infrequently that I think I look like a clown when I have it on. I never really did learn how to properly apply make-up. I used to make my college roommates put it on me when they insisted that a night out called for more glam and less hooded sweatshirt (although there were times that I totally rocked the make-up with the hoodie...at least I think I did, they might have other opinions about how that all came together). And then there's that whole rash thing.
But that picture. I just keep thinking about it. Then I think about the extra time I would have to add to my already strenuous daily regimen (to me...I'm flossing everyday now, remember) for make-up application. And then I think about how it wouldn't take up that much time. And then I think about how I don't know what I'm doing. I ponder watching some YouTube videos on basic make-up application. And then I think about getting caught in the rain and having it all run down my face. No make-up probably looks better than rain sodden make-up. I have all kinds of excuses not to wear make-up, but mostly it's laziness.
And I can't help but wonder if this is one of the many lamentations I'm going to have as I continue to age. I'm already going through it with my hair, which gets more and more gray by the day. I've had people ask me when I'm going to start dyeing it, and I've also had people tell me they respect my courage to go gray naturally. But it's not courage...again, it's laziness...of course. And maybe it's a little bit frugal...dyeing my hair and keeping up with gray roots sounds like a lot of work. And let's be honest, when I barely find the time to floss everyday, there's no way I'm going to keep up with gray roots. And given how dark my hair is, gray roots would look absolutely absurd. But I struggle with the grays. I spend less and less time in front of the mirror these days because I really don't care to see them. Not that I spent a lot of time in front of the mirror to begin with, but the time I spend fussing over my hair has decreased as the grays have increased. The only time the grays are somewhat charming (and that's debatable) is near Christmas time when I tell little kids that I have tinsel in my hair. Other than that, I consider it mostly an eyesore.
But back to the picture...I definitely recall applying make-up more frequently when Simon and I were first dating. And it's gotten more and more sporadic as the years have gone by. I don't know if my relationship and my aversion to make-up are in any way related, but it seems that they could be. Simon likes me just fine without make-up. He thinks I look pretty without it, and I think he appreciates the lack of time I spend in the bathroom, fussing over something that he doesn't really feel is all that important. So I guess I picked the right guy in that aspect. Maybe I just need to quit looking at old pictures of myself...hahaha!
And so it goes. I'm mostly happy with myself, and I know that aging is probably never easy for anyone. I just need to focus on what's good in my life right now. Thinking about eye make-up from 6 years ago seems a little silly in the broad scheme of things.
Things I am thankful for on May 5th:
Simon taking the time load up my scooter into our trailer for the long trip south
Caramel rice krispie bars
Playing card games with well-behaved children
Gurdy's funny little noises
Abby and Deb rocking it out in the kitchen
Spending time with family
Finding the motivation to try a new work-out regimen (and it only takes 15 minutes! Bonus!)
Saturday, May 4, 2013
May 4th...or...All These Goals I Have For Myself
So I have this random list of goals. I think we all have them. Some are realistic, some not so much. Some of us are where we thought we'd be at our current age, some are so far from where they thought they'd be they wonder how they got there in the first place. And that can be a wonderful thing. If you had asked me at 21 where I thought I would be at 33, it definitely wouldn't be moving across the country multiple times a year with intermittent residences in my parents' basement. I always get a kick out of that, telling people that at 33 years old I still live in my parents' basement. At 21 I had this idea that I would have been married, owned a house, worked at Mayo Clinic, and had all the children I was going to have by age 30. So far, I've obtained none of those things. I worked at Mayo for a few years, I owned a house for just under 2 years, I had my new shiny red Jeep, I had my three wonderful little dogs, and was just waiting for that man to come into my life to complete the "married with kids" portion of my life. He never showed up. And thank goodness for that.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed myself in Rochester, but I wasn't necessarily happy. I felt like I was always waiting for the next thing to happen, like there was something more just around the bend. And as I watched my friends disappear one by one into their own marriages and families, I began to realize that maybe that life wasn't my path. My first breakthrough moment happened in the fall of 2004, right after I had ended my relationship with Marshal, my boyfriend at the time. My good friend Pritish was having a party at his house, and he invited me to attend. I didn't have anyone to go with, and after a lot of pep talking, I went by myself. When I walked into his apartment, everyone in the room turned towards to the door. I didn't recognize them, they didn't recognize me, and so they all turned back to their conversations while I awkwardly stood there by myself. It seemed like a lifetime had passed (but was probably mere seconds) before someone approached me and asked me if I was looking for Pritish. I don't even remember this guy's name or who he was, but I was so grateful for his kindness. We found Pritish, and he made a big production out of introducing me to every single person in the room. And after that it was fine. I had a great time, and I made some new friends. And to think I wasn't going to go at all because I was too afraid to go alone. After that I decided I needed to put myself into uncomfortable situations, that it was good for me to get outside of my own little world. When hurricane Katrina happened, I signed up to be on one of Mayo Clinic's disaster relief crews. It made me nervous, thinking about leaving everything that I had ever known to venture into a part of the country where I had never been. I would have only been gone for two weeks, but still...it was something so out of character for me. The group I was supposed to go with ended up being cancelled, so I never did get to go. So I signed up to be part of Mayo's RN Exchange program with their campus in Arizona. The Exchange program lasts for just under three months, and I would essentially become a staff RN at the Mayo Clinic Hospital in Phoenix, AZ. So signed up. I was nervous, to say the least. And then I met my friend Jeff, who at the time was a member of the Peace Corps in Suriname, South America. He was a person who had given up all his material belongings, moved to a country where he didn't speak the language, and lived by himself in a city full of strangers. Suddenly, my move to Arizona didn't seem so harrowing. He gave me some of the best advice I've gotten in my short 33 years on this planet, and it was: "Home is always going to be there, and you can always go back whenever you want." And it's true. And that advice is still something that I hold near and dear to me to this day. It wasn't long after that that I put my house on the market, sold all my furniture, packed up my things and moved to Arizona with the intention of becoming a full-blown travel nurse.
Being a travel nurse has had its ups and downs. I basically apply, interview, and go through pre-employment screening for a new job about every three months. The paperwork is tedious and of course every hospital has different requirements. Some are legit, some are outlandish. I try to keep an open mind and a level head, but it's difficult. Simon is good at keeping me centered, and at keeping me from making phone calls I might regret in regards to HR policies and whatnot. I've so far lived in 9 different states, and have friends in cities all across the country. It's been great, and I love it. Had I not been a travel nurse, I would have never met Simon, and I can't imagine life without him. He fulfills that "married with kids" thing that I was looking for, without the need for the marriage or the kids. This definitely isn't where I thought I would be, but I'm so glad to be where I am.
So now I have new goals, and they are far less life-changing than my prior ones. In no particular order:
-Wash my face and brush my teeth twice a day. Seeing that in print makes me think I sound unhygienic. I'm really not. I shower, I'm clean, I don't stink. But there are days when I'm just too plum tired to take care of those little things. And really, they are little things. I was exhausted last night after having dinner and socializing with my family. The last thing I wanted to do was wash my face and brush my teeth...but I did it. It took mere minutes. Those are two simple little things that will be better for me in the long run.
-Floss once a day. Again, that sounds so simple. But I hate flossing. I truly loathe it. I don't know if it's because I'm creeped out by that little string between my teeth, or if it's because I gag every time I try to get behind those molars on the right upper side of my mouth. The last time I was at the dentist, I was lamenting to the hygienist about how I sporadically have dental insurance, but that I need to go to the dentist at least twice a year for a good scraping. I'm a rapid plaque accumulator...always have been. She made the comment to me that if I would just floss everyday, I would save money by not having to go to the dentist as often. There's the lightbulb. Approach with an idea in terms of saving money, and I'm on board. Those threats about gum disease and tooth loss from not flossing...eh...I'll get around that somehow. So yeah...not only will flossing save my mouth, it'll also save my wallet. So now I have to add that to my regimen, and I'm on day 5 of flossing everyday.
-Finish scrapbooking by the end of my upcoming gig in Flagstaff. So I have this bin of things that I've collected over the years with the intention of scrapbooking them. The last time I scrapbooked was the spring of 2011...and I was able to knock out like 50 pages in the span of a week or so. When I get to it, I just do it. But then I stop. I stop the scrapbooking, not the collecting of memorabilia to put in the scrapbook. Simon has proposed a goal for me that I do one page a day while I'm in Flagstaff. That's definitely an attainable goal, considering that on a good day I can complete 10 pages or more in a single sitting. I'm a simple scrapbooker...slap some photos and a movie stub on a pre-patterend page, write a little blurb and move on to the next one. I had the fancy Creative Memories stuff for a long time...the die cuts and the patterned scissors and the stickers and pins...no more of that. Just get the stuff on the page and move on. Part of what's been keeping me from scrapbooking is space. Even with my simple style, I still still require a certain amount of space to spread out all my crap so I can see everything that I'm working with. I'm hoping that with the bigger apartment this time around, I'll have more space. Part of me struggles with the idea of scrapbooking. I'm putting all this work and effort into a keepsake, and I'll have no one to pass them on to. Why bother? Maybe someone will want them. They'll be fun to flip through at my funeral, I guess.
-Run 20-30 miles per week. This one will be a bit of a struggle, but I think I can do it. Moving all the time is a bit prohibitive for working out, since I don't really have a gym membership all the time. And given that there is still 10+ inches of snow on the ground in MAY in Minnesota, I'm not running outside. I'm not that die-hard of a runner. It'll be nice when I get back to Flagstaff and can get back out to the trails. I really like trail running a lot. I've signed up for a half-marathon in Vancouver, BC in August, and I'm thinking about signing up for another one in Las Vegas in November. Having these races on the horizon keeps me motivated. And while I don't run them with the intent of being my fastest or qualifying for a more prestigious race, just finishing them makes me feel like I've accomplished something. I tell people that I'm a lazy runner, which is usually met with looks of confusion. How can a person simultaneously be a runner and lazy? Somehow, I manage to do it.
And there's that. I thought these entries would be shorter since I'm planning on blogging every day, but somehow they still manage to be just as long. My apologies.
Things I am thankful for on May 4th:
Glass water bottles
Hearing Simon on the exercise bike
Seeing my girlfriends today for a baby shower
My family
Pug snuggles
Peeter-Heaters in the Jeep
Tan lines
Friday, May 3, 2013
Jumping on the wagon
So I haven't written in a while. I've been reading a bit about this challenge to "Blog every day in May." Sounds like a good idea, and something that I might like to try. But...I know myself and I know my laziness. I'm lucky if I brush my teeth everyday. Okay, so I actually do brush my teeth everyday, but sometimes that's about the only purposeful thing I get done. Okay, so that's not true either...I do lots of purposeful things, but too often those purposeful things don't have anything to do with being on or near a computer. And I'm okay with that. I feel that this day in age we are far too connected to our cyber selves...that maybe little by little we are losing touch with our real selves, and that scares me a little bit. When I think about movies like Idiocracy and Wall-E, I feel like there are times when we are not too far removed from venturing into those worlds. As an aside, I hope there is never such a thing as a toilet inside a recliner. Please, for the love of Pete, no one needs to be pooping in their living room whilst watching TV with their family.
Back to the blogging every day in May. I think I can do it...although I'm already 2 days behind. To my credit, I spent 15 hours in the car on May 1st, and 11 hours in the car on May 2nd. And then I had to shovel snow after the long second day in the car. 12+ inches of snow. Thankfully our neighbor brought his wonderful little lawn tractor over and blew out the majority of the driveway, and the berm that the snowplow left behind. So, I suppose the fact that I was in the car for 26 hours would have given me ample time to blog but I just didn't feel like it. And have you ever written a blog entry on a phone? Kill me now. I hate typing on that little thing. So here we are. Maybe I can mini-blog to make up for the last couple days.
I think part of the reason that I don't blog more often is that I realize how cynical I am...even snarky at times, and who wants to read that day after day? So one of my goals with this blogging every day bit is to try to include a bit of good cheer, some positivity, and a dash of thankfulness for all the good things I have going on in my life. And poop. Of course I will have to mention poop. And maybe if I blog every day, the entries will be shorter, so you don't have to spend so much time sitting to read them. I think I can make this work.
May 1st...or...why Simon wants to start waving a gun at drivers in the South.
So. There are a lot of things I love about the South. Sweet tea, fried chicken, sunshine, warmth, green grass, green trees, the Gulf of Mexico, Southern hospitality...I could go on and on. I feel like I left a little bit of my heart in North Carolina...I'm so in love with that state. However. Take a road trip through the South, and that former love rapidly declines to madness. For instance...we have noticed that some of the worst drivers in the country reside in the south of Mason Dixon Line. I don't know why, but it just seems to be the case. I think that maybe they sell cars in the South where blinkers are an option that you have to pay extra for...and no one is buying. That seems to be the explanation that makes the most sense. Or maybe they aren't taught how to use them in Driver's Ed. I really don't know. I think a lot of our driving disdain would be diminished if people would just use their blinkers. Really. Blinkers aside, there is one driving situation that occurred over and over again during our trip across the South that caused the aforementioned gun waving situation. People in the South like to tailgate...and then once you move over to let them pass, they like to sit in your blind spot. So when you finally catch up to that slow moving semi and go to pass, you about sideswipe the dipsh*t who has been sitting in your blind spot for the last 5 miles. The same dipsh*t who has been sitting there for so long that you've forgotten about him (or her). My favorite was the sitting in the blind spot whilst talking on the phone, completely unawares that they are in the blind spot, let alone that they almost got ran off the road by a disgruntled driver with out-of-state plates...and two surfboards strapped to the top of the car. It's not like we're an inconspicuous vehicle cruising down the road. I don't know why this happens. But once we crossed into Illinois, it never happened again. Which leads me to believe that it happens more frequently in the South.
So that was the bulk of our May 1st. We ended the day with a jog on the treadmill (to purge any residual road rage), Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and Jimmy John's. I love me some Jimmy John's.
Things I am thankful for on May 1st:
Simon as my copilot...there is no one else in this world with whom I could spend so many hours in the car.
Good driving weather
Jimmy John's Club Lulu (#16, no cheese)
A King-sized bed
Ebay
Sweatpants
May 2nd...or...why I'm glad I don't live in Illinois...but at least they don't have snow in May
11 hours in the car had us starting out in Paducah, KY and ending in Eyota, MN. We left Paducah under partly cloudy skies, the day was starting to warm up, and the drive was good. Upon crossing the Mississippi into Minnesota, it started to snow. And it didn't stop. And I almost ran us off the road while passing a semi (thankfully no one was hiding out in my blind spot...they probably would have died...or gone in the ditch, at the very least). In all my years of living in Minnesota, I've never seen this much snow in May. Ever. This is insane. But it's also very pretty. It would have been prettier in December, but it still looks nice. Supposedly the temperatures are supposed to climb into the 60's on Saturday, so it'll all go away and we'll be left with mud. And hopefully no water in the basement. That's a common problem around here, and the reason all my belongings in my room are currently piled up on folding tables...just in case. When I build a house someday (because I will have to build, I have far too many stipulations at this point to buy an existing house) there will be no basement. I'm with Simon's mom in my opinion that if a tornado rips my house away, it can take me along with it. Sounds kind of silly to choose possible death over water in the basement, but I guess it all comes down to personal preference. I don't judge anyone for choosing a basement over death...that actually sounds like the more reasonable choice...but this is me we're talking about, and reasonable isn't typically a word most would use to describe me.
Anyway, back to the snow (or back on the ranch, as one of my former coworkers was fond of saying when the conversation had gone awry), Simon and I shoveled a bit when we got back to Eyota yesterday afternoon (I found myself laughing at the irony of leaving 80+ degree weather in Florida for 12+ inches of now in Minnesota). Then our lovely neighbor came over and threw us a bone with his tractor. So I made him some cookies last night. Despite everyone being disgruntled about snow in May, everyone I came across yesterday afternoon was in surprisingly good spirits. People were helping dig out their neighbor's cars, people in the grocery store were cheerful and joking around about shoveling...there was an upbeat feeling to the day that you don't typically have. I think there's something whimsical about snow, even in May. And knowing that this particular snow is (hopefully) the end of it and that spring is right there...right around the corner, keeps those winter blues away. With snow this late we're bound to go right from winter to summer. I think spring is on hiatus this year.
Things I am thankful for on May 2nd:
Simon as my co-shoveler...he kept me motivated and didn't even have to nag at me to help.
Snackies for dinner with my mom and dad
Seeing my little dogs after being away from them for a month
Oxford commas
Pristine, white snow
Coupon for free underpants in the mail
A snuggly fleece robe and slippers
May 3rd...or...bills bills bills
Anxiously awaiting me this morning were $600+ in bills. Hooray! They just never end, do they? I suppose I should be grateful that I have the money to pay them. And I should be grateful for the nice things that they allow me to have. I guess. Yesterday as I was sitting passenger in the car as the miles of cropland in Illinois went flying by (well, somewhat...between the 65 mph speed limit and the construction we actually creeped through Illinois at times), I was thinking about what causes people to be happy, and what causes them to be miserable. And I came to the conclusion that money causes a lot of misery. Paying taxes, paying bills, having too little money for one thing and settling on the cheaper thing that just isn't quite as good. Wondering if this paycheck will carry you over to the next one. Trying not to think about the credit card balance. Wanting to buy a new house when you know the one you're currently in will never sell for what you think it should. And I found myself thinking that if we could just find a way to be happy doing more with less, maybe things wouldn't seem so bad. I've been trying to do that. It's difficult. Especially considering that some of my happiness is tied up in buying things. Doesn't matter what it is. Pants, shoes, cottage cheese, building supplies, bird seed. I think what drives me to buy so many things is the thought of possibility. The new dimension those pants and shoes might bring to what I already have in my wardrobe, what a new coat of paint might do to a room, what kinds of birds that new seed might bring to the feeder, what kinds of new recipes I might make with those wacky ingredients I bought from that random store where no one speaks coherent English. I'm always searching for the next thing to spark my interest. Either I haven't found it yet, or I haven't learned how to be content with what I already have in front of me. I'm working on the latter, because searching for the former can be a fruitless task, and it can also keep me from seeing all the good things that are already present in my life. So instead of opening my wallet, I'm trying to just open my eyes. And it's working...sort of. I spent an entire month in Florida and only bought two articles of clothing...and together they were only $50. That's huge for me, especially considering that I spent the majority of the month in the company of my friend Ellen. The two of us can throw down some serious cash when we're together, but this time was different...in a good way. We didn't socialize by shopping; we socialized while hanging out by the pool, or at the beach, or on the paddle boards. It was good. And I was content. So here I sit...in my fleece robe watching the birds on the feeder in our snowy backyard. Life is good.
Things I am thankful for on May 3rd:
Waking up next to Simon (and Brie) in a nice snuggly bed
Pug snores
Woodpeckers
Socializing with my family
Warm winter boots
Mittens
So. Here is my Blog Every Day entry from May 1-3. The rest of the month is yet to be determined. I'll do my best. :)
I realized I forgot to talk about poop. Nothing too exciting to report at this time.
Back to the blogging every day in May. I think I can do it...although I'm already 2 days behind. To my credit, I spent 15 hours in the car on May 1st, and 11 hours in the car on May 2nd. And then I had to shovel snow after the long second day in the car. 12+ inches of snow. Thankfully our neighbor brought his wonderful little lawn tractor over and blew out the majority of the driveway, and the berm that the snowplow left behind. So, I suppose the fact that I was in the car for 26 hours would have given me ample time to blog but I just didn't feel like it. And have you ever written a blog entry on a phone? Kill me now. I hate typing on that little thing. So here we are. Maybe I can mini-blog to make up for the last couple days.
I think part of the reason that I don't blog more often is that I realize how cynical I am...even snarky at times, and who wants to read that day after day? So one of my goals with this blogging every day bit is to try to include a bit of good cheer, some positivity, and a dash of thankfulness for all the good things I have going on in my life. And poop. Of course I will have to mention poop. And maybe if I blog every day, the entries will be shorter, so you don't have to spend so much time sitting to read them. I think I can make this work.
May 1st...or...why Simon wants to start waving a gun at drivers in the South.
So. There are a lot of things I love about the South. Sweet tea, fried chicken, sunshine, warmth, green grass, green trees, the Gulf of Mexico, Southern hospitality...I could go on and on. I feel like I left a little bit of my heart in North Carolina...I'm so in love with that state. However. Take a road trip through the South, and that former love rapidly declines to madness. For instance...we have noticed that some of the worst drivers in the country reside in the south of Mason Dixon Line. I don't know why, but it just seems to be the case. I think that maybe they sell cars in the South where blinkers are an option that you have to pay extra for...and no one is buying. That seems to be the explanation that makes the most sense. Or maybe they aren't taught how to use them in Driver's Ed. I really don't know. I think a lot of our driving disdain would be diminished if people would just use their blinkers. Really. Blinkers aside, there is one driving situation that occurred over and over again during our trip across the South that caused the aforementioned gun waving situation. People in the South like to tailgate...and then once you move over to let them pass, they like to sit in your blind spot. So when you finally catch up to that slow moving semi and go to pass, you about sideswipe the dipsh*t who has been sitting in your blind spot for the last 5 miles. The same dipsh*t who has been sitting there for so long that you've forgotten about him (or her). My favorite was the sitting in the blind spot whilst talking on the phone, completely unawares that they are in the blind spot, let alone that they almost got ran off the road by a disgruntled driver with out-of-state plates...and two surfboards strapped to the top of the car. It's not like we're an inconspicuous vehicle cruising down the road. I don't know why this happens. But once we crossed into Illinois, it never happened again. Which leads me to believe that it happens more frequently in the South.
So that was the bulk of our May 1st. We ended the day with a jog on the treadmill (to purge any residual road rage), Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and Jimmy John's. I love me some Jimmy John's.
Things I am thankful for on May 1st:
Simon as my copilot...there is no one else in this world with whom I could spend so many hours in the car.
Good driving weather
Jimmy John's Club Lulu (#16, no cheese)
A King-sized bed
Ebay
Sweatpants
May 2nd...or...why I'm glad I don't live in Illinois...but at least they don't have snow in May
11 hours in the car had us starting out in Paducah, KY and ending in Eyota, MN. We left Paducah under partly cloudy skies, the day was starting to warm up, and the drive was good. Upon crossing the Mississippi into Minnesota, it started to snow. And it didn't stop. And I almost ran us off the road while passing a semi (thankfully no one was hiding out in my blind spot...they probably would have died...or gone in the ditch, at the very least). In all my years of living in Minnesota, I've never seen this much snow in May. Ever. This is insane. But it's also very pretty. It would have been prettier in December, but it still looks nice. Supposedly the temperatures are supposed to climb into the 60's on Saturday, so it'll all go away and we'll be left with mud. And hopefully no water in the basement. That's a common problem around here, and the reason all my belongings in my room are currently piled up on folding tables...just in case. When I build a house someday (because I will have to build, I have far too many stipulations at this point to buy an existing house) there will be no basement. I'm with Simon's mom in my opinion that if a tornado rips my house away, it can take me along with it. Sounds kind of silly to choose possible death over water in the basement, but I guess it all comes down to personal preference. I don't judge anyone for choosing a basement over death...that actually sounds like the more reasonable choice...but this is me we're talking about, and reasonable isn't typically a word most would use to describe me.
Anyway, back to the snow (or back on the ranch, as one of my former coworkers was fond of saying when the conversation had gone awry), Simon and I shoveled a bit when we got back to Eyota yesterday afternoon (I found myself laughing at the irony of leaving 80+ degree weather in Florida for 12+ inches of now in Minnesota). Then our lovely neighbor came over and threw us a bone with his tractor. So I made him some cookies last night. Despite everyone being disgruntled about snow in May, everyone I came across yesterday afternoon was in surprisingly good spirits. People were helping dig out their neighbor's cars, people in the grocery store were cheerful and joking around about shoveling...there was an upbeat feeling to the day that you don't typically have. I think there's something whimsical about snow, even in May. And knowing that this particular snow is (hopefully) the end of it and that spring is right there...right around the corner, keeps those winter blues away. With snow this late we're bound to go right from winter to summer. I think spring is on hiatus this year.
Things I am thankful for on May 2nd:
Simon as my co-shoveler...he kept me motivated and didn't even have to nag at me to help.
Snackies for dinner with my mom and dad
Seeing my little dogs after being away from them for a month
Oxford commas
Pristine, white snow
Coupon for free underpants in the mail
A snuggly fleece robe and slippers
May 3rd...or...bills bills bills
Anxiously awaiting me this morning were $600+ in bills. Hooray! They just never end, do they? I suppose I should be grateful that I have the money to pay them. And I should be grateful for the nice things that they allow me to have. I guess. Yesterday as I was sitting passenger in the car as the miles of cropland in Illinois went flying by (well, somewhat...between the 65 mph speed limit and the construction we actually creeped through Illinois at times), I was thinking about what causes people to be happy, and what causes them to be miserable. And I came to the conclusion that money causes a lot of misery. Paying taxes, paying bills, having too little money for one thing and settling on the cheaper thing that just isn't quite as good. Wondering if this paycheck will carry you over to the next one. Trying not to think about the credit card balance. Wanting to buy a new house when you know the one you're currently in will never sell for what you think it should. And I found myself thinking that if we could just find a way to be happy doing more with less, maybe things wouldn't seem so bad. I've been trying to do that. It's difficult. Especially considering that some of my happiness is tied up in buying things. Doesn't matter what it is. Pants, shoes, cottage cheese, building supplies, bird seed. I think what drives me to buy so many things is the thought of possibility. The new dimension those pants and shoes might bring to what I already have in my wardrobe, what a new coat of paint might do to a room, what kinds of birds that new seed might bring to the feeder, what kinds of new recipes I might make with those wacky ingredients I bought from that random store where no one speaks coherent English. I'm always searching for the next thing to spark my interest. Either I haven't found it yet, or I haven't learned how to be content with what I already have in front of me. I'm working on the latter, because searching for the former can be a fruitless task, and it can also keep me from seeing all the good things that are already present in my life. So instead of opening my wallet, I'm trying to just open my eyes. And it's working...sort of. I spent an entire month in Florida and only bought two articles of clothing...and together they were only $50. That's huge for me, especially considering that I spent the majority of the month in the company of my friend Ellen. The two of us can throw down some serious cash when we're together, but this time was different...in a good way. We didn't socialize by shopping; we socialized while hanging out by the pool, or at the beach, or on the paddle boards. It was good. And I was content. So here I sit...in my fleece robe watching the birds on the feeder in our snowy backyard. Life is good.
Things I am thankful for on May 3rd:
Waking up next to Simon (and Brie) in a nice snuggly bed
Pug snores
Woodpeckers
Socializing with my family
Warm winter boots
Mittens
So. Here is my Blog Every Day entry from May 1-3. The rest of the month is yet to be determined. I'll do my best. :)
I realized I forgot to talk about poop. Nothing too exciting to report at this time.
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