Some Things Never Change

As I've mentioned before, my first foray into swimming was before the era (but certainly not error) of jammers (although, naming them 'jammers' certainly does seem like an error or funny depending on whether or not you're wearing them).  The only option for the guys was the good old fashioned speedo. And whether you're wearing a speedo or swimming next to someone wearing a speedo, when you're in high school, its awkward.

So the "real" swimmers, wore gym shorts out of the locker room and mastered the art of going from on deck in gym shorts to in the pool in a speedo in one fluid motion.  Impressive really.

Fast forward to the present and jammers exist so the guys don't have to do magic tricks to spare themselves the indignity of strutting (or me the horror of observing them strut, because face it, I'm not in high school anymore but some things are still awkward) around the pool in speedos (this is a particular blessing to me when the old dudes who shouldn't be strutting in anything less than a snuggie decide to go for a swim).

Anyway, recently there have been two "real" swimmers at my pool.  To be clear, I'm not a "real" swimmer, but I've spent enough time with them to know one when I see one: they do all four strokes, they flip turn and have amazingly streamlined push offs, they pay attention to the pace clock and for some odd reason the girls like to pull their bathing suit straps off their shoulders whenever they can (I respect and admire the real swimmers and all, but honey, you're shoulders aren't so big that they can't be contained by your swimsuit's lycra straps).  On Monday, the girl real swimmer was there but initially her usual male counterpart was not.  She was finishing her workout as a youngish non-descript guy came into the pool - he was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt so whether he was her real swimmer friend was unclear.  

He put on a cap and jumped in the pool in his gym shorts.

It appeared, from the gym shorts, that he was not a real swimmer and I wanted to tell him that the cap could not possibly cut down on enough drag to make up for the baggie gym shorts.  And then, he took them off to reveal ... a speedo.  Which definitely, without a doubt, made him a real swimmer who was rusty on the old out of the shorts into the pool maneuver and who somehow hadn't learned of jammers (or maybe he had, and realized that even with a few extra inches of leg, jammers don't leave enough to the imagination).  

Sick is Over Rated

or, thank God for DVR.

or, at least it was a rest week.

And I was doing so well, with eating and workouts and life ... and then a mysterious achey, hot/cold fever.  

But at least its not during the progressive cycling class thingie.  Or the summer.  And in fun news, Sara and I are planning to video tape ourselves swimming and biking to send to Liz.  If it isn't too mortifying, or technically challenging, maybe I'll post some footage here;)

That's it.  Just trying to kill the hours until the next nap/tv show I can tolerate.  Ergh.

Girly

It would appear that I've gone all girly on you with this layout ... bear with me..  It might not last.  Or it might.  I've got to sit with it for a bit.  Just figured it was time for a change.  If you have an opinion on the matter, I might listen to it (depends on who you are;)!

Outside

Today I rode my bike outside.  24ish miles or 4 loops of Central Park.  As I got in my car to drive home I kind of, sort of, maybe a little bit, wished I still lived in NY rather than 2 miles away.  Anyway, I still remember how to drink and ride.  Sadly I did not suddenly learn a method for getting off my bike that does not jeopardize my unborn children.

Tomorrow, I might be really crazy and run outside.  Maybe I'll even wear shorts!

That's all I got though.  Enjoy the rest of the weekend!

Puking: The Good and The Bad

I think I've stated before that I swam prior to my relatively recent foray into triathlon. For many years growing up I wore a back brace 23 hours a day - if I was in the water, with its reduced gravity, I got an extra hour. A bonus. Any actual swimming time counted as exercise, which didn't even count toward the extra hour. Double bonus.

Until high school I only took advantage of this exercise hour in the summer - swimming on the local pool's swim team. Starting freshman year, I began swimming through most of the fall and winter. I was by no means fast, but I was reliable, generally for a third place finish. Sometimes fourth. I helped fill the lanes and became comfortable in the water. I liked the quiet punctuated with inter-set gossip. And it was a sport that didn't require coordination of the eye hand variety. Triple bonus.

Fast forward to my recent foray into triathlon. I was nervous jumping into the pool having not swam a lap essentially since college when I would occasionally visit the University's pool. My return to the chlorine was far from triumphant - I was horribly out of shape and had no speed, but I knew what I was doing. The mechanics were rusty but there. I'm not sure my triathlon career would have lasted this long if I was picking up swimming from scratch.

And, for the past 2-3 years, as I've continued to practice and read the TI book and drill, drill, drill, the kinks of worked themselves out, and while I'm sure that if I actually saw my stroke I'd be horrified, it at least feels good. Smooth. Fluid. And I still look forward to the quiet of the black line (almost as much as I miss the inter-set gossip, but alas, my town is lacking in non-NCAA caliber master's teams).

In addition to working out the kinks, I've apparently built up some speed.

Liz occasionally has us do "swim tests" which consist of 10 100s with 10 seconds rest between each. You time yourself for the whole set, subtract 90 seconds from that time (for the rest) and dived by 10 to get your base pace (or something like that) per 100.

My first swim test was over a year ago and it was fine - acceptable to me.

My second swim test was this past December - almost exactly one year after the first test and in that year I dropped 30 seconds off of my total time or 3 seconds per 100. To a normal person, 3 seconds is nothing. But, to a swimmer, 3 seconds per 100 is a fair to good improvement to make over the course of a year.

After my second swim test, I did a timed 500. The 500 used to be my second favorite event when I swam in high school (my favorite was the 200) and I REALLY wish I knew what my best time was from back in the day. But, since it was from the dark ages, before everything was electronic, I suspect I'll never know. Anyway, for the timed 500, my average time per 100 was the same as my average time per 100 for the test which was ... good to very good. Because, while the timed 500 is (obviously) only half as long, there is no rest. I was please. Very pleased. And curious.

And then, this month, we re-tested. I saw the test on the schedule in the middle of a week in the middle of our craptastic winter and I was, in a sick, sick way, looking forward to it. I was actually a bit sleepless the night before the test - I had intended to do it in the morning but that plan was foiled by snow that would have made the trip to and from the pool too long for a pre-work workout. I worried that my plan to reschedule in the evening would be foiled by ice, but mother nature cooperated and I started the workout just before 8 pm.

I started the warm-up and almost bailed on the test. My arms were heavy, my legs were tired I worried that I hadn't waited a full hour since eating my banana, I worried that I hadn't eaten enough through out the day ... was I feeling light headed? I decided I was just worried about the degree to which I would be crushed if I hadn't gotten at least a little bit faster in the month since my last test and decided to just do it.

I almost bailed after the first 100 - I thought I was going to puke or wet my pants, but then I realized that I had swam those laps in a time 15 seconds faster than the base pace from my previous test. I chalked it up to that and continued a bit more controlled. The test is sort of a mind game to me - the first 100 always feels good until I stop and want to die. I'm 'fresh' so I go out too fast and then reign it in a bit for #2, which is better. On #3 I focus on the fact that I'll be half way done in 2 more 100s. #4 is all about survival and #5 means I'm half way done - I've made it that far so I can finish. #6 is super exciting because when its over I'm over half way done. #7 is the hardest but #8 isn't too bad to get through, because after that there are only 2 100s left! #9 is the light at the end of the tunnel, its okay to kick a little harder. And then #10 is all out, breathing less, pulling faster and stopping the watch while trying to get in as much air as possible and feeling like I'm going to puke. Its a good almost puking feeling though.

I looked at my time and knew it was faster than the test one month ago, which was good. But subtracting 90 seconds and dividing by 10 is hard with an oxygen deficit. I was unwilling to get too excited about the improvement until I got back to the locker room where my phone has a calculator.

I took a few more breaths and prepared for my cool down. While doing so I noticed the creepy guy. The creepy guy is an overweight, older, hairy man who I see when I swim at night or on the weekends. My pool is in a gym in a condo complex and right off the pool is a sauna and a steam room. The pool deck is kept warm and surrounded by lounge chairs so some people come to the pool just to steam and, well, lounge. I think creepy guy lives in the building and he seems to come to lounge most nights. He showers, but never gets in the pool, he saunas and then sits in a lounge chair and I always think he's watching me. But I convinced myself that he wasn't watching ... he was just watching the pool where I happened to be. Plus, I'm pretty generic looking in cap and goggles - could he really know it was me from one day to the next?

Apparently, yes.

After my cool down I went to grab my towel and he spoke. To me. I was SO OFF GUARD. I asked him to repeat himself and he said ... "I see you here swimming alot. Did you swim in college?"

And for the second time in my 1 hour workout I felt like puking. But this time, not in a good way.

ANYWAY, back in the locker room, I did the math on my phone's calculator AND ... 30 seconds faster. Again. That's 3 more seconds faster per 100. 3 seconds faster in a month. That's very good to great in my book.

So yeah, I'm pleased. To say the least. I wonder when they'll ask me to be on the olympic team? He, he.

Now if only I could feel this way about riding a bike ...

Happy weekend folks. Stay warm ... the sun has to come out eventually, right?

Tests, Plans, Weather and Other Non-Sequiturs

I went to college in Northern Indiana and many of my college friends have settled down in Chicago - as a result of, or maybe in spite of this, I have on several occasions given fairly serious thought to moving there.  Like to live.  Except the coldest I have ever been in my life has been in Chicago in February - so cold that I can still remember getting back to the apartment where I was staying, watching in horror as the person I was staying with struggled to get the keys out and the door open and when I was finally in the apartment, sitting there with my coat on wondering if there was a legitimate way to stay both in Chicago and in the apartment until Spring.  I think the horrific weather (and the fact that I'm not licensed to work there and my family is here and by the time I really was ready to maybe move there most of the people I would have wanted to be spend my days with were married) play a big role in why I never pulled the trigger on that whole moving to Chicago thing.  Anyway, when its gets so cold here in the East that its all they talk about on the news and walking the four blocks to lunch* leaves me so tired and cold that I just want to crawl up on the couch in reception and stay there until Spring, it makes me happy that I don't live in Chicago - it might be 15 here but its 15 below or something crazy there.

But, the weather gives me a good reason to stay in on a Friday night and blog.  And, if nothing else, I'm thankful that I wasn't standing in the Hudson River recently - when the plane crashed they said that air was 18 and the water 40 - only 14 degrees cooler than the water in this race.

Kind of crazy that I did the race in the first place knowing that the water was going to be that cold.  Crazier still that I'm thinking of doing the race again ... especially with this weather we're having -  the lake might be even cooler this year.  Anyway, for the spring/summer I'm thinking something like this:

• The Harryman (freakishly cold water) - olympic (more or less) distance - May 16, 2009
• Rev3 (super hilly) - Half IM - June 7, 2009
• Philly Tri - olympic - June 28, 2009
• NJ State - olympic - July 26, 2009
• Timberman - Half IM - August 23, 2009

I'll train with a fairly intense (for me) bike training group in March and April and train for a half marathon in October ... so it'll be busy (especially June) but hopefully fun.

I've been trying to be diligent about training and was super happy with my tests - I improved from all of last year's tests especially in swimming and running (I mis-recorded last year's bike test results so it was hard to know how this year compared to last) perhaps proving that even after all these years I'm still a good tester.  Over the next two weeks I'm going to do a new bike and run test and re-do the swimming test.  I'm looking forward to the swim test (in a sick, sick way) because I haven't missed a swim since the new year - with any luck I'll continue to be a good tester;)

I'm trying to keep this up while maybe fitting in a day or two of skiing (I feel like someday far, far away when I'm finally grown up and settled down, skiing will be a great thing to do as a family but I also feel that if I don't ski this year I might never ski again, so I'm going to try to fit it in) and yoga (in the next 2-3 years I'd like to become a yoga instructor - but I need to keep up my practice to make this a reality).  So overall things are good.  Busy, but good.  You might say I'm content.  Which is really more than enough right now, basically the wisdom to know the difference.

*  This was only the second time in two weeks that I went out to lunch.  I'm on a home cooking/clean eating/no processed food (she writes as she drinks a beer) kick and have brought my breakfast and lunch to work everyday (except for the day a false fire alarm in my apartment building caused me to leave sans lunch).  I admit that I was never really a believer in the whole you are what you eat logic until now - it seems that there might be something to it.  Maybe.

Anyway, stay warm kids.  Happy weekend.

2009: Off to a Good Start

or, in addition to remembering my watch, I need to know the time I'm trying to beat.

There has been so much to say, so many good posts floating around in my head, but it seems that I've been to busy living and doing, eating well, bringing my own food for breakfast, lunch and dinner, working out before work (even swimming), having Christmas parties, celebrating Christmas (but not yet taking down my Christmas tree) and, well, living and doing, that the posts never get written.

But, I will tell you about my first "race" of the season.  "Race" and not Race, because I decided a week ago to run a 5 mile race instead of my 50 minute scheduled training run.  There was no race specific training, no tapering, no involved plan with the coach.  Just me, going for a 5 mile run followed by brunch.

I arrived on time enough to get checked in and warmed up before the 8 am start.  Had I known about the NYRR's new plan to keep us corralled in the running lanes I might have arrived earlier.  Or not.  I'm not good at arriving places before 8 am.   Anyway, the "race" started and I crossed the starting line shortly thereafter with the same - Oh God, how am I going to get through this feeling that I always have and in addition to the "will I finish?" panic, it was super crowded.  Trying to find room to actually run (v. shuffle) was, at best, like playing a game.  But I suppose it distracted me, because the 1st mile flew by in 10 minutes almost even.  I thought this odd because given my training runs and the crappy, crowded conditions, it seemed that I should have been going slower - I actually thought the markers might be off which is virtually unheard of for a NYRR race.

My original pacing goal had been to try to keep up with Sara, but in the game of find some free space to run, I managed to misplace her, so I had no one to keep up with and decided just to run and I did and I ticked off the next 4 miles in about 9:15 each and while this wasn't easy, I never really thought that I was going to die - perhaps my giddiness at running paces I haven't seen in years masked the pain.

I finished strong in around 47 minutes and I was pleased to say the least.  Given that I DNF'ed my last Race, I was due a good race.  Post race I decided I was also due a good brunch and headed to sarabeth's with sara and theresa (a potential future triathlete).  Post brunch I swam and ran some errands so by the time I got home, official results were posted ...

46:55.

Not bad I thought and then began scrolling through my race history to see what my PR was.  And then I realized that I missed a PR by 9 seconds - I really need to know these things going in, because I think I could have gone 9 seconds faster, right?  Certainly without the 1st mile traffic jam I would have PR'ed.  Of course, its easy to PR with the benefit of hindsight and almost PR or not, it was an awesome day that has me excited about the next few months.

So, 2009?  So far so good, kids.

Flip Turns

Tonight I swam and without giving it any advanced thought, swam the 2100 yd workout with all flip turns.  Swimming is a lot harder without that extra breath at the turn.  For the record, the longest set (interval? not sure of the right term) in the workout was 200 yds and I'm not sure that I could have done much more than that with all flips.  But, I'll take your congratulations anyway;)

Yesterday I cleaned out my extra room and stumbled across a bunch of letters and cards from a few ex-boyfriends.  Its funny no matter how long ago it was and how over it you are, reading these things can make you do a flip turn.  Maybe its just knowing that there was a time when you read these things and didn't have the clarity of hind sight to realize that they were all bullshit that throws you for a loop.  It maybe makes you appreciate the ones that just walk away without leaving a written legacy.

Maybe.

 

Busy is Better

or blame it on facebook

I think alot of my recent melancholy is caused by facebook.

Don't get me wrong, I love the fb and can only hope that they never make it so you can see who accesses your page. Because then my stalking will be significantly curtailed.

But it also let's you know what is going on with people that you haven't seen or spoken to in years. All of whom seem to have kids or spouses or other pretty things that they can take pictures of and list neatly in their profile. Its much easier to evidence a baby and a husband on a facebook page than it is to evidence a job at which you are appreciated (even if you spend entirely too much time at it) or a workout that clicks or an apartment you love or that you have a crock pot and managed to make a pot roast that fed your grandparents for 3 meals.

Sometime it takes being so insanely busy (at work and otherwise) that you can't think about what you don't have and can't change and instead learn to appreciate what you do have and don't want to change.

Hard

Admittedly, I tend toward the melodramatic, but I feel that life's been hard lately.  Which is maybe why I haven't written.  Because this is supposed to be about so much fun, and lately it seems that I can barely get through the day.

I've been trying really hard to go to yoga once a week, and in every class my 'intention' is to 'accept the things I can not change' because otherwise I labor through my day worrying about those things.  Its a long list and it bring me to hyperventilation or tears almost daily.  It includes broad out of my control things like: the economy, my personal job security, whether the country will possibly recover from the next 4-8 years in my lifetime, if the boy has disappeared or is just busy, if he's disappeared why, if I like him anyway, if I'll ever get married, if I'll ever have kids, if I could in good faith bring a child into this world given the way I feel about the next 4-8 years, when Joe Biden's predicted attack will occur ... and I'm sure there is more.

I've also been insanely busy at work (which is good) but makes it hard for me to fit in workouts which in turn makes me more inclined to worry anxiously.  

A vicious circle really.

But I'm trying. Some days and weeks start off with good resolve.  And tomorrow has potential - yoga and a haircut in the morning and then probably a long day of work ... not ideal, but at least a plan.  And I am planning races and maybe ski trips and possibly a Christmas party - all things to look forward to and well within my control.

So just know that I'm here and I'm trying and I'll be back with more regularity when hyperventilating isn't taking up so much of my time:)

Later.

October is a Boring Month Anyway

I mean really, I don't like Halloween and that means October is really just time after the summer and before birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas.  So I skipped it, at least for purposes of this blog.  But I was out there doing whatever it is I do to occupy my days.  

In this time I learned that trying not to care works right up until you start to care.  And when you start to care, it all goes away.  Its just the way life works.  At least for me.  The transition from caring to not is harder than the transition from not caring to caring but marathon and football watching with friends makes it easier.  Right up until there is a lull in the conversation and the silence crashes down around you, leaving you to wonder how you'd explain breaking inexplicably into tears without sounding like a raving lunatic.  And sometimes if you just express how miserable you are it makes it better.  Even if you decide the easiest ear is your engaged ex-boyfriend.  Which makes you pathetic in addition to miserable but at least not crying in the bar. 

I also learned that its easier to work out before work now that the clock have changed.  Its easier to eat well when there is good food in the house.  And yoga.  I like yoga.  And as we sit potentially on the brink of a great depression and our country is faced with a decision that if made poorly will be disastrous, I just hope for the "serenity to know the difference" because if you can't control you can't change it no matter how hard you try.

On Wednesday I age another year.  I hope this past month is not indicative of what the next year is going to be.  Argh.

The IT Band Giveth ...

and the IT Band Taketh Away

My good friend Dave had a blog post with a similar title. I feel a bit bad mimicking him, but there are worse people to mimic (Dave's good friend Ryan, for example ... ha, ha) and he hasn't updated his blog in 18 years (approximately).

With that out of the way, I'm going to tell you about the race I ran on Sunday. I'll be brief:

It was a half marathon and I wanted to beat my time of 2:08:18. I was ready and confident. Might have gone out a bit too fast but got to mile 6 in 58 minutes and thought I had it in the bag. Somewhere before mile 7 my IT Band, which has bothered me in the past - as in when I trained for the marathon in'05 went from a barely noticeable tightness in my hips to a shooting pain in my right knee. I played with my stride (shorter, longer, feet in a bit, feet out a bit) for a few minutes and then stopped to stretch. I made it through mile 7 but it really hurt. So I stretched some more, that got me about one minute. So I mostly walked and ran when I could through mile 9. Then it started to drizzle. I kept walking with a bit of running here and there and then it started to pour down rain. I wanted nothing but to high tail it to the finish which I could see, but there was the slight issue of the Hudson River between us. I don't swim in the Hudson River so I kept on going getting colder and wetter and more bored and miserable with every step. I finally crossed the river and emerged from the God forsaken park I was in and there waiting for me like a chariot was the lite rail that I knew stopped at the finish - so with two miles to go I took public transportation to the finish. I was honorable and did not cross the finish line - just turned in my chip.

I was with coworkers so I tried to be all "no big deal, just hopped on the train, wasn't my day" but I was a bit sad and cranky. Until I took a nap at which point I realized that I was ready and would have beaten my 2:08 but for the IT Band. And you can't mess with the IT Band - this lessened my disappointment and I went on to enjoy the rest of my day. Of course when I woke up this morning as sore as if I ran the whole race and covered in mosquito bites, I was a bit miffed. Talk about adding insult to injury.

As for the issue alluded to in my last 3 posts - I'm back to being content to take a let's see what happens approach. And back to being afraid to think or talk about the situation.

The End.

And it all Becomes Clear

The last two posts?  About a boy.  But you knew that, right?

And tonight?  I changed the profile on my phone/blackberry so that text messages and emails have a different notifying tone.  Because otherwise, every time I got an email my heart stopped as I wondered if it was a text.  

This is the metaphorical equivalent of starting to lead and stopping the dance.  You find yourself standing there awkwardly wishing you were still dancing but glad you stopped before you stepped on his feet.  

And now?  I'm waiting for the next song to see if I'll try the dance again or retire to the bar.  

Either way, it bodes well for the race on Sunday - the boy and running aren't related in reality, but in my head its as if I've got something to prove.  Or at least I need something to justify heading to the bar.  And for now, my vote for sushi won, so I'm off to dinner.  

Happy weekend kids.

On Dancing as it Relates to Life

It’s not that I don’t like to dance. I do. Sort of. I’m not very good at it, but like most things involving coordination, if you watch those who are good at it and take a deep breath, you can make yourself improve. Maybe not dramatically, but at least enough to make it look like you sort of know what you are doing. Of course, when those around me are “dirty dancing,” which was often the case this summer, I’d just as soon belly up to the bar. I guess it’s the Catholic schooled girl in me, I like to leave room for the Holy Spirit, thank you very much. And so, I’m left with people thinking that I just don’t like to dance and thus I don’t get many opportunities to dance. And it’s all fine. You can find me at the bar.

Because of this, I forget how amazing it can be to dance with someone who knows how to dance. And who leaves room for the Holy Spirit, thank you very much. It’s hard for me, because I … no surprise here … tend to want to lead. Which defeats the purpose of dancing with someone who knows what they’re doing. I was fortunate enough in college to have a standby, good friends-only guy who would accompany me to dances when necessary. And he knew how to dance; but, to make this work, I’d have to focus HARD on not leading and before I knew it, we’d be dancing.

I recently had the opportunity to dance with someone who knew what they were doing, and even after a few drinks I had to focus HARD on relaxing and only doing what he was guiding me to do. Kind of like when you get a massage and they tell you to let you arm or leg go limp. It’s HARD. HARDER than you think it should be since you’re essentially doing nothing … But if you try hard enough, close your eyes if you have to, you can be led. And before you know it you’re dancing and its fun, right up until you think about it and step on his feet.

And so, that’s what I’m trying to do now. In life, not on the dance floor. To focus on not focusing and see where it takes me. Its hard, really hard. But fun. Sort of. Right up until I step on his feet. At which point, you can find me at the bar.

There's Something Happening Here

And its exciting.  I think.  I don't know for sure, because I try as hard as I possibly can not to think about it.  Its as if I'm afraid that the force of my thoughts will make change it.  So, given this state of paranoia, I certainly can't write about it here because WHO KNOWS what would happen then?

But fear not.  I plan on running a half marathon this Sunday, so we can talk about that soon;)

Later, kids.

Two Years Old

On August 29th, my blog was two years old.

So, happy belated birthday blog. Glad you surivived the terrible twos. I hope three is a good year for ya.

I'm Over It

I still find the events described in my last post extremely hurtful.  

And a bit immature in a way I could only explain if I went into the history.  And at this point its not just worth it.  

So whatever.  Someday he'll be sorry.  For now, I won't loose anymore sleep over it.

I bought a new shirt and I'm headed to the beach for the long weekend.  I might even kiss a boy.  Doubtful but possible.  I mean, I did sneak into a pool to swim tonight.  I'm apparently all about breaking the rules these days!

On Facebook and its Evils

or, With a Lump in My Throat and a Knot in My Stomach

I think it was the way I found out and the silence that followed that bothered me more than the news itself. And maybe there was a small part of me that thought we’d always wind up together - although, deep down I’m pretty sure I knew we wouldn’t. I acknowledge that the recent silence was probably my fault, coupled with his travel and the girl. But it wasn’t an unprecedented silence. It had happened before and one of us always reached out. This time it was me. On facebook of all things.

And when I wrote on his wall that we had to "get together soon and catch up" he didn’t respond. He just updated his status to ‘married’ and posted a picture of Them.

So, yeah. To summarize, he was my first crush, my first kiss, often my best friend, the only boy I’ve brought to my parent’s vacation home, someone who has both seen me cry and made me laugh until I cried. And he told me he was married by updating his FB status. I guess that means he doesn’t want to be friends anymore?

Even though we weren’t actively friends, I still considered him a friend … until yesterday. And I guess this explains the lump in my throat, the knot in my stomach and why I couldn't fall asleep last night. That and the world at large was warned to save all Announcements until September. I guess he doesn’t read the blog.

As an aside, I have to decide whether to spend this weekend at my parent's vacation home or at the beach and I'm not leaning one way or another. What do I do about that?

On Fishing and By Request

I've been quiet lately. Honestly, I've been in sort of a 'my friends are getting married and I'm still getting drunk' funk. And there is not much to say about that. Its not like I want to change where I am, I just wish everyone else would slow down and hang out with me here. I'm not sure why we're rushing to not live in sin.

But, Ryan complained about lack of blogging. And because I'm hypersensitive and like to please everyone and don't like to have anyone mad at me, I feel bad abandoning him and the other (four) readers of my blog. That's the kind of girl I am. I aim to please all, even anonymous blog readers and recently betrothed ex boyfriends. Ha!

So, I'm on vacation with my sister and my parents. Which is likely contributing to my current state of mind. Just so you know. And its also led me to start fishing. I never really saw the lure (get it, lure ... ha, ha) in fishing but I figured I'd give it a try. And on my sixth cast, I caught a striped bass which we brought home and ate!

I'm so glad I can be a hunter not a gatherer.

And the high of reeling in the fish ... better than the high at the finish line of any race I've ever done. And I'm hooked, so to speak. Even though I've yet to catch another. Its addicting because at any moment the fish could be swimming right by the lure, ready to latch on. Its in my blood I think. Grandpa Frank fished until the moment he died. Literally. They found him on the beach with a fish on the line next to him. I can really think of no better way to go. Not that I really like to think about 'going'.

So that's me. Fishing, swimming, relaxing on the beach and trying not to obsess about that which I can't control. Like I've ever succeeded at that. Having some wicked strong drink that made last night a little hazy and not wanting to go home. But not really wanting to stay either. I'm sort of in limbo I guess. But there are things on the horizon that I'm very much looking forward to. I'll write a funny less rambly post about those things soon.

For now I just wanted to say hi and let ya'll know I'm still here.

An open letter

To Whom It May Concern,

If you are recently betrothed or knocked up, please wait until September to tell me.  I have already received this month's quota of Announcements.

Thank you.  And have a nice day.