To sleep, perchance to dream... maybe not

I really wish I had a more cooperative subconscious. I've had house buying on my mind for so long that I've taken to dreaming about houses.



You'd think, given the myriad wonderful places out there, I'd dream about looking at beautiful palaces.

Instead, my dreams have me going to look at houses that look this:
Deputy Dog put up a post on his strange and wonderful blog about fancy dog houses . I found myself looking to see if any had a "for sale" sign in front of them. I mean, I'm sure some of the houses I've looked at are about the same size. Not nearly as nice though.

What, do I sound cranky? I woke up at 1 this morning and haven't been able to get back to sleep since. Damn right I'm cranky. Or at least ornery.

___________________________________________________

Ran 1 minute jog/1 minute walk, 12 times.
Note: average heart rate definitely lower than two weeks ago when I ran 1 minute, walked 2 minutes 11 times. Either I'm learning to pace myself, or my stamina is improving.

This is migraine, not yours

Headache bad
Mary sad
Writing a blog is no Iliad
Better ideas are not to be had

What, you got a problem with bad poetry?
Think you can do better?
Go ahead.

Try.

I dare you.

I should probably try to write a more interesting post, but my synapses have all got tenure, i.e. none of them seem to be capable of being fired.

Migraine photo courtesy of flickr.
Migraine itself courtesy of multifarious biochemical processes.

The power of guilt

The power of guilt is amazing.

Yesterday I dithered about cycling in to work until it was too late, and I had to drive. (The inner slug was quite pleased with itself.) Today I overslept and missed out on a chance to run in the a.m. So things were looking quite desperate. I had to run at night. In the rain. With a headache threatening to turn Nasty.

One of the edicts of exercise is that some exercise is better than none. I did 20 minutes jog/walk (2 repetitions 2/2, then 1/1 the rest of the session). In the rain. And the dark. Somewhere in the background a scratchy violin begins playing a mournful tune five miles uphill through the snow...

The headache isn't any better, but it isn't any worse either. And I got me a gold star to post on the blog. Could be worse.

Rain photo courtesy of flickr.

Inner Slug: 1 Mary: 0

Interesting how looking at an exercise session from the Before side, it always seems much longer and more onerous than it really is.

When looking at an exercise session in hindsight, I always wonder “Why was I putting this off? It wasn’t that hard.”

Worrisome how I have to keep repeating the same lessons in Life. I already know this, damn it. The hardest part about riding my bicycle to work is Getting On The Bike. Once I’m going, it’s much easier.

So why am I sitting here procrastinating about cycling to work? Again?

Me & Julius Ceasar

Veni, vidi, hmmn... I could keep going, actually.
- Julius Ceasar, upon completing his first lap around the three parts of Gaul.*

It wasn't that bad.

In fact, it could have been worse.

I'm not saying I like this running stuff, but this morning's run was not a Gauling experience. Shortened the amount of walking, increased the frequency of jogging, and survived okay.

Thankfully, after throwing a nasty wind storm tantrum yesterday, Mother Nature decided to make up for it with a calm, clear dawn. Freezing cold, but at least no trees were throwing any branches around.

After the warmup, jogged and walked 1 minute each for 24 minutes. (Tried 2/2 a couple of times, but didn't like it. Still an improvement on last week's 1/2 jog/walk ratio.) Thanks to Theresa for the lovely gold star!

*From Mary's Book of Curious, Spurious Quotations, CB Press, publication date uncertain. Quotation not verified by any sober and/or reputable historians.

A promissory quote

People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstance. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and if they can't find them, make them. - George Bernard Shaw

In other words, I will run tomorrow. I was thrown off by the wind storm -- I object to running, in the dark and in a high wind, on a jogging trail that has 60-foot trees and always ends up littered with trip-happy branches.Tomorrow, if it's stormy, I will damn well do the pre-dawn run in the apartment complex's gym. There. I've put it in writing.

Eight is enough

Yikes! I've been tagged. Silently tagged. Didn't feel a thing. (Note to self-- be more observant.) Nunhead mum of one, who writes cool (in the Californian sense of the word, not in the way that a meteorologist or Nancy Mitford would use it) little vignettes of life in her neighborhood on Nunhead Ramblings, challenged me to write a series of 8 things.



Seems to me that the best way to tackle lists of these sort is to go at them without stopping to think, to write the first thing that comes to mind. Otherwise you start writing with a view to your audience, trying to impress them. I figure you'd see through that, so you're getting the stream of consciousness version here.


8 things I'm passionate about:

1. Cruelty toward children or animals or anyone innocent or defenseless. (Hmmmn. 'Passionate' here means in the sense of passionately against. Suppose I should probably write a list of things I'm passionately in favor of.)
2. Surrounding myself with a beautiful garden, all green and growing things (hard to do in wintertime).
3. Coming home on a dark and rainy night, lighting a fire to drive back the darkness, filling the house with candles and incense and putting some magnificent music on the stereo.
4. Showing something new to a child, presenting them with a game they've never tried to play, an idea they've never thought about before, and watching their eyes grow wide with wonder (especially fun at Christmas).
5. Stopping each day to think of three things that I should be grateful for.
6. Getting out of the house to walk, or run, or bicycle, anything that will get me out of myself and looking at the world. (Looking at life should be like looking at a window, not a mirror.)
7. My family (oh, I bet everyone says this one).
8. My friends (but that's because it's true).

8 things to do before I die:

1. Become thin-and-fit.
2. Buy a house.
3. Write something that isn't a technical manual.
4. Cycle a century.
5. Run a 5k.
6. Learn to sew without cussing.
7. Become able to speak in public without turning bright red (not a good color on me).
8. Become an organized, confident person.


8 things I say often:

1. Dagnabbit
2. Sheesh
3. Oi vey Maria!
4. Yikes
5. Actually, I like to think
6. that I don't
7. repeat myself
8. all that often


8 books I've read recently:

1. House hunting for dummies
2. House buying for single women
3. An exhaltation of larks
4. Making money
5. Cary Grant: a biography
6. Buying a home when you're single
7. Introduction to Darwin Information Typing Architecture
8. Beginning Runner's Handbook

8 songs I could listen to over and over:

1. Fantasie Impromptu, Op. 51, by Chopin
2. Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini, by Rachmaninov
3. Suite for solo cello No. 1, by Bach
Oh wait. Does 'songs' mean something to sing along with? I can't sing! Oh here goes:
4. Hang on little tomato, Pink Martini
5. Days like this, Van Morrison
6. Fall on me, REM
7. Javano, Javanke, by the Baksheesh Boys
8. Don't be shy, by Cat Stevens



8 qualities I look for in a best friend:

1. Honesty
2. More honesty
3. Humor
4. Loyalty
5. An open mind
6. Intelligence
7. Patience
8. Ability to finish lists. The 8th one is always the hardest, for some reason.

Sign up here for the Fitness Protection program!

I thought it was a joke. Silly Mary.

When I first read about this on 15 minute lunch, I didn't take it seriously. But Back in skinny jeans pointed me to an article in the NY Times that gave more information. (They've done scientific tests. Well then.)

It still sounds like some kind of elaborate leg-pull. As one of the scientists said, "It is almost too good to be true."


The idea is one that my inner slug devoutly subscribes to: it should be possible to get thin-and-fit without having to do anything. If this burns fat and builds bone density, that's good enough, right? Maybe it'll work my heart and lungs too, without my having to bother.

Yeah, right. I'm off to aerobics now.

English Major: you do the math

As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain; and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality. ~Albert Einstein, Sidelights on Relativity

I'm not sure how to add all this up, but here are the facts:
#1 - The scale hasn't budged.
#2 - Clothes that used to seem a bit tight now seem a bit loose.
It would help if I could add to this equation # 3- The measurements, but I've sorta kinda misplaced the measuring tape. (Not that it's lost, as such. It's differently located.)

I can't see any difference, but it's promising.

Two things I hate about running

Breathing.

Actually, I'm quite fond of breathing, have been for years, but I like it to be something that goes on in the background of my life. After I have been running for a few minutes (okay, jogging/shuffling/cursing) I become intimately aware of every breath that I take.

Going uphill.

Even the slightest incline seems to become much steeper if you're trying to run up this. This seems unfair. I'm not sure where the Complaints department is for this sort of thing, so I'm posting it here.

Tomorrow I'll be chipper and positive. Tomorrow's Friday. Today? Well, it's not Friday. A little whining won't hurt. Off to run* now. I want to change my mood.

*okay, jog.

One of those days

The autumn leaves are falling like rain,
Although my neighbors are all barbarians,
And you, you are a thousand miles away,
There are always two cups at my table.
- T'ang Dynasty

Photo courtesy of flickr.

Useful tips and sundry trivia

Now that I have your ear, Mr. Van Gogh...
Mishmash of things I wanted to note:
Sixteen edicts of exercise
Fifteen tips to restart the exercise habit
Seven secrets of being popular
Six good eating habits that will help prevent cancer

And some sundry trivia that I found completely charming.

You are probably familiar with the concept of the odd collective nouns in the English language. No doubt you've heard of a "herd" of cows, a "flock" of sheep or seagulls, a "gaggle" of geese. You might even be familiar with some of the more abstruse (i.e. plain wacko) collective nouns. For example a collection of crows is referred to as a "murder" of crows.

James Lipton (of the "Actor's Studio" program on Bravo) published a whole book of these nouns (An Exaltation of Larks). I can see no way to work these into a regular post, but I found them quite charming, so I'm inflicting sharing some of them here:

A dish of gossips
A bellyful of bores
A curse of creditors
A Kerouac of deadbeats
A stall of procrastinators
A score of bachelors
A freeze of virgins
A hangout of nudists
A spread of centerfolds

It's hard to stop.

Two things I like about running

I have found something I like about running.

Stopping.

It feels good to stop; I feel good about having done it. I've read blogs about runners who crave running, who miss it if they don’t do it. Bah. Fools. Okay, maybe not fools, just people with a different mindset than mine. Or maybe their bodies have been so accustomed to the exercise that if they don’t get their Fixx they go into withdrawal?

One other thing I like about running. I like being able to say “oh, yes, I went running today.” It’s not strictly true: I start out running, with a bold, confident stride that eats up the trail. By the end of the session, however, I’m shuffling along like a little old lady who’s misplaced her walker. It averages out to jogging, but don't tell anyone. Claiming to be a runner puts me in a category with thin, fit, active people. I like being there, and I paid my admittance fee by huffing and puffing and making it around the course anyway.

Okay, one bonus like. I like that I can get a workout in 40 minutes that would take me a lot longer if I were riding a bicycle. Not sure if my knees are going to continue to agree with me about that one, though. So far, no complaints. We'll see. (Or to be more accurate, I'll hear. My knees can speak quite loudly if the occasion demands.)

Sometimes you just have to Marvel

Had I but money enough, and time,
This floor plan, lady, were no crime.

My search, like a feng shui workshop, should flow
Smoother than escrow and less slow.

- To his coy realtor, Andrew Marvel (attributed)*



I mean, who puts the master bedroom smack up against the kitchen?
Why build bedrooms too small for a double bed, but a garage that could fit a fleet of cars and a couple of medium-sized yachts?
Why in the name of all that's logical would you place a garden shed right up against the house so that it completely blocked the only window in a bedroom? (This shed was in quite a large backyard, forpete'ssake.)

I think I could do marvelous things with some of these houses if I had tons of money ... and maybe a bulldozer... but it would involve a lot of work. Well, not for me personally, but for the large number of tanned, lithe construction workers whom I would hire to do my bidding… sigh.

I think I'm tired of looking at houses. That's probably why I've fallen in love with an inappropriate house. I know full well it's much more sensible to buy a rundown 3 bedroom and fix it up, but this other house is so nice! Older houses have good "bones." (And not so good plumbing sometimes, or electricity, or ... yeah, yeah, I know, I know.)

I think I should stop looking at Offbeat Homes. Is there a blog out there called "Deadbeat Homes"? If not, perhaps I should start one.


*(Attribution disputed by one or two pretty much every reputable literary critic.)

The longest mile... er, I meant minute...

I saw Eternity the other night
Like a great Ring of pure and endless light

- Henry Vaughan





It’s amazing how time can lengthen or shorten itself based on what you’re experiencing in that moment. The minute it takes to jog up even a minor incline is a much longer minute than the one experienced walking up the same incline, though it is in fact not slower (even at my speed). I have to remind myself that running faster will not make the minute go by sooner.

Even more amazing how a single exercise session can include ruminating on Einstein’s theory of relativity, Dali’s attitude toward watches in his painting, and whether Henry Vaughan ever indulged in magic mushrooms.* If I had an iPod, I would probably miss these things. There's a big debate about whether or not to allow headphones in races. I can understand race organizers not wanting thousands of people crammed together and at the same time all in their own little worlds. But it would do great things to time.

Three more houses to look at this afternoon. Perhaps they will distract me from the totally inappropriate house I fell in love with Thursday. (It had charm, it had style, it had another house slap up against the fence five feet from the back door. Sigh.)

Photo courtesy of flickr.

*Okay, probably not. Many religious mystics in the European tradition did not indulge in recreational pharmaceuticals. They just came at Reality from a different angle to most of us.

Progress: wrestling with discouragement

And so we go on.

I meant to post a status report. I've been putting it off, since it's not that encouraging. But Scale Junkie just wrote a post about how to keep going even when things haven't been going well, so I thought maybe I should come clean about things. (Odd expression. Is lying dirty, and therefore telling the truth is seen as clean? Mary, stop dithering and go confess what you came here to confess.)

Inner Slug: You've been trying to eat healthy stuff and work out since July. I don't see any results on the scale. Why not give up?

Me: Whaddya mean no results? I've lost over fifteen pounds.

Inner Slug: Yeah, from stopping that medication. You're at the weight you were before you started taking the stuff.

Me: So I haven't gained any weight. Probably I've gained muscle.

Inner Slug: C'mon. This is the weight you are supposed to be. Accept it.

Brief, not pretty, struggle of a woman wrestling with her inner slug. Finally the slug is subdued with the use of metaphorical duct tape.

It's a good thing I'm so stubborn.

This month (the past ten days, actually) I've gained back six pounds and only lost two of them again. I'm tempted to blame this on the thyroid, simply because gaining six pounds in a single week is very hard to attribute to an increase in fat or muscle. I know I should go get blood tests done, see what my TSH level is at. Sigh. I'd rather go jogging.

Good news: I invested in a watch/heart monitor. (I could not persuade anyone at REI that watches exist with two different timers so you can run two different times.) I've learned a lot from the heart monitor already. All my video workouts? Not getting the heart rate above 50% or so. No wonder I've been getting bored with them lately. I was still raising a sweat, and I'd always feel good afterwards, but perhaps I'm getting too used to them. One thing I love about running (never thought I'd use that phrase) is that it gets my heart rate up there. Sometimes too high, but that's something I can control.

Also, the NOVA program on marathon running made a good point. If you want to lose weight, you have to diet. Exercise is good for maintaining, making sure you keep the muscles while you lose, but diet is crucial for the actual loss. I need to focus more on being Good.

I have great faith that using the heart monitor will show some good results on the scale this month. And I'm putting that statement out here so that I will feel held to it.

This month:

- I will make sure when I work out, I'm really getting a work out.
- I will concentrate on eating them green leafy things before I walk into the kitchen at work, so the sight of all those cupcakes and brownies will not make me hungry. The next eight weeks are going to be dangerous.

In praise of imaginary friends

The charities that soothe and heal and bless
Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers.
- Wordsworth






A dazzling array of runners and losers. That was what I was originally going to title this post.

I started this post a few weeks ago and wrote mostly about the bloggers that I've been reading, cheering, and laughing with as they struggle to achieve or maintain fitness and a healthy weight. Then I stopped writing the post, because that ever-psychic and always entertaining Crabby McSlacker had written an even better post on the same subject. Tonight, however, I feel impelled to publish this post anyway. You'll see why.

My reason for starting this blog was not an original one, but it worked for me: I wanted to lose weight. The best way (for me) to do this is go public. I could either find an exercise buddy or post my struggles/successes on the web for all to see/snicker at. Since I moved up to Oregon, I haven't found anyone who is both a) at my level of unfitness and b)willing to change. So I'm going for the blog.

It has helped. For example, once I publish this post, I'm going to go do a session of Pilates. I have to. I made a deal with Heather from Setting her free, that if I did Pilates, she would go do a session of Yoga. And she said she loves a challenge. So I'm stuck. I have to follow through, or feel like a liar and/or wimp. The hell with that. Pilates, here I come.

I’ve trying to keep myself mentally psyched by reading blogs by all the crazed fanatical runners out there in Blogland.

To name a few:

Half-fast keeps up a running commentary about training, races, the evil that lurks in the hearts of treadmills, how running has made him a sex object for all the women out there, etc. I believe every word, naturally.

grrrl power writes about balancing jogging and eating them green leafy things with surviving the road to the Ph.D

When I’m feeling discouraged about my shape, I go check out the photos on mousaroo’s mumblings and read her Good, Bad, Ugly summaries.

Christina from Diggin' it and Theresa from Moderately Interesting are two CBs (see below) who are both just starting to get back into that running/fitness thing. I find it incredibly encouraging to follow their progress, even if it's only from afar.

And Heather from Ad Astra, per aspera always challenges me to go a little bit farther than I thought I could.

The fitness blogs are a bit confusing when they speak in code. To me, split is a word that follows “banana,” and why say you’ve run two “halfs”? Shouldn't that be "halves"? And doesn’t that mean you’ve run one whole whatever-it-is?

Oh, while I’m on a roll, I should mention the weight loss blogs that, while not strictly about running, encourage me to keep going:

Editing my body is always encouraging, because Katharine doesn’t let anything stop her from following her plan of exercising and eating right. Somehow she doesn’t seem to get derailed by Life. I’m jealous, and hope it will rub off by on me if I follow her blog.

Desperately seeking serenity is encouraging to read because Moana has already lost several pounds following Weight Watchers, even before she started to exercise.

Half of me is amazing. Pasta Queen’s managed to lose over 200 pounds by following a simple plan of eating healthy stuff and exercising. First just walking, then walking/running, now she’s worked her way up to running races. Plus, it’s fun to look at her photos and spin them around 360 degrees. (She doesn’t seem to get dizzy.)

There are more wonderful blogs like these. These are just a few of the blogs I've been following. (I've tried to link to them all on my random rotating blog roll on the right.)

I like surrounding myself with positive people who aren’t slackers comme moi. I’m pretty sure that this will help me stay focused on achieving my goal. It Can Be Done.

****************************************

This was originally where I'd stopped the post. But I have things that need to be said, and they need to be said publicly. So this is where I'm saying them.

The blog at the CB Bar & Grill is not fascinating, at least not to an outsider. It's full of quirky people who enjoy the same jokes and most of the same books while leading fairly disparate lives. I've never met most of these people in person, but -- this is going to sound really strange -- I've formed a bond of trust with them. I've asked them to send me an autographed book and they do, trusting that I'll send them the money back in return. That makes no sense to someone outside, but because I've known these people (and I do feel like I know them), it works. I've traveled a distance of several hours to meet up with some of them, and when we meet it's like we've known each other for years even though we've never met. Say what you will about introverted loners who prefer to interact via the Internet, there are some powerful emotional bonds formed. Which brings me to the reason for this post.

Tonight I learned that I lost a friend. This was a woman I'd met over a year ago. We had similar taste in books, enjoyed similar jokes. She was only a few years older than I was, and though she lived three thousand miles away, we kept in touch through a group blog, and enjoyed each other's comments.

Funny thing about the Internet. It can reveal you in ways you're not aware (often simply by the way you write you reveal yourself to people) but it can also conceal little trivial details, such as cancer. It wasn't until I'd known Margaret for a few months that I realized how hard she was fighting to stay alive. She usually made a joke out of her troubles, but when you considered her situation stripped of all humor and sense of proportion, she was fighting an opponent who takes no prisoners.

And when she lost the battle, a lot of people lost a friend.

In Memoriam Margaret, May 1, 1959 --October 31, 2007

Never moon a werewolf

BEWARE OF...



DOGZILLA

It's all my mother's fault

Really. It is. Not that she meant to screw with my head. She didn't plan it at all. But the fact remains that I grew up in a Victorian, 10-foot ceilings, molding, sun porch, lots of space (once all them older siblings moved out).
It had a living room that looked like this:





Now I look for houses and the living room looks like this:

I had my back against a wall when I took this picture. They couldn't stage the room with a whole couch because it would have taken up too much room.

I'm spoiled, that's my problem. This house had an incredibly beautiful garden, but the house itself had such small rooms that though it was a three-bedroom house, I don't see how anyone could live in it.

I mean, I know what it's like to live crowded. I grew up in a three-bedroom house that held ten humans, a couple of dogs, assorted cats, and a series of non-wanted tenants such as mice, rats, raccoons, and honey bees. About the only varmint that didn't try to take up space in the house were skunks, and even then it was probably because they couldn't find any space.

I'm not planning on having any of the above living in my new house, except for the dog. But three bedrooms in a 900 square foot house is maybe squeezing things a bit. If you have really tiny bedrooms, you need a larger living room to balance things out. If this house had had only two bedrooms, and a larger living room, I think it would have been a lot more livable.

I know, I'm being fussy. People with small budgets can't afford big houses. But does small mean it can't feel spacious?

Haunting Houses

So, the realtor found a couple of homes that I hadn't seen listed, and off we went.

(Cue theme music from "The Dating Game")
Bachelor #1 House #1 had somehow "only just now played the message we were coming over." I realize it must be a pain to have strangers tromping through a house while you're living there, but it wasn't as if they hadn't been notified over 24 hours in advance. And shouldn't you expect that if you offer a house for sale, people will come look at it? They were polite enough, but it was awkward having their eyes follow me as I looked at the place. It must have been awkward for them as well. I mean, there must be no way for a seller to not feel like they're being judged themselves in that kind of situation. They had a nice dog, though. Followed me politely from room to room, didn't stop me from looking at anything, just wanted to make sure she kept an eye on the stranger on "her" turf.


House #2 - I wondered about it even before I walked in. Beautiful lawn, roses in bloom, well-pruned fruit tree, and gang graffiti on the neighboring garages. Walking into this house, it felt like I was walking into a tomb. The house was completely stripped over everything but the light fixtures. No attempt at staging, all the rooms were empty, echoing, and cold, the kind of cold that comes from a house that hasn't been lived in for a long while.

I looked at the living room, looked at the kitchen, looked at the dining room. I opened the door to the garage, and got a shock. There was a man sitting in the garage watching television. He was watching t.v. there because he lived there. In the garage. Which, though described in the listing as a real garage, had been converted into a room. Totally freaked me out. He must have heard us drive up, since we parked in the driveway and had been talking as we walked through the house, but he just sat there -- what, hoping we wouldn't look in the garage? Creepy.

For some reason that I can't properly explain, this really did shock me. The situation just had a very bad feel to it. I didn't even bother looking at the bedrooms or bathrooms. I turned to the realtor and said "Okay. I'm done here."