Tales of a Sweaty Girl

In whatever sports I've been involved in since early youth - assuming I played, I got sweaty.  I don't remember ever NOT getting sweaty when active.  Embarrassed in my younger years - I attributed it to getting my dads' genetics.  I don't know if my dad is that much of a perspirer <?> but I remembered having seen him down right sweaty.  So - there it was.  My excuse.

Once you have kids and more people than you care to count have been involved in the birth of the kids - some things aren't as big of a deal.  A lot of things aren't as big of a deal.  Sweating while working out or playing pickleball was one of them for me.  It's natural.  Okay, it can be gross, offensive even... but it's just sweat.

The Dad and I didn't work out - like ever - until I tore my achilles tendon for the second time in 2001.  When the cast came off but I was  forced to live with that sexy gray walking boot for 8 weeks, the physical therapists told me I could ride the stationary bikes to help slowly stretch and exercise the muscles and tendons until I was out of the glorious boot.  

While not fitness active - I was busy running to and fro chasing around a 12. 10 and 8 year old to all sorts of school and sporting activities.  I was "active" enough that I wasn't overweight and I didn't really have to think about what I was eating.  I didn't think about my intake - at all.  

A laparoscopy for this, a laparoscopy for that, an ablation, a partial hysterectomy and then...   a year after the last one... the rest.  Hormone shots did not agree with me, nor did the lotion that was made specifically for me.  All of these things attributed to me now having to watch what I eat...  which is depressing, to say the least, as well as keep up my workouts.  That aside, about 3 months ago - I noticed I didn't start sweating within the "normal" amount of time I usually do when I start my workout.  I know myself well enough to know that this had probably been the case for upwards of 3-4 weeks because I just don't pay very good attention to my body and if I had noticed it, would have shrugged it off until I "noticed" it.

And so I did.  I'd been having mysterious, unexplained back pain, was tested for everything under the sun, prescribed massage, physical therapy, stretches and told to keep doing what I do.  And I did.  Still - mostly "unsweaty".  I began to know what it feels like to be one of the women to  leave the gym without a red, sweaty face or top.  You know, the ones that go to the gym with full done hair and makeup and they leave looking just the same as they looked when they walked in?  I didn't like it.  Seriously.  I had always attributed how hard I had worked out by my "sweat factor" and now I wasn't sweating.  I remember thinking I should embrace this, but I couldn't.  I thought maybe, just maybe, I'm not going to be the sweaty me anymore.  But it still didn't feel like the usual "me".

Okay, so now the reason behind the mysterious back pain is gone.  Check.  Still working out.  Check. Switched gyms.  Check.  Revamped, revised my workout.  Check.  Still watching what I/we eat.  Check.  Realized that at my age and as I get older - those workouts perhaps need to be longer.  Check. Implemented that.  Check.  

I said I wanted to get back to "me" a few posts back.  Well - I'm one step closer.  The past four days (likely longer - remember I don't pay very good attention until I have to) the sweat is back.  I mean... good and back.  The poor souls working out at Golds Gym, or even those that plain work there - had no clue what hit them when I moved over.  Actually, I'm pretty sure my first week there was mostly sweat-free, that much I remember.  But now - I'm back.  Or at least one step closer.

Who would have thought they'd ever hear a girl be thankful she's sweating again?  Once upon a time someone told me that sweating is a sign of good health.  I choose to believe that in part, this is why I sweat the way I do when I work out.  I still also believe that genetics play a part of this.  Either way - I wasn't sweating for a few months, while I was experiencing unexplained pain/illness and as soon as the very thing behind that was removed - I believe I began to "heal".  

I always knew I was meant to live a life of luxury - at home, eating bon bons, washing and ironing clothes and things of that nature.  Who knew that would be my saving grace back to the "Sweat Factory"?

Dear Avista - Are You Ready For Me?

A few weeks ago - the dogs barked with wild enthusiasm as I was drying my hair.  This had to mean someone was at the door.  By the time I got there, whomever it was was sitting in a truck in our driveway cataloging something.  I opened the door, waved my hand to get his attention and this nice young man gets out to tell me that Avista is going to be replacing the power pole in our backyard.  Technically, it's not in our back yard, but nicely tucked in between ours, the house next to us, and the house next to them.  This cozy little triangle of houses with this pole right in the middle.  He proceeds to tell me it would be sometime in the next few days.  Again, this was almost two weeks ago.  

What this means is this: - that off and on over the course of what he says is a 2 hour project (if you're talking about a normal pole on the side of the road) the power will be off.  And on.  And off.  And on.  So I spent the next couple of days heading to the club early enough that I could get home and cleaned up before they were going to mess with my ability to dry my hair. 

Next up - at the end of last week, with still no Avista in sight, we receive a letter in the mail - FROM Avista, regarding another project in our area.  AT OUR HOUSE.  The letter states that in order to comply with the Washington Department of Transportation and the Utilities and Transportation Commission, it is necessary for Avista to perform some maintenance requirements next to our gas meter.  "The work to be done will be at no charge to you and takes about 2 hours to complete.  An Avista crew or our contractor may need to shut off the gas supply to your home and expose the gas valve at ground level.  We may also lower the gas line that is underground all within 10 ft of the meter if necessary.  Then an Avista gas serviceman will require access to your home to relight your appliances."

So YESTERDAY - while The Dad is home for lunch, an Avista truck pulls up, the man gets out, Jeff goes out to see which project this man is for.  The man is here about the gas meter "project" and says it's actually a quick process, they have to change out a pipe...  blah blah blah.  Then they walk around to the side of the house the meter is on.  And it goes a little something like this:

The Man:  "Ohhhh..... huh."

The Dad:  "What's that?"

The Man:  "It's encased in concrete.  In the steps there."

The Dad:  "Yeh."  <shrug>

The Man:  "Yeh... uhhh... they're going to have to dig those up.  They'll bring in a jackhammer, dig down..."  blah blah blah.  

WOTY:  "A what?  And my steps?"

The Dad:  "He says they'll send someone out to redo the steps this spring."

WOTY:  "Uh huh... Right about the time pigs learn how to fly, right?"

The Dad:  "What do you want ME to do about it?"

WOTY:  "Nothing.  I'll dig out my "someone isn't going to want to talk to me" hat and make sure I have something in WRITING from Avista on this."

So the quick two hour project is now going to take the better part of an entire day - without my gas HEAT.  In the middle of the effing WINTER?!?!?  WTF are they thinking?  This was "pissed me off" well and good - Part I.

Shortly after The Dad left to the construction site, to wear the hard hat he is so excited to put on once a week (that I threatened could be filled with lice, or dandruff or... something icky) I finished up the laundry and made myself get busy on some details of things we've been planning.  It is at this time, while I'm sitting in front of my computer, that another small Avista truck pulls up slowly and I can tell he's trying to spy the power pole from where he stops and backs up and eyes the "situation".  I watched as he got out of his car and trudged across our lawn between ours and our neighbors homes.  I shot up, walked to the back of the house and watched him hike down between the two yards and fences and the ginormous landscaping rocks the neighbors have, coupled with our nearly new beautiful fence that we 1) built a foot inside our property lines on both sides and 2) specifically put a little angled section in so that this pole and anything they had to do to it, didn't have to be done from our yard.  The neighbors on the other side of our direct neighbors have a lot of shrubbery landscaping their yard and there is one heckuva juniper from their yard to our neighbors rocks to our fence.  It surrounds the pole.  It is NOT going to be easy to dig a new hole and put in a new pole.  It is NOT the 2 hour job I was told it will be.  That much I know.  ESPECIALLY because there is no route for them to get the pole into that spot in the first place.  

I watch as he carefully plots his footing to head back up towards his vehicle and I speed back to my spot at the desk...  Yes... I have time to do this sh*t.  Instead of walking to his car, he drags his feet through the snow toward the front of the house and I'm thinking he's headed to our door.  Nope...  I leave the front door as he rounds the other side of our house and by the time I can get to the back door on the deck, he has shoved open the gate, dented the bottom (due to the weight of the snow up against it) and is a quarter of the way through my yard.  I step out and this happens:

The other man:  "I'm just hear to scout the pole."

B*tch from the house:  "I know.  But you see, the pole is not in our back yard."

The other man:  "I know.  But I have to mark for the gas and power."  (As he proceeds to paint the snow on the ground by the pole red and orange)

B*tch from the house: "That paint doesn't have any toxins in it that could be harmful to my dogs, does it?"

The other man:  "Uhhh.  No.  It should be fine."

B*tch from the house:  "Not really sure why you're marking it on this side, the pole is clearly NOT in our yard."

The other man:  "I know.  I'm just sent out so scout this.  I was here in the spring.  They were supposed to do it then."

B*tch from the house: "Our grass wasn't marked in the spring.  Sooo you must be thinking they're coming through MY yard to do this?"

The other man:  "I really don't know."

I called The Dad shortly after this - told him about the fence and paint and WTF?

So he calls Avista who says they can do whatever they want in our back yard and it will happen this Friday - this is our notice.  I didn't realize that Avista had part ownership of MY property that they can do whatever they want in MY back yard.  The Dad asked the not so nice representative if it was normal practice to just enter the backyard for stuff like this and the response was "yes".  The Dad said - "Well, if my dogs are out there, I'm certainly not going to be responsible for them biting whomever enters my backyard."  To which the online phone representative said "Well, if we felt there was danger, we would THEN knock on the door."  Really?  Good to know.  I see the dogs in the back yard on Friday.

So I'm taking pictures of BOTH sides of MY fence today - that apparently Avista can do whatever they want to it, since they can do whatever they WANT in MY backyard.  And pictures of the steps they are going to jackhammer out and supposedly replace this spring.  (Remember, they were SUPPOSED to replace the pole last spring, according to the scout).  So that tells me the steps will be easily a good year out before they do it.  IF they do it.  

And I will stay home on Friday with my intermittent power for the 2 hour (no WAY it will be less than 6 given the location of the pole) project and keep watchful eye of my property.  

Obviously someone EFFED up somewhere at Avista that these things need to be done in the dead of winter.  Leaving several homes without either power or heat for the better part of a FEW days.  Something just doesn't add up.  

Oh... and Avista... it snowed again last night AND has since melted and your paint markings are no longer there.  Brilliant.  Absolutely brilliant.

Double The Fun - 7/13/13

Two years ago, the folks that organize The Dirty Dash rolled into town and had a muddy race here in August of 2011.  I remember friends doing it and seeing their rinsed out, yet beyond recognizable muddy clothes drying out on their driveway.  Another showed up to a fall scrimmage out at EWU, with dirt still in cracks and crevices and she had mentioned they'd run out of water for people to rinse off...  But oh the fun they had!  I don't remember anyone mentioning obstacles or rope walls, army crawling... but I remember well - how well talked about the event was.

Fast forward to June 2012.  I signed The Dad and I up late so we paid a hefty fee - and we "ran" the muddy race, mostly unprepared that even our hair, eyes (contact wearers) and unmentionable spots would not go un-muddy-touched!  I washed my hair maybe three times that day and it still felt coarse.  The Dad got out of the shower, began drying himself, was surprised by some dirt in the "dry off" phase and hopped back in for another slathering of soap and shampoo.  Note to self:  Remember to make sure hot water isn't run AT ALL the morning of Dirty Dash 2013.

So it's on this year and we have more friends along with Ry, Snoozeanne, family participating this year which will make it that much more of an experience!  Mostly, I've gotten people on board by dangling the well-known fact that at about Mile 2.5, just before the slip n slide...  you get a BEER.  Yes...  a BEER.  Now we sit and wait for the event and while doing that we've been dreaming up and discussing having a fun BBQ that night with our group.  

Lo & behold the mail arrives yesterday with a "Save The Date" for 7/13/13.  The wedding is in these here "parts" so no travel is required, so the Dirty Dash party is no longer under consideration.  After all, this is an "EWU family" members wedding.  Since "The Last Game" there's been a lot of down time.  A LOT of down time for The Dad and I.  Too much down time for The Dad and I. (We watched 66 episodes of "Sons of Anarchy" in less than 2 weeks...  THAT much down time.) I was ready - tailgate-wise for that last game.  Ready to not spend all of Friday night and Saturday morning prepping so much food and details of equipment that needed to be on the trailer each week.  Ready to not spend all of that $$$$.  Ready to go to Texas and not "work" the entire before, during and "after game".  But I know now that the alternative of "the nothingness" is not as much fun.  So "not as much fun" that if I thought I could get all of those boys in to town every week for a meal - I would do it.  But now, on 7/13 - I get to see them all again... 

So honored to be included in this couple's wedding day.  The countdown is on!  Muddy fun and wedding fun - all packed into one perfect day!  

Getting Back On Track

The Dad sent me a text on Friday afternoon asking if I wanted to go out when he got home.  I hadn't been in much of a mood and there really wasn't anything I wanted to do.  I knew though, that the only way to get out of the place I was in at that point - was to make myself get up and go.

I cleaned up the house, myself and when he got home I was dragging again... a bit - but he kenneled up the hounds and started the car.  Off to Famous Eds' we went where we took a spot at one of the tall tables among people we knew and didn't know, ordered ourselves an appetizer and adult beverage and chatted about "stuff".  Not long after we'd ordered, some friends walked in and took up along side us.  The girls got to chatting on one side, the boys on the other.  Soon enough, the boys said they were going to the Ferris basketball game.  We said we'd meet them there after we finished up.  Off they went...  And then the fun began.

It seemed as though anyone we've known through the years walked into Ed's that night.  Conversation, catch up, laughter ensued and soon enough our server asked if we were ready to take care of our tabs.  I laughed - because I was certain that The Dad had paid.  She laughed because she was certain HER husband had paid.  They had not.  So we laughed that off, but told young Riley - we would be back and he better follow our lead on this.  

We hit the game at halftime, I had parked in the bus lane (took a chance, it worked) so we were quick to get out just before the Ferris win.  But just before, The Dad asked Jim "Where to next?" at which point I said "Hey... how much was the tab anyhow?"  The Dads face falls, he looks to Jim and asks how much his tab was and Jim looks to Kim and says "Hey... how much was our tab?"  Kim looks at Jim and says "What?  I didn't pay the tab."  We scolded the boys and said we were going to have to go back to Eds.  They walked out feeling semi proud of themselves for dining and dashing - and also embarrassed that they were going to have to walk in and apologize profusely.

Kim and I rode together - waited until the guys walked in and then made our way from the car.  Hilarity ensued, we pulled it off well.  We ordered a cocktail as the rest of the south hill, Moran Prairie, Ferris parents that we've ever met started pouring into Famous Eds.  When Riley brought our drinks around he told The Dad that the guy in the black shirt with his back to the window got our first round.  Jeff points to Jerry, Riley says "no, over by the window" and The Dad is stumped.  He asks me "Who is that?"  Turns out it's a guy I graduated with from Ferris - who's little brother is who we got Boone from.  Jeff heads over to say thank you while I'm in conversation with the masses and comes back and says "Apparently you bought him a coffee a few weeks ago?"

WOTY:  "I did?"

The Dad:  "That's what he said.  In the Starbucks drive thru?"

WOTY:  "Huh.  Cool."

I exited my spot and went to talk to Troy and his table partners and explained that every Friday, in the Starbucks drive thru - I pay for the drink for the person in the car behind me.  I used to pay attention to the car, the people in it - now I don't look back BUT still have to ask what the person behind me ordered.  I don't care what they are drinking - I just need to make sure they didn't order 4 drinks, an entire loaf of the lemon cake and croissant!  As it were, apparently, Troy was the recipient of this one day and now he was reciprocating, in kind, plus some!  We had a great chat, his pal Kelly asked when I would be heading through the drive thru next week on Friday and off I went back to the table.  

I used to do the "Pay It Backward" in the line on paydays only, but this year, thus far, have done it every Friday.  Over the past couple of years I would say - I have been the recipient of this maybe 3-4 times a year and the feeling it leaves you with is gratitude, appreciation, thankfulness. Usually, when it happens to me, whether it's a Friday or not - I will, in turn, buy the drink for the person behind me then as well.  Someone made my day, why would I stop the cycle?  Then I hope the person behind me will keep it going.

So Friday night, being able to talk to a good friends about the "stuff", coupled with my Friday generosity coming full circle to not only me, but The Dad and our friends, the banter that ensued with the rest of the crew that ended up at our table about all of our boys, what's next, who will get married first and what fun the first wedding will be, closing down Famous Eds - made a not so great week - so much better.   

Here's to Fridays, friends and Famous Eds!

We Are What We Speak.

I am being tested.  Rather, I am currently in the middle of a "testing period" in my life. 

Yesterday I read:  

"People that are the strongest are usually the most sensitive."

I have self advertised myself as one who wears their heart on their sleeve.  I am a self professed "advocate" for the people that won't stand up for themselves and it has gotten me in trouble before.  I am pretty stinkin' sensitive - for the love of God, I cry at Hallmark commercials. Or used to, when they had them.  I am also stronger than many men - in that I tore my achilles twice - one time ripping through my skin - and never felt the pain.  Okay, so the comment isn't actually speaking of actual muscle strength...  But still - I felt no physical pain.  There's strength in that.  Though the "strongest" isn't applying to muscles either.  But then, you gathered that.

I spoke of it on Year 1 blog - and my "test" is forcing me back to it here.  I lied.  Back then.  My family knew me as the one who told lies, big and small.  Period.  I'm not going to drudge it all up.  It's a fact.  It's not who I am now, nor have I been for a long time now. 

It's ironic that as the once upon a time, little liar of the family - that as my life makes it's circle, I have struggled with trust.  I had told enough untruths that there are times I can just *feel* when one is being told to me, which fortunately, anymore, is not often!  When you were the person I was, you see through words, reactions, passion and presentation.  Much like a recovering alcoholic can see in an instant - a person with an addiction issue.  I've misread some of them and that's an awful feeling.

Yes.  Of course I know that everyone tells a little white lie now and then.  Myself not excluded.  The kind that are not meant to hurt peoples feelings...  For example:  

Friend:  "Want to go get a bite to eat tonight?"

You:  "Oh shoot.  Wish I could, but we're out running errands (sitting on the couch) and then God knows what she's got on my list of things to do after that.  Raincheck?"

When really...  "you" have no plans, but just want to be home and watch 7 episodes of "Sons of Anarchy" and do NOTHING that night.  It happens.  

Most people aren't going to push you on that.  Some will try to pressure you into going, but you just can't.  Don't want to.  Whatever.  It's over.  And you know you'll talk to them again another day and nothing will have changed.  In fact, they have "done" this to you more than likely.  But you're "all good" just the same.

Okay, back up.  Lies, in general, are told to protect someone from something hurtful.  Mostly though, they are told to protect the person telling it.  There are lies that aren't so little and once "it's" happened...  it's an "issue".  A year ago - prior to my most recent employment - I would have faced one with boxing gloves on and forced the issue at any cost.  But this last year was a huge test for The Dad, myself, the boys with all of the changes - and at a time when it seems like it all should be slowing down and there's nothing to really worry about anymore, up something pops.   

Not that any lie, expected or not, is welcomed.  Well, maybe for some who can't bare to hear the truth - those folks would rather stare a blatant lie in the face and shake on it afterwards...  More power to them, and a sad ending sometime later.  

I caused a lot of pain in my youth, young adulthood, family and for that I am sorry.  I was taking care of number one.  Or so I thought.  But it caused damage.  I will not take full responsibility for how things sit with my family though, we each have our own faults. Most of mine were advertised before I ever wrote them here.  I'm long past this part of my path - me lying, that is.  I have opinions that are just that.  I am still passionate about things I love and believe in and if put in the position to answer something with a truthful answer, that may hurt the one asking, I will do it.  Many, now of days, find fault with that - which is one of the many many things wrong in todays world.  "We" aren't strong enough to hear the truth.  "We" aren't strong enough to tell the truth.  "We" aren't bold enough to live the truth.

I have no epiphany or thoughts that writing this will help me right now, but I've spent too much time staring at my screen for two days - feeling a failure that I have lost my words.  I left my job to find "me" again - the funny, quick witted me that I lost over the past year (really the past 6 months) - only to end up in this spot.  

An unexpected untruth has me down in the dumps.  Finding it hard to let it "bounce".  Who I am inside won't let it bounce.  Who I am inside can't let it bounce.  Who I am inside should not let it bounce.  Because at this point in my life, I know the difference between what is right and what is wrong.  

There's a part of me that thinks I earned this from my distant past.  Okay.  I'll bite.  Deservedly so.  I don't put much stock in "forgive and forget".  I am getting better at the "forgive" part, but forget - well, we all know that's just NOT in a woman's vocabulary. 

But for now - for now...  I'm going to try to fill the ball with the small hole in it, up with air, so it can bounce.  If just enough to get down the court...

In A Funk.

It's not usually difficult for me to find words to put here.  Something usually happens to "help" me find the topic to address in this little social media world most days.  In fact, even on the days I haven't written - I usually say out loud at least three times "That's what I'll write about."  

I was up at 5 this morning.  Couldn't sleep.  I put a new app on my phone - a fitness "buddy" app.  I played around with it until my phone alerted me, in bed, that my power was down to 20%.  I placed the phone back on the nightstand and waited for The Dad to start his morning moves and noises... which actually don't start before Boone's "time to eat" circus.

Eventually that all happened and I was up earlier than I have been as of late - and off to the club earlier than the new "usual."  I had a list of things I wanted to attack today and was fired up to get to them when I got home from the gym.  I applied myself and got a few done and then the time just vanished into thin air.  The Dad was home for lunch, I had just gotten cleaned up after cleaning the bathroom, folding laundry and mostly - staring blindly at my blank screen trying to think of anything that I could write here today.  

It's actually not that I don't have something I could write about.  It's that what I could write about - I can't write about.  Yeh... I know.  Right?  

I take that back.  There's some more insignificant topics I could write about:  We finished "Sons of Anarchy".  I'd actually read an article prior to starting the series so I was expecting what happened - so I mostly don't care.  I was looking at a bike ride website the other day, airlines and airfares for the Cabo trip for The Dad, Blue Eyes, Suze and myself - created my 2013 files, am making an appetizer for the game tonight that we're going to watch with friends - but I've, for the immediate time being, lost the desire.  It's gone and I'm impartial to all of it right now.  

This too, shall pass.

I 'funking' hope so.  Best if I just put my energy into Cabo planning.  I'll try to put that hat back on tomorrow and see where it gets me.

Old Dog? Wash Your Mouth Out, Doc!

On Saturday morning, January 12, Dan The Dog woke me up semi-whimpering on my bed at 3:30 in the morning.  I put my hand on him and he was shivering... so I did what any great "dog mom" does and went and got the flannel blanket my mom made for my bed and put him on top of it and took the other half and wrapped him up like I did my human boys when they were itty bitty (okay not so itty bitty) baby boys.  His shivering subsided and he slept sound the rest of the night. 

When Boone's chow-time clock struck, Dan The Dog wasn't hopping off the bed in eager anticipation of kibbles n bits.  Instead he walked back and forth - and it became apparent that he didn't want to jump down.  Hmmmm.

He hadn't lost his appetite - but he hung his head lower and was not excited about taking any stairs.  We stayed home, watched football and didn't do much at all while taking care of our "sick kid".  We got to Sunday and he was no better.  Of course I did what The Dad tells me I shouldn't do and I start looking on the internet trying to figure out what was wrong with Dan.  And then I saw it and it all made sense:  Poisoning.  Organs shut down...

We left a few minutes later for the Pet Emergency Clinic.  You see... Dan and his brothers, (this had escaped me for a day and a half) - had gotten creative on Friday when I went to the gym - and managed to get an entire 1 pound bag of peanut M & M's AND a dozen M&M cookies I had made the night before to send off to Z-Man in Seattle.  They ate them all up.  Crafty four legged friends.  I really must invest in indoor cameras to catch them when we're out and about.  

Now these guys have eaten bucket loads of chocolate before.  For instance, the year Blue Eyes left his ginormous Easter basket full of chocolate eggs, M&M's, reeses peanut butter eggs, jelly bellies, cadbury eggs...  on his bed.  And then left his bedroom door open.  

Uh huh.  Jack managed to OPEN the plastic eggs and eat everything in the basket.  Jack has become a MASTER at picking off the foil wrapping as well.  It's really something to behold.  These dogs that practically wet themselves to eat dry dog food every morning and night, will take all the time in the world to get chocolatey, peanut buttery goodness out of pink, blue and green foil wrapping.  We watched Jack closely after that encounter and realized that chocolate was NOT poison - at least to Jack.

But that was years ago and I was fairly certain that while they all took in the "Peanut M&M's Counter Snatching Affair", Dan seemed to be the most morose in behavior when I arrived home.  So it struck me when I saw "poisoned" on my iPhone and off we went.

He let the very nice vet man poke and prod him... though he did give the assistant a nice, tough growl when she took his temperature in that... one place.   Dan was tentative, but it was apparent that his adrenaline had kicked up a notch and he wasn't as near meek as he'd been at home.  And then the vet said something that just has never been in my mind - ever.  Especially with Dan.

He said:  "...for an older dog, he seems ok.  Without being able to see how he was, I just don't know what to do for him.  But like I said, he's an old dog, could be..."

Ummm... "old dog?"  No.  Bite your tongue doc.  Cos if DAN is old then Jack is... older.  I'm just not prepared for that sh*t.  My dogs have to live forever.  Right?

An anti inflammatory was prescribed, they gave him a good shot/dose of one and Dan is pretty close to back to normal.  That being said - I can tell Dan isn't exactly the Dan he was before his "injury" or illness.  <gulp> and that makes my heart sink and my stomach feel hollow.  

Jack is our oldest dog - at 12, Dan 10.  And oh lord... Boone is only 4.  Forever and a day I've said that Jack and Dan got younger when we brought Boone home.  Not that they were old at 8 & 6, but they had mellowed much.  Boone made them have to buck up and learn to run and be active again (for the sake of their own sanity).  But Dan "hangs" better with Boone.  He's such a stout, muscle-y, fast - competitive dog (huh... sounds like my human sons) and he wasn't going to let some little pup (now 4 inches taller than him and outweighs him) (huh... again... sounds like the other boys), be stronger, faster, more energetic...  

Even 10 though, I never EVER think of Dan as an old dog.  Or an "older" dog.  He's 10.  I refuse to think of my two older dogs as "old".  Their faces are graying, but their bark when there's a knock at the door, their quick "get up" when they hear the word "eat" or "treat" or "snack"...  them following me up and down the yard during "mowing season", the pool time that Dan is so so fond of.  My dogs are NOT old.

So I'm writing this post.  Why?  To talk myself out of the fact I'm all too soon going to have to realize -  Jack & Dan are getting older.  It may be 7 years, or 5, 3 or 1.  Whatever it is I'm not ever going to be ready for it. Not after "losing" a third baby boy to college and the life that comes after that.  

I'm going to go work on my Harry Potter spells now.  I need to work on the spell that prolongs life.  If there is one, The Wizard (aka #7) will be able to tell me what it is.  In the meantime...

I love you Dan The Dog.

4 Down, 1 To Go.

A year and a half ago - we were well buried in television shows we HAD to watch.

Modern Family

Desperate Housewives

Greys Anatomy

Private Practice

The Office

American Idol (though I didn't watch that one so much last year)

The Voice

Then we heard we HAD to give "Dexter" a try and roughly the same time we were told that "Homeland" is a must see.  We started "Dexter" and watched 5 seasons in mere weeks so that we could start up Season 6 on time, with the rest of the world.  We tried, so very hard, to watch Homeland - and it's not that it wasn't good, or gripping - it's that we had too many damn shows to watch AND football season upon us for #7, and at the time, #6 (Z-Man).

So "Homeland" went by the wayside.

"Dexter" is over until September, we catch "The Office" every once in a while, but mostly - not, "American Idol" I'll watch if there is absolutely NOTHING else on.  "The Voice" is over, we are caught up on "Modern Family".  We have an episode each of "Private Practice" & "Greys" to watch but before we can do that - we have to watch the last season of "Sons of Anarchy".

After countless minds and mouths have encouraged, talked it up, tweeted about it, implored us to watch - we fired up the online Netflix on the TV and started season 1 about 10 days ago.  Today we finished the 4th season on Netflix.  We then assumed (my mother always said "Never assume anything.") that we could watch the most recent season on On Demand - much like how we watched every... single... "Dex" episode - but noooooooo.  

Not there.  So The Dad did what had to be done.  He immediately got online to see how or when Netflix would have it and when that was of no help to our cause - he found he could buy it on iTunes for $32.  So then this happened:

WOTY:  "So, if you buy it on iTunes.  How do we watch it on our TV?"

The Dad:  "Well.  In the "olden" days, we would watch it through our Apple TV.  But seeing as we gave that to Z-Man to use at 4503 NE 17th Ave - that's not possible."

WOTY:  "Soooo... what shall we do?"

The Dad:  "We see how late the Apple store is open."

WOTY:  "On it....  <using iPhone5...  6pm>

The Dad:  "If it's 6, I'm gone in an instant."

WOTY:  "It's 6."

The Dad:  <poof!>

This is what empty nest is.  It's about spending $$ on something we already used to own, that we can live without, so that we can finish the 5th season of "Sons" - in the next 2.5 days.  This is not responsible spending.  But it's a dire need.  You understand - right?  I mean, Jax needs me to be there for him, backing him and Tara and volunteering to babysit Abel and Thomas if need be.  

I was thinking this morning while working out at GOLDS GYM - that Spokane needs a "Sons" club.  No gun running or porn crap - but a sweet hangout, some cool biker guys, sweet leather vests, tattoos (even if they are the lickem' stickem' kind for the faint at heart)... 

Who's with me?!?!?!

hubba hubba

Uh... Wow. No... DOUBLE WOW.

NOT to be confused with the SHAM-WOW!  Which The Dad has wanted to buy any time he's seen it advertised on TV.  <sigh>

Here it is.  I went to Oz today to work out.  I told myself to look at the club without my negativity regarding the old machines and take in the people, the faces we've seen there for over 12 years, the improvements that were made 5 years ago...  and come home and see if I felt different than I have for a while now.

I wasn't able to use the machine I wanted to use and the TV in front of me was not on - and while I could have gone and asked for a remote to turn it on, I just wanted to get my day going.

I got home and showered post haste.  I made my mind up while on the machines today that I WAS going to go to the competitor behind Oz - TO. DAY.  Today was the day.  I cleaned up, played a few games of cribbage with The Wizard through our iphones and left to get it going.  

To be honest, I was a skoche nervous walking into the "other" club.  But when I did... I noticed every single treadmill with it's own TV on it.  I noticed the elliptical machines with ipod chargers built into all of them.  I noticed space and light and NO leaking ceiling spots.  I was given a tour, shown the class schedule and equipment and honestly, there was NO question.  No hesitation in telling them that I was "trading" clubs and not only that, so was my husband.

Ooooohhhhh.....   <cringe>.  Yep.  Did it.  It is $19.00 per month for me and $15 for The Dad.  That... if you need help with the math is $34.  Thirty-four dollars. We are currently paying $50.24 per month at Oz.  (Oh and I remembered what it was after STA-Fit.  It was 24 Hour Fitness).  So I figured that - if I cancelled ME off of the Oz membership that with the new $34 - that The Dad alone would have to be something like $25 or $27, right?  So his Oz (racquetball) membership with OUR, Golds' membership would put us near to what we are already paying.  Right?!?!?  One would think.

So I got our new membership cards, paid the (pause... watching 5 deer walk through my front yard right now.  Please hold.  Aweeee... babies.)  Okay.  Where was I?  Right.  Got the new membership cards, had my picture taken and away I went!  Off to GNC to get Blue Eyes some Muscle Milk, replenish my Black Cohosh that HASN'T been working as of late and then to Rosauers for healthy stuff.  On the way home I stopped at Oz and said I needed to cancel my part of the membership to young Brad who was happy to help me.  He saw I was wearing my EWU fleece, asked if I GO there (sweet boy) and then told me if I was the original account holder The Dad's membership would also be cancelled.  I told him we'd been members so long that I didn't remember - and as luck would have it - we've been members so long that we shared some *key* identification number that allowed him to cancel me and leave The Dads membership in tact.  

Remember - we pay $50+ a month.  It used to be $106, then $89, then $63... but one by one, we've taken the boys off.  He asks me "So why are you deciding to leave us?  Sick of working out? Doing something else?" I answered young Brad.  "To be honest, I'm tired of seeing "Out of Order" signs on the machines when I come in."  He says:  "Well... THAT was honest."  

What did he expect me to say?  Yes, I'm currently going to be working on my "Get Fat Fast" scheme?  

Anyhow - I ask him what Jeff's monthly cost will be for his continued membership.  Wanna guess?  Not $25.  Not $27.  Not $32.95 or even $34.95.  No...  his monthly dues will be $16.87.  

Sixteen.  Eighty-seven....  SIXTEEN... So there's a part of me wondering how it is MY part of that or one of our part of this membership is/was $33+.  The difference at Golds is $4 between account holder and additional members.  The difference at Oz Fitness is $33?  

Yes - they have a pool - WE DON'T USE.  Yes - they have a gym - WE DON'T USE.  Yes - they have racquetball courts...  which The Dad uses on Saturdays only.  So...  Did we come out on top?  AB-SO-FRICKIN-LUTELY!

Uh, if you're moving to The Can and looking for a fitness club on the south hill - Go Golds! No question.  

Time For Change... Another Change That Is

On August 7, 2001 we were enjoying friends and fun playing pickleball and drinking lemonade and vodka with friends.  The kids (and there were many of them) were all running around the Stocktons abode & we had given very clear instructions to stay away from the court as the adults were all playing.

Jerry and I were paired up and doing a pretty good job when I went to hit the ball and someone freaking RAMMED into the back of me and I fell forward.  As I turned to give the boys (assumed it was one of mine) a verbal  lashing - I saw no one there. <?>  Huh? Not a child to be found.  I started to get up, my partner coming to my aid as I was stupefied by the empty space behind me and the incredibly loud noise when I got "hit".  And no... it wasn't the alcohol.

Well - many know the story.  That loud "whack" I heard was my Achilles tendon just shredding completely apart.  Nothing that a few tylenol and vodka lemonades didn't help keep at bay as my dear spouse, The Dad, asked "Can I just finish this game?" when something inside of me said out loud "Uhhh... I think we need to go."  He assumed I meant 'home' but I really meant the emergency room.  We did neither and the guys - all four of them - assumed I just twisted the crap out of my ankle.  I still remember Rick carrying me to the car.  Not sure why The Dad didn't.  Hmmmm....

Surgery.  Cast.  Crutches for 6 weeks.  Walking boot for 6 weeks.  Therapy... 2 sessions and finally a normal shoe on my foot... November 7, 2001 - while walking across the bus lane at Moran Prairie, a child steps on the backside of my foot and I feel a pop.  I stopped temporarily - dead in the middle of the walkway when the man with the child says to me "Uh... you're bleeding."  I look down at my ankle, my wonderful new shoe I had been dying to wear for months and hopped over to the little wall in front of the school to sit.  I yelled for Matt Handelmen, then principal and asked him to go call The Dad.  Fortunately, Lisa K was walking out of the building (her husbands partner repaired my achilles in August) and asked what she could do...  Mike and Pat were in surgeries this particular day, but advised her to have The Dad get me down there for an exploratory look, see what happened.  Of course by this time, the wonderful Linda Robb had called 911 and I was now, while waiting for The Dad, flanked with adorable firemen all around me.  They asked, as Jeff piled me into the car, if they could help me with anything else.  I told them all "Yes.  It's November and it's looking like I'm going to be Christmas shopping on crutches in the snow.  So you are all welcome to help me with that."  <sigh>

Eight weeks in a new cast.  Eight weeks in another classy grey walking boot.  6-8 weeks of physical therapy.  While at P.T. my therapists advised that I could ride a stationary bike to help rehab and stretch the injury/wound.  So it was January 2002 when we joined Stay Fit/Oz Fitness (though it wasn't "Stay Fit" and not yet Oz... it was something in between) so I could ride the bikes.  

That was 12 years ago.  During the years the club, which was dated and needed some TLC came under new ownership who, in fact, did an addition and major overhaul to the pool, racquetball courts, added a spinning room and a new gym.  Oh... and an upstairs aeorbics/class room.  What they didn't do when they did this beautiful remodel, was add new machines.  The same bikes I rode in 2001 and were there when I WORKED there when #7 was just a wee babe - are still there.  There are about 6 treadmills that have been there since the clubs inception to be sure and 6 or 7 that have been in the club for at least 10 years.  Those are the "new" ones.  I'll bet they are older than that.  The precore machines are likely the newest of the machines and the three machines that are "like" the precore equipment are a few years old.  But here's my beef...

Each and every day I walk into that club there are numerous machines with "Out of Order" or "Maintenance Required" kinds of signs taped on them.  Today, of the three machines I like to use - only one was in working order.  One of them has had the face plate missing and unconnected for over a week now and the one next to it, today, had a taped "note" on it.  

We were talking about the poor conditions of the equipment the other night and I had an idea to take in a stash of post it notes with "When will this be working?" written on them and go to ALL of the machines that are not in working order and stick in on them.  Send a message.  What businessman - knowing that January 1st and an inundation of New Years Resolution - type folks would  be plowing through the doors, doesn't take the time, invest the money and get the club up to tip top form?

The Dad HAS to remain with OZ Fitness If You Can because of his love of the racquetball courts and his weekly escapade there - but me...  I know there are a few places here on the hill that actually have machines that are less than 5, heck 3 years old.  Multiple machines.  And perhaps, a desire to put forth the work and effort to make sure the people paying your salary through monthly fees - can actually use the machine they want to without having to wait turns.  

Fed up.  Time for a change.  

Doesn't hurt that it's a "reunion year" either.  And you know what that means to us guys n gals!

Oh The Choices!

So The Dad says to me the other day he "saw" that Bon Jovi is playing at the MGM in "April or May" and that he looked into ticket prices.  My heart immediately skipped a beat because though I love, love love love - Darius Rucker both as Darius Rucker the country artist, golfer, fantasy football player extraordinaire and as part of Hootie & The Blowfish - and have yet to see a bad performance by the guy, my one and only time seeing JBJ, at the MGM in March of '09 goes down as simply one of THE best concerts ever witnessed by anyone - of all time.  

Well...  I mean.  You know.  But it was.

The guys, nearing or just at 50 - rocked that crowd.  It was a concert of historical proportions.  The Dad and I didn't eat before leaving our hotel to meet up with my sister-wife on the North Side, the lovely Robin Fiorillo - but also my crass, sarcastic, foul mouthed (not that Robin isn't these lovely attributes too) pal - Pat, so that made for an interesting night fo' sho'... and it poured rain so walking back to our hotel (across the street - which if you've WALKED the strip, you know across the street is near a mile!).

I think of him (Pat) often... almost as often as I think about Whitney.  Houston, that is.  And I know he'd be thrilled to know I lump them into the same area of my brain.  And I think of him now - after I've just previewed the concert lineups in Vegas and sent the following text to a random group of names in  my phone:

Oh me oh my... Looking at upcoming concerts

in Vegas.  Maroon 5 is playing March 16 which,

the weather will be nice, we will be just shy

of "50 days until Cabo 2013" (ish), but then I keep

looking and I see DEF LEPPARD playing down there

several dates in March - so then I'm like "holy moley"...

But I keep going down the list and I see

BON FRICKIN JOVI on April 20th at MGM

which was out and out one of my 

favorite concerts EVER (sorry Darius).  I wouldn't

mind seeing The Bieb on June 28th but that's

Hoopfest and I will never miss Hoopfest.  So... if

YOU were going to sunny, warm, get the heck

away from gray, cold, Snowkane - which concert

would you pick?

So far - I've gotten 1 vote for Maroon 5 and 1 for Def Leppard.  Ohhhhh Adam Levine is super duper hard to pass up.  This is a bit like torture.  I wonder if there's a way to do both?  Hmmmm.  I know what Pat would say.  Robin too, for that matter...  but I'm struggling here.

Who would you pick?

Be What You Want To Be.

"If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do"

Free At Last!

You'd have thought then after packing up my personal belongings, turning out the lights and closing the door to the office behind me - would have had me dying to get home, put on my party boots, refresh my lip gloss and tell The Dad it was time to hit the town.

True, this Friday, January 11th was supposed to have been my last day - originally (from this last, final time giving notice).  But after a week of my superior not speaking to me (because I gave notice) and then plain not telling me - but informing the other assistants she would be out on Dec 31st... to sending an all company email to say who was hired for my position (AFTER telling the other assistants who it was AND allowing my new replacement, who works for the company, the opportunity to let her department know what was what) well, let's just say - I was done with the neurotic, selfish, manipulative, bitchy bitchy  ways of a lonely 48 year old person.  I can't call her a woman so much (most of you know why) or a lady... because she's just... not.  that.  No kids.  Divorced her husband after he went or while he was going through a botched roofing job, among other things...  Ironically I told the big people there that they would have to find a warm body (which is what everyone there says she wants in her assistant with zero self esteem or ability to stand up for themselves.)  The week after I gave notice - so did two others.   But the 3 pm email last Friday sealed the deal and I went to her boss to let him know that "today will be my last day".  I covered my bases - made sure H.R. had an email from him approving said move and turned in keys with emails to everyone that should have knowledge of whom those keys were with, cleaned up my files for whomever took over my computer, filled the "new-old" person in on where I was with everything and how some processes are done differently than when she previously held this position and wrapped up everything by 5:30 - 5:45.  The Dad was anxiously waiting for me - but I just couldn't leave things in disarray.  

When I got home The Dad was dressed in his "Lets go out" best jeans and black shirt.  But I was still processing wtf just happened and how some people just have zero coping skills.  I was blown away.  But not so blown away that we didn't get in touch with our friends to see if they were interested in meeting for an adult beverage at Famous Eds.  Good times ensued and I woke up, not really feeling like I could get a workout in.  

The weekend took us to see "Les Miserables", cleaning out the garage and I began the task of organizing a chaotic laundry room.  Monday had me finishing the laundry room, going through the  upstairs bathroom cupboard and cleaning out old old old... sheets, bed skirts, shower curtains, dog medicine bottles from 2009...  I made a not-so-quick OR inexpensive trip to Hallmark to buy a plethora of birthday cards to send this year.  Tuesday I put away more Christmas/holiday decorations (I really didn't think I put that many out this year), vacuumed out the kennels, washed every blanket in every closet - including old baby blankets - awweeeee, washed the dog bed covers, cleaned out the "other" holiday decoration closet (The Dad gets to pull out the ancient computer towers, yes multiple - because I am quite certain there are life size wolf spiders in those closets).  Today I will move all of the 2012 files out of my desk - my grandfathers amazing desk - and ready all of the 2013 files for "the drawer" and then continue adding to the "craigslist" and "garage sale" piles I have started down there.  

The Dad would prefer I take 6 months off before looking for another job - but my undiagnosed ADHD coupled with not having 180 closets I could clean - aren't likely to keep me "entertained" for long.  Then again - there's a Cabo trip to plan, a Vegas trip to plan, a few Vancouver trips to work on, Dirty Dash and Color Me RAD to sign up for. 

2012 grew me up a bit in keeping me in a less than healthy working environment for me while The Dad was looking for work.  We look back now and realize that my working, coupled with his severance from that place that is no more... allowed him the opportunity to not just jump at the first job offer.  He landed at Providence as a Project Manager and while apprehensive to leave job offer #3 where he is currently consulting through the end of January on top of the new job - has landed on his feet, loves being a hop, skip and jump from home at lunch time, gets to dress casually, and we are slowly getting back to normal after the past 6 months of "she who must not be named" hell.  My back magically began to feel better, my sense of humor is returning along with my quick wit.  Oh... how I've missed me.  

So 2013 is about getting back to me.  Whatever that means.  I just know it's not healthy for anyone to compromise themselves for mediocrity, or worse.  I'm glad I did.  I believe there is a reason I did.  I'm glad we survived it.  I'm so thankful I had tailgates to keep me partially occupied.  

There is one thing I haven't outgrown yet though in my three days of freedom.  I worked out the past three days.  I cleaned the past three days.  I cooked the past three days.  Ran errands the past three days.  But I'm having a hard time breaking the "It's 5:30, I'm home, we're not doing anything so... I'm putting on my pajama pants now" ritual.  Baby steps.  Absolutely.  Baby steps.

Oh, and blog world, Wayne, others... I'm BACK!

Brag Alert! Brag Alert!

I get to do this... I'm "The Mom" and while #7 would rather no one make a fuss about such things, this may well be the last "GoEags" posting that includes him.  

Jeff Minnerly Receives Another National Academic Award

Proud to call this young man my son.