desky le desk desk

Ah, my desk at work... a chaotic state the likes of which can rarely be found.

But I got a little table to make it better. Now, it's just a matter of actually, like, making it better. Not just oozing the chaos over across the way onto the little table...

There's far too much chaos and clutter and I have a strong desire to declutter and de-chaosify.

Sometimes, 'where to start' is painful.

True on so many fronts, though. Easier to keep on the worn path of ruts than to step to the side and try something new.

Chaos is approximately 20% controlled on my desk. That's a start, but there is a long way to go. This desk needs to not continue like this. It needs to be a small oasis of calm and clear work.

Right. Goals.

it's not too soon for goals

It's feeling more and more like it is well past high time to sit down, map out the financials, and make some concrete goals for expenses and cash flow. Saving needs to be pretty darn high on that list.

The ebb and flow of money has always been a big stress... it feels tiring, exhausting at times, and it also feels like, constantly, a little worry in my side.

There's enough - barely - but not much. And that means closer attention needs to be paid.

Because why is something that at its core is merely a tool, cause anything other than ease of use?

Liberate yourself from the money beast. Tame and groom that beast into the money tool. Kind of like comfortable shoes. Necessary, needs to be taken care of to last, but in the end not something that should cause trauma in your life.

when in doubt, order birks

The boots, ah the boots. The legs fit, the look is great, the toe wiggle room is fantastic, but the concept of arch support seems to be a thing of mystery. The guy comments, if you're going to wear shoes like that you just have to get used to the way they are designed. Good point, guy. So the eureka moment is to enlist the support (literally) of my favorite cork company of old and see if a pair of arch support insoles to see if that takes them from pretty darn good 8-8.5 range up to closer to the 9.5 star range...

So while you're at it, why not order the london's you've been coveting for the weekends...

Embrace simplicity and feel-good.

boots of destiny?

The boots that kept catching my eye... got the coveted sister in law text of approval and decided to stop searching for the magic mystery boots and give these a whirl.

Thanks large internet shopping interface, for the 25% off.
Thanks credit card co for the bonus points to knock some of the cost off.
Thanks for having two pairs left in my size.

Brown suede boots. Wow. A far cry from black. But they look slick and slightly ass kicking.

Here's hoping, universe. Will these be the boots made for walkin' the next few years, kicking ass and stomping tall?

Hope so.

sunshine on my solar panels heats my water

Your really have to read that to the tune of John Denver.

When we've got a hundred gallon plus tank of hot water at 145 degrees all from the solar collectors?

Wow, baby.

Motivation to save for grid tied pv, and then some.

Probably could have gone with one panel, not two, but oh well.

boots, where art thou?

Still have not figured out what boots are the magic, fix all of the world's problems, climb to the highest tower in the highest castle in the highest mountain and then skip back down, boots.

For hundreds of dollars, it doesn't seem like too much to ask that they be bliss on the foot, right?

Difficult difficult lemon difficult, indeed.

But then again, it's just flipping boots. Small isolated town-first world kind of problem, to say the least.

And yet - the thought of stomping around feeling like a bad-ass? Very promising. Onward, search ahead, wagons ho, etc.

and let this be an historic bag of hersheys with almonds nuggets

Time to kick self in the seat.

Time to clean out the diet.

Time to get fresh air and rosy cheeks, for human and dog.

Time to sleep better.

Time to get up and get going, because it's the only time you've got to call 100% your own.

High time to call this the last fucking bag of candy, self.

Time to love yourself and treat yourself with love.

auntie of the desert

Really fantastic to be an Aunt. It's tough to "bond" in two days' time, but as an adult with rational thought and the ability to form abstract connections, etc., it's downright easy to decide:
1) Yep, don't want a baby.
2) Yep, love being an Auntie
3) Yep, love family.

Little humans are exhausting. Granted, you get these periods of time when they are actually asleep and thus, still and quiet. They also at this age sometimes are having a bath, and are thus pleasantly chattery and somewhat still. Sometimes, they eat and are entertained by tidbits of round cereal and blobs of scrambled egg.  Most of the time, though, they are busy busy busy. Hat's off, as always, mommas.

I think that I will really like this Aunt journey. It's not that hard to drop the emotional distance you place with most other humans, when it comes to a wee giggling human girl. She has no baggage associated with you, after all; you're not awkward or confusing, you're just a human adult. All's good, if you act in somewhat expected ways and hold her properly.

Auntie-ness. Fun. Sweet. Not too many expectations. Not emotionally overwhelming. I like it.

khakis have a power they didn't realize even in their own self-awareness

Sometimes, you have to put on a pair of (admittedly, cheap large store) so-so fitting khaki pants and feel a bit frumpish and clunky and all the like, to realize that you need to focus on what fits well, flatters, and feels good on. So:

Order that dress. It's cool, it should be a good fit, and you know you'll feel good wearing it.
Pay attention to instinct and plan to pick up a pair of grey leggings. The ones from the big red store have worked out just fine.
Listen to fit feedback on the boots and INVEST (capital letters because it will be a significant outlay of cash) in a pair that are the fetch the gold ring from the mountain fitting pair.
Because you feel good in dresses and your guy likes how you look in dresses. Win-win, chick.

do not undervalue quiet

After 2 years of semi trucks rumbling along about ten feet away from our sleeping heads, the near silence of our house is almost overwhelming.

The cats are easing from slightly freaked out, to slightly blissed out. All will be well when the new cat tower arrives later this week.

The dog is mostly blissed out. BOOM out the door in the morning. Race race race about at full speed. I wish I could still get on the couch, he says with his soulful eyes, but the multitude of memory foam beds will suffice.

Really good salami and a $75 bottle of wine = a good first night.

Culling a huge amount of clothing = liberating.

Realizing that the answer is THE pair of black boots = search is on.

Deciding to return the ill fitting jeans and trying another pair = hopeful.

10k a few days away = man will I be whopped. But it's going to be a blast.

New house rules.

there will be really, really good wine

I almost only dare to utter this in a whisper, but alas that is difficult to do in typeface... {{whisper}} But this evening, I get to stay in my new house. Over a year since we broke ground, we are packing up the essentials for the cats, the dog, and the two humans and opening the bottle of cakebread that we bought back in October for this very occasion.

And, there is a package of applegate genoa salami that I will admit, I am almost as excited about as the wine.

I need to hit a big pause button somewhere, and just find the time to steep in this moment - first night in the house - and not get so overwhelmed with go go go on the details. Another tick in the wine column, I think.

I also need to hit a refresh or reset button and be more loving and caring of myself in the weeks ahead. Clear out the cobwebs from my brain, slow down the frantic doing and finishing and worrying and stressing. Down grain and sugar, up veggies and lots of sleep. Or something along those lines.

Maybe it's partly because a larger part of me has a very, very difficult time believing that I am about to move into a beautiful house that I've helped build, built by people I love, crafted in a place that I love... Like, really dude, it's your house. You'll drive your Prius to your house with your cats and your border collie.

So, love that. Feel it, dig it, smile, deep breaths, be present.

And eat more vegetables.

And run. Be nice to yourself - let yourself find the time to run again.

As nic would say, it's all good. And really, now, it is. So enjoy it.

let the sun shine

After days and days of grey, haze, chill, snow, and general unpleasantness, today at last the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds and the temperatures are getting closer to comfortable. It's amazing what a difference a little sun makes. Makes me wish for some time off, to get outside and get some exercise and get my mind dehazed as well.

The lack of exercise has really taken a toll. The lack of sleep has, as well, and the abundance or general lack of lack of unhealthy food. Maybe it really is time to embrace the transition - celebratory feast such as it will be, move and move and more move, and then new digs, new routine, new day to day. High time to grab onto that and shift from the sugar grain chocolate funk into whole foods and feeling better.

Oh yes, and to run a few times in the next week, or that 10k eleven days from now is really going to suck.

Give yourself a bit of a break... take care of yourself... give yourself some time. It's going to be okay.

it's just a flat iron...

Why is it that when I am out and about freshly coiffed from a haircut (and consequently, as oppposed to my every-day look of slightly wavy, slightly frizzy, often ponytail-ed hair, my locks are ironed and smooth and whoosh-whoosh in the breeze), I am profoundly self-conscious as I walk about, somehow internalizing the five minutes it took a skilled set of hands to use a styling tool to iron my flipping hair and morphing it into some call to the universe, "look at me!"

So, ironically, someone just said, "your hair looks nice."

Hide! Hide!

Secret power of invisibility, maybe...

Or, deal. Think about how you would like to see a 12 year old feel about herself, and model that. Confidence, gratitude, happiness.

And whoosh whoosh hair.

if you can stand the heat

After weeks and weeks of mucking about, we have both hot water AND, as of last night, heat. When I get to the house tonight, I believe that it will be warm. Oh my.

Tomorrow is the start of solar hot water... hopefully all will go smoothly with those folks. Enough complications, already.

Time to get moved in. Make some pie. Plan a small thanksgiving meal for the duo. Get ready to relax as much as possible over the four day weekend and settle in and start really crafting "home" in all senses.

It doesn't really seem like it's happening, at long last, because it has been so very long...

and at last, around 2:30, the two glasses of white wine from the night before kick in

Oh, the afternoon headache. The lingering nudge that says, "you had white wine last night, didn't you?" The thing that makes you think, why did I have white wine last night? Or to perhaps consider if that second glass was in fact a good move.

But in the end, the fun of the evening, the laughter and conversation and overall relaxed evening with people we've danced around get-together-ness with for two years - totally worth the headache.

Maybe next time, drink red wine instead.

On entirely different fronts, in no particular order:
My in-laws are putting massive amounts (well, not really, it just seems like a lot) of ikea furniture together for us. Awesomesauce.
It is quite, quite hopeful that a simple re-wire will make the thermostats work.
When you remove tools and various other pieces of "constructionitis" debris from your living room and replace it with a couch (even if the couch doesn't have a cover in place quite yet), it makes your living room look a whole lot more like an actual living room.
I really need to go for a run. So does Fife dog.
I really need to get off sugar. And probably grain.
The glutino bread I purchased on a whim totally stinks. Universe says, cut out the grain, dude.
But on the reverse from that, the brown rice english muffins are really quite the treat.

Onward with another nearly 2 hours. Headache be darned.

and drat, I missed a day

All this morning, I was quite sure this was Tuesday. Somehow, I lost a day.

Double post, perhaps?

Well... life's too hectic for that.

The threat of snow lingers out there, but (thankfully) nothing is fluttering down.

The promise of laughter, great food, and comforting white wine awaits later, and thankfully, that is the plan for the evening with cool folks.

The new dressy slacks are, perhaps, quite cool but maybe a little intimidating.
But, they also inspired ordering a pair of jeans that are lower waisted. Self, take note: If the jeans are NOT low waisted (and therefore not flattering for the short waisted), then send.them.back, dude.

The idea of having health insurance looks more possible than imagined; this is exciting.

The radiant floor system not working when connected - distressing.

Ready for a break for the better.

apparently, they don't sell sea monkeys

How to add a dash of spice to a four hour, two vehicle trek to the mecca of flatpack furniture.... Throw a snowstorm in the high country into the mix. Be sure to use a vehicle you rarely drive, preferably one with rear wheel drive for slightly worrisome traverse over slushy snowy hills and valleys... Add plenty of rain and no cap and an ill-secured tarp and a stop along the side of I15 to rehitch said tarp...

But in the end, it was a crazy long day of drivin' with my dog... Caravaning with my guy, showing him the sights in the madness that is ikea.

How does one put a couch into a box? And then allow the general public to manipulate this box from a display warehouse onto a rolling cart? And yet, this happens like clockwork all day long. We managed it - even managed to stack huge boxes into two trucks, tarp in place, and onward home.

And now, this abstract "to do" has been mostly done. The furniture long planned for is in the garage, in its respective boxes, ready to be assembled and put into place. Exciting, a bit unreal, and yet quite exciting.

My enthusiasm may be somewhat checked when I begin to turn a 2 inch thick box of parts and pieces into a dining room table.

We skipped the meatballs.

when life throws you raindrops

So the grand plan is to take a carovan o' trucks up to the northern climes tomorrow to pick up a whole lot of furniture. Weather dot com suggests that this grand plan be revisited. Of course, Sunday looks peachy, perky, sunny, and great "long drive, cardboard boxes of softgoods" weather. Drat.

Ah, the muddle... the schedule says, get up and go on Saturday. The weather says, go on Sunday. We shall see.

Right now the sky is murky and looking like the storm is headed to our neck of the woods.

Why do things have to be complicated?

Life could be worse.

bootless of destiny

When once again you take a small leap and order some footwear that in your heart of hearts you hope will give you a new vibe, a new energy, a new edge, at last arrive - and they totally don't fit. Whump-whump. On the one hand, you can tell yourself, 'don't worry about it, just send them back, no big deal.' Yet on the other hand, you feel foolish, ungainly, dorky, loserville, and the whole gamit of self-defeating bullshit, all storming right to the forefront of your mind and emotional self, in a flash.

Why is that? Why am I so ready to pick up the gauntlet of my schoolaged self being taunted and teased, and treat myself almost as badly as those mean kids did, a century ago?

And yet, why also is it that the norm for me is to feel awkward and uncomfortable, most of the time?

So let's hope - the new pants will fit well and demonstrate that this may be a brand that cuts their bottoms in a better line for the long legs/no torso image of myself. If yes, then invest in jeans, self.

It felt really good to pin down a summer work staple - the black dress (or plum dress) with my black sandals always felt comfortable, polished, dressy but casual, and still me only different. Right now, though, those intangible feelings are nowhere to be found.

It seems trivial at times to put energy toward this... and yet, it's every day (getting dressed) so it may as well be a positive. Not there yet.

dear electrician and plumber,

Dear, dear licensed professionals - please, won't you show up at my house-to-be and do-your-thing and finish this? My gosh, I want to move into my house.

There is, I realized, no real suitable place for a full length mirror. I've lived without one for two years, but I will admit that there is some mental comfort in the ability to take a quick glance at the whole presentation before heading out into the world. But, where to fit one in, without it seeming silly? Or, does it simply become silly to worry about?

I am really hoping that the arrival of my new boots (effort #2 at kicking shoes) marks a moment of "yessss" in best Napoleon speak; that they fit well, that they give me a little mental boost, that they feel like something I could go out and get all Ramona Flowers in (ie, kick some butt).

I want to move into my house. I am so tired of limbo without end, it's exhausting and sleep depriving and overall sucky. Yes, trying to focus on the positive and excitement factor and all that, but good grief - let me move into my house already. I want to put my new boots in the new closet and start my refreshed day to day.

So, dear licensed professionals, please get a flipping move on or my new boots will be employed in some ass kicking.

Just kidding - please, just show up and finish your work. Thanks.

never underestimate how thrilling it is to see towel bars installed

Everything is (in so many ways) a microsecond, really, from being 'complete.' After so long, from standing there at the gate the first day we saw the lot, to standing there talking to my mom as I watched the earthmover begin to turn land into driveway and building pad - thinking on the day the roof trusses went in place, "we're so close!" Fool that I was.  And now, here we are - a blink away - but it is a huge, painful, slow blink that I am waiting for.... waiting for...

To be at the mercy of two professionals and about two days work - it's both exciting to be so very close, and incredibly frustrating to be so flipping close at last so won't you guys just show up and do the work already so we can move in!!!!

Grateful that towel bars and toilet paper holders are in place. A small detail but an event nonetheless. A bit more patch and paint to do, now, but that's becoming old hat now.

Couches will make it feel more real. So will setting up one of the beds.

It's amazing to be on the threshold of turning your daily life around, completely; it's exciting and terrifying and so hard to wait for.

For now, I appreciate that the toilet paper is hung in a tidy fashion. It's a start. It says, we'll soon live here. As soon as the electrician and plumber show up.

again with the iPhone but at least it's writing

Late in the evening, a long weekend past (almost, anyway) and the new work week is upon me again. Lessons of the weekend: my unhealthy love affair with potato chips probably needs to meet a sad ending; I am getting good at using filler to patch nail holes; I am bolder on a mountain bike than I imagined I would be. And, I need to watch it because I don't like that we can do in a bottle of wine in two evenings. High time to shake loose of a few habits that truly need to stay adhered to the "it's stressful building a house" phase of our lives, and not enable said habits to become fixed like evil barnacles to the undersides of our continuing lives.

creep up and leap, or at least giant step

A number of small things are percolating away in the background of life right now. Well, some are hardly small but rather quite flipping substantial life changers - and yet, they are a constant background white noise of sorts, because the every day mundane has a bit more volume and intensity about it.

Somehow, in spite of myself perhaps, one of the background simmers is this notion of taking a small bold step toward... whatever. Toward recreation and exercise and feeling free (bikes), as one example. Two bike rides down, years to go - but I will say, that on each of those two rides I have had moments of pure bliss and gratitude that we took the leap and bought the bikes and said, yes we will now start riding mountain bikes together.

Two new shirts - that fit, flatter, are cozy as hell, and that I quite like - leap away. Serious consideration to another one while there is a lovely sale in place - giant step. But good. Feeling hesitant about purchasing pants, but really, self: the two pairs of dress pants in the closet are, in fact: #1 the wrong size and thus a slightly loose and unflattering fit; #2 too high waisted and make you at least FEEL like you look weird, even if no one is particularly noticing and assessing and deciding that you look weird; #3 purchased over 2 years ago so what the heck do they owe you at this point? So, sale? Buy one get half off a second? JUMP.

Polish the darn shoes. Be an adult and embrace your life, girl. Two weeks to narrow down pictures for the haircut - so do it. Articulate the result, find the photos, jump.

Be like the game of old - giant steps - gain ground and laugh.

when it's getting dark it's not as much fun to go run after work.

Light change this time of year... it's less than fabulous. Trying to eek out a few more evenings of fast-fast-fast change of clothes and shoes upon my arrival home, so the dog and I can get in a short run before it's too flipping dark to be safe. Knowing that it will be full dark before we get to our front door makes it really hard to get out the door in the first place. But... but. I know I'll feel better and to take it further, the 10k in a few short weeks is going to feel hella better (is that the term?) if I get in some consistent runs before then.

Yet right now, I am beat tired and even the prospect of preparing dinner seems daunting.

Ugh. One way or another, out the door I'll go. Thanks, dog; you do me good.

try writing on your phone

Five days a week like sit-ups is the challenge to myself. No excuses and carry on. So what if it is late, so what if you shoveled a ton of road base and got glutened at dinner and man does this iPhone try to auto correct in annoying ways. Write, sister, because the only way you will is if you do. Leap of faith. Or you'll be forever parched.

where is a good makeover show when you need it

Self discovery, and the sheer value and thrill and ins and outs and heartbreaks and heart-awakenings of the process aside, some days I'd love to be swept up in a makeover show, or even just a professional who would step in, take my hand, and deal with it. Figure out the haircut, that looks feminine but edgy, polished but casual, professional but not run of the mill. Figure out the right wardrobe, so I could just go out and make a few calculated purchases and presto whammo have the magic wardrobe for work that feels crisp, professional, authentic, comfortable.

Are brown boots the right decision? First world problem, indeed.

But the reality is, I think that I am on track, so to speak, to steer  my ship toward dark wash boot cut jeans and a dressy blouse and a few cardis to layer over it - with a pair of polished boots or clogs, and a hairstyle that steps it the hell up from a ponytail every.single.day.

I think that when I wear a version of this in casual life, I feel self-like, self-ish, of the self. Feel like myself. Female but not girly. Mature but not middle aged. Put together but not too studied. Myself, only slightly improved in outward presentation thereof.

I like the way it feels to feel comfortable in my clothes. That is a rare, rare feeling, in spite of the fact that I wear clothes every day. Why not feel comfortable most every day? Why not?

Order the boots tomorrow. Think hard about ordering the pants, to try the brand fit and cut. Get on with it, girl.

and instead, gluten free white bread

I know I need to get back on track with cutting out the grains, the sugars, and cutting the dairy way back (and goat-ifying it). Less gut bloat, clearer skin, etc.

But when you're stressed out and overwhelmed, it's so much easier to buy a bag of chocolates to eat at work and a loaf of udi's white bread for toast in the morning.

Eggs and some form of breakfasty meats have not been appealing to me lately - however, I know from my own history that often times that which is most bad for me, physically, is exactly the food group that I crave. In other words, toast aint what my body needs, and thus it's what I am most craving, psychologically.

However, to turn the tide? Requires focus, commitment, worth of self... hmmm.

Right now, toast.

if the shoes don't fit

When it looks like a cool boot and sounds like a cool boot and awakens some interest in forming some go-to weekend ensembles crafted around some kickin' boots, ordering the boots is a cool move. Respectful of the self and positive yet thoughtful impulse.

However, if the boots end up looking flipping huge and make you feel even more aware of your large feet; if they buckle along the side like your feet are too shallow and just look funny, if the leather texture screams "don't I remind you of those keen boots you used to wear every single day of your life while you felt like crap about all facets of your life?" - well then maybe, free returns is a good feature to embrace.

If you don't love them, then they don't work, so spoke a wise friend.

I want to love them, but I don't. I need to love myself, so I need to not keep boots which are not quite right.

Because why set yourself up to further cultivate self-loathing by keeping a somewhat expensive pair of footwear which doesn't quite work right? So you can feel stupid and bad every time you wear them, or don't wear them?

Two words, self: Free Returns. Embrace it. Much more of a warm fuzzy than say, stupid self.

There are other shoes out there. You'll find them. They probably won't solve the great universal mystery of self love, but they should at least fit well.

kind of I want to

Supposed to stop by a halloween party tonight. Part of me wants to go, part of me loathes the idea. Couch, wine, movie sounds much more appealing. But it's also a lonely life, sometimes, when there's not really a meet-up social circle in your universe. Good thing he and I are good friends and enjoy pal-ing around, but it would be nice to cultivate friendships.

Needing to tackle the closet and bureau. Need to, truly. Need to shed, shake off, donate, and release. Let go of the excesses that don't work and dare to focus energy and resources on smaller quantities of workables only.

Wishing that I could find a place of peace in my head, where an ill-fitting sportsbra does not result in a sea of self-loathing. A garment that does not fit properly is not really an affirmation on one's worthlessness - it's really just an ill-fitting garment. Really.

Fear of being wrong - making the wrong moove, putting myself in a corner, stuck with a decision that wasn't so good. It's parties, and it's clothes, and it's overall vision of self. It's hard.

it's her birthday, but it's not

My friend would have celebrated a birthday today. A painfully short time from now, we'll instead mark the 13th annivarsary of her death.

She was big and beautiful and generous and smart. She had a style and presence.

It was a lucky thing, to overlap her life with mine for an all too short time.

People know us in different ways, as slightly different people or versions of ourselves, I think. No matter how constant our authentic selves may be, each relationship is different from the next and me to this person is not the same as me to the next person, right?

That said, I knew her how I knew her, and she, me. I wonder sometimes how she saw me - as if I'll find a spark of insight in that.

I think the world is a better place because she was in it, but I wish she were still here. Some people remind us to live better, but I wish that the lesson of her life was ongoing in a different way.

I placed a shell I'd picked up on the beach in maine, wrapped in hand-spun yarn from my future mother-in-law, gently to rest with her alongside flowers, trinkets, scotty's ring. She was so very loved for being 100% herself. I hope she felt that while she was with us - my heart tells me that she did.

Gratitude for the people in our lives is never a bad thing.

ode to a comfort meal

Once upon a time, I lived in an eastern state that is known for its greenness. A student with limited means, any meal out was a treat. Ice cream at Friendly's was a treat (black raspberry with jimmies, thank you very much). But the ever so slightly hippie-dippie restaurant the next town over was the jam, the place to go for a delicious and comforting meal. It's aligned with fall in my mind's eye, thinking of sitting at the big round table in the front window, ordering 'soup, salad, and bread' and just tucking into their warm, fresh slightly brown-ish bread with a little metal tin of butter. And the soup, different every day, the potato herb being my all-time favorite. And salad, crafted simply with mesclun greens on glass plates with their amazing dressing (tomato vin.)...

The tempeh reubens and grilled cheese sandwiches were also so, so good.

One of the greater cooking compliments of my life was from the owner/chef of this magical restaurant, when he praised a vegan pot pie I made for a community meeting.

I love where I live and have places to go for good meals, extra good meals, truly favorite meals, and once a year meals... but that place has never quite been replicated. Maybe it was simply bound with time and space and place in life, inevitably linked to that age and those people and who I was then and there, but I don't think it's that simple. I think there is more to it, a unique spice of synergy where someone truly loved what they were doing and loved the place they had to do it in.

It ended with sorrow and loss, and that is sad to recall. But it was special and beautiful and a key part of why my memories of that time in my life are good ones.

riding a new bike

Yesterday marked the inaugural ride on the new bike. The mountain bike. The yes, I live in the mountain bike capital of the world and I guess I'd better stop saying, "no, I don't mountain bike," bike. The now I have biking shoes, gloves, and special shorts with a magic chamois incorporated into them, on their magic way, bike.

But to ride a bike, start to get your groove, start to develop a feel for shifting, a feel for the bike's braking, a feel for remembering to relax your shoulders - this is good.

In the bigger picture and the more rational/rationalizing side of myself, I can certainly see that having specific shoes, gloves, sunglasses, et. al for riding a bike is, maybe, not completely necessary to ensure successful biking endeavors. And yet, to have shoes, gloves, and the like to gear up in and go out for a bike ride adds a level of compulsion to the whole event that I think, if I let myself, I will like.

Mind you, yesterday's ride was on hard top surfaces, on side roads and bicycle paths and a brief stint along the highway - there was, in fact, no mountainous biking involved. However, it's a tantilizing prospect to work toward, building some comfort and feel with the bike and some strength, to help ensure a more successful first outing into actual mountain/off-road environs.

There is some power in making a decision to grant ourselves a new hobby and then going forward in that decision fully. Sensibly, making smart choices and not buying the latest and greatest crazy gear nor a terribly expensive bicycle; but still, saying YES to tne concept and making it happen.

blts ahoy

The skies are blue, the clouds are puffy, and it is Friday afternoon. The weekend is just ahead, and after many, many weeks of little resemblence of "weekend" in my life, the prospect of something that will be the most weekend-eqsue weekend in a long while is quite pleasing.

The weekend will commence with blts for dinner. There may be red wine. There will likely be dvds from the video store.

The urge to get out and GO is felt by more parties than the resident border collie. GO!

write what you are looking for...

If you find yourself surfing the internet for the magical blog that will provide the inspired reading you are seeking in your life, and instead only finding sweet and lovely people who are:
1) significantly younger than you are
2) living a very different life than you are
3) talking about things which don't particularly speak to your heart or mind
4) are obsessed with frozen yogurt, chia seeds, and lulumon;
then, perhaps it's high time to create the words you wish you were finding out there working the google on the internet machine.

So, I'm 40. I don't have kids. I don't like frozen yogurt. I don't make chia seed pudding with stevia and pumpkin.

What I am is 40. Pretty good self esteem but pretty low self confidence. Pretty happy with a lot of my life, pretty overwhelmed by a lot of the details in my life. Pretty comfortable with who I am, pretty sad about the self-loathing that still steers the ship some days.

I'm not a sparky personality. I'm a steady trudger you may not have noticed. I don't own a garmin, but I aspire to break 10 minute miles. I like really healthy food, and I struggle every single day not to self medicate with crappy stuff (mostly to make myself feel bad).

I'm a daughter, a sister, a wife, a friend, an animal person, a horse person. A reader, a runner, a hiker, a new bike owner. So easily hurt, but also so strong and able to hang in there.

I wish I had the recipe for myself - to get out of my own way. To take risks when appropriate. To release the things that are gone for good.

I do know that a lot of the ingredients I'm throwing into the mixing bowl of myself are not so good lately. Too much stress, sugar, worry; too little sleep, exercise, play.

Time to sweep the grit off the pathway and step ahead with some confidence.

Is a list a bad thing when you're caught in the do-this-next cycle?

1) Sleep eight hours a night. Or at least really close to eight hours. At least most nights. Enough of this after 11 going to bed nonsense.
2) Exercise EVERY DAY. At minimum, six days a week. Five would be an improvement on the current 1-ish.
3) Remember how much improved you felt when you cut out grain, dairy, sugar, legumes, alcohol. Formulate a plan of what to incorporate in small amounts, embrace the plan, and set yourself up for success.
4) Laugh, smile, deep breaths; it will all be fine.
5) SLOW DOWN. Really, dude. Be now, let go of your fierce deathgrip on what happens next.
6) A serious organization, cull, release, downsize extravaganza will be good on many a level. Get on that shit.
7) If a dress makes you happy, then get it in another color. Just don't wear them two days in a row and it will all be good. And if it's not all good with someone else, so be it.
8) So, go order the dress now.

You are getting yourself in a muddled old protocol of next-next-next-next. Say, enough of that, thank you very much. Press pause. Reboot and rejoice, because life is actually pretty amazingly wonderful if you let it be.

I'm Living in My Own Private Beautiful Laundrette

Laundry day while apartment living is not the best of times, but when the laundromat is empty, it is hardly the worst of times. And also, it will be done for the week and that is a good thing. That said, the internet connection is disappointingly slow and thus one is forced not to futz around on the blue social media page but rather, do other things on the internet machine.

There is something a bit humbling about revisiting one's hopes about turning a particular age, only then to realize that few magic things happened in conjunction with that age turning. The day was decent enough, the meal out was fabulousness beyond compare, the cake didn't turn out so well but it was fun indeed to consume it with a fork.

But the underlying concern here would be that the greatest truths of the duality lifestyle are still ever present. Defeat myself at every turn, I have mastered it. Loath myself just a tiny little bit below the surface, I have that on lock down. Deny myself joy each and every day - check, baby.

The good? You know, the thing is I have no energy to sit and write up a "good things in my life" type listy. It seems both daunting and annoying.

The shit that I am over, and over, and over, again and always?
-Candy and crap
-Not fueling myself with food that makes me go mmmmmm...
-Hating how I look
-Hating my clothes
-Feeling like a lump, awkward
-Feeling frumpy and unpolished
-Feeling like I don't know what ME is - ie, "express yourself" yes, but what does that mean?
-On some level, denying myself running to feel worse
-On a similar level, denying myself having fun training my dog
-Ignoring my needs to serve the idea of other

But the thing is, if I don't run several times a week I feel like crap. So, I feel pretty much like crap. If I eat toast for breakfast I feel like crap. Check check. If I shut off me then me is pretty effectively shut off, shut down, and zoned out.

WTF, yes?

Purge the fucking clothes, Jen
Make a fucking menu plan, Jen
Run.
Have fun with your awesome little dog.
Focus on yourself because all else improves when the self is healthy and happy.

Um, dude? You turned 40. You ran a fucking half marathon. You're pretty awesome. So, be it.