How I have been fiending for this three day weekend. Last Monday, I woke up and even though I knew there was a full 5 days of soul-sucking crap in store for me, I was still full of the bluebird of happiness. And by Friday, I was jumping out of my skin.
Here it is! I’m in the midst of three day weekend!
We tried to go to a cherry festival yesterday, but it turns out that it was really just a band playing in the parking lot of a strip mall in Sunnyvale outside of a little produce market store. They were at least selling cherries, but for about $10 a pound. So we crossed the parking lot and went into Borders, bought some books and had lunch at Chipotle. Suh-weet.
I did my second Day 3 of Week 3 in the Couch to 5K “run” today. Actually, I did it twice. I think I was running pretty darned slowly, but whatevs. This week’s task was 90 seconds on, 90 seconds off, 3 minutes on, 3 minutes off, two times. So all told, I did 4 x 3 minutes of running and 5 x 90 seconds running.
And then, The David and I went to Redwood Regional Park to do a little exploring. I’d been saying for a while that I wanted to get to know our parks better, so we went out without quite knowingwhat we were doing, and ended up doing a 2 and 1/2 hour loop with a bitching amount of uphill huffing. It was really pretty and the birds were very chirpy and I think it was all very good. But man, it kicked my ass. God help me tomorrow when I try to get back on the treadmill for Day 1 of Week 4.
And oh yes, tomorrow. Sweet, sweet tomorrow. Another day without the horribleness. Another day of sleeping until I feel like waking up! Another day of so much time with my sweet boy. Another day of sunshiney goodness and infinite possibility.
I love this poster of bracket-mustaches in different typefaces.
In a fit of annoyance about my non-budging scale this morning, I made a psychotic splurge on Anthropologie. Splurge doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s too shameful to even admit to, so I shall just close my eyes and pretend it never happened.
Look for a totally stupid non-budging balance on my credit cards next month. Sigh.
Scowl am I today.
I got on the scale and the number it decided to tell me was the exactly same one as the number a week ago. And I am bitter, as I was certain that it would be something ever so slightly nicer and that I would be pleased and encouraged and that it would be a secret good feeling that I’d get to carry around.
It wasn’t a perfect week, but it seemed like it coulda been a pretty good one. I did four of my Couch to 5K runs. My work day eating was pretty darned close to perfect. There were some transgressions over the weekend time, but still… I was convinced that it would balance out in my favor.
Granted, I don’t actually count calories properly, so some of what I’m doing is just guessing. I know that I’ve been eating 200 calories worth of cereal and milk in the morning, but I also put a few walnuts and blueberries on that. A serving of walnuts could have another 200 calories, but I’m definitely have a lot less than that. But is it a quarter of a serving? A tenth? Shrug. I dunno. And I guess I’m just not at a point of caring that much.
So this week I’m still going to eat my walnuts and not worry about them, but how about I don’t eat 2 hamburgers in one go while tailgating? How bout that Margaret? Scoff.
I really should look in the mirror.
Wearing a camisole underneath my fairly thin shirt should have been sufficient opacity to cover my whimsical! turquoise polka dotted bra. Or so one might believe. And then be wrong about.
So today, I get to be that weird girl whose underwear is showing. I really hope this goes on my next performance review because “Needs to wear opaque clothing in the workplace” is really the boost I’ve been looking for.
I stopped having the cough that never dies.
I bought a combination lock.
I have a whole bunch of weeknights with nothing to do but make dinner and sit on the couch.
Other than my general sense of suck, I’ve got no excuses left.
It’s time to go back to the gym. Cue: howling, weeping, other sounds of woe.
I’m going to try the Couch to 5k Running Plan, which outlines 9 weeks of progressively more difficult 25 to 30 minute “runs.” The first week is 60 seconds on and 90 seconds off. I did it last night. And sadly, it was not easy.
Oh the shame.
Can I still look at myself in the mirror after experience burning in my shins because I ran at 5 mph pace for ONE MINUTE?
Ok, yes. I can still look at myself in the mirror. Because that’s not actually related to being horribly out of shape. Also, the shirt I’m wearing today, albeit somewhat too small across my ginormous bosom, exactly matches the color of my eyes and I’m being a little mesmerized by my own reflection.
Point is, though, that I’m sad I’ve fallen so far off the wagon. Like, I fell off the wagon, then rolled down the hill until settling firmly at the outskirts of Sloth City, where they’ve never even heard of wagons, because everyone there is too fat to actually fit in one.
I was reading the latest Good Magazine about neighborhoods and their value to us as happy humans. There were articles about about what makes a neighborhood desirable, and what characteristics were unique to specific places. It gave some suggestions about how to make your own neighborhood more neighborhoody, and I decided that I am going to say “hello” to anyone I pass when I’m walking down my street. It’s just a 3 block long residential stretch. I’m too much of a nerd to try it down the commercial bits; there are way too many people there.
But I will say hello.
I’ve been here for 5 years now. I’m not a native, but it’s long enough that I belong. And long enough that I’m not still pretending that I should be moving back to San Francisco at any moment. These are the neighbors that I get. In a *good* world, these should be my people, and not the strangers that I ignore, eyes averted. But it’s Oakland. People are transient. No one stays for long and there are no roots. Except the roots that we make, and the way of it is, that you have to choose — to actively burrow, and dig, and nurture, and reach to make these roots.
Maybe you are my neighbor and you will wave when you drive by.
Maybe you will give me a hand if I drop my bag of groceries.
Maybe you are my neighbor and we will never cross paths again.
Maybe you will think it’s weird.
But you are my neighbor and I will say hello.