And We'll Celebrate With Burritos

For four years I hated my job. HATED. I worked for a place with such bad juju it affected my life in ways it shouldn't have. Though a little part of me died each time I walked in the front door I don't regret it. I don't regret the people I've met and all the wonderful experiences I've had because of it. For example, my friend Sarah got press passes to Duncan Sheik's new musical and took me to see it. And it was amazing. I even got to meet Two-fer from 30 Rock and Duncan Sheik himself. (That's huge. I almost played his debut CD down to a pulp I loved it that much.) It's a job that I wish I never had yet wouldn't be who I am without it.

One of the amazing people I met while working there is organizing a read-a-thon of To Kill a Mockingbird to raise funds for a literacy group in the Albany area. She asked me to be a reader and I've never been so honored. I'm up at 7:00 on Saturday and I, shockingly, don't know what to do with myself. Do I embrace my ancestry and read with a Southern accent? Or just do a Southern accent for the voices? I was advised to just do the voices and keep it real the rest of the time.

I'm going to confess something to you all. I've never read To Kill a Mockingbird. I've seen the play and I know the story. But the book and I never crossed paths. There were many books that weren't on my required reading list. Catch 22, The Sea and the Fury, Animal Farm, Catcher in the Rye. I've read many of them since. And I've liked most. Don't get me started on Catcher in the Rye. Seriously, don't. So I picked up TKaM in order to prepare for the reading and OMG I LOVE IT. I was immediately taken with the cadence of the prose. I felt like I was putting on a comfortable pair of jeans after wearing pantyhose all day. Every time I pick the book up I'm taken to a better place. It's wonderful.

This event is going to be big for me on many levels. I get to do something for a cause that deeply matters to me. That there are adults who can't experience what I do when I pick up a book like TKaM breaks my heart. My friend/mentor Karen was a volunteer with the literacy group. I loved hearing about her time with her mentee because she was directly helping someone better herself. It was inspiring. This event also gets be to sort of perform again. Though it's 20 minutes of me reading, it's 20 minutes of me using my voice- something I've told sounds pretty cool.

It's safe to say that Saturday will be a very good day. I can't wait.

Ramble Bamble

It is 9:19am and I've already done my workout (35 minute swim), got ready for the day, gone grocery shopping for the next two weeks and made breakfast and lunch. I'm exhausted. However, this means once I'm out of work I'm FREE!!!!

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Now it's 8:11pm and I really don't think I can make it much longer. I thought I would watch a French movie since Mike's not around and bake some cookies. Well, I've baked half the batch and will not be able to watch the movie. In fact, I think all the blood that should be in my brain is now in my stomach because I ate more Taco Bell than a pregnant woman with an aversion to vegetables. I didn't need to. But I wanted all this stuff. I'm not upset about anything. I can't even blame emotional eating. I blame gluttony. And lack of judgment at home. Not that Mike judges me. Or so he says.

At least I've been working out consistently. If I go to sleep in the few minutes I expect I will then I will get enough sleep to work out tomorrow morning. And not eat food all day. Holy crap that was a lot of Taco Bell. Man, I can really put food away. My mother called me her little garbage disposal. I wasn't even a very good one. But dude, did that moniker do a number on my psyche. Oh my God no matter what I do my kids will think I fucked up with something. Why even try? That is a question for the therapist I cannot afford. I miss my therapist.

I got to play with a baby today. The little guy cried more than he didn't. That sucked. Especially since my friend who held him said he was the quietest little dude ever. Yeah. Maybe that's why I ate all the Taco Bell. Babies hate me. That's why I won't try. If my children can't even like me when they depend on me for total sustenance then why would they like me when they can get their own food? Balls.

How Old Am I?

Mike asked me if I wanted to run in the Stockade-athon 15k this Sunday. I said I would. I didn't do so hot last year but I did it. We want to use the race as part of our training for the Philadelphia half-marathon. He's going for speed I'm going for stamina. But then again, he always goes for speed and I always go for stamina. I'm so slow he'll never run with me in a race. It gets pretty lonely.

I get it. He's faster than I am and running with me would really, really get in the way of his goals. And at least we stand at the start-line together and he'll wait for me at the finish line. It just sucks how slow I am. I've been spotty with my training but even when I'm on my game I'm at best a 10:30 mile. He runs an 8:30. So it's a huge slow-down for him. And I'm just whining about something kind of silly. Right?

Anyway, lately my right hip has been hurting me after my run. Yesterday I did a comfortable and enjoyable 5 mile run. Today I thought I would build on it and do 7 miles or so. But when I was not very far into it my left Achilles Tendon started to ache and my hip was twinging. So I ended up doing 1.5 miles because pain=no gain. I want to gain so I stopped with the pain. And went to vote earlier than I had planned. Where I was almost on television picking my underwear out of my ass.

How Did it Go? Eh.

The Harvest Cleanse started for me on Saturday, the 23rd, and ended Friday, the 29th. To be specific, it ended at 4:45pm on Friday. I couldn't take not eating anymore and had some popcorn. Then I had macaroni and cheese for dinner. I was starving! STARVING. For breakfast I had a pear with some almonds. Then for lunch I had a few bites of a left-over squash meal that did not reheat well in a microwave. For a snack, I had an apple and some peanut butter. The day before was not much better. So there is no hyperbole when I say STARVING.

A mental post-mortem brought me to the realization that all week I've been eating the same textures. Textures that I can only have in moderation on a good day. Legumes and squash and baked fruit is fine if I only have one serving a day. If it's all I have in a day I start to gag. It got to the point that I just forced myself to eat things. Nothing tasted bad. It all tasted really wonderful. But if I had to eat one more lentil soup I was going to vomit. I couldn't even force down the salad I made to eat with the mac and cheese.

I could've just eaten some more apples or made some hummus but really, at that point I had so little energy I couldn't do much. Mike actually microwaved the popcorn for me because I was lying on the couch drooling in exhaustion. I was looking forward to going on a run when I got home because it was such a lovely day but there was no way it was going to happen. I would've collapsed 100 years in.

Though I ended my cleanse a few hours early, and then ate like a fat person on death row the next day, I still did a great thing for my body. Besides, I went to a birthday party, a breakfast, and a book club without eating anything that wasn't on the cleanse. I really pushed myself. And learned that I have waaaay too much sugar in my diet. Oh my God that headache was all abot sugar withdrawal. So, let's see if I can cut that back. No more ice cream and only one hot chocolate a week. I can do this!

That Rock Will Never See it Coming

Back in May I did a cleanse. It turned out to be awesome! Eating raw and vegan was pretty cool for a month. I don't think I could do it for too long but it was nice to pull in the reigns of my impulsive eating. You can't possibly realize how much you rely on certain foods until you can't eat them anymore. So the cleanse was awesome for that. And I learned I love spinach in my smoothies. So, when my nutritionist mentioned she was putting one together for this season I was all up in it. However, three days in and I am really, really hurting.

What's the difference is between that cleanse and this cleanse? I've no idea. Besides the fact that it's not the same food. Last time was raw. This time it's soups and baked fruits. I have only made a few recipes and it could be that I've just not found the recipes that will really make it happen for me. Last time three days in I was coasting. Today is most certainly better than yesterday but I would hardly say I'm coasting. I can only hope tomorrow will be increasingly easier. And then after that I'll be okay. Yes?

I just have to remind myself that I'm doing this so my body works at full steam. A reset just in time for all the holiday eating and silly justifications. "It's Halloween. I NEVER eat Butterfingers so I'm going to eat five!" "I love ginger snaps. They are Christmas to me. I'll eat twenty." I can go a few days without eating chocolate or other sugars. I've proven that I can. Blerg. It's very telling what I miss and don't miss. I'm not missing cheese or bread. But then again I don't eat much of either as it is. I miss Taco Bell and chocolate covered almonds and hot chocolate topped in whipped cream. I haven't even craved my favorite snack- popcorn. I think what this means is I've been relying too much on those foods I'm craving the most. I'm scared I'll just go back to eating that stuff all the time. I probably will just be more conscious of what I'm craving and what that means. Quite frankly, I'd be ecstatic if I accomplished that. Emotional eating is my Sisyphus. I'm going to take that rock and teach it who's boss. Oh yeah. But until then, I'm hungry.

But Purple is My Favorite

When I was young my mother dressed me according to my color season. You remember the seasons don't you? You could be a Winter, a Summer, Spring or Autumn. It was all according to your skin tone. Not a combination of factors like hair or eye color- equally important in determining what colors make you pop- just your skin tone. My dominant skin tone is peach and according to the color seasons that makes me an Autumn. All this means is in order to bring out the best in my complexion I'm supposed to stick to all the colors you see in my corresponding season. In my case, golden hued colors- pumpkin, burnt sienna, brown, mustard yellow- are the colors I should stick to. And to my mother this meant I COULD NEVER WEAR A COLOR THAT WASN'T ON MY WHEEL.

My color analysis was a holy text to her. She only veered off course with blue- because my eyes are blue. And when we went shopping together she would never get on board with a new color. Like yellow. Or green. She would discard those colors with total disdain. My color palette was one of a dying season. It's okay I suppose. I do love Autumn. It's my favorite. And you know, in all my school portraits, my skin did in fact glow. Mom didn't let me down there. My skin is so pale people think I'm ill if I'm not wearing some make-up. So what she accomplished was no small feat.

I simply wish I stood up to her when I was older and realized the color analysis is a total croc. It's one thing if you don't wear colors that look bad on you, but it's another to base a woman's sense of beauty on what colors she wears. I would never wear red. Primary red. Because it looks bad on me. But I could wear purple. Or gasp! green. These colors really bring out my eyes. But the color wheel told my mother that my eyes didn't matter. I'm not sitting here cursing my mother- for once that statement is true. Just looking at these vibrant colors of the season reminded me of the years of wearing them almost year round. Maybe that's why I love them so much. I was imprinted at such a young age to love them AND ONLY THEM. Too bad I love others. But don't let Autumn know.

Hipster or Dude Who Lives in His Mom's Basement?

1. His hair is greasy and the haircut is all too similar to the one his mother gave him when he was five- short on the neck but generous in the bangs.

2. Mom and Dad enable his lifestyle.

3. His wardrobe consists of jeans with holes in them and t-shirts of defunct beer companies.

4. Rush's entire catalog is in his possession. In vinyl.

5. His glasses are plastic-rimmed.

6. The facial hair of choice is a mustache. Or an attempt at a mustache.

7. Frisbee is his sport of choice.

8. Sometimes, in the summer, he'll wear cutoff jean shorts.

9. He thinks JRR Tolkein is totally the author to read.

10. His mom wishes he would just get a real job already.

Staying on My Toes I Suppose

A friend of mine had a baby not too long ago. She wanted to have a child so badly you could tell without her saying so. And once she was pregnant, she was the most radiant pregnant woman I've ever seen. She carried well, her skin glowed and peace rested in her face. She had everything she wanted- a husband she loves, a job she likes, a house she can call her own and a child to complete her family. I don't know if she's done having kids but there is something about her that says she has everything she wants out of life. That everything is easy roads from here on out.

I'm jealous. So jealous. Not that she has the house or the baby boy. But that she knows what she wants. We aren't so close that she confides in me often at all so for all I know there's some big picture stuff left on her life to do list. But she's so relaxed and happy that it seems there isn't.

One could think that it's kind of sad that she has it figured out at 30. There is no challenge left and she'll just coast. One could think it's really awesome and she could actually get on with Life instead of fighting or bartering with him all the time. I'm never really okay with where I am. There is always something I want to improve, change or wish to be better. I'll never feel settled. Is this a good thing? I'll always try to improve myself and my situation. Good or bad it's really exhausting.