Skipping tonight
I have nothing but work stuff on my mind tonight, so I’ve decided not to post. And I came straight here to post that. Probably counts as cheating.
general
Storing up exercise
Sadly, I don’t think it works that way. I did two classes back to back this evening at the gym. Work today was a nightmare, I left late with no time to stop at the store, got home with barely enough time to change and get to class, and I still had to pick up my dry-cleaning first. So I dashed into class and found a spot near my neighbor (Have I mentioned that my next-door neighbor comes to this class? We’ve chatted more in three evenings than in the last five years.), a little out of breath, and within two minutes, I was calm, relaxed, and happy. It was SO nice to not have to rush, to just BE there. I didn’t get that any other place today. I’ll be looking for it the rest of this week, but with three days in DC in a row (starting tomorrow), I don’t think I’ll find it.
Not exactly like sawing wood, but irritating enough
I’m a snorer. I can’t help it. Most of the time, if I snore at all, it’s quiet enough and not constant enough to bother John. (Or so he says. It certainly doesn’t bother me.) Unfortunately, we had a little change in the weather recently, and I’ve been the tiniest bit congested the last two nights. Just enough to start snoring. Just enough to keep John from sleeping. His reaction to my snoring? Jiggle the bed with his leg. It’s like a small earthquake, but I know it’s a signal from John that means “Ohmygodyou’resnoringpleasestopNOW.” So I roll over onto my side and try to go back to sleep withOUT snoring. It doesn’t last. More bed-jiggling, more rolling over, more guilt on my part ’cause the last thing I want to do is keep John from sleeping, and while all this is going on, neither of us is quite awake enough to consider moving to the guest room. This morning, though, that was the first thing on my mind. I’m awake, I’m exhausted, and I’m sleeping in the other room tonight.
Technical difficulties
It’s funny what an unexpected internet outage can do to an evening. Since yesterday was my day off from exercising, I’d planned to spend some time reading my regular blogs (it’s been a couple of days) until John came home and we ate dinner. Instead, I got home from a whirlwind day in DC with my boss (We commuted together and were in almost every meeting together – that’s a LOT of quality time. I value my time alone in the car after days like this; I need it to relax and let the day go. Didn’t happen.) to find that we had no internet, we had no phone (we have Vonage for the house (needs internet) and my cell phone battery was dying), and the problem seemed to be with the cable company. At least we had power. It was cold in the house, so, while I waited for John to come home so we could have stir fry for dinner, I made myself some de-caf Earl Grey and curled up under a blanket on the couch with my book. My new book, a mystery set in post-WWI England with a haunted detective.
The internet came back this morning (obviously). I missed it.
Wine-tasting and music
Erik and Margaret came over this afternoon so we could get some very important things figured out about their wedding: what music they should use for the processional and what wines they should serve at their reception. Very important. The music part was definitely worked out (but it’s a secret – I’ll tell you only that there will be guitar and singing). The wines…a little more testing (and tasting) might be needed.
It wasn’t that hard
I downloaded a second installation of WordPress, created a second database on my hosting site (so it would belong to my domain), copied the theme over so it would match, and linked it here. Run, Zannah, Run! exists as a second blog at www.inanechatter.net and you can find it by clicking the link for it under Pages on the right. If you’re interested. You don’t have to be. It might only be interesting to me, and I can’t even say that for sure.
Not a good sales pitch.
Anyway, I took it down on Blogger just now. Which means I should probably disable the link in the last post. Hang on.
Done.
Now let’s talk about what irritated me today. Last night, while thinking about this whole being healthy thing, I stopped by the gym closest to our house to look into membership options. (It’s in the shopping center where the Bloom used to be.) They’re month to month only, no initial fees, no cancellation fees. All equipment and classes are included, and the only extra fees are for things like personal trainer sessions and massage therapy. It’s a chain, but it’s a small one (I think), and I talked to the owner of this one on the phone before I went for a tour. They gave me a free pass for the week to check it out. I’m mainly interested because I want to be able to join a class (yoga, dance-type aerobics, etc – something that’s not running) AND (more interesting to me) I want the availability of a treadmill when the streets and sidewalks are covered in ice or snow. So really, the month-to-month thing is appealing because I can join for December, January, and February, and then quit until next December. And it’s less than a mile from the house, IN the neighborhood. Anyway, I got the tour, everything looks nice, and the guy (not the owner) said the front desk isn’t manned all the time, but members can get a keycard for access during those hours. I didn’t think to ask which hours were the ones that require a keycard, and he didn’t volunteer them. Which brings me, finally, to why I’m irritated. I got all dressed to go run at the gym (in the warm), got in the car, saw the OPEN sign all lit up in the window, and then couldn’t get in the door. There’s a sign on the door listing the hours you need a keycard, and it includes most of Saturday and Sunday. AND the early morning weekday hours I was planning to try out the gym this week. Frustrated (just a tad, you know?), I went home to change into warmer clothes so I could run outside. Stupid winter. Tomorrow, I’ll try to get in touch with the owner again and see if he’ll let me borrow a keycard during my trial week.
There must be a way to have two blogs on one website
I’m working on it.
I decided this morning that I need a place to track how much I exercise. I did it on this site once before, but it was just a big blank page that I updated every day. I’d rather have a post every day, but I don’t want those posts to be part of this blog. So. Separate blog. For now. While I work out how to put a second blog on another page of this website.
If you’re interested in watching/reading about/commiserating with my attempts to, you know, lose weight and be healthier and all that stuff, I’ll be tracking that at Run, Zannah, Run!, my temporary home for all things healthy.
Update: I disabled the link to the Blogger version of Run, Zannah, Run! since I added it to this site. Hope you don’t mind.
I coulda been a boy scout
I was at Wegmans this evening for the first time in more than a week, buying much needed groceries. In the checkout line, the cashier in the lane next to me asked my cashier why she was on so late today. With a smile for me to show she was kidding, she said something about how all these customers just won’t stop buying groceries. The nerve. She said she shouldn’t be surprised today because anytime the forecast mentions snow, the stores are mobbed. I hadn’t been watching the weather, so the possibility of snow was a surprise to me. She checked my basket and told me I’d make it. “Milk, bread, toilet paper…you’re all set.” The other cashier wasn’t so sure. “Did you get any wine?”
Wegmans cashiers have their priorities in order.
I don’t think meat should be sold door to door
Anyone heard of a company called Capital Meats? This guy rang the doorbell tonight and told me he was selling boxes of meat to my neighbors and he’s trying to empty his truck and would I like some frozen stuffed tilapia? He’s mostly out of meat, but he’s got shrimp and fish, maybe a few hamburgers left. He’s practically giving them away, he said. I said no, thanks, and then no again, and then no, really, I have a tiny freezer and it’s full, and good luck with that, but I’m going back inside. His truck was parked up the street (couldn’t tell how big it was or if the company’s name was on the side), and when I looked outside again, I saw him staggering down the sidewalk with a stack of boxes in his arms. I guess another neighbor is buying.
I understand meat being delivered by truck. That just makes sense, particularly when it’s being delivered to restaurants (of course), and even to individuals who ordered ahead of time. It seems really weird to then go door to door and try to get random people to buy boxes of whatever on impulse. I feel that way about anything when it’s sold door to door, but particularly meat. Ding-dong! Hi there! Wanna buy a cookie steak? Weird.
Hm. Add tilapia to the list of words WordPress’ spellcheck doesn’t recognize.
I can’t do it
The band is playing in the basement tonight, and my brain is leaking out of my ears. Today was not a fun day, and I don’t particularly want to talk to anyone. I thought this would be the perfect night to play catch up and read every blog on my blogroll, so I opened each page up in its own tab. And then I didn’t read any of them. I looked at every page and thought, “I’d really like to read that, but maybe I should wait until I’m paying attention.” ‘Cause I’m really not paying attention tonight. My book is getting the same treatment. What am I going to do with myself?
Taking up space
Honestly and truly, I have the next part of the Wales story written. I just have to add the pictures and then I’ll post. So…tomorrow? Today I worked a little, finished a book (The Alien Years by Robert Silverberg – good, but not one of my favorites. It reminded me too much of those young adult Tripod books I read a very long time ago.), and ran my first mile (of only two today, but still) WAY faster than I have in a long time. Good day. I like having Mondays off.
Damn. Edited to remove the double spaces after each period.
I’ve got cold feet
Not in the last-minute nerves sense. In the I-should-be-wearing-slippers sense. The Wales Tales (I called it a saga earlier, but Mom pointed out that saga is Icelandic, not Welsh. Not that it matters. But this is better.) will continue tomorrow. I needed a break. I also needed to visit all my blog friends and catch up on what I missed. I was almost two weeks behind! That’s like 10 years in internet time. Of course, an hour and a half in one evening is not long enough to completely catch up, but I’ve made a start. Now I’m going to take my chilly toes to bed.
Chilly toes, chilly toes
Why so cold? Nobody knows.
If they could stretch, they might touch your nose.
Chilly toes.
What tune am I singing that to? Guess right and I’ll send you a book. What book? It’s a surprise.
Sometimes, young does not equal stupid
Happy 10th Anniversary to us! John woke me up with one of my favorite cheerful wake-up songs (“Carolina in the Morning”, Dean Martin) because he’s wonderful, and I started my day deliriously happy.
Then I went to work.
Work today wasn’t really any different than it is any other day, except that I’m trying to get everything I’ve been working on in order so I can leave it all in somebody else’s hands for a week and a half. I’m way more distracted then usual because I JUST WANT TO GO ALREADY, so even though I’ve made a bunch of lists to make sure I don’t forget anything, I’m having a hard time keeping track of all the lists. I got a little stressed out.
But then I got home and started doing stuff I want to do (like pack and check off the fun lists), and I feel much better. We’ll just celebrate our anniversary when we get there, which is kinda the whole point of the trip.
Anyway, happy anniversary to us. Enjoy one of my favorite songs.
Quiet time
I need a few minutes. It doesn’t matter where I am or who I’m with; if I don’t get a few minutes to myself every day, I start to feel trapped. I’ve noticed it at home, at work, on vacation – the circumstances don’t seem to matter. It doesn’t matter what I do, either. A few minutes with no demands on my time or attention is usually enough. And I’m getting it right now. John VII is sitting at the kitchen table with the instruction manual for his new TV, John VIII is in the chair with a book, Tom is sitting on the dog bed with a beer (he was sitting next to the dog, but she seems to have abandoned him), and Emily, Molly, Pat, and Tania are upstairs. I’m at the kitchen counter. Music is playing, everyone is occupied, and the house is peaceful.
We’ll see how long it lasts. 🙂
Dedicated to his job
Less than a minute ago, I told John I was going to skip writing tonight and just update in the morning. Then I felt the urge to publish something.
Something.
Mission accomplished.
The UPS guy totally came through for us tonight. He tried to deliver something that required a signature today, and since we weren’t home, he left a note saying they’d try again tomorrow. I figured we’d miss that, too. I called the number and arranged to pick it up myself tomorrow, so I assumed that was that. Around 8:30, Riley launched himself at the front door, barking his head off, and there he was. He said he was near us anyway and figured he’d try again since it might be a Christmas present. Nice guy. So I gave him the last two chocolate chip cookies. The good ones from Wegman’s. He seemed appreciative.
I wouldn’t bet against myself in a poker game – actually, I probably would
I don’t want to work any more this week. Or next week. I’m ready for vacation, and I’d like a super-long one, please. The danger with super-long vacations, of course, is that after all that time off, I don’t want to go back to work. The first time that happened to me was after the month I took off to move across the country when I transferred from San Diego to Norfolk. Then, I could very easily blame my reluctance to go back to work on the fact that work = ship and deployment and separation and stress. I don’t have that excuse anymore (something I am most certainly NOT complaining about). Going back to work now just means not being able to stay home and be lazy, something I don’t get any sympathy for. Which is fair. I can hardly demand sympathy for being employed. Nor should I.
Editing is a good thing. I just deleted a paragraph about my hair. My ponytail, really. Be grateful. It was…stupid. Worse than inane. Or, well, it was inane, but not in a fun way.
Because I can’t think of any other way to stop tonight, I’ll leave you with this: Kenny Loggins wouldn’t beat the baby Jesus.
I’m an optimist, right?
I had a good (for me) idea today. Not exactly earth-shattering to anyone else, I’m sure. We’re going to be away for parts of the next few weeks, and I was thinking about how nice it would be to come home to a clean house.
I know, right? Brilliant. Usually, cleaning up is the first thing we have do when we get back ’cause the house is a wreck from being neglected while I was running around like a crazy person to get ready for the trip. This time, though, I’m planning ahead. I cleaned TODAY. I got home a little early from work, so I turned the radio up (for that sweet sound) and started picking up. The dining room table is clear, the island is clear, my desk is clear (a major accomplishment), and there is no clutter to be found on the first floor. I even dusted. Haven’t done the windows yet or vacuumed or done anything upstairs (I’ve still got a few days – give me a break, people), but the house is almost in the condition it needs to be in before we’ll let people come over. Almost.
The odds against it staying this way are…let’s not think about that. Think positive thoughts!
Subtract ten points for being late to the party
Eric Carmen’s “All By Myself” was CLEARLY stolen from Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor. For real.
<break for googling>
This is not an original thought. Original for me, but not in the grand scheme of things.
Snow on your cushions
I would like to write something that doesn’t involve complaining. Or whining. I don’t remember how. That sounds like whining. Don’t read that.
Today was my first day back on my feet, and I think I handled it okay. I felt like I got punched in the mouth (which is kinda what happened – fact, not complaint), but that didn’t keep me from doing my work. I could use an early bedtime, though. The band is rehearsing, but tonight they’re more of a jazz trio than a rock band, so it’s more soothing than usual. Soothing-er. I should trademark that. Soothingers – the blankets/pacifiers/musical mobiles that put your baby to sleep.
Speaking of babies, I CANNOT leave this hole in my head alone. I know I’m not supposed to poke and prod, but my tongue keeps finding its way over there and the next thing I know, I’m trying to count the stitches. But I can’t count with my tongue, so I have no idea. More than one, less than 10. I read somewhere (long time ago) that human beings can’t take in more than four things (it might have been three) at a glance. Once there are more than four (or three) of something in a pile, you classify it as many and you have to actually count to see how many there are. I’m pretty sure I read that and I’m not making it up, but I’m totally guessing at the details. And it may not be true (or it may have been discredited).
I just did a quick search and didn’t come up with anything conclusive. Couple of forum discussions, but nothing helpful.
The big bad wolf is trying to blow down my house. Made of siding. I’m in trouble.