Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Run Forrest Run.....

I have been a runner my whole life.

Running in the sense, I land at Terminal A in Atlanta Hartfield Airport and have to be at Terminal C in twenty minutes. This inspires and all out sprint.

Running from the guy I thought was such a great catch and turns out to be a total pysco.And running from the guy who turns out to be just what I want in a man.This inspires a light jog or trot.

Running to the 75% percent off sale at Target.This inspires a quick walk that turns into a speed walk.

Each year I dutifully attend the NYC Marathon to cheer on thousands of people I do not know.And I cry as they turn the corner on Columbus Ave going into their 25 th mile. Exhausted, tired, their body and mind starting to give way to fatigue. Their sheer will and determination and pride has always left me thinking " next year for SURE I am running the marathon".

Ten months ago my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. In an advanced stage she was going to require care and support as she took on a battle that we all surely felt she would win.In caring for her, I discovered my love of the local YMCA. I soon found myself circling the treadmill. Eyeing it's running belt, hearing it beep and boop as time and acceleration ticked away.

I stepped on. I could not run longer then three minutes straight.That's fine I thought, everyone starts someplace. The next day, after a particularly trying day with mymother, I found myself thinking of my friend the treadmill. On it I jumped. I made it 5 minutes.

Early into my Mothers battle with cancer my sister and I entered a 5 K race. I found at mile 2, I could not breath. And started to panic. I thought of my Mother whose breath was being shortened everyday by this cancer spreading in her body. I thought how determined she was to make her body work stronger and better.
I finished the race.

I will never be a Kenyan runner. I will never break great records. But every week, every month my time gets better and my endurance grows.And my mind and heart heal as I pound away the anger and frustration on the conveyor belt of comfort.

This weekend my sister and I entered the Disney Princess 5 K. I'll be out there, not trieng to better my time or win my age group, but to breath for my little bird who no longer can breath for herself, my Mom.

OH and my 11 yr old niece reminded me this morning that I am more evil stepsister then Disney Princess...well if the shoe fits as my girl Cinderella so wonderfully stated!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

I never wanted a pet

I never wanted a pet. I do not care for responsibility.I like to fly fancy free.

Today I decided to clean the garage.It was not in particular need of cleaning. However, last night I burnt a food item in the microwave. Popcorn.WOW does that smell up the house. I thought a little airing out of the house and garage area was in order.

I quickly took to the task of laundry.Four loads. Not bad.

During my in and out process of laundry, and garage maintenance, I noticed him. Scurrying along on the rocks. CUTE I thought. Look at the little fellow move.

Load two. Hang. Dryer not working? WHAT dryer not working? Where is the manual for the dryer?
An hour later I return to the garage. And there he was in the middle of the garage staring up at me.

I screamed. It went back in it's shell. YES it was a tortoise turtle in the middle of the garage. MY garage.

My first thought was, well he will go out the way he came in. True to that, he stayed in his shell.
I thought picking him up and relocating him would be wise. When I approached him, speaking softly, he started to hiss. NO WAY IN HELL WAS I TOUCHING THE TURTLE.
I tried to gently, gently to push the turtle out of the garage with a broom.In my gentle haste the turtle flipped over onto his back.
NOW I am screaming in the garage.For no reason.

I sat looking at the turtle. How the hell was I going to get this turtle out of the garage?
A trail of lettuce? YES. Only no lettuce in the house.
And now during all this I have a very important appointment with David's Bridal to pick out a bridesmaids gown!
I call my sister. "leave the turtle in the garage" she says. WHAT can he do?

So the turtle in it's shell, still is in the garage. ONLY not in the same place I left him?
When the Sears employee comes on Friday to fix the dryer, I hope he will remove the turtle for me.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Wally World Wonders

La La,

WOW. I wish we had spoken this morning for our regular morning chat. This perhaps would have thrown off my morning, and I could have avoided this unique experience.

I went to the gym. After wards I decided to quickly run into Walmart to exchange a picture frame that was damaged when the cashier packaged up my purchases. EASY quick in and out I am thinking.

On the drive over I decided my sports bra needed to be removed.It was digging into my side. So at a traffic light, I put to task the college learned skill of removing my bra with shirt still on. I still have the skill, I can proudly say.

There I am in the long line of returns at Walmart. Exactly 11 people in front of me. And one motorized wheelchair. I am not clear what happened exactly. I was busy attempting to figure out if my ringing phone was text, email or call? When I did look up I saw, the “lady” in the motorized wheel chair and the man in front of her clearly in a heated exchange of words.

I could not hear at first, and then I COULD. Apparently she ran over his heels with her buggy. And did not apologize. At which point he said, “ you fat ass, you almost killed me”

Her reply was “move your ass out of my way”
He turned around and poured a gallon of orange juice on her.
WAIT it gets better.
The guy behind the motorized wheel chair lady takes a few steps, swings at the OJ man. BUT misses and lost his balance and FELL on the oversized buggy babe. When he was on his way down he hit his chin and his mouth started to bleed.

Now the lady in screaming “ You &%*(@ get off me. MY LEGS MY LEGS you broke my legs” at the guy who defended her. Now the guy who poured the OJ on her is laughing. And by now the daughter of motorized buggy babe has returned from buying cigarettes and gets involved. She throws a fist at the OJ guy. NOW Walmart's A -Team security is involved. And someone calls 911 for the bloody guy.
The older man behind me says “ My money is on the fat lady, they always win” Which was not funny at the time, but now, that’s funny to me.
Keep in mind I have the broken picture frame, no bra, running shorts and the phone is buzzing and beeping to the annoyance of everyone around.

All 11 people are taken to a holding area because the Mayberry gang said we all witnessed the incident and it needed to be documented .The Walmart break room was their choice. Fancy.
The motorized lady is sticky and her "my eyes are burning, my eyes are burning,and my legs are broken" was shipped in an ambulance.She was screaming both statements over and over.
Man behind me said ” that woman has so much meat on her, there ain’t no way a skinny little Mexican can break her” I didn't know whether I should nod in agreement or pretend I didn’t hear his statement?
And the OJ guy was taken to the manager’s office.

By the time they got to me, at the back of the line, they could care less what I had to say.
And when I was asked, “have you ever been convicted of a felony?” For some reason I replied with
“ convicted, no”. I meant it to be funny, but my timing was off. Officer James just arched his brow at me.
As the Sheriff said “ it’s not like we found the second sniper in Dallas. It’s a bunch of white trash, low class people shopping at Walmart. It’s a daily occurrence”

Yep..No bra, running clothes, glasses, and a broken picture frame make me a card caring member of the white trash gang. SWEET.

OH how the mighty have fallen. My days of Lord Taylor cashmere, perfectly coiffed corkscrew curls, and fresh makeup is long gone. Branded white trash . NICE!
**Footnote: Because I know you will ask, I DID have a sweatshirt on over the tee shirt.

THIS is dedicated to my dear married in NJ, La La. Her spirit and spunk and friendship are a blessing.
With a shout out to JB.

Walk of Shame

There was a time in my life where drinking was more of a career choice then social gathering activity. Many an evening in my early 20's consisted of any form of alcohol and a group of good friends. The after math of such gathering ranged from headache to the severe of waking up on a street in NYC. During these evenings out, the morning would arrive all to fast, and most often with a tale or two my actions or my willingness to participate in others events.

Now that I reached my 30's I can say I have moved past these types of evenings. I know now the importance of limitations, or in general that my poor liver has endured enough damage and cannot tolerate my behavior. Occasionally, I find myself on the fence believing that I am in fact still that 20 year old with a 20year liver. And the outcome consists of me swearing off all alcohol.

One story, of my past adventures in drinking came back to mind Friday morning. Years ago a dear friend was throwing a Holiday gathering. This was disguise wording for Christmas Party so that all the Christians, Jewish Faith, Kwanzaa Faith and friends with no faith at all could revel together. Or drink together as this situation would have it.

I don't recall the events leading up to the outcome. I am sure it involved beer and vodka. I do however vividly recall waking up in male soccer short and a random bar tee shirt, next to my dear friend La la. She also appeared in similar fashion. Later to we were told we were given the clothes to sleep in because we were to drunk to go home. Finding our party clothes posed somewhat of an issue, so we left in our soccer short, and bar tee shirts. Our footwear consisted of black cowboy boots for me, and red patent leather pumps for her. We were a vision. It was December. Our coats were with our clothes. Shorts, tee shirts and odd footwear are how we appeared to the world on NYC.

Leaving the doorman operated building she whispered to me " Oh Sully we are so doing the walk of shame right now" it was the first I had heard the saying, and inquired it's meaning. "Well, its when you leave the next morning. In worse shape then when you arrived. And 9 times out of 10 some guy was involved " OHHH, I said.

Over the years this conversation would be retold numerous times.

HOWEVER on Friday morning I had an innocent walk of shame. If such a walk exists.

After an innocent evening spent at a guy friend’s home, I had to depart in the early morning. So early in fact I decided while attempting to sleep that I should just stay up and not sleep. Made sense at the time. At the 4:45AM hour I very quietly sled out of the warmth of the bed leaving my host breathing softly next to me. I made my way quickly and quietly out of the house. I decided changing into street clothes was not important. My current pajamas would be fine for the two-hour car ride home.

As I got to the front door, I had visions of that Holiday Gathering Party and the conversation in the elevator .I was in fact doing a walk of shame, without the shame? My how life changes as you age. Here I had spent an entire night next to a great, smart, adorable, funny, caring guy and all that happened was my leg touched his kneecap? CLEARLY, not even first base. And yet in the back of my tousled curls forming an "I just had sex hair Do- but didn't", and makeup-smeared face, I am thinking what just happened?

I stood there for a moment thinking, well here is a difference between NY and Florida. In NY everyone sees you performing your walk of shame. In FL you can very quietly, as I was proving, slink out of the house and no one is the wiser. Except you and your bedmate. I think I even giggled. With my new found walk of shame confidence and in my PJ's, barefoot, I hurried down the long driveway.

At the end of the drive way, I walked into an older grandfather type walking his Bichon Frise’ dog, dressed in a blue sweater. The dog, not the man. I think both of us were surprised to see each other. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. From head to toe. MY heart stopped, and my mouth flew open to the dropped jaw position. And I was all of a sudden painfully aware that my white shirt was in fact see thorough. Sexy perhaps to host, but not so much to grandpa.Or to my host I realized...

Since it was Halloween, for some reason at 5AM I wished him a, "Happy Halloween". At which point the dog started to happily dance round my feet. Dogs, old people and kids love me. There is no accounting for awkward timing.

" Did you have a good time"? He asked as I quickly fumbled my keys into the car lock.
I just smiled. And looked at him from over my shoulder. Desperately putting the trunk key into the car door in error.
"I guess you did,” he said as he walked his little marshmallow hued fur ball.

I sat in the car for a few moments attempting to access the situation. I had spent the night, nothing happened, and here I had still been subjected to the judgment that something HAD happened. Innocent or not innocent, a walk of shame is a walk of shame.

Moral of story, it would have been worth it if I had slept with him!