Cautious optimism & a blabbermouth

Hank

First off, the good news: Hank's headache is marginally better. To plagiarize an earlier comment to this blog, sometimes all you get are baby steps. And these baby steps are in the right direction, so we're cautiously optimistic. Last night, Hank laughed. I was downright shocked at the sound. She hasn't laughed in so long, it really was music to my ears.

Of course, now that she's feeling a little less horrible, Hank is able to stress about the mountains of work she has to make up. It's pretty daunting but she'll get through it. I didn't exactly tell her that I don't care what her grades are - and after more than 8 weeks of this migraine trouble, I really DON'T care at this point, I'm just glad she's back in school - but I did talk to her about doing her best and moving on instead of stressing about it.

Better days for Hank, hangin' with her laser dogs

Abner

Abner, my youngest, is the best girl-child ever. With all of Hank's doctor appointments and so many cancelled plans over the last few weeks, Abner has never once complained or blamed her sister. My sweet baby!

Abner - all smiles on her birthday

Last year, one of Abner's friends at school got super-clingy, to the point that there was a serious "ick" factor. This particular kid has got it rough at home, and we love her dearly, so we didn't say anything. There is just no way to say to a child, "We love you, now BACK OFF." Abner toughed it out last year without saying anything to the Clinger.

This year, they have the same class again. I decided to get all Proactive Parent and asked the teacher for a private, confidential conversation. She pledged confidentiality and I asked if Abner and the Clinger could just NOT be in the same groups all the time. I gently explained that we love the Clinger and don't want her to be hurt, so dear Teacher please use your judgment and maybe help Abner get some space. My goal was to avoid Abner telling the Clinger to take a hike.

Which brings us to today. Abner just came home to inform me that the Clinger came up to her, sobbing, and apologized for being too clingy last year. Abner was embarrassed, the Clinger was heartbroken and I am furious. No one, and I mean NO ONE, knew about the conversation I had with that teacher.

She blabbed.

Stay tuned for a rundown on the upcoming parent-teacher conferences - I'm sure the subject of the Clinger will come up.

I dreamed

I dreamed that I ran. My legs and lungs felt so strong, the sun was shining and I was so happy. No PTSD-angered hubs, no sick child, no mean mom. Not even any chub rub. It was breathtaking.

Then I woke up and was horrified with myself. How dare my subconscious take a break from this? I felt so guilty.

But oh, what a glorious run it was.

Dangling...

My 14yo has had a migraine for over 6 weeks now. You read that correctly. SIX WEEKS. The neurologist we've been seeing doesn't seem to get it. We see him every couple of weeks, she's no better, he changes the meds, and nothing changes. She can't do any physical activity because it makes the pain worse. This bright, shiny girl who runs cross country and plays basketball and loves to be outside is gone, replaced by a poor thing who says, "Mom, my head hurts so bad," and can't stand bright light or loud noise. My heart is breaking.

The doc put her on daily meds that don't seem to help, so he increased the dose last week and PRESTO! There's a drug interaction and the side effects from the pain meds are much, much worse. Nausea and stomach pain top the list. So she gets to decide every day if she would rather have a vise on her head or a knife in her gut.

To top it all off, something is interacting with her birth control pills, so she's having a horrible period right in the middle of all of this crap. When she shouldn't even be having a period yet.

I called the doc when the latest trouble started. No response. His nurse even called me Tuesday afternoon to apologize because the dr wasn't responding. I called Wednesday, and he's out - and no other dr in the practice would see her. So we went to the ER, where an IV took care of the nausea and pain for a few hours, but today we're back to square one. The ER doc wouldn't change her daily meds, said we had to talk to the neurologist about that.

He has finally got time to see us this afternoon. In the meantime, I've gone back to the GP to get a referral to a neurologist at a children's hospital about an hour away. That's all set but they can't see us until October 1st. Which means I can't pulverize the current neuro just yet - will have to play nice until we can get away from him.

The last 72 hours have been horrific. Trying to be strong and calm in front of the kid. Resisting the urge to scream at receptionists when I know it is not their fault. Looking desperately around for someone to HELP US and tell me what to do. Fighting back tears of helpless rage every time I try to explain the problem to yet another doctor or nurse. Narrowly avoiding killing Hubs last night when he said, "She just needs to drink more water."

And, above all, dangling from the end of my rope.

The photo that (hopefully) starts it all

OK, this is it. Sweating heavily and gasping for air, I'm heaving myself back onto the Fitness Wagon, now that I've completed the Summer of Medicating Myself with Food. I can continue the excuses: One of my kids has had a migraine for 6 weeks (and counting), my mother has nodes on her thyroid (whatever that means) and she also has cirrhosis of the liver, my husband's PTSD still rears its ugly head at the worst possible times and my dog has a degenerative spinal condition that is slowly killing him. And, right when I was set to start training for a fall half marathon, I sabotaged myself with this hot mess.

But, eh, everyone has trouble. With all the living beings, both sickly and healthy, that depend on me, there is no excuse for letting things go this way. No excuse for zero exercise and daily drive-thru lunches. No excuse for smuggling candy bars into my office to scarf down in private while tears run down my increasingly round cheeks. And the donuts -- ah, the donuts. My mom (also known as "Doom," if you follow me on Twitter) gave my youngest daughter a recipe book that includes how to make donuts. Homemade donuts? I didn't have a chance.

As with so many people, my decision to get off this crapcycle of misery 8 eating 8 misery is motivated by a photo. Not a photo of my double chin or my expanding waistline, though. No, this was a completely innocent set of photos of the dogs. We're taking extra pics of Sarge, our black-and-tan German shepherd and Best Dog in the Universe, because we're not sure how much longer he'll be with us due to his spinal problems. Looking over the latest

batch of photos, I came across this:

Whose pudgy fat knees and cankles are those? Imagine the gasp when I realized those gams are MINE. Even at my sloppiest, I've had good calves and ankles and could totally rock four-inch Do Me Pumps. But those days are gone, buried under three months of Twinkies and Pepsis from the gas station. This photo floored me.

And, I believe, it has motivated me to get my act together.

First step: Get back out on the road and RUN, dammit. This week the goal is a run or an elliptical workout every day for 5 days. There is some diet clean-up involved, such as a moratorium on value meals, but the heavy nutrition overhaul comes next week once I've had a chance to stock up on food that won't kill me slowly.

Stay tuned to hear (and see) how I do, hopefully with a minimum of whining. I wonder how much weight I'll have to lose in order for it to show in my CALVES. We'll find out together!

Excuses, excuses

All summer -- or, so far this summer -- I've had all kinds of excuses not to run. Hot weather, business travel, sick kids, and did I mention it's so freakin' HOT? But last week, I laced up my Brooks and hit the road. It felt so darn good to run! I got four good cardio workouts in last week, plus a weight session with Ryan the UberTrainer, so I thought I was back on the exercise wagon.

Nope.

Last weekend, my husband's company took a half dozen execs and their wives on a weekend trip to celebrate some achievement award. Sounds great, right? Sure, until said weekend involves walking to dinner IN THE RAIN to a restaurant that is ON THE OTHER SIDE OF TOWN. For once, I was not wearing sneakers in my effort to dress like a grownup and look nice for hubs and his work buddies.

So, while I looked fantastic, I did this to my heel:

I know, tres sexy, right? By the time I clued in to the fact that the cute shoes were not just uncomfortable, they were creating bodily injury, this damage was done. I'm in flip-flops for the next few days at least.

And no, I did not shave my legs before taking this pic because I am just that classy.

School's almost out and it's KILLING ME

What has happened to the last week of school? It is a nightmare, that's what. Stuff is going on every. single. day. This is nuts! I'm self-employed, so I have a little schedule flexibility, but still this is insane.

Here is the family schedule when you have an elementary student and a jr high student in this neck of the Overscheduled Woods:

Friday

• Jr High field trip to amusement park - BTW, the school allowed a kid who is not a student go on this trip. Excuse me? I've busted my tail on fundraisers and now we're adding to the guest list? And, is this kid an axe murderer? I feel a letter coming on.
• Elementary spring program - Singing and squeaking clarinets, O Joy. I laughed while the beginning band played because I am The Worst Mom Ever.
• Swing by Sam's Club for industrial size Excedrin bottle
• Emergency shopping trip because Abner has outgrown all swimwear in the house and Hank is down to one pair of pants that are still long enough - What are we feeding these kids?

Monday

• Jr High exams start - Which should tell you how the weekend went. Me, downstairs, yelling at the ceiling: "Turn off the iPod and study already!"
• Jr High cookout - So Hank comes home hopped up on root beer.
• Elementary swim party - Hence the aforementioned swimwear emergency.
• Race to complete invention for elementary project, due tomorrow - DH was in charge of this and spent three hours last Saturday. They still didn't finish. Are you kidding? Three hours is enough time for an invention, a couple of Spirit Week costumes and maybe a diorama if you hustle.

Tuesday

• Jr High exams and THANK GOD nothing else today for Hank.
• Elementary "Invention Convention" in the gym - come see what all the little darlings have invented and listen to their speeches. Let's be honest, shall we? I don't care what your kid made. I just want to look at my kid's stuff, make the appropriate noises, and LEAVE.

Wednesday

• Jr High exams continue
• Elementary kickball tournament - I know. I don't get it, either.
• Speed-shopping trip to the store because Abner has outgrown her sneakers and her dress shoes.

Thursday

• Jr High exams - last day!
• Elementary Field Day - BTW, school guys, when I write on my volunteer form that I don't want to be a team leader, it's because I DON'T WANT TO BE A TEAM LEADER. We won't have a cheer ready by noon and we sure won't have the memorization done yet because, like the 5th graders, I'm in it for the games and the Kool-Aid. You've been warned. My team will suck. Go, Aqua!
• Diving class

Friday

• Jr High awards program - I can always hope!
• Jr. High cookout
• Elementary awards program - Again with the hope...
• Leave for long weekend trip to the wilderness, because I've been able to pack for a family of 4 in my SPARE TIME this week. Wonder what I'll lose on the kayak trip THIS year?

Probably my sanity...

Where is the "running" portion of our program? Well, there isn't one this week thanks to a -- you guessed it -- school activity. I was rushing around a week ago to help with a fair and 5K at school and neglected to change into running socks before the 5K. Massive blister has me sidelined, which, now that I think about it, might be why I'm so stressed.

Ah, springtime.

The Indy not-so-Mini

All right, so this race was in MAY and it is now JULY (though this post is in my May timeline because I started in May, and just finished it now - confused yet?). Stop judging me, and here we go...

The "Indy Mini" is the largest half marathon in the U.S., with something like 36,000 runners and walkers. Here's the story of one:

My teenage daughter, Hank, and I drove to Indianapolis on Friday so we wouldn't have to get up on race day at three-thirty in the morning. We stayed home last year and, because we witnessed a highway crash and stopped to help, almost missed the start of the '09 race. So, a hotel this year.

Here's how Friday went:

7:30 am - Deliver Hank and Abner to school

8:00 am - Throw myself on the mercy of Trainer Ryan, who "went easy" on me because of tomorrow's race. Ryan is half my age, 100x fitter, and obsessed with Halloween.

10:00 am - Run a couple of errands, pack for the trip.

11:30 am - Pick up Hank from school; she is sick and throwing up. What the school neglects to mention is that she is also upset because she thinks I won't let her run the Mini tomorrow if she barfs. So she's horking and hysterical.

12:30 pm - Having talked Hank in off the ledge, I get her to take a nap while I finish our packing. While she sleeps, her grandmother and I plot our if-Hank-is-too-sick-to-run contingency plans.

4:00 pm - Drive a pale-but-recovering Hank to Indy.

5:00 pm - Check in at the Sheraton. Fortified with chicken nuggets, Hank is much improved. The hotel guy who checked us in tries his best to get 5'7" Hank to tell her age. She just smiles at him. If he knew she was only 14, I hope he would be ashamed of himself. Surely the five pounds of eyeliner is a dead giveaway that she's a KID. And he should be very thankful that Hank's Marine Uber-Dad was not there to get offended and kill him on the spot.

Let's pause here for a shout-out to the Sheraton City Centre in Indianapolis. Aside from Desk Guy On The Make, this hotel was fabulous! We had the most amazing night's sleep and we were only a few blocks from the start line.

On race day, we met 36,000 of our closest friends at the start line:

And we ran this course. See the oval in the top left of the map? That's a lap of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Very cool!

Since we've already talked about barf and horny desk clerks, I'll spare you a mile-by-mile breakdown of this half marathon. Here's all you need to know:

1. At mile 10, I realized I had not walked AT ALL, not even at water stops (though I got water up my nose in two near-drowning incidents). Big smile from here all the way to the end.

2. No shuffling at the finish. I wasn't sprinting, but I wasn't limping either.

3. I beat my personal best for this half marathon by 13 minutes. That's right, I shaved 13 minutes off my best half marathon time! Not too shabby for a 40-year-old chub who loves donuts.

4. Hank didn't run well, for her, and she beat me by less than a minute. Yes, I know she had been sick but still - I almost caught my kid today!

5. If you must know, my time was 2h 44m. I'm not setting any speed records but I ran the entire way, so Yay Me! My new goal is to get to 2h 30m. Maybe next year!

And finally, if you made it all the way to the end of this post, your reward is a pic of me, being a dork at the finish. Enjoy!

I did it! (more to come later)

Thanks for all the kind words and support! I not only survived yesterday's half marathon; I totally smashed my PR and finished THIRTEEN MINUTES FASTER than last year. I'm still slow compared to most runners, but this year I was the pass-er in the last miles instead of the pass-ee. No walk breaks, not one!

What a feeling! I'll get my thoughts organized and blog all about the experience. Right now I need more advil.

Awesomeness!

Counting down and freaking out

So, no blogging. Because I am losing my marbles. The Indy Mini is Saturday.

As in the day after tomorrow. THE DAY AFTER TO-MOR-ROW.

As in what-was-I-thinking-this-is-gonna-hurt.

I haven't run in a week, and that run was crap. Hank and I are going to spend the night in Indy on Friday, so I'll have to pretend to be all, whatever, in order to not rub any of my crazy off on my kid.

Gah! Freaking out. Just freaking OUT. And knowing that I do this before every. single. half. doesn't help.

Back up people, hefty gal hyperventilating here...

Random kid-isms

Hank and Abner, my lovely girls, are now 14 and 10 years old. Hank is already taller than I am, and Abner is well on her way.

Over the years, they've had some interesting things to say, and already I'm having a hard time keeping track of who said what. Some of these kid-isms bear repeating...

"Ewww! This tastes like the smell of a cow!"

[Abner, loudly voicing her opinion of a cheese sample]

"Oh, yeah? You want a knockin' in the breadbox?"

[Hank, around age 5, trying to trash-talk her Marine Sgt dad]

"Keep it up; I'll drop a pin."

[Sweet little Abner, standing up to a mean boy in her class with this, her version of a grenade threat. You read that correctly: grenade. Yep, we got a call about that one. Marine Dad thought it was hysterical.]

"Shakemilk." "Nailtoes."

[Hank, age 2, transposing all compound words. We were convinced she would turn out to be dyslexic.]

"This tastes like a package of awesome!"

[Abner, enjoying a cake sample she liked much better than the aforementioned cheese.]

"Oooo, look... Carrots from the olden days!"

[Abner, upon spying carrots at the grocery store that still had the leafy green stems attached.]

"You knew Abraham Lincoln, right?"

[Young Hank, to me, while studying for a history quiz.]

"Wow, Mommy, you gots a big butt!"

[Abner, in a porta-potty with a line of 100 now-laughing people.]

These girls have made me laugh, cry and scream (in both the good way and the bad). The way I love them takes my breath away, even though sometimes I might not like them very much in the moment (hello, girlie hormones, and thanks ever so much for turning my angels into Brides of the Anti-Christ). Any minute they'll be grown and gone, out on their own, and I miss them already.

My girls! I love 'em to pieces.

Clients and running and sports bras, oh CRAP!

Just like children and husbands, clients seem to have the uncanny ability to have a CRISIS that needs my attention RIGHT NOW every time I am getting ready to run. And that is a neat trick since all of my clients are on the other side of the COUNTRY. How do they know? Is there an online service that sends out an urgent text? "She's already got her shoes on, someone stop her!!"

Today's schedule was a delicate, perfect balance of mom stuff, work stuff and running stuff. Kids to school, work, pick up new running shoes (so my toenails will stop FALLING. RIGHT. OFF.), work some more, run, pick up kids, more work, panic over what's for dinner... And so on.

I made it all the way to Time to Run. Today was slated for 10 miles, so it's not like I can just slap this onto my day after the kids are in bed, it takes me too long to run any significant distance because of, well... Donuts. And cake. And... But I digress.

I had already loaded the water belt and changed into running gear, which every woman knows involves the fun Smash-The-Bewbs sports bra routine. It's just like How to put on a sports bra by Anna Lefler - she knows the drill. I was strapping on my sports watch when The Panicked Client call came.

Being the good little gal that I am, I trotted back upstairs to help out. At which point "a quick email" became an hour and a half of handholding, and here I sit. Didn't even get to try a new GU flavor.

Runless.

Again.

GU Experiment Day 1: Chocolate Outrage

Eight miles today, warm and sunny and omiGOD the headwind. Since this is my first day trying out GU, I decided not to get too crazy and went with just one packet. I also paid attention and fueled up with a bagel about an hour before I ran.

Opening the GU was not the challenge I expected -- I was thinking along the lines of a fast food ketchup packet, which is my own personal nightmare. I did, however, stick the opened packet in my mouth and ZIP! slid it out fast. Felt like I gave the corner of my mouth a paper cut.

Flavor: Chocolate Outrage tasted pretty good, but very sweet and I'm not into super-sweet. (If only they made a steak-and-potatoes GU!) I think this may not be a go-to flavor for me just because the taste of warm chocolate ooze was not very appealing on a hot run. Also, this is the one GU selected for this grand experiment that contains caffeine. I felt like my pulse was racing for a little bit, maybe 10 minutes after I GU'd. I blame the caffeine.

Impact: I ate/applied/ingested (what is the correct verb here?) the GU in mile 5. This was only an 8-mile run instead of 10 (where the original bonk occurred), but I do think I was in better shape -- in terms of how I felt -- than on Sunday when I was struggling. Again, I did feel my heart racing a bit, but that went away soon enough.

Post-run: I refueled with carbs when I got home and guzzled some G2, which is standard post-run activity for me. The only thing different today was the GU, so the GU gets the blame for what happened next: massive digestive trauma about 30mins post-run. At the risk of getting repetitive, I blame the caffeine.

Up next are Strawberry Banana GU and Lemon Sublime GU, neither of which have the dreaded caffeine. Since I'm doing 10 miles on Sunday, I'll try two during the run and see what happens. Fingers crossed that this helps the bonk!

GU to the rescue?

Still obsessing over Sunday's 10-mile bonk, I wasted 15 minutes fondling GU packets at the running store last night.

I read on Runner's World that you should have GU or something for any runs over one hour. Based on the tone of the info, everyone over the age of 2 knew this already and I am officially a dummy. Anyway, I'm planning to try the following flavors this week:

Chocolate Outrage

Lemon Sublime

Strawberry Banana

Hopefully after tomorrow's 8 miles I can report back on the taste and the effectiveness of these things. Crossing my fingers that they don't cause projectile vomiting - a real buzz-killer for a runner's endorphin high.

Meanwhile, I have signed up for this 10K just because I must have a Tshirt that says "Hog Jog." Poetry!

Worst Run Ever

Nope, no hail and no creepazoids on Sunday's long run, and still it was the Worst Freakin' Run of this whole half marathon training thing.

[insert adult tantrum and whine fest here]

The weather was great - sunny and 70 - so I set off for 10 miles. For the first 6.5 miles, no worries. Then I realized that I was almost out of water, which is weird because I always carry a full bottle and only drink a little. By mile 8 it was clear that I was about to "bonk" on this run. I just had nothing left. And then... the worst possible thing happens...

I had to walk.

No, not a quick few strides, but a full on, muscles aching, I-got-nuthin', out-and-out WALK. For like a MILE. I did manage to shuffle along for the final mile but the damage was done. My average per-mile pace for this run was horrible. I'm already dreading when I have to go this distance again. Next Sunday. Yeesh.

Because I have a little crazy, I've spent the last 24 hours obsessing about this. Why did it happen, what can I do differently, didn't I look like a total dumbass walking down the road?!? All I can come up with is fueling. I had a bowl of shredded wheat for breakfast and some soup for lunch, then ran around 1:30. Maybe I need more carbs before I run. This is usually a non-issue for me because of all the carbs found in donuts. See, I knew that limiting my donut intake was a bad idea!

Also, the empty water bottle could be a Clue. I can't carry more water, but maybe I need to hydrate better before the runs. And so, gentle reader, there is a bottle of G2 on my desk right now.

Right next to the donut.

Oh, yeah... Running!

To atone for my Twilight rant, we'll get back to that running thing!

Running for donuts is going well. I still eat donuts but my long run is up to 9 miles... 10 on Sunday! Some runs are better than others but I really think now it is just mental. I left today for a 7-mile tempo run and spent the first three miles in my head thinking about this sucky headwind and oh great now it's starting to rain and I bet I have to take a bunch of walk breaks.

Well, that sucky headwind became a lovely tailwind after the turnaround - very nice! The rain was light and at least I wasn't pelted by monster hailstones. No walk breaks whatsoever, now that I've mastered the Art of Drinking While Running, also known as Slobbering While Running, and I feel great.

I am beginning to suspect that somewhere in the psyche of every runner is a number. It's the number of the miles after which we think surely we can go no further without messing up or hitting that mystical wall. My number is six. Anything over six miles and my inner voice (who sounds a lot like Mrs. Carmichael, my elementary bus driver who yelled a lot and banged on the roof of the bus) goes to work, telling me this is too hard, what was I thinking, blah blah blah.

Sometimes I listen to Mrs. Carmichael, but not as often as I have in years past. I have three half marathons under my size-XL belt and I am determined to PR this May.

The only real downside is my poor toenails. They are taking a beating no matter what I do (bigger shoes, better socks, nothing works). If only they would just get bruised and turn purple or black, that would be a snap -- dark nail polish to the rescue. But, no. My piggies look just fine and then suddenly three or four toenails will just... Fall. Right. Off. Leaving me with a little nub of a nail 'til that grows in all the way and we start all over.

So, no pedicures for me. Who would want to touch these nasties? And as soon as I get a nice coat of polish on, a few nails fall off and it looks, well, nasty. This running thing is working out great for every single body part except the poor toenails.

On the bright side: at least my butt is back up where it is supposed to be!

Dear Bella, Sharpen a Stake and Help Out!

The Twilight saga of forbidden teenage vampire werewolf psycho love has descended on my home with no relief in sight. My teenage daughter, Hank, is crazy for Twilight. Thankfully she is Team Jacob, which means we spend more time looking at this:

and less time looking at this:

(Clearly this vampire's inability to eat cheeseburgers and drink milkshakes has negatively impacted his physique. Someone get this kid a donut!)

Scrawny, glittery vamps aside, here's why the Twilight series (all of the books and, so far, all of the movies -- I'm an equal opportunity hater here) really makes me nuts: Bella.

This girl is the worst romantic heroine EVER. At any given moment, Bella is:

Afraid of vampires.

Afraid of werewolves.

Afraid of getting older.

Fainting with fear.

Sick with fear.

Screaming in fear WHEN SHE IS SLEEPING.

Are we seeing a theme yet? Oh, and one time she isn't really afraid but she sits and stares out her window despondently for six freakin' months.

She doesn't fight back. Doesn't stand firm. Just runs around afraid until someone else saves her from the bad guy, bad gal or, just as likely, from her own stupid self.

The scene that really chaps me is the first werewolf fight, where she makes one wolf mad and another wolf (Jacob) comes to her rescue. The wolves fight while Bella cringes in the background, watching (fearfully, of course). That garage where she spent so much time with Jacob and those stupid motorcycles is RIGHT THERE. Instead of sitting on her behind watching Jacob take on the big bad wolf to protect her, she had plenty of time to go grab a wrench or crowbar so she could wade into that fight and take a few swings herself.

I spend an inordinate amount of time teaching Hank and her younger sister, Abner, about standing up for themselves and being strong. We've been studying martial arts for almost 3 years and these girls are that close to a black belt. They are confidant young ladies (without being brats, there is a difference!) and know their own worth. They're glorious, strong young women and then we show them the "it" story of the year:

Bella The Fearful.

Yeesh.

P.S. I remember taking Hank and Abner to see the movie "Shark Boy and Lava Girl" years ago. That Jacob hunk was the kid who played Shark Boy. I'm pretty sure that my admiration of Jacob's bare chest makes me a dirty old lady.

I love this man

(Warning: Sappy post ahead)

After 18 years of wedded bliss -- which is amazing when you consider that we've known each other for 18.5 years, and no I was NOT preggers, I was just that irresistible -- I am still madly in love with my hubby. We've had some tough years and some epic fights, and yes his snoring is currently making me nuts, but I love this man. He is not perfect but he is perfect for me. Which works out great since I'm sort of not perfect, either.

Since I usually stick to running stuff here, I'll gush about something DH did that is running-related:

A couple of weeks ago, I had a massive grocery list and needed to get in a long run. DH grabbed the list and sent me on my run while he did the shopping. (There's a part of me that cringes because if it says "New!" or God forbid "Chunkier!" he will buy it.) So, off I went.

Important note: We were out of gatorade. And I love me some gatorade - helps the post-run donuts go down easier.

Eight sweaty miles later, I got back to my car to find a bottle of my favorite gatorade flavor (original lemon-lime, you know you love it) balanced on my sideview mirror.

What a man!

He not only did NOT complain about my long run and the time it takes since I am so freakin' slow... He went waaaaaay out of his way just to bring me a gatorade. That, dear reader, is "cherishing."

Here's the man of the hour, goofing off with me at a Pacers game:

That's right, he's all mine, ladies!

Dilemmas, forums and suiting myself

Well, the concerned-about-running theme continues... This time, it's my 14yo daughter -- we'll call her "Hank" -- campaigning to run alone. Some facts to consider:

• She's a cross-country runner and too fast for me to run with her.
• She can take along our German shepherd mix, Elvis, who weighs about 80 pounds and gets pissed if Hank's father even tries to wrestle with her.
• She can stay in town, such as it is, and avoid remote country roads like the one that featured in my last post.
• This kid is 5' 7" and just earned her brown belt.

The dilemma, simply stated, is that I want my girls to have confidence and freedom, but I also want them to live to a ripe old age with a minimum of violence and trauma. What to do? I even posted my question about this on a Runner's World forum and got all kinds of answers.

In the end, I said OK with a few ground rules:

• The dog always goes along.
• The iPod always stay home (so she can hear what is happening around her).
• She carries her cell phone at all times.
• She sticks to a pre-planned route, tells me when she leaves, and checks in as soon as she returns.

Of course, we've had the obligatory lectures (insert teenage eye roll) about following your gut instinct, avoiding any contact with others, head home or go to a neighbor's house if you think there's trouble, etc etc.

Hank has gone on two runs this week and is positively glowing with her ever-expanding independence. Of course, I'm hyperventilating and watching the clock while she's out, but she only goes a few miles and she's fast, so I don't have long to wait. (Another deet - I'm home when she runs, not far away at an office.)

Some folks think I'm nuts and some think it is great. We'll just do what works for us, I suppose...

Lost

Sunday's long run was 8 miles. I ran my favorite loop, which is only my favorite when I'm not actually running it -- some challenging hills on this route. I went alone, since my usual running pal C is having some leg pain and stayed home.

No big deal, I usually run alone anyway. But the story of Chelsea King was lurking in the back of my mind. On Sunday, she was still missing, though everyone was expecting the worst.

What I think of as the "back side" of my 8 mile loop is a country road that actually becomes gravel for a mile or so before heading back to pavement and civilization. Rather remote. As I ran around a curve on this road, I spotted two men just standing on the side of the road. In the middle of nowhere, with no car in sight, just standing there.

At this point, on this day, with the latest headlines screaming in the back of my head, I decided these guys looked like trouble. In hindsight, they just looked like two regular guys, but this could have been a yummy duo of Hugh Jackman and Clive Owen and I would still have thought they were up to no good.

What to do? Turn around, which surely was an invitation to chase (by now my imagination has hit hyperspeed), and I had at least two miles to a house in that direction. Or, keep going and tough it out, with a subdivision maybe 1.5 miles that way.

I kept going, thinking this is stupid in so many ways. Stupid that I've lost that wonderful sense of quiet freedom that comes on long, solitary runs. Stupid that I'm fearful of two guys who are probably no danger to anyone. And stupid that I'm out here all by myself inviting the same kind of trouble that found poor Chelsea.

As I approached the two guys, who by that time were just standing there watching my approach, I called my husband. (I always carry my phone since the time, three years ago, when one of my kids was seriously injured at school and they couldn't reach me -- I was out running.) No, not to tell him I was worried, because he would have charged to the rescue and I wasn't so sure I actually needed rescuing. Yet. I called him so these fellas would hear me on the phone, checking in with someone and giving my location.

The guys just watched me pass, and I saw that they had bikes. One man wore one of those big duster coats, all in black, which just makes me think of Columbine. Once I was a good ways past them, they hopped on the bikes and actually passed me - no words exchanged, not even a direct glance. They probably knew that I had already labeled them as perverted psychopaths on a killing spree and kept away.

I'd like to add that I'm a brown belt (red decided) in martial arts. I've won sparring tournaments, and I'm a tough chick anyway. My husband can testify, since he tried grabbing me from behind early one morning a few weeks ago and I busted him in the nose before realizing what was up. But let's be realistic: the potential harm for one woman vs. two men is astronomical, no matter how many classes you've taken or how tough you think you are. It's just the reality of the world we live in.

Now I'm just so sad. Sad for Chelsea and what her final moments must have been like. And my heart is breaking for her parents. No mom or dad should ever have to outlive their children, and to lose that bright, shiny child in such a terrible way... My heart just breaks.

But I'm also sad for the loss that women feel around the world, that knowledge that yet again it is harder for us to be independent, safe and, dammit, ALONE without worrying for our very lives.

Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Easter is coming, and the grocery store and pharmacy are packed with my very favorite thing:

Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs. I love them. I long for them. And, over the last few days, DH has been surprising me with them: on my nightstand, on the edge of the tub, on my desk... Yum!

Today I ransacked the kitchen until I "accidentally" stumbled across his stash of Eggs. Haven't touched them yet, though I will confess to smooshing my nose to the bag and inhaling deeply.

Will I cave in and eat them all at once? Or will I wait for Hubs' next offering? Only time will tell...

So... Sleepy...

The miles are adding on steadily, with my 8-mile long run yesterday happening as if I always run that far at one time, outdoors, on purpose. But, with my weekly hours adding up, so is my burning desire for... bedtime.

I am just so tired! This is probably just because I'm a Certain Age and I've upped my miles. But boy do I want to take a nap. And go to bed early. And nap. Yesterday, I slept late (for me, anyway), finally got my gear together and ran, and went to Old Navy and bought a skirt. That was it. All day.

Another issue is my blossoming love affair with my bathtub. We bought this house nearly 2 years ago, and I heard angels singing when I first saw the gigantic jacuzzi-type tub in the master bathroom. I can soak until I shrivel up like a giant flabby albino raisin. And when my legs are sore, it just feels so good! At least I'm squeaky clean, which is more than I can say for my running shoes these days.

So, if anyone needs me, I'll be in bed, in the tub, or somewhere betwixt the two!

Make Mine a Double

Saturday was a big day for me: the Polar Bear run. This is actually two runs, 3mi and 5mi, back-to-back. Runners can participate in either race, or become a "doubler" and run both. My running buddy C and I decided way back in December to double down on this one, with the rationale that we should be able to run 8 miles by now in our half marathon training.

The Countdown

The week leading up to the Polar Bear, I had a horrible cold. Snot everywhere, and coughing so hard I either wet my pants or, on one memorable occasion, barfed. Big fun. On top of my usual race stress -- which mak

es no sense since I am so slow, it's not like I'm going to win something for crying out loud -- I was worried about being able to run at all. Bleh.

One Day Left!

Friday finally rolled around. C and I went to packet pickup and the "mini expo," which was three retirees with a pile of t-shirts and a rack of XS clearance crap from a local running store. Considerably less goo coming out of my snot locker, so things were looking up.

Then comes the new stress in the form of an email from the race director:

DOUBLERS - PLEASE READ DO NOT: Wear or have on your person, your 5-Mile number while you are participating in the 3-Mile. IT'S IMPORTANT THAT THE NUMBERS NOT BE WORN AT THE SAME TIME BECAUSE OF THE ACTIVE TIMING CHIP ON THE BACK.Wear the 3-Mile number in the 3-Mile and the 5-Mile number in the 5-Mile. Each number has its own race designation.After you finish the 3-Mile, remove your number and put it in the recycle container near the finish line. Pin on your 5-Mile number and be at the 5-Mile start line at 9:15am (this is the start time).3-MILERS: You must be at the start line of the 5-Mile by 9:15 AM! THANK YOU AND HAVE A GREAT EVENT!

Crap! C and I are going by ourselves, and we are NOT going to have a lot of time between the 3mi race and the 5mi race. I spent Friday evening obsessing over the course map and city maps of Indy, trying to find a place to park close enough to the 3mi finish that we can dash

over and switch bibs.

Race Day

On the way to pick up C, I nearly wrecked my car in the new snow. But we got there on time, and parked a block from the 3mi finish. And we're off!

For the three miles, I ran pretty well but freaked out inside my own head the entire way. What if I don't make the start of the 5mi? I'm sure C is light years ahead of me, she'll be so disappointed if I don't make it. Do I sprint (ha!) past the finish and just run all the way to my car? Then I come around the last turn and there is C, just ahead of me. We finished almost exactly together, which is THRILLING to me because for our last few races she has beat me by min

utes. Minutes!

The bib switch went smoothly, with plenty of time left over to stretch a little and chat as we lined up for the 5mi. We decided to follow C's intervals -- run 4 mins, walk 1 min -- for this part. And we stuck together, which is unusual for us. The first three miles flew by, and I was shocked to see the marker for mile 4. That last mile was tough, with my snot production team suddenly working overtime and my heart beating so fast. C is a great motivator and we finished strong -- 8 miles total, baby!

Here we are, victorious after the race with the shabbiest polar bear ever - and that's me, on the left, in all my sweaty glory:

The Results

We finished .02 seco

nds apart. Yep, C is still, technically, faster than me but in December she was two full minutes (plus) faster. Nice job catching up

, eh? I finished 12th in my age group for the 3mi, and let's just say I wasn't last for the 5mi. I felt GREAT after the race. C and I agree that we could have gone 5 more miles - half marathon distance - today. I am Queen of the Universe! Or, co-queen, anyway.

The Reality

I came into the post-race area and asked another runner where the water was. She pointed me in the right direction and said, "They should still have some left. It's only stragglers coming in now."

Stragglers. Huh. Guess that's me.

At least she wasn't dressed like a Christmas tree...

Randomness

Okay, OKAY, I haven't posted in a while. Back-to-back business trips (which always, always suck) and then a week-long vacay with the fam for our Annual Disney Extravaganza have left me tired, sick, and hopelessly uninspired. So enjoy some random stuff while I pull myself back together:

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There is a roller coaster at Sea World called the Kraken. This struck all of us as uproariously funny and we used it all the time in ways that often made no sense:

"Holy Kraken!"

"That guy's Kraken is showing!"

"Hold on to your Kraken!"

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Room service at Disney World makes homemade chicken broth stuff for sick guests. This stuff saved my kid's life and my sanity on Disney Barf-o-Rama Day.

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On the plane, I sat next to a relief worker returning from Haiti. Now I have an awful cold and I blame him and his third-world cooties. Does that make me a bad person?

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My husband snores SO LOUDLY. I just cannot take it any more. I started sleeping with earplugs about 4 months ago because it hurts his feelings when I move to the guest room. But dear God, now I can hear him through the plugs. It is so loud that last night I still had to wear earplugs IN THE GUEST ROOM. I need a decibel-o-meter or whatever to measure the amazing sounds coming out of this man.

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I don't care how sophisticated you think you are, the Hoop-Dee-Doo Review show at Disney is one of the funniest things you will ever see. Go. Eat. Laugh.

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The Runners World Smart Coach plan is a wonderful thing! Sunday's long run was 8 miles, with no ill effects on Monday. I could hardly believe it.

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Every single day, my mother and my husband tattle to me about each other. One day soon they'll notice that I. Do. Not. Care.

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A running buddy like the fabulous C. makes the miles go by very quickly!

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The Polar Bear run (two races: 3 miles and 5 miles, and I signed up for BOTH) is on Saturday. Today is Wednesday and I have a bad cold. Worry, worry, worry...

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I have the greatest dog ever: Sarge, that handsome devil in the photo above.

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This week's epiphany: my kids are 10 and 14, wonderful gals with personalities, likes, dislikes and lives all their own. How did they get so big s0 fast?

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I secretly resent the fact that my 14yo is a couple of inches taller than her mother.

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I'm off to curl up with some NyQuil and a trashy novel. Fingers crossed that I'll make it to the Polar Bear run on Saturday!

Travel, Chafing, and Leanne

Just got back from a three-day business trip and am taking the clan to Disney tomorrow. TOMORROW. Gawd.

Yes, I got my miles in while on the road. No, I did not pack my running bra because I'm a dummy. Just like maxipads with wings, underwire bras result in EPIC CHAFING on a run of any significance. Could I please go a week without some part of my body rubbing off? Or could the Body Glide people please hose me down?

So, I'm off to dump out everyone's dresser drawers and throw a tantrum while packing to go to The Happiest Place on Earth. Instead of listening to me rant, check out Leanne Morgan -- my current favorite funny gal.

And YES, it would be better if I just embedded one of her videos but I've been trying for 15 minutes and did I mention I'm leaving town again in 12 hours? Stop judging!

iPad: the Maturity Test

So, is it me or is there a new guy naming products over at Apple these days?

The greatest computing invention of the decade, although it is only January, and they name it "iPad." Seriously? Come on, we're all thinking the same stupid jokes and laughing inanely:

Does iPad come with wings?

Is there an Overnight iPad for those really heavy workload days?

Do you prefer scented or unscented iPads?

I can speak like an adult about iPod, iPhone and even iChat. But I can never, ever own an iPad, because I would not be able to say the name without snickering like Beevis and Butthead. "Heh heh, you said PAD!"

If you haven't stooped to any feminine product jokes about the iPad, congratulations: you are officially a grownup. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a headache and some cramps -- gotta send hubs to the store to pick up some iPads and chocolate...

Speaking of feminine products, let me share with you today's life lesson:

Do not, DO NOT wear a maxi with wings on a five-mile tempo run. EPIC CHAFING. And I'm so self-aware that I didn't realize it until I entered the shower and felt like someone poured acid on my bikini line. Yeeouch!

On the plus side, I can run five miles, and that's not even my long run for this week. Proud!

The first half is the hardest

Now that I'm officially training for the OneAmerica 500 Festival Marathon -- which happens in 106 days, holy cow! -- I keep remembering my very first half marathon.

In late 2007, I decided to get a little more serious about running and in a late-night, popcorn-fueled, missing-my-husband frenzy, I signed up for the inaugural Marine Corps Historic Half. This was quite ambitious, since my distance record at this point was once, just once, running six miles.

I flew to Virginia and stayed with a very nice NRP in my life, Shelby. She went with me to the expo on Saturday, and the actual race was on Sunday. I had never even watched a half marathon, much less been to an expo. It was so overwhelming! I was surrounded by Marines and other uber-fit types who were chatting merrily about how they ran 38 miles last weekend just for fun, and they were all laughing about this T-shirt that said:

Toenails are for Sissies

(Which I totally did not understand.)

So, I'm dragging Shelby around this expo, looking at all the Fabulous Fit people and comparing them to my own short, stubby self, and it happens.

First, my hands started shaking, to the point I couldn't pick up a cute necklace that had a 13.1 charm on it. "Huh, would you look at this?" I said to Shelby, holding out my quivering hands. "Are you freaking out?" she replied. "No, I feel pretty calm." And I did FEEL calm in my head, but my body was launching into full fight-or-flight mode.

Second, I announced that it was so stinking HOT in the convention center and took off the very light jacket I had worn. Shelby said, "What is up with you?" and I realized I had sweated through my shirt. I wiped my forehead -- dripping like I had been sprinting.

Shelby wisely announced, "I'm getting you out of here." Whereupon she took me directly to the nearest restaurant and demanded to know, at 11:30am, if the bar was open.

Two margaritas and one of these:
...and I was feeling much, much better. Not the wisest choice of food and drink on the day before a half marathon, but I swear it was purely medicinal.

After my mini panic attack on Saturday, I was eerily calm on Sunday for the half marathon. My time was nothing amazing. If you, dear reader, ever run this race, DO NOT BE FOOLED by the elevation map. Rolling hills throughout and a brutal set of uphills at the end slowed everyone down. When I crossed the finish and a Marine gave me my medal, I almost cried... Though I'm not sure if I was happy to get the medal or just so glad the torturefest was over.

After the race, I only had time to take a shower before I hobbled onto my flight home. After resisting the temptation to request a wheelchair at my destination airport, I still had to drive an hour to get home. Once I arrived, I called my husband from the car to come out and help me, because I was too stiff to even get out of the car unassisted.

Fast forward to today: I've run a total of 5 half marathons. I know what "negative splits" means. I get that T-shirt slogan now. In November, I went dancing after completing a half.

And, I save the adult beverages for after the race.

So THAT'S what "freezing fog" means

This past weekend, my running buddy C (she's awesome!) and I decided to run 3 miles outside on Saturday morning. We have an 8 miler coming up in late February, so we had better get used to the cold.

Saturday morning, the plan was to meet at the park at 8:30am. The weather forecast said 32 degrees and a "chance of freezing fog." What the heck is that? As usual, I ignored it and went on my merry way.

Clue #1: Arriving in the parking lot, I managed to do a 180 just turning into a parking spot. It shocked me - the lot looked wet, so why am I sliding around? Undaunted, I sit in my car pulling on gloves, ear band, etc.

Clue #2: C arrives while I'm still in my vehicle, steps out of her car, and immediately wipes out. She fell so fast it was like she disappeared. Splat!

Apparently, "freezing fog" means that everything was covered in this invisible coat of smooth, slippery ice. We skated over to the trail to check it out, but no luck - the paved trail was an ice rink. Then we hobbled out to the sidewalk, thinking that would be better.

Nope.

After kidding ourselves (and almost breaking a few bones) for a block, we gave up and left. This story does have a happy ending, though; we came back the next afternoon and did our long run -- six miles, ta-da! -- on the same trail, just running the loop twice.

Take that, freezing fog! Thirteen miles this week, not counting elliptical workouts and the general chasing-after-the-kids exercise. So far I've managed to stick to my Runner's World program, but don't get too excited. This was Week One.

Back off, NRPs!

Do you have people in your house who don't run? I do. And good grief, my live-in Non-Running Person (NRP) never misses a chance to say something negative about running or get in my way when I'm getting ready to run. Or both. Even worse, this life-long NRP will offer advice. That would be like me calling up the next space shuttle crew and telling them how to get the shuttle doohickey properly hooked up to the space station whatsit.

NRP lurks nearby when I'm getting gear together and editorializes the process:

"You're going to freeze out there."

"Don't you need water?"

"Where is your phone?"

"You're running ALONE?" [I always run alone, maybe because I like the QUIET!!!]

"Explain to me again why you're doing this?"

And, my personal favorite: "You're wearing THAT?!?"

This rachets up to a new level when official events, such as half marathons, are involved. My resident NRP will snipe in the months leading up to the race about the cost, about how early I have to get up, about whether I'm prepared (from a person who hasn't run a step in, as far as I can tell, EVER).

On days like today, I'm one snide comment away from confrontation. But, then I remember that my NRP just doesn't get it, and never will.

For now, I'll just go for a run!

Training countdown; or, What have I gotten myself into?

Deep breath...

The OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini Marathon happens on May 8th this year. That's about 120 days. And when you currently have about 5 miles as your base, that's too freakin' soon!

Locals call this race the Indy Mini. The coolest part is that 2.5 miles of the course are actually a lap around the Indianapolis Speedway. I and 35,000 of my closest friends will run around the Speedway about halfway through our 13.1 miles. Last year was my first Indy Mini. It took so long for my slowpoke stall to cross the START line that the winner - who finished in about an hour, and I'm sure he was so smug about it - was almost done by the time my chip activated.

I took a self-portrait while on the Speedway part of the run last year. Note the scrawny chick behind me mugging for the photo:

My 13yo ran her first Indy Mini last year as well. She tripped in mile one, ran the rest of the way with blood dripping down one leg and one arm, and still set a PR. Momma is proud! (Good thing she runs faster than I do, or there would have been a brawl in mile 1 when someone tripped my baby.) She always, ALWAYS has this epic sprint at the end of her runs, whether it's a cross country 5K or a half marathon. Spectators go nuts when she pulls her Speedy Gonzalez routine at the end of a half. It is really something to see!

Not to be outdone, I also set a PR at last year's Indy Mini with - go ahead and laugh - 2h 57m. Hey, not bad for a chub who loves me some donuts!

Now, I'm trying to decide this year's goal: do I play it safe and say "anything faster than 2:57:00?" Or, do I challenge myself? Is 2:45 a realistic goal? Only time and the miles will tell. I'm considering using a Runner's World training program this time around. My training is usually something along the lines of Whatever I Feel Like Doing Today, so this could be interesting.

My official training starts Jan 16th. Stay tuned...

Meanwhile, the Penguin - John Bingham - has quit writing his Runner's World column. Sometimes I felt like he was the only other slow runner out there who understood me. We'll miss you, John; waddle on!

My 2009, in a nutshell, courtesy of All & Sundry. She doesn't know me but I love reading her blog! If you decide to blog your own answers to these questions, leave her link and she'll wonder who we all are.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before? Some rather physical milestones this year for me, the woman least likely to be picked out of a lineup as an athletic type. I ran in the Indy OneAmerica Mini Marathon and set a personal best for the half marathon. This was my third half marathon and my teenager ran it with me. Well, she actually ran ahead of me. Also this year, I entered a martial arts sparring tournament and managed not to faint. More on that in #8, below…
Last but certainly not least, this year we celebrated our 18^th year of wedded bliss. Can you believe that? In a few years I will have been married for half of my life! Wouldn’t trade it – or him! – for anything.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolution, and will you make more for next year? I don’t make new year’s resolutions. Never have understood that. And all those resolution folks are in my way at the gym for the first six weeks of the new year before they all give up.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? No. I’m getting long enough in the tooth that everyone close to me has already had their children or they are struggling with infertility, which is heartbreaking.

4. Did anyone close to you die? My poor husband has dealt with a lot; his mom’s side of the family is now all gone except for him and his sister.

5. What countries did you visit? Just the good old You Ess of Ay.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? Better focus on both the work and home fronts. My tendency to procrastinate created a very stressful 2009.

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? July 20 – the day my healthy-as-a-horse mom fell on a sidewalk and shattered her kneecap. I still become enraged thinking of the two ladies who walked right past her while she lay there, crying and begging for help. Surgery, pain, pills and rehab for Mom; sleepless nights and round-the-clock nursing shifts for me. Hubs and the kids really stepped up and were a huge help, and the folks from church and the community rallied around us. The positive side of this is that we all pulled together to get through it.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Our instructor entered us in a tae kwon do tournament. Now, I make presentations all the time and speeches are a piece of cake, but the prospect of performing my form ALONE in front of a panel of judges, followed by a single-elimination sparring tournament, had me seeing spots. Right before we started, I couldn’t decide if I was going to faint or barf. Somehow, I held it together and finished with a first place for forms and a first place in sparring. The best part was completing the last match, which was with a good friend so we were really going at it, and seeing the shocked look on hubs’ face. Guess he had no idea I can now execute a crescent kick to the head. Having spent my childhood – and most of my adult years – with my nose in a book, I am so darn proud of those two medals!

9. What was your biggest failure? Work. I have people in a small firm counting on me and I took procrastination to a whole new level. Only God knows why these guys keep me around.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I rolled my ankle in a 5K fun run, which was supposed to be the kickoff of my training for a fall half marathon. The result was a high ankle sprain complete with a torn ligament, which put a halt to all running for months. Immediate weight gain ensued.

11. What was the best thing you bought? A new car big enough for us all to ride in comfort: a Hyundai Veracruz. If you’re laughing, you’ve never ridden in one of these vehicles and you are probably a snob.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? In the public eye? Sully, the pilot who landed a plan full on passengers on the Hudson. That was amazing!

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Balloon Boy’s family. Dear God.

14. Where did most of your money go? Upkeep on the new-ish house and the purchase of the aforementioned car.

15. What did you get really excited about? Taking the family to Disney World. What can I say, it’s the happiest place on earth!

16. What song will always remind you of 2009? “Forever,” thanks to the wedding video that would not die.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
- happier or sadder? Sadder, I think. 2009 wore me out.
- thinner or fatter? A little fatter, but working on it.
- richer or poorer? About the same.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Spent more time hanging out with my kids and husband.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Work-related travel.

20. How did you spend Christmas? At home, cooking for 11 friends and family who all cleaned up after themselves. It was fantastic!

21. Did you fall in love in 2009? Nope, still in love with the same macho, macho man after 18 years of wedded bliss.

22. What was your favorite TV program? My guilty pleasure – The Biggest Loser. That Tracy chick was nuts, and I totally knew that Danny would win.

23. Do you hate anyone that you didn’t hate this time last year? Nope. I find it hard to hate anyone, it takes a lot of time and energy. Shunning works much better for me. That said, I’m pretty sure I hate my friend R’s ex-husband, but I would need a separate blog for all the crap that man has rained down on the heads of R and her beautiful children.

24. What was the best book you read? Hard to say, since I’m a compulsive reader and read hundreds of books in a year. I did manage to read all of the Twilight books at my teen’s insistence. Am I the only one who thinks Bella was a wimp? Sharpen a stake, honey – get in there and HELP, for crying out loud.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery? Sadly, nothing comes to mind.

26. What did you want and get? A Kindle! YES!

27. What did you want and not get? Happily, nothing comes to mind.

28. What was your favorite film this year? Avatar in 3D. Blew. My. Mind.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned 40 this year.Hubs recently retired from the military and was finally home – for the first time ever – for my birthday. My dear friend R organized a surprise birthday dinner with a bunch of our friends, complete with black balloons and Over the Hill decorations.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? More time with hubs and kids – work took a front seat for me this year, but it felt like it was happening against my will. And Mom's injury sent me into a tailspin in terms of keeping anything on track. Definitely need to work on balance.

31. How would you describe your personal concept in 2009? I have no idea what this means. My motto this year was probably “hang on one more day.” It worked.

32. What kept you sane? Church, prayer, my children and my pal, R. You’re the best!

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Susan Boyle on Britain’s Got Talent.

34. What political issue stirred you the most? The insanity over healthcare.

35. Who did you miss? My sister-in-law, Pam.

36. Who was the best new person you met? A guy at work, we’ll call him Z, who has the same snarky sense of humor.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009. It is possible to survive on 1 hour of sleep per night, in an armchair, for three weeks straight. In a related epiphany, I’m not a nice person when I’m sleep deprived.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. “All work and no play/Makes Jack a dull boy/But all work no God/Has left Jack with a lost soul” –Casting Crowns