Passions?

This week's topic is about passions.  What are you passionate about?

I am interested in a lot of things, knitting, working out, running, but really at the end of the day, I will drop everything and do what ever needs to be done for my kids.  I guess I am passionate about them.

It seems sort of wrong to me that is my passion.  Shouldn't my passion be something that is about me?  But, as much as I try and protect my me time... knit group and the gym are pretty high priorities in my life, something for the kids will trump that.

I just drove 40 miles round trip so that all the kids on my son's soccer team would have their player cards and be able to play in the tournament tomorrow.  I am going to miss working out and a pretty cool yarn thing because of the tournament tomorrow. 

When asked, do you want to do XYZ run, my answer is, I have to check the soccer schedule.   Some of that is just the shear logistics of transporting three kids to three different games in three different cities.  But, still, shouldn't my passions come first?

They never do.  I try and force the kids to go to the gym with me in the summer, but haven't run in over a week.  I miss my time on the trail.  I can't wait for them to get back in school and go for a nice 5 mile jog.  Just the thought of going and going and going seems like heaven to me.  I might not feel that way after mile 3, but what ever.  I can't do it now because I can't leave the kids at home and I sure ain't bringing them.

Knit group is another thing I try hard not to miss, but if the siren call of the kids schedules is rung, guess what gets back burnered?  Yup, my therapy with the group!

I am not sure if the fact that my kids derail my interests is an issue or just a fact of life or indicative of the fact that they are my passion.  I am sure it will all sort its self out, but for now, it is easier to think I am passionate about providing the best for them that I can.  Some day, it will be all about me again.

Want to see what the other ladies have to say? Check them out at: Froggie, Momarock, and Merrylandgirl.

Run-aversary

My  Run-aversary was a couple of weeks ago.  I have started this post about a million times, both in my head and on the computer.  There is so much to say about this past year of running, and yet, I seem to be unable to say it.  It is almost like the story is bigger than me.  So, I guess I am just going to talk about some of the things I have learned.

I have learned that no matter how long you run, it will always be hard if you are going to get better. If you want to stay the same, yes, eventually it will get easier.  For some stupid reason, I want to go faster, run farther and generally do better this run than last run.  It is always hard.

I can almost run a 10 minute mile. 

The road of life is not filled with one single giant thing.  It is filled with a bunch of little things that become a giant thing.  Each run is made up of thousands of steps.  It isn't just one step that takes you to the end.  If you knee hurts or your foot bothers you on that last step, you get to do it again.  Maybe this time it won't hurt.  Maybe the next time you will try something different.  There is something about not stopping.  I have learned to just keep swimming, or running in this case.

I can run 6 miles, without stopping.

When I first started running I didn't want anyone to see me.  I was fat and slow and I was embarrassed by how I looked when I ran.  I didn't want anyone to laugh at me.  Guess what, no one ever laughed at me.  Most people on the trail give me a thumbs up, wave, say something encouraging or just ignore me.  No one says, hey, look at the fat chick, she thinks she can run, bahhahaha.

I am an inspiration to other fat girls that don't think they can. 

Part of this journey has included weight loss.  As I run, I battle my demons with food.  I try and turn to running instead of food when the going gets rough.  When I run, it seems like nothing can get me.  I am able to make the bad stuff stop.  Trust me, I had a lot of bad stuff happen this year.  Being able to do something else to make me feel better that isn't eating has helped me with my weight.  My relationship with food is changing.  It is a slow process, but I want to run better, farther and faster.  It is helpful if I am lighter and better fueled.

I have lost 35 lbs.  I will lose another 35 lbs.

As I mark my 1 year of running, I realize that I can do it.  When I first started I was buoyed by the belief of one friend who told me many years ago that I could.  When I thought I couldn't run a mile even if I was being chased by zombies and bears, she believed I could.  You know what, she was right.  Not so much that she believed in me, but because she knew that if you decide to do it your body will follow.  Our bodies will do what we tell them. Running is more mental then physical.  If you don't think you can, you won't.

I can.  You can.

Come run with me.

Pop guns

This week's topic is regarding the ban against selling a soda larger than 32 oz in New York City juxtaposed against the fact that you can buy a gun anywhere. 

I am going to start with a history lesson, the right to bear arms is a out-growth of the English right or actually duty to arm its citizens.  In the 1600's citizens of England were required to arm themselves to serve in the military, or militia as it was called at the time.  When the constitution was written, the right to bear arms was a comfortable concept to the founding fathers.  Essentially people needed guns to protect themselves, for hunting and to serve in the militia (citizens army as there was no actual organized army at the time.) 

While I don't see an issue with people owning guns for the purposes of protecting themselves and hunting, I do find it odd that we need to tend to those issues with semi-automatic weapons.  Since when do you hunt deer with an automatic weapon?  I see no need for citizens to arm themselves with such types of weaponry.  As our society has changed, we no longer need our citizens to arm themselves to protect the country against attack.  We have a group of people to do that, and they are armed properly.

I do think it is ironic that we are so concerned about obesity, and yet we allow people to buy guns that enable the easy killing of many. 

I am obese.  There I said it.  I am in better shape that many people who are significantly thinner than me.  I resent that the government wants to tell me how to live my life, and what to put in my body.  When my mother tried to get me to loose weight as a teen, I didn't.  When my boy friend told me he wanted me to be thinner, I found another boy friend.  It was not until I was properly motivated did I decide I wanted to do something about my weight.  The fact remains, that the government can not tell me to loose weight.  They can not make me do it, I have to decide I want to do it.  Because I can still buy 2 30 oz sodas. 

The prevailing research says that fat people tend to stay fat.  Even if they loose the weight a significant group of them gain it all back and then some.  Our bodies are not designed to loose weight, they are designed to gain it.  Gaining weight is our bodies way of ensuring our survival.  If we want to do something about obesity, we need to focus on the children.  How about offering school lunches that are healthy.  How about teaching children about nutrition at a very young age.  Look at how kids react to the anti-drug/no smoking messages they get in school?  If the government wants to be involved in solving the obesity issue, we need to stop it before it happens.

If the government is so concerned about keeping us safe that they need to control what we eat, then I think they need to think about how they go about selling weapons.  Perhaps, just maybe we don't need to sell automatic weapons to the general public.

Want to see what the other ladies have to say? Check them out at: Froggie, Momarock, and Merrylandgirl.

The old me

The topic for this week is to discuss what we were like as kids.  What was I like as a child?

I was a pretty opinionated little girl, who liked mustard sandwiches on sourdough bread.  I think it had to do with the fact that my mother bought cotto salami and made us sandwiches out of that.  It wasn't the good salami.  It was the nasty kind with green bits of something in it.  I would always take the meat out and just eat the bread and mustard.  Eventually I asked her to stop putting the meat in.  I think if we had yummy lunch meat I might have felt differently about it.

I had big plans for the for the future.  My cousin and I were going to be super rich and buy Hearst Castle.  She was going to be a big psychologist and I was going to be the president of IBM.   She did become a social worker and I did work in business, but neither of us has ever become so wealthy we could buy Hearst Castle off the state of California.  But here is the thing, I don't want to own a house that big.  I mean seriously, what would you do with a house that big?  The house I have now is too big for me to keep up with... and yes, I realize you have servants in a big house like that, but it seems like a waste of resources to me now.

Self-starter and entrepreneurial are words you would use to describe me.  When I was about 8 years old, I drew a bunch of pictures and went door to door trying to sell them.  After knocking on the doors of about 3 houses, my mother comes flying down the street in her house coat.  She was yelling my name, like I was doing something wrong.  I stop, turn and look at her.  As she is running wildly down the street with no shoes.  She grabs my arm and walks me home.  I was told not to go door to door.  It was many, many years before I figured out how she even knew what I was doing.  I never did find out who called her and told her what I was up to.

These things all make me realize, I am not really that much different now than I was then.  Sure, I don't go door to door trying to sell my knitted creations to my neighbors, but if one of them wanted one, I probably would sell it!

Want to see how the other ladies have grown?  Check them out at: Froggie, Momarock, and Merrylandgirl.

Driving along... crash

This week's topic is about learning to drive. 

My mom taught me to drive.  She taught everyone to drive.  When she was a teenager she taught all her friends to drive.  My father was too uptight to teach us. 

We loaded up into the 1970-something Ford LTD station wagon, (my Dad totaled that car, but that is a story for another day) complete with wood paneling and my mother drove me over to a new subdivision.  The roads where in, but the houses weren't.  I cruised around the subdivision a few times and then I hit the open roads.  I drove us home.

In the state of California, you were required to take drivers training.  The schools offered it, but my mom wanted me to take typing so I couldn't take it at school.  As a result the drivers training I received was from a private company.  I spent my required hours behind the wheel with some middle aged man.  I'm not really sure what possesses people to teach drivers training.  It was fairly uneventful.

I turned 16, got my license and was so excited!  My mother had just gotten a new car.  A Volvo station wagon.  She was pretty happy about this new fancy car.  I begged and begged her to let me drive it.  I don't remember where I was going, but I was on Hollister Avenue and a flat bed truck stopped suddenly in front of me.  I swerved to avoid rear ending it, and I side swiped my mom's new car. 

I didn't even get the drivers name and number.  I drove home in a panic.  My mother was furious.  The pin striping on the car never matched.  She said it was there to remind me what I did to her new car.  I had to make dinner every night for 6 months to pay off the deductible.

We don't talk about this much now, but I will never forget that feeling in my stomach when I saw what happened to my mother's new car.  Amazingly, she let me drive it again.  

I never crashed it again.  The next time that car was in an accident was when my brother was backing it out of the garage and smashed into my Dad's car.  He pulled forward and tried again, and proceeded to smash into his car which was parked on the other side of the driveway.  I was thankful my car was on the street that day!

Want to see how the other ladies did behind the wheel?  Check them out at: Froggie, Momarock, and Merrylandgirl.

Wisp

This week's topic is to discuss something you always romanticize.  I will admit something to you all, I usually don't read the other posts until AFTER I post mine.  I cheated this week.  Now, I think my post might not really answer the question, but here we go:

I romanticize being thin.  I have never ever been thin.  Never ever.  There were times in my life that I was less fat than I am now, but I was never thin.  I have visions of being able to tuck my t-shirt into my jeans and wear a wide belt and have that actually look ok.  No muffin top.

The thin (and by extension pretty) girls seem to have it all.  Life is just handed to them on a silver platter.  The fat (and by extension ugly) girls have to work so much harder for everything.  Thin girls find boyfriends, husbands, jobs, everything much more easily than fat girls. 

I remember hearing, always go home with a fat chick at the end of the night, they are so grateful that they try harder in bed.  See, fat girls have to work harder. 

How many men say, I want to date a fat girl?  Not many.  Given the choice, most men choose the thinnest woman that they can.  You don't see rich powerful men with fat girls do you? 

Given the choice between two closely qualified job candidates, the thin girl will always get the job over the fat girl.  Even if the thin girl is slightly less qualified than the fat one.  It makes it just that much harder.

When I was a little girl, my mother told me thin girls can wear anything.  They can go to K-mart and pick up an outfit and look cute.  Fat girls have to make sure that what they pick looks ok, and often have to spend more money to look just ok. 

I am sure that this isn't really the case.  When I was in college I asked a bunch of my thin friends what it was like to be able to wear anything.  To a person they told me that they couldn't.  That some things didn't look right on them. 

Many of my skinny friends are divorced, unemployed or struggling with a myriad of problems, similar to or worse than mine.  But  it sure seems like it would be easier to be thin.

What do the other ladies see with rose colored glasses?  Check them out at: Froggie, Momarock, and Merrylandgirl.

What would you save?

This week we are talking about evacuating.  The question is:

In light of all the fires and other natural disasters, if you had to evacuate you home, what would you take with you and why? If your home was destroyed what would you miss most?

I grew up in fire country.  We had a grab and go bag in our closet for most of my childhood.  The grab and go bad contained current copies of important documents.  Because you never knew when you were going to have to leave immediately.

About 10 or 15 years ago a fire ripped through Oakland.  People were not evacuated in a timely manner and there was a fairly significant loss of life.  This changed the way fires that were located near populated areas were fought.  In the past evacuations were done in a much more immediate way.  Now, people are often given a warning and some time to get out.  More people are evacuated than are probably in harms way.  This creates easy access for the firefighters, but it also prevents what happened Oakland, where folks were caught by surprise.

You might have as much as 10 hours to get ready, you might have 45 minutes.  What would you take?  I like to think I am not attached to stuff, but I would take my yarn.  Well, the good stuff anyway.  Other than the pictures of my wedding and some of the kids baby pictures, I like to think I wouldn't miss anything else.  I'm sure my kids would really want me to grab their blankets and special stuffed toys.  Of course we would grab our grab and go bag.

But, when you start to think about what it would be like to pick up the pieces of your life after your house is cinders.  Replacing all the detritus that makes our lives comfortable and functional, it is over-whelming.  Yet, my family lived through a massive fire shortly after I graduated from college.  I remember being at a party some years later and one of the families that didn't loose their house had an interesting perspective.  My friend's Dad said that in the beginning they were so happy that their house was safe.  But, then they felt guilty, why were they spared while others burned?  It impacted their relationships with their neighborhood friends.  Then they watched their neighbors rebuild new, fancy houses.  Kitchens got granite counters and bathrooms were robed in marble.  Suddenly his older home looked small and shabby by comparison.  He said, he was really jealous of his neighbors new homes.  He said that in the end it would probably have been best to have his house burn like everyone else.  I thought that was so interesting.  There is an interesting sociological point here about fitting in with the social norms, but that isn't the point.

My mother and I joke that the problems with our house are best solved with a match.  Sure rebuilding would enable me to fix all the issues with the house, it is a long and complicated process.  Not one I'm sure I can manage.  But, if everyone is going to loose their house, I guess it is just stuff and I can replace stuff.

What would the other ladies save?  Check them out at: Froggie, Momarock, and Merrylandgirl.