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Ending With An Elephant

I've decided to move on from this site. I attempted to keep things going with my name change but I'm just feeling like it's time to close the door here and make room for new endeavors. Myself and my family are in a place right now where I'm not feeling like sharing the deep and dark and secret and raw. So for now, I'm going to focus my writing energies on a blog journaling my training for my first 25K race (What's that? A total snore bore? Yeah, well...deal!). If you care to join me at my new site you can check it out at www.howardswords.typepad.com  It should be up and running soon (Ha ha! Same wit, different address!)

As my final farewell to over three years of Perpetually Pregnant and a much shorter run of Jumbo Shrimp, I leave you with this story:

My daughter and I were shopping the other day and she wanted me to buy her a sketchpad. Her art class learned about Henry Rousseau, who evidently sketched animals, and she wanted to be like him. So I bought her the sketchpad. Henry hung out at the zoo to draw his animals, but since it's cold and snowy right now Maddie decided she could watch Animal Planet instead. Imagine my surprise when she shared her first sketch:

2008...Rhymes With GREAT!

Rah! Rah! I'm trying to be optimistic.

Life's kind of crapping on us right now. But I'm doing my best. We're ringing in the new year with a deep fried feast, kind of a tradition around here. The pickles were the best- if you haven't tried them, please make it your new years resolution- with beer batter- you will not be disappointed. Plus, it's pretty easy to follow through on, as new years resolutions go. You know what they say... if you aim for nothing you're likely to hit it! (oh, maybe they meant that as a bad thing?)

Anyways, I wouldn't want to totally bring you down so I'll tell you about my running. It's going great! This weekend was 3 miles (it was supposed to be Saturday but we had guests so I did it Sunday, which is an "optional" day) and today was 2 miles. I'm keeping up with the schedule nicely so far and I have to say it feels really good. I'm ignoring the fact that I met a girl who did the race last year for the first time and compared it to childbirth ("If you can do that, you can so finish this race!" she gushed enthusiastically. Which would be all good if I knew there was going to be an anesthesiologist meeting me at the starting line with my epidural.)

I have great hopes for 2008. I'm almost certain it will be the year we buy our last jumbo economy size box of diapers. Even though my son shows a disappointing lack of concern for the environment with his insistence on clinging to his diaper-wearing ways, I am optimistic that 2008 is the year to see change! Either that or I will be delivering a supply of 3 or 4 a day to his college dorm room... could go either way.

Happy New Year- I hope your 2008 is indeed great!

Make My Coal The Bituminous Variety

I stand by my original ascertian that I am not experiencing holiday-induced stress, despite the mounting evidence. I can totally explain why I stomped purposefully through 100,000 square feet of super-store today wearing a Santa hat and muttering, "All I need is a goddamn roll of scotch tape. Is that too much to ask for a week before Christmas?"

Hiding from the carolers is slightly more difficult to explain. It was that time of night where you're trying to get one kid to finish the homework and get it in the backpack while keeping the other kid from drowning in the bathtub. Or sticking something up his nose. Or both. I had just taken a shower and put on sweats and t-shirt, sans bra. I walked past the front door just as a cheery, woman bundled from the cold rang the doorbell and the singing began. I darted for the kitchen, where my husband was hanging out.

"I'm not standing the doorway in my pajamas with wet hair," I informed him.

"Well, I'm not opening the door," he replied.

"Joy to the World..." sang the carolers.

The little guy wandered by dragging his blanket towards the front door.

"Come back here!" we whispered.

Yeah. So we hid from some really nice people who were standing outside in the bitter cold singing their wishes for our joy. That's gotta be on the naughty list.

Drinking Games

My brother in law said I was an alcoholic because I drink alone but I assured him that was not true, because the kids are here.

My stress meter is at level: Drink Frequently. That's one step above a Two Mike Night and just below Drink Heavily. I assure you that the stress has nothing to do with the holidays. I enjoy the holidays except for the part where every freakin' news show and magazine article is about how to relieve holiday stress. I am taking such a laid back approach to holiday stress brought on by family togetherness that I'm actually looking forward to the look on my mom's face when my sister comes to Christmas dinner in her t-shirt that says Jesus Loves Me & My Tattoos.

Besides the drinking, my stress has also manifested itself in painting. While a watercolor seascape sounds lovely, I painted the bathroom in blue semi-gloss and the living room green. We sort of did it on a whim this weekend, and it really looks great. Mostly I like the way it draws my eyes away from the carpet, which is beyond cleaning but unfortunately cannot be painted.

With the exception of skipping Thursday, when I woke up slightly buzzed from a Wednesday of cosmopolitans in the very cosmopolitan NYC (holiday party for work- very fun...must find job where I can drink more frequently at meetings) I have been faithful with my race training schedule. Saturday was two miles and I upped the speed from 12 minute miles to 11. I was feeling pretty good, took Sunday off (the schedule permits!) to rest from painting and hit the treadmill this morning only to be faced with a 2.5er on the schedule. But I did it.

And to top off the good news, I ran into my daughter's teacher at the post office today and she didn't even mention my flatulence problem. What a nice lady.

The Race Is On!

I hope you didn't think I was too embarrassed to come back after my farting story. The truth is, flatulence is much more of an issue for me than it ever has been. Geez, the pressure to keep the romance alive at home!Then again, it's not like I fart more than my husband. No, when that happens I'll definitely see a doctor. Or change my diet or something.

Anyways, I've been running. Not running around Christmas shopping or running errands or definitely not running around on my husband (although there was an ugly accusation which we shall let go, because 1. I am mature and 2. I am generally the psychotic member of our union and it was refreshing for my husband to play the role for once.)

I'm running a race. This race. On May 10th- it's 15.5342798 miles. I'm not worried about the 15 miles- it's that .5342798 that concerns me. Seriously, I've never run more than 5 miles and I'm probably the least active I've been in my life. So really, what better time? I've done the 5K of this event a few times over the years and it's always fun. There are so many people and they have really good food afterwards (who needs more reason?). I've considered trying it in years past, but it always seemed like there was no way I could commit the time to the training. But the kids are a little older, I'm tired of feeling bad physically (whatever is causing my weird physical symptoms, which still come and go, is going to have to step aside) and we have a treadmill in the basement, negating the excuse of having to go somewhere to train.

So the training started this past week. I had done a few walks on the treadmill last week and a few aerobics classes here and there to get 'tuned up'. Monday came. Monday went. Ooops. Yes, I missed the first day. But wait! When you stumble you must pick yourself up! Get back on the wagon or the train or whatever. Oh yes, the treadmill! Yesterday was supposed to be a 2 mile run but I taught an aerobics class so I traded my Sunday off- did aerobics yesterday and ran my 2 miles today. I'm only going 12 minute miles right now, which I hope to improve (or else it's going to take me over 3 hours to complete the race...and really, who has that kind of time on a Saturday?). I'd like to tell you that this is entirely about the fantastic sense of accomplishment I'm going to have when I stumble across that finish line, but there's also an appeal to burning some serious calories by the time I'm running 60 miles a week. I frequently eat lunch with a tri-athlete I know, and there are moments of serious bacon cheeseburger envy. This girl can eat! And then there's me, with my side salad and broth-based soup. Oh yeah, I'm gonna carb-load!

I'll keep you posted-and I'm sure you'll cheer me on, as you always do!