So I guess this means I'm a runner...

Finisher's medal and my post-race treat.  The finish line to the race can be seen on the street in the background

Over the weekend I finished my second half-marathon.  Simon and I flew to Vancouver, British Columbia to take part in the Sea Wheeze, which is a race sponsored the athletic clothing company, Lululemon.  It was my second half, Simon's first.  My first half-marathon was back in February in Orlando, FL (you can read a little bit about it here, if you like).  The Sea Wheeze race couldn't have been more different than the Disney race.  

On our way to Stanley Park

For starters, I was able to finish this race 35 minutes faster than the Disney Princess half-marathon in Orlando.  35 minutes is huge, especially considering that my training leading up to this race was lackluster, at best.  The only explanation I can come up with is the elevation change.  For most of the last year, I've been living and exercising at 7,000 feet of elevation.  I get out of breath walking up a hill here in Flagstaff.  In the three months leading up to the race, the longest continuous distance I had run was four miles.  Four.  And then I transported myself to sea level and rocked out 13 miles like it was nothing.  Well, not quite like nothing.  I was definitely struggling at the end, and I was sore for about three days afterwards, but other than that, I was shocked that I was able to run the entire thing with little to no stopping (it's hard to drink water and run at the same time, so I had little walks near the water stations).  The running seemed easier in Vancouver though, and I never once felt out of breath.  So I've decided that I need to move to Flagstaff, and only run races that take place at sea level...then I'll feel like I've accomplished something.  Honestly, it almost felt like cheating.  Another reason I think this race went a little better than the Disney race was the number of participants.  At Disney, I ran with over 23,000 other people, about half of them walkers (no judgement, just an observation...I did my fair share of walking as well).  There were times during the Disney race where the bottlenecks were so severe and the lanes so narrow that I had no choice but to walk until the path cleared...an inevitability when sharing a one-lane road with that number of people.  The Sea Wheeze capped out at just over 10,000 runners, the majority of them were much more fit than the average Disney runner, and from what I saw, most of them were running for most, if not all, of the race.  The running path was much wider at Sea Wheeze as well, enabling Simon and I to maintain a pretty even pace for most of the race.

Simon getting warmed up for group yoga

For all the frivolity that Lululemon can bring to the athletic clothing world, they really put on a very good race.  There were several group yoga sessions that Simon and I were able to participate in, they had a roped off area with food vendors, couches to hang out in, and people doing the runners' hair and nails.  The course that we ran was absolutely beautiful, and we got a see a decent portion of downtown Vancouver, including Gastown, Yaletown, Kitsilano, and Stanley Park.  We ran across and under a couple bridges, and it was cool to see the different parts of town.  We lucked out in that the morning was cool and overcast, so the sun wasn't a factor in overheating us and wearing us down.  At the water stations they had not only water and Gatorade-type stuff, but they also had orange slices and banana pieces, which I thought was a really nice touch.  The orange slices were so refreshing.  The little packets of gel...not so much.  Simon choked one down and got heartburn almost instantly afterwards.  He said it tasted like someone had made a paste out of crushed up vitamins.  Ick.  Pretty much all along the course there were people cheering us on.  My favorite fans were the drag queens, who we got to run past twice, which I enjoyed.  At one point we were even chased by one clad in skin tight pants and super high heels, her gigantic breasts thrust out in front of her as she yelled, "I'm a chase you!  I'm a chase you!"  It was pretty funny, and a nice distraction.  There were people on stilts, people in costumes, and an entire dance troupe of little girls decked out in tutus...all of them cheering, screaming, and ringing cow bells as we ran past.    

Honestly, I was almost taken aback by the spectator turn-out.  The only places where there weren't people cheering were the places where there physically wasn't room for them...like along the sea wall in Stanley Park where the only place they could have stood was in the ocean.  And even during that part, there were people out on the water on paddle boards cheering us on.  Part of me felt a little weird about it, to be honest.  There we were, decked out in our brightly colored, expensive athletic wear, running a race we paid to participate in, a race that really doesn't mean anything in the broad scheme of things...it's not like our race fees went to charity.  But still...thousands of people got up early to come out with their homemade signs to cheer us on.  I felt like I was doing something significant, but at the end of the day, I really wasn't.  A friend of mine is wildfire firefighter, and I saw a video recently of the reception that the firemen get from the community when returning from a long day fighting fires...it was a lot like the reception we got as we ran through town.  People cheering, honking horns, congratulations abound.  I appreciated them being there, and at times was even grateful for their encouragement, especially during that last mile.  It made me feel like I was accomplishing something important.

Simon and I after finishing the race

As far as the actual race itself went, I finished in 2 hours and 25 minutes, a new personal best for me.  Simon and I were able to maintain a running pace of just under 11 minutes per mile for the majority of the race, which is also quite good for us, at least for a race that long.  I awoke that morning pretty nervous and a little queasy, and it didn't help matters that I found myself in dire need of having to poop five minutes before we were supposed to head out for the race.  Of course it had to happen right at that time.  Maybe it lightened me up!  That could be another reason why I finished so well.  ;)  I recently switched to a new brand of shoe, and while I had my reservations about switching from my super stable Salomons to the lighter and more flexible Mizunos, I thought they were a great shoe to run that distance in on that particular course (and they matched my shirt...what more could I really ask for?  Haha!).  However, around 10 kilometers, my arches started to ache.  Fortunately, my right butt cheek went numb around 15 kilometers, so that was a distraction of sorts from my feet.  By 20 kilometers with only 1 kilometer left to go (that last one is always the longest), it was all I could do to just put one foot in front of the other.  Simon was a fantastic motivator.  Not pushing me too much because he knows that will backfire and I'll just give up, but pushing me just enough to keep me moving.  It was great running with him, and I know that a big part of me finishing as fast and as well as I did was because of him.  He's not sure if he's got another half-marathon in him though.  This race was really hard on him...most especially on his joints.  I told him that we could just walk more next time, but he's got that competitive spirit that I've never had.  He would want to try to beat his time from this race, rather than take it easy and finish at a slower time.  I'm just happy to finish the thing, and don't really care a whole lot about the time.  I think that's why we made such a good running team...he pushed me to keep going, and I just went.  We'll see if we end up there again next year.  I hope we do.  What I do know, is that I will never be one of those runners who pushes myself to the point of expiratory grunting.  We were passed a few times by women who sounded like mini freight trains going through.  That just sounds painful.  And not fun at all.  I would rather walk than reduce myself to a sweaty, grunting, breathless mess.  As Simon and I finished the race, there was a woman who finished right next to us who was immediately whisked away by the medical staff.  She must have had a look about her or something, because they didn't give Simon or I a second glance.  13 miles is a long way to go...it took a lot out of us, and I'm sure there were people running it who even less prepared than we were.  

For some odd reason, I preferred to keep track of the race in kilometers, rather than miles.  They labeled the course both ways, since the race draws so many participants from the United States.  A half-marathon is 13.1 miles, or 21.1 kilometers.  Logic would tend towards tracking the race in miles, since the numbers are smaller.  But my brain wanted to track in kilometers, since I know that kilometers are smaller than miles, although really not by much.  But that didn't matter.  Saying that I went 21 kilometers sounds like I went so much farther than 13 miles, and therefore accomplished more.  These are the things we have to tell ourselves when we get it into our heads that running 13 miles/21 kilometers sounds like a good idea.  It's not a good idea.  There is no logical reason for a person to run 13 miles straight.  But we do it anyway.  The races are good motivation for me to stay in shape, and to maintain a certain level of fitness.  I guess if that's what it takes, I'll keep doing them for as long as I can.  It was kind of funny after the race to see people hobbling around town, the 13 miles taking their toll.  The funniest one was when we were on the elevator on our way to our hotel room after the race, and the doors opened a few floors below ours to reveal a woman limping by wearing an athletic top and a tutu.  It was like a tiny glimpse into the aftermath of the race, cut short by the closing of the elevator doors.  

Lululemon Sea Wheeze store...crazy busy!

In true Lululemon fashion, there was a spectacle surrounding the Sea Wheeze specific items for sale.  For their race, they release a line of athletic wear in colors that are exclusive to the event, and people go absolutely nuts over it.  The doors for both the store and the race packet pick-up opened at 8, which is when we got there, but we had a clear view of the front door from our hotel room, and the line was already around the rather large building by then.  I have no idea what time those crazy women at the front of the line got there, but it had to have been around the 5am mark, if not earlier.  Insane.  Crazy.  The store itself was a complete disaster area.  Women were grabbing things left and right, then hoarding them off into a corner where they sifted through them like little misers...or like little rodents lining a nest with expensive, brightly colored spandex blends.  I was bit disturbed by it, to be honest.  I wandered around aimlessly for a while, marveling at how picked over everything already was, despite the store having only been open for an hour and 45 minutes at that point.  Out of curiosity that night, I hopped on to eBay to see if things from the store were up for sale, and sure enough, there they were...at triple the price.  What was even more shocking were the number of people bidding on the items.  I very briefly thought about buying a bunch of stuff to put on eBay...if the prices on eBay were any indication of the profit those people were going to make, I probably could have made back the money for my flight and hotel with just a few items.  But I didn't do it.  That's not why I was there, and honestly, I really don't care for people who do that.  But...if there are people out there who are dumb enough to pay $400 for a $100 hooded sweatshirt...well...maybe they deserve to be taken advantage of...just not by me.

Porchetta sandwich at Meat & Bread

Simon and I stayed an extra day after the race, mostly to just wander around and enjoy Vancouver.  We had visited Vancouver last summer, and part of the draw of doing the Sea Wheeze in the first place was an excuse to go back.  It's such a walkable city, and there is so much to see, do, and most importantly, eat.  :)  During our few days there, I had only 2 cilantro incidents, and I handled both of them quite well, if I do say so myself.  No fits were pitched, no food was thrown, no bad attitude took over.  I just had an outward exclamation of "dammit!" and then passed the offending morsels to Simon, who is always glad to accept my cilantro-tainted refuse.  Other than that though, the food was fantastic.  Everywhere we went, no matter what we got, it was great.  My favorite, of course, was the Porchetta sandwich at Meat & Bread.  Seriously, the best sandwich in the world.  I have to imagine that's true.  It's slow roasted pork, topped with salsa verde (no cilantro...I asked), and sprinkled with cracklin's (basically pork rinds).  Divine.  Fantastic.  When are they going to come to the States??  Probably never, and so my yearly pilgrimages to Vancouver will most likely continue.  If not for the running, then definitely for the sandwich.  My second favorite food in Vancouver was found at the Granville Island Public Market.  It is a pastry simply named Blueberry Bread, but it is so much more than that.  Think of a cream cheese danish.  Now take out the cream cheese and replace with it with a creamy, not-too-sweet white chocolate.  Top it off with fresh blueberries and powdered sugar.  Amazing.  I bought one in anticipation of eating it for breakfast in the morning before boarding our flight.  Yeah, it was an evening snack the night before.  The thing didn't last 3 hours in its simple, blueberry stained paper bag.  The one food item that I didn't try, which I will save for next year, was the Poutine Burger at Tap and Barrel.  A burger topped with salty fries, cheese curds, and a red wine gravy?  What's not to like??  It was our last night there though, and I was feeling a little heavy from all the eating and figured a grease bomb such as that would probably not sit well through the night, and might have dire consequences the next day when I was supposed to be sitting on a plane for hours on end.  Next year, Poutine Burger, you will be mine.

Simon and I at the Xavier Rudd concert after the race

By the end of the race, and the weekend in general, I was done with standing in lines.  Just over it.  I had been surrounded by more people than I care to acknowledge for those 2 days of the race event.  Everywhere we went, for everything we wanted to do, there was a line.  On our last day in Vancouver Simon was taking a nap, and I wanted to go to Starbucks.  Luckily, there was one right across the street from our hotel.  I had the misfortune of getting in line behind a rather large family who didn't speak much English, and wasn't all that familiar with the offerings at Starbucks.  After waiting 5 minutes for the first person in the group to order (I had assumed he was ordering for everyone since he was taking so long), the second person in the group stepped forward and began asking the barrista the exact same questions the previous person had asked, complete with asking the barrista to show her what all the sandwiches looked like...exactly what the first person had done.  So I stormed out...into the rain...and walked 5 blocks in the rain to the next closest Starbucks.  I arrived soaked and with a poor attitude, but luckily didn't have to wait in line.  By the time I got back to the hotel room, I looked like a drowned rat, albeit with a steaming coffee drink in my hand.  By the time we left Vancouver the next morning, those clothes from the Starbucks incident were still wet.  I was impatient, and I made an irrational decision.  And luckily for everyone involved, it was a trivial irrational decision.  The only person who saw any negative effects was me.  Simon kidded me and said he hoped I had learned my lesson.  Yes, I had.  Will that prevent me from doing that again in the future?  Probably not.  We all have days like that.  Sunday morning was mine.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip, and we had a fantastic time.  For those of you who bailed, you totally missed out.  Luckily you'll have a chance at redemption next year, as it sounds like plans are already in the works for Sea Wheeze 2014.  See you there!  :)                                     

Struggles

Lately I've had a lot on my mind. To date, I have been travel nursing for 7 years and 8 months. I've been travel nursing almost twice as long as I haven't, and it's getting to the point where it's all I know. When I initially started traveling, I had the intention that I would do it until I was sick of it and would move back to Minnesota to pick up where I had left off. That's not so much of an option these days. After being away for almost 8 years, there's no longer such a thing as picking up where I left off. Life back in Minnesota went on without me, and to move back now I feel like it would be more like starting over. Of course I still have friends and family back in Minnesota who would love to have me back, but things are different now. People have gotten married, had children, moved to different parts of the state...they've gotten on with their lives, while I still seem to be in the same place. Not physically, of course, given that in the last 7+ years I've lived and worked in 9 different states. I guess in a traditional life-view, I'm still in the same place...not married, no kids, no home, no stable job. As the years have gone by, I've gotten more and more okay with my 'same place.' Almost to the point where I find it hard to relate to those who have gone the traditional route. In a sense, I've alienated myself. But in the process, I've also aligned myself with those who are like me, and there are, surprisingly, a lot of us. My personal life is full of brief camaraderies with people who are constantly coming and going. My map of friends is dotted with people in many different states, and even a few countries. I've had the opportunity to experience American culture in a lot of its variances...as a nation America really is very diverse, and I'm thankful that I've had the opportunity to experience it.

So what's the struggle, if life in my same place seems to suit me so well? There was always option 2, which was the idea that I would travel nurse until I found a place where I would like to stay. And part of me thinks that I may have found that place. Flagstaff has been an absolute dream. Everything about it just pulls me in. I love the people, the food, the culture, the weather, the sunshine, the mountains, the nature...I could go on about all the merits of this town. And it's not like I haven't been to places that have had all kinds of wonderful things. North Carolina still holds a special place in my heart. I miss Vermont. Living near the water in Florida was amazing. Even Arkansas had its merits. What sets Flagstaff apart, the proverbial icing on the cake, is the hospital. Flagstaff Medical Center is by far the best hospital I have ever worked in. Since I've been working, I feel like I can't stress enough the importance of liking your job. If you don't like your job, that dislike infects every other aspect of your life. It's hard to be truly happy when one of the most time-consuming aspects of your life makes you miserable. I have very little sympathy or tolerance for people who continually complain about, yet choose to stay, at a job they hate. If you hate your job so much, get a different one. Go back to school, find a career that makes you happy (easier said than done, I know...but if you want something bad enough, you find a way to make it happen). I'm happy at the hospital in Flagstaff. I don't have that feeling of disdain before going into work, surrendering to the dread of what lies ahead in the upcoming shift. I work with truly wonderful people, in a health system that truly seems to care about its employees. That's a rare combo these days, my friends, which is a sad fact in its own right. Even the patients here are different. I've never had the pleasure of caring for such decent people in my life. Of course there are always those outliers who make me want to rip all my hair out and subsequently shove it down their throats, but luckily there seem to be far less of them here than in any other place I've worked.

So I'm struggling with the part of me that wants to stay, and the part of me that wants to go. In the past few weeks I've been perusing real estate and rental websites, scouring Craigslist for furniture and whatnot. And I end every web session feeling depressed and defeated. Was it really this hard when I bought my house in Rochester? I remember being so excited about that, and Flagstaff seems to have so much more to offer me than Rochester, so why am I not excited now? Is it not the right time? Am I afraid of commitment? And what perplexes me even more, is that Simon, the guy who up until this point had described himself as 'always having one foot out the door' when it comes to living situations, is ready to pack up and move to Flagstaff tomorrow.

So why am I losing my shit? Why all the anxiety? What's the big deal? I wish I knew. On one hand, the travel nursing is stressful. Picking up and moving every 3-6 months is not as glamorous as it sounds...most people think it doesn't sound glamorous at all, and they're mostly right. Moving sucks. Even when you're excited about where you're going, the actual act of moving is a pain in the butt. I've lost or damaged countless things in our moves, and while most things are replaceable, the act of replacing something that has already been replaced two or three times prior is annoying. And I have so many things that I've been keeping in storage for the past 8 years...my books, my chicken trinkets, my photo albums and scrapbooks, my kitchen gadgets, my artwork...there just isn't room to take all that stuff with me on a temporary move. The thought of staying put for a while actually does sound quite appealing. Learning a new hospital and everything that goes along with starting a new job every 3-6 months is stressful. Granted, after about 2 weeks I settle in nicely and feel mostly comfortable in my job. Learning and exploring a new town every 3-6 months is stressful, but its also really exciting too. I like to explore...everything from grocery stores to local markets to local attractions. I like to get out and see what there is to see. And that's the part that worries me the most. What if I feel stagnant? What if I get bored? What if after 7 months here I get that unscratchable itch to be somewhere else? 

I guess in the event that I get shifty, I follow my own advice...do something about it.  Take a trip.  Go on a cruise, fly home for a few days, take a step back and figure out the things in the area that I haven't done, and do them.  I've got friends and family all over the country, it's not like I don't have anyone or anywhere to visit.  I know I'll like living here.  Heck, I've been here for almost a year already and there are still new things to be found, new things to eat, new things to see, new things to do.  I feel like I haven't yet exhausted all there is to do in this area.  And at the end of the day, as long as I have Simon and the dogs with me, I'll be happy wherever I am.  They are my home, my center, my happy place.  Everything else is just details.  

In the process of deciding to make the move out here, it's been helped along by some really great people.  A coworker of mine told me the other night that she wants to adopt me so that I'll have to stay here.  From the outset my boss has hinted that he would love to have me join his staff.  It's nice to hear that people appreciate me, because I feel that far too often, people don't verbalize their compliments.  Not that I need to be showered with praise at a constant, but it's nice to know that people not only appreciate me while I'm here, but that they would like for me to stay a little while longer.  Simon's boss and his coworkers have also been hassling him for quite some time now about going on staff.  Knowing that we'll be inserting ourselves into a positive environment makes the decision that much easier.  I briefly spoke with my boss recently about going on staff, and I verbalized my concerns about giving up this gypsy lifestyle.  He told me there is always the option of taking a leave of absence to get those travel jitters out of my system.  Like I said earlier, this hospital takes care of its employees...it's like they really care about whether we're happy or not. 

So that's where I'm at.  I started this blog earlier in the week, and in the past few days I've really come to accept that a move to Flagstaff is in my future.  And I'm okay with it.  I'm more than okay with it.  I'm looking forward to it.  And I hope a lot of you are looking forward to coming to visit me here...you just might find yourself wanting to uproot too.  This place does that to a person.  When Simon and I were in orientation back in October, the director of nursing told us that Mt. Elden (one of the mountains here in Flagstaff) will call you back should you decide to leave.  At that time I thought she was little full of it.  Now I get it...and I hear it, loud and clear. 

It's Been A While...

Which is weird to say, since prior to May of this year my blogs were sporadic at best.  I liked blogging more frequently in May.  Then June came around and I feel like I got really busy.  Busy with Vegas.  Busy with work.  Busy with Flagstaff.  Busy busy busy.  But I'm grateful for the business of my life.  It means that I'm not sitting around doing nothing and being bored.  I actually kind of cherish those few hours a week when I truly do have nothing to do.  I sit on the couch and do nothing.  And I don't feel guilty about it for a minute.

So I went to Las Vegas earlier this month for a bachelorette party.  Part of me was apprehensive about it, given that the last time I was in Vegas there was a slew of family drama going on and none of us really had all that great of a time.  And it was Halloween weekend, which gave women of all shapes an sizes the idea that all the they really needed to wear in public was a bra, panties, and maybe some angel wings or devil horns.  I'm sure some of you are thinking, 'What's so wrong with that?'  Plenty, my friends, plenty.  Think of the chubbiest, most unkempt woman you know.  Now picture her in thong undies and a bra that's 2 sizes too small.  Yeah.  Now picture that same scenario, only this time it's your grandma.  Nothing good can come of that.  So yeah...I don't recommend going to Vegas over Halloween weekend...it was too much badness, and even the beauty and simplicity of the fountains at the Bellagio couldn't take away the feeling that Vegas was nothing but a place for people to behave badly.  Eee gads. For some, the code of conduct changes drastically the minute those lights hit their eyes, the dings and beeps of slot machines assaults their ears, and the smell of piped in, artificially scented air fills their nostrils.  I am both amazed an appalled by Las Vegas.  I think Las Vegas gives people the opportunity to be whomever they want and to behave however they choose.  It's a place to let loose and feel like you're getting away with something you might not typically get away with...even if you're not doing anything wrong.  I feel like people put too much stock in the debauchery of Vegas.  If you're going to dress like a tramp in Vegas, why not do it at home?  Why is it acceptable to walk around with your butt hanging out the bottom of your dress in Vegas, but not at home?  If you truly want to go out and make bad decisions, I think a person is perfectly capable of doing it within a 50 mile radius of where they live. Behaving badly in Vegas doesn't make those transgressions any less real.  I honestly couldn't tell you the number of times that my rear got a random squeeze from a random person.  I found myself thinking, "Meh, it's Vegas."  When really, that sort of behavior anywhere else would have had me spinning around and giving the business to the unwelcome groper.  So why is it okay in Vegas?  I don't know.  I guess that's just kind of what you sign up for when you go there.  Not that I go there for that...that's just part of it...a very small part of it, I might add.  I still think you can have whatever kind of time you want in Vegas...you can be as clean as you want, as dirty as you want, or maybe a little something in between.  Luckily for me, this recent trip was much more tame, and I'm happy to report that everyone (for the most part) was fully clothed.  My favorite part of the bachelorette party, besides getting to hang with some really cool girls, was the Circ de Soliel show, La Reve.  It was amazing.  The way those people are able to fling their bodies around and hold poses that absolutely defy gravity is astounding.  Vegas has about 8 different Circ shows, and I would love to be able to see more of them.  Walking up and down the strip doing some people watching is also a pretty good time.  You see street performers, people from all walks of life and from all over the world, there's drinks to be had and food to be eaten.  Each hotel and casino is like a palace full of infinite things to look at and experience.  I am amazed by the architecture and design that goes into some of those places.  I could spend days just wandering through the hotels marveling at the lengths that were taken to recreate a promenade in Paris, the canals of Venice, or the New York skyline.  As long as you don't look to closely, Vegas can be a pretty nice place.  There really is no other place like it.  I couldn't, however, keep myself from thinking about how much raw sewage is running through that place at any given moment...seriously.  Oh and the pool chair culture?  I hate it.  People get up early in the morning and throw towels down on the loungers for themselves and their friends, then go back up to their hotel rooms to sleep off their hangovers, leaving those of us who actually want to go to the pool while we're there, unable to find a seat.  By the fourth day we were there, I was fed up with it and just started pulling towels.  If there wasn't some sort of item there to mark the presence of an actual person, that towel was gone.  My friends called me the towel Nazi after that...hahaha!  Honestly.  I'm surprised the people working the pool area aren't more on top of that.  People who actually plan on using the pool shouldn't have to wander around aimlessly for 20 minutes to find a chair, and they certainly shouldn't have to put their towels on the ground and lay on the cement while there are "reserved" chairs sitting empty.  Chaps my hide.  

So I've decided that I'm going to try to start cutting wheat out of my diet.  I know, everyone is doing the trendy gluten-free thing these days, and for some I think it is trendy.  For others I think it's a beneficial dietary change.  For me I think it's more of a nutritional thing.  I've been exercising, I've been watching what I eat, and I've been trying as best as I can to get as many vitamins as I can from what I eat.  I know there is some nutritional value to wheat products, but for the most part, it seems that wheat products are just empty calories.  Don't get me wrong, I love a good piece of peanut butter toast in the morning, a box of mac and cheese on a lazy day, or a nice big chunk of warm cornbread with Jim's fantastic baby back ribs.  But nutritionally and calorically, I'm better off eating more fruits and veggies and less glutenous carbohydrates.  I'm not going to take it to the point of obsessively reading labels and removing everything with even a speck of wheat in it from my diet...I'm just going to go after the more obvious sources of wheat.  Bread and pasta, mostly.  And my beloved chocolate chip cookies.  Sad!  Well, not that I won't ever eat the cookies...I still will...I will just eat less of them, less often.  I really can't vouch for the dietary benefits of eating less wheat products as I haven't done a ton of research on it myself...I'm mostly just going by the experiences of my friends and family...all of whom have decreased or removed the wheat in their diets for various reasons.  Some was for weight loss, some for diabetes, some for allergies, and some for intolerances.  The majority of them have commented on how much better they feel, how they don't feel bloated, how they've managed to lose those pounds that just wouldn't come off, how they don't feel tired or crash after a carb-laden meal.  So yeah...I don't have a real strong reason for cutting out wheat; it's just something that I want to try.  And maybe as a side benefit, this pesky eczema I have on my hands will finally go away.  Here's to hoping, right?  Another goal of mine is to make as many wheat-containing foods as I can myself.  I'm sick of eating foods that are filled with artificial coloring, artificial flavoring, corn syrup, sugar, hydrogenated oils, trans fats, and preservatives.  I always think of tortillas when I think about processed food.  Take a gander at the ingredient list of tortillas sometime...it's about 5x as long as it should be, considering that you can make tortillas yourself with nothing but flour, oil, salt, and water.  Since I've been eating less processed food and making more things from scratch at home, I feel like processed food obtained elsewhere tastes like chemicals.  I had a sip of pepsi while I was in Vegas and I wanted to spit it out...nothing about it tasted good.  I heard along the way somewhere that your taste palate changes about every 7 years.  I suppose that explains why I really enjoy tomatoes now, when for the longest time I couldn't stand them.      

I fell off the running wagon again.  Which is pretty inconvenient given that I have a half-marathon to run in about six weeks. I seem to always manage to climb back on, but it's tough.  I recently trashed about four pairs of my running shoes since they were giving me blisters.  I got some wicked blisters the other day from a hike...a hike!  Walking!  That's not supposed to happen, but it did.  So I went to this running store here in town called Run Flagstaff, and I was professionally fitted there for the right shoes for me.  They have an amazing set-up there...a pretty fancy treadmill, and a camera behind it that records your stride while you're running.  All the people working there are also runners themselves.  The gal I was working with put the video feed of me running up on a big TV, slowed it down, and we analyzed my gait.  Apparently I don't pronate (ankles collapsing in) as much as I think I do.  Turns out I've also been wearing shoes that offer too much stability...who knew you could ever have too much stability?  Isn't more stability better than less?  Apparently not.  So the stability factor of my shoes may have been the culprit behind all the blisters.  I guess we'll find out when I take my first run in my new shoes...whenever that may be...maybe once the monsoons roll in and we get less heat and a little more humidity...this dry, hot air absolutely kills my lungs.  So my feet are back in Mizuno's, a brand that I haven't worn since 2010...I remember wearing them a lot the summer Simon and I were in North Carolina...I got a lot of blisters that summer too, but I was wearing the highest stability shoe that Mizuno offers, so that might be why.  It's interesting...all these things you learn as you go about trying something new.  I've been running for just over a year now and I'm still learning new things about it all the time.    

So while I've been off the running wagon, I've been back on the scrapbooking wagon.  I haven't been on the scrapbooking wagon since the winter of 2010.  I do that.  I struggle with scrapbooking.  Not because it's hard...it's really not.  I'm about the laziest scrapbooker ever.  I just take some double-sided tape, put it on the back of movie stubs, pictures, wedding invites, whatever I happen to have collected from over the years, and slap it all on a page.  I rarely label anything.  I do put things in chronological order though...it would be too confusing otherwise.  Where I struggle with scrapbooking is the overall reason for doing it in the first place.  It's not like I'm going to have kids to pass these on to.  I doubt my nephew or cousins will ever want them.  If anything, I guess they'll be something entertaining for the guests to flip through at my funeral.  There is a nice sense of accomplishment when I look at the stack of completed pages after an afternoon spent taping and organizing at the table.  And scrapbooks are really fun to look through.  They offer a much more personalized view into the life of a person.  I still have scraps and stuff from high school.  I started a few high school pages the other day, but things just weren't flowing so I went back to more current events.  I also purchased an Epson Picturemate Charm photo printer that I use so I can add photos amongst my scraps.  It's a great little thing.  If you're looking for a printer that does only photos, I highly recommend it.  So yeah...scrapbooking is like wandering down memory lane.  If you've ever sent me a Christmas card, a wedding invite, gone with me to a show, sent me a birth or wedding announcement, left me a note on the table, or sent me a letter just because...you've probably made the book.  Or books...as this project will most likely be.  I sat down and did the majority of the scraps from 2012 and cranked out upwards of 25 pages.  My goal is have most of the scraps on pages by the end of this assignment.  We'll see how well that goes.

I feel like I keep adding things to my everyday life, but I'm not really taking much away.  Scrapbooking, running, exercising, improving my diet, selling my Lululemon collection on eBay (and coincidentally, replacing it...doh!), finding new restaurants and enjoying the staples, hanging out with friends (like in Burlington, Vermont, Simon and I have made some really great friends here in Flagstaff), thinking about getting a cruiser bike (although I probably won't), trying to keep up with dog hair, laundry, and dishes.  I'm lucky I only work three days a week or I probably wouldn't find the time to do half the things I'm doing.  My life is full, and that's a good thing.  For the rest of the assignment out here, I'm looking forward to the rainy season, which should be arriving any time now.  I'm looking forward to my family coming at the end of month, and to camping with friends in the middle of the month.  I'm looking forward to getting in more hikes, more runs, and just more in general.  I hope my old body (and mind!) can keep up!  :)

I've recently made little monsters out of my dogs.  Some of you may be of the opinion that they've always been monsters, and I suppose you might be right.  I started Brie on bladder and joint supplements back in May...I'm not sure they're actually accomplishing anything, but there's a sense of well-being that comes along with being proactive.  They're chewable little tabs that I just throw in her dish along with her food in the morning and in the evening.  Not to be left out, Cooper now refuses to eat until I also throw "something" into his dish as well.  And it doesn't matter if I fill their dishes with my back to them, keeping the filling of the bowls in secret, he still knows if there is something extra in his dish or not.  So I've started breaking apart a little dog treat and throwing it in his dish with feedings.  And now he usually eats right away.  Well, he eats right away as long as I sit at the table and wait for him to finish.  If I try to multi-task during feeding times it's likely that one or both of them will refuse to eat.  This just started recently.  Brie gets anxious when I'm not in the direct line of her very limited sight...meaning she gets anxious sometimes walking right past me because she can't see me.  I reach out a hand quite frequently to her now, just to let her know I'm there.  I have no explanation for Cooper's refusal to eat if I'm not nearby.  The most logical explanation is that he's just a little tit baby and wants to be wherever I am, even if that means missing a meal.  I tell you what, the longer I have these dogs, the more I think they're training me, not the other way around.  They let me think I was training them for a while, but I think they've been manipulating me all along.

It is definitely tourist season here in Flagstaff, and they're here in droves.  If I thought the driving was infuriating before, the bar has just been raised.  More often than not, rather than going 5 miles under the speed limit, people are frequently going 10 miles under.  And I get it.  They're lost.  They're looking for their turn, they're listening to their GPS units that are about 2 beats behind, causing them to try to turn left where there is no left, to slow down a half mile before their turn approaches.  I've come to the conclusion that using a GPS has a direct correlation with poor or non-existent blinker usage, inadequate gas pedal pressure, and over-reactive brake pedal pumping.  Some people seem to just drive with one foot on the gas, and one on the brake.  Taking the scooter out requires the utmost attention and vigilance.  And giving the stink-eye to every single person attempting to make a left turn.  I don't know what it is about the lefties, but in almost every situation where I've almost been hit on my scooter, it's always been by someone turning left.  Probably because lefties are always looking in multiple directions before they turn.  I'll be the first to admit that I have left-turn anxiety.  I've been honked at multiple times for not buzzing out into traffic while making a left.  I like to turn out into clear lanes of traffic, what's the big deal?  I wish more people would do the same.  Unless I'm sitting behind them, then I don't appreciate the waiting...hahaha!  As I drive down the road cursing out motorists who probably are completely unaware of their poor driving, I can't help but wonder how many people are behind me doing the same.

So I guess that's it...for now.  I have a list of things I want to blog about, but I'll get to that later.  I need to go to the mailbox, do some laundry, put the dishes away, pick up the apartment, eat something, maybe get around to bathing the dogs (that's been on the to-do list for about a month now), and go to the grocery store.  And maybe downtown to wander through the shops.  I don't have anything better to do, and Simon is out biking to the top of a mountain with one of his friends.  He's really discovered a new love for mountain biking.  He knows better than to ask me to come along, though...hahaha!  How well he knows me and both my aversion to exercise, and my fear of death.  :)  Life is good.  


    

    

May 28th...or...If Exercise Was Easy, Everyone Would Do It

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.  :)   




              

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. 

         

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.        

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.