On Exercise (an epiphany)

I had an epiphany today.

Everyone should exercise. That last sentence applies to me, doubly. I'm not really averse to exercise, I just don't do it enough. I need to exercise more. (In case you were wondering, that's not the epiphany part.)

I've tried P90X, going to the gym, and walking but I didn't really enjoy then. As a result I've come to the conclusion that there are 2 forms of exercise I really enjoy  I enjoy running and climbing stairs (note: I do not count Hula as a form of exercise. Yes, it does get my heart rate up. Yes, it does make me sweat, but I don't dance for exercise so I don't count it as exercise.) I enjoy climbing stairs so much that I sign up to climb the steps (52 floors) of 555 California every year and in a good week, be seen climbing the Coit Tower Stairs during a lull at work. And although I'm new to it, I enjoy running,  so much so that I completed a program called "from couch to 5K"  and ran my first 5K last February.

I signed up for another 5K for the end of July with the SF Marathon. I'm pretty excited about it. I started training for it yesterday. I only ran about a mile and a half, but I loved it. I was going to run this morning but I slipped on a few stairs at the In-Laws' condo in Guerneville. Just a stupid misstep, but it hurt enough to make me take it easy today. After some ice, elevation and some ibuprofen, I was almost ship-shape, and I'll be fine probably by tomorrow, or the next day.

(Here comes the epiphany part)

I was talking to a few people about exercise, what we do for exercise and how we fit it in. One person in the conversation stated she couldn't exercise because she didn't have the time for it. I suggested a few things that I do to fit it in, like waking up an hour before everyone else, or walking instead of driving or taking the shuttle to work (for example, it takes about 15 minutes for me to walk to work from my bus stop in the morning, but instead of walking I wait 5 minutes for my shuttle and take a 10 minute ride to work. The same amount of time passes but I take the bus instead of getting good exercise. What's the sense in that?). This person countered my suggestions with excuses of her own as to why she couldn't fit in exercise.

Then it totally dawned on me (here's the epiphany part). One can't simply fit a new lifestyle into the time they have in the day. One  has to change one's lifestyle to meet one's needs. I need to exercise. I have to change aspects of my life to accommodate being fit and healthy. I can't simply fit in exercise when it's convenient. For me that means waking up an hour early to exercise, going to be earlier so I have enough rest under my belt for exercise to do its magic and changing my diet and my evening drinking habits so I can wake up and eat breakfast, and eat breakfast that has enough nutrients in it to sustain the lifestyle that goes along with my goals.  For other people, it might mean something different, but for everyone it means that we have to give something up, or modify some kind of behavior so that we can change ourselves for the better. We can't simply fit new stuff in. We have to give stuff up to make room for what we want. It's the same principle as dressing for the job you want or surrounding yourself with people who support you. One has to live the life they want to lead.

I don't know how successful I'll be at living like the person I want to be, trying should prove to be a good lesson in the kind of stuff I'm made of. I'll probably slip up once in a while, so be patient with me.

To Market to Market to Buy Some Dish Soap

Tonight I went to Walgreens.
As I was walking from the parking lot to the front door a woman got out of her car and walked by me on her way inside the store making "brr" noises and confirming how cold it was. It was windy, but I didn't think it was all that cold.  I looked at her. She was wearing tan pleather chaps with fringe with gray stirrup pants. She had a long pony tail that came down to her butt.
There was a man at entrance to the store who was asking for spare change. He was wearing a really really old and worn out suit.
My goal was to leave Walgreens with Drano, Dish soap and Windshield wiper fluid. Seemed like an easy task, right?
I walked down the aisle marked "soap" and "kitchen." I found the shelves with the soap. I found the powdered laundry soap. I found the liquid laundry soap. I found the comet. I found the spray cleaner. I found the dobie scrubbers. I found the scouring pads. I even found the Drano, even though it's not soap. I could not find the dish soap. I asked an employee where the dish soap was. He said, with a straight face, "oh, you can find it in aisle 8 by the potato chips." I asked him why all the soap was kept in the aisle marked "soap" but the dish soap was next to the pringles and he said "Oh, we're remodeling." I found the soap. There were about 10 different brands, none of which I usually buy. As I was staring at my choices the woman in the tan fake leather chaps and gray stirrup pants came up to me and pointed at my foot. "That must have hurt, " she said. She was pointing at the tattoo on the top of my foot. I told her that it didn't hurt as much as one would think and it certainly didn't hurt as much as the tattoo on the inside of my arm. She then started moving her index finger around my back telling me she was in the process of getting the Romanov Crest on her whole back. She told me it was a good fit because she was Russian and dominant, and also because it would look good when she was wearing her corset and had her whip. She walked away from me making "ya-ya" noises and whipping motions.
I grabbed my dish soap and walked over to the automotive aisle for some windshield wiper fluid. I found the automotive aisle but couldn't find the wiper fluid. I didn't ask where they put it.
I paid for my stuff, in all $1 bills and left the store. As I was leaving the store, the beggar wearing the suit sang to me about how cold it was and that he wanted me to give him pennies.
I walked to my car and drove home and told Hubby about my adventure.
He didn't believe me.

Dream Over the Weekend

I was on a bus going somewhere. I don't know where we were heading but in my dream I did. I also didn't know all the people on the bus, but in my dream I did.
We got to our destination. We were early. It was almost light out, and it was pretty darn chilly. We were all waiting on a football field for whatever it was we were waiting for. My hula sister Juna started sprinting lines on the football field. I asked her what she was doing that for. She said she needed to warm up. I suggested we dance instead. The two of us got into our pukas. By the time the first kaholo was finished I noticed we had at least 10 other dancers with us, one of whom was Victor Garber, and his freakishly large ears. He was wearing a bright red aloha shirt. Stepping out of my dream I thought it was weird he was there, but in my dream he was a living, breathing hula brother who was a member of my class. I don't remember what Juna and I started dancing, but all of the sudden the dance changed to something that everyone but me knew. I moved to the back and sat on a stump. Hula brother Yves came up to me and handed me a grape. He asked me if I wanted half of the bunch he was eating. I said yes. He turned his back to me and devoured have of the grapes he had. I woke up as he was turning around to hand me the other half.

What a difference an hour makes.

Oh my gosh I had a long, horrible week at work. I won't go into specifics.It doesn't make sense to go into specifics. Everyone can relate to a long horrible week at work. It was such an icky week that I even had The Geneva Pizza Dream. I have to say, though, overall the good parts about my job outweigh the not-so-fun parts of my job. It was just an off week that I have to shake off and it will be better on Monday. 
I am very happy, however, to start my weekend, and I am happier that because tomorrow is a holiday, we got to go home early today.
My long weekend started to look up when I was standing at the platform at the Muni station. Someone tried to pick me up. He was about 20 years old and about 6 feet tall. He was a total gangster looking guy with a giants cap that had a flat brim with the sticker still on it. He was wearing a knit beanie underneath his cap. He had on a super baggy hoodie sweatshirt and his pants were totally sagging around his thighs. Our conversation went like this --
Gangster Guy - Yo yo. Do you like hip hop music?
Me - No
Gangster Guy - Do you want to go out?
Me - No
He walked away. He walked across the platform and approached another woman. Maybe he figures if he asks every woman he sees if she wants to go out, one of them is certain to say yes,sooner or later.

When I got home I sat on the couch started to decompress. At one point I suggested to hubby that we go eat at Off the Grid in the Upper Haight. I have to say it was the best freakin' idea of the century. Our little outing took my mind off my week and totally turned my mood around. We had a really great time.

When we got to the OtG location we took a survey of all the food trucks there.

Hubby thought that Senior Sissig sounded the yummiest.

The Girl thought that HapaSF sounded the yummiest.

I thought that Seoul on Wheels sounded the yummiest.

I asked The Boy what he wanted for dinner. He told me sausage and soup. I didn't see any place that had caldo verde so he just had bites of all of our dishes.
When we were just finishing up our dinner we were greeted by people wearing backpacks filled with free chocolate milk.

 When we were finished we had cupcakes for dessert.

After some running around in the grassy area by OtG, we decided it was time to go home. On the way back to the car, Hubby spotted this bit of graffiti.

We got home. Hubby popped open a beer. I poured a big glass of wine. The Girl worked on her homework. The Boy walked around the living room in his dad's shoes. Eventually everyone settled down and went to bed, except me. I'm still winding down from a long week and am considering pouring myself another glass of wine.

The Geneva Pizza Dream, Again.

I've written about this before, but it happened again. I had "The Geneva Pizza Dream."

When I've had a bad day at work, or when work gets stressful I have "The Geneva Pizza Dream." Geneva Pizza was a bit of a stressful place to work. I worked there for a few years and then I quit. I quit by walking out in the middle of my shift in hysterics. A customer gave me a ride home.

Ah, fun times.

In short, in The Geneva Pizza Dream the restaurant is super busy and no matter what I do I can't quite catch up. People can't get their pizzas, the phone won't stop ringing, the keg needs to be tapped, or if it is tapped all I get is foam, people are screaming at me ..... you get the picture.

Over time the dream has changed a bit. In one version I go back to run the place or I go back to pick up some extra cash, but in both of those cases after it gets too busy I say 'screw it, it's just a cruddy pizza place" and I walk out.

Last night I had a new version of the dream.
I was working at Geneva Pizza. My boss wasn't the boss I had when I worked there but my boss that I have now. We were in the pizza place right before opening. I told him to turn on the oven because customers were going to be in soon and we have to cook some pies. He told me he wasn't going to because he didn't think we were going to have any customers that day. I thought it was strange but didn't question him. I started to walk over to the closet and I tripped over a red bicycle. I asked him if the bike was his. He said yes. I was surprised he had ridden his bike to work. I walked over to the supply closet. It was twice as big as I remember and decorated like a living room in a crappy apartment all decked out for Christmas. I closed the closet door and started looking at some coupons for free make-up. The coupons were made out of vellum. They were a pearlish color with black text. When I read the fine print it said in order to be eligible for the free make-up I had to be 16 or over and Japanese. While I was trying to figure out a way to convince the coupon people that I was Japanese, three teenage girls came up to me and I gave them half of my coupons.

Oh Say Can You See?

Yesterday The Girl, some kids from school and some kids from other schools in San Francisco sang the National Anthem before the Giants' game at ATT Park.
Here's a snippet.

Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk at The Embarcadero Peet's

Today is payday!!! Hooray! So before all my money has made its way to the nice folks at the student loan and credit card companies, I decided to treat myself to a stop at Peet's Coffee inside Embarcadero Station for a yummy cuppa joe.
Usually I drink the free coffee at my office, which actually isn't so bad; we have a sbux machine that brews cups to order, you can even get hot chocolate on demand. The thing that I'm not to keen on is the powdered creamer, or the nasty-ass hazelnut coffee-mate that everyone in the office seems to enjoy.
Anyhow, today I stopped at Peet's. I got a small coffee with room for cream. I got my coffee, walked over to the condiment station and proceeded to pour some cold white liquid into my cup. The top of the pitcher wasn't screwed on all the way and it plopped right into my morning nectar. Coffee splattered everywhere and I made a big fat mess. One Peet's employee started cleaning it up while another Peet's employee promptly handed me a brand new small coffee with room and said as he smiled and winked at me "I guess someone's out to get you." As I was cleaning myself off I chortled "Well, at least it's not Monday."

There was a man standing next to me that I hadn't even noticed until he said "That's a very positive thing to say, Ma'am. I run a positive thinking workshop and today I'm going to use you and this incident as an example of positive thought in one's life. Thank you, ma'am."

You're welcome, weird stranger. You're welcome.

Upward Mobility

Last Saturday The Girl and I climbed to the top of 555 California. This was my 3rd year and The Girl's 2nd year. 

555 California is the big brown building in the picture.

Here we are before the climb, standing in front of the sculpture "The Banker's Heart."




Here's The Girl, standing in line, waiting to climb. Isn't she pretty?

And here we are after the climb as we round complete the 51st floor and start climbing the last flight of stairs.

Look at The Girl, not an ounce of sweat on her. Oh to be 12 and fit.



Here I am. Not 12, or even a size 12, but fit enough to climb 52 flights of stairs.


This year there were 1192 stair climbers, just about one climber per stair. The youngest climber was 6 and the oldest climber was 72.

So how'd we do?
The Girl
The Girl climbed 1,197 stairs in 20 minutes, 17 seconds. She came in 847th place overall and 15th place in her age group.  She didn't even break a sweat. As I was approaching floor 38 I got a text from her. It simply said "done."
Me
I climbed the stairs in 35minutes, 12 seconds. I came in 1148th place overall and 141st in my age group. I also shaved off 2 minutes from my time last year of 37minutes, 27 seconds, but was did not beat my first time of 27minutes, 10 seconds.

Thank you to everyone who contributed to our fundraising efforts. We really appreciate it and we couldn't have participated in this climb without you.

Dear Greg Anderson

Dear Greg Anderson,
Your stupid facial hair makes you look like a tool.


pic stolen from NY Daily News



From,

andrea

An Open Letter to Silk Soy Milk

Dear Silk,

I like soy milk. Soy milk tasted good on cereal. Soy milk makes good hot chocolate.
I also like milk. Milk tastes good on cereal. Milk makes good hot chocolate.

Your newest ad campaign where you drive off into the middle of the country and try to convince people that soy milk is better than milk kind of pisses me off. Instead of trying to change the minds of people who rely on milk production to put food on their tables and keep their houses warm, why not just introduce them to another yummy beverage that they might also like?

Sure, you can use soy milk in place of a lot things you would normally use milk but I don't see why I have to make the choice. Why does one beverage have to replace the other? Can't I have both?

Thanks,
Andrea

P.S. I am not a crackpot.

An Open Letter to Starbucks

Dear Starbucks,
Overall I think you have a good product. A grande brewed coffee in the morning sets a nice tone for the day. I hate the language you've created. For the longest time I would refuse to ask for a grande coffee in favor of asking for what it should be called, which is just a medium coffee, but then I realized I was confusing the cashier and holding up the line so I decided that at 7am my need for coffee was greater than my pride and I should just give in and speak your stupid language. I'm will be eternally pissed at you for wrecking the macchiato which is simply a shot of espresso marked with a little bit of foam. If I had a free macchiato for every time one of your employees responded with "what size" every time I asked for a double macchiato, I'd be awake and shaking with caffeine jitters for months on end. All that being said, however, I know that pretty much whatever I order will be the same no matter what Starbucks I'm in.
OK so I'm puzzled about something. Most mornings I would rather have salt for breakfast instead of sugar. I skip your 390 calorie slice of lemon loaf in favor of your Fruit, Nut and Cheese Artisan Snack Plate. I like it. I can nibble on it throughout the morning. I get a nice little salty fix, with just a dash of sweet from the dried cranberries, and it fills me up. I'm not too keen on the apples in the plate, however. Often times the seed casing of the apple is left on the slice and I have to pick it off and then I get apples under my fingernails, and then, because I'm at work and don't have any nail clippers, I have to dig it out with a paperclip I've modified for such a purpose. I suppose you should feel flattered that I buy one of your products so frequently that I've created the need to fashion a tool to deal with the problems that sometimes arise with various foods I like to eat of yours.
Recently I started the PX90 exercise program. The dietary requirements of this program are really high in protein. I thought I should try the Protein Artisan Snack Plate instead. I was a bit troubled. The Protein Plate has a hard boiled egg in it. I don't eat a lot of hard boiled eggs and the thought of eating them from Starbucks weirds me out almost as much as buying perishable groceries from Target. I can't quite make myself buy eggs from Starbucks.
I decided to compare the labels of the Protein Plate with the Fruit, Nut and Cheese Plate. You know what I found out? The Protein Plate has 13 grams of protein while the Fruit, Nut and Cheese Plate has 19 grams of protein. I'm no math wizard but I can subtract. There's a 6 gram difference between the two in favor of the yummier plate. Now I'll take the high road and say that 13 grams of protein is a pretty good amount of protein but why dis the Fruit, Nut and Cheese Platter? It has more protein. Why not promote that?
Like I said, over all you got a good product. I don't like the stupid language you've taught the public, and if I have to start using it at Peet's when you buy it, I'm gonna be super pissed, but over all your coffee is pretty good, and the things of yours I don't like have to do with my own personal preferences, not because of the quality of the things you sell. My point is, you should take more care in not giving things stupid names.
Thanks,
Andrea


P.S. I am not a crackpot.

Dream last night - It's a Churchy dream

I had a fairly "churchy" upbringing and most of the lessons I've learned growing up have stuck with me through today and have been passed on to my children. Some lessons are more ingrained than others, but I can safely say that I am a product of my upbringing and old habits die hard. I went to a Lutheran school from 3rd grade to 9th grade. We went to church every Sunday. I went to youth group through the end of high school. I sang in the choir from 4th grade to 9th grade. I was baptized as a baby and confirmed in the 8th grade. It's hard to turn one's back on what was so ingrained and such an intrinsic part of life, so I don't. It's me.

So last night I had a "churchy" dream. Here it is.
I was on some unfamiliar street trying to catch a bus to go to church. The buses I needed kept passing me and the buses I didn't kept stopping. I never caught one, but I did finally get to church. I walked in. The church was the one I grew up in, Bethany Lutheran in Long Beach. The church had been completely remodeled. It was shaped in a big semi-circle and the altar was super white. The seats where the pastors sat when they weren't at the Lectern or Pulpit were on a high balcony above the altar overlooking the congregation. I walked up to the front to take Communion. Instead of being led to the spot where I went when I was a younger (kneeling around the railings around the altar), I was let to a 6-top round table. I noticed that there were many 6-top round tables around which other Communicants were sitting. On my way there the current pastor there, who I've never met in real life, said to me "hey, nice hair cut." A plate was passed around with chunks of yummy bread and pieces of salami, really really excellent salami. There was an end-piece of salami I was hoping would still be on the plate when it got around to me. It wasn't. Someone else took it, but the person next to me noticed I was a bit bummed about that and gave me the yummiest piece of bread he could find. I commented that this was a lot different than the last time I was at this church. A man at the table said that we're celebrating The Lord's Feast, so why not sit at a proper dining table. I mentioned that there wasn't any wine and the man told me that they found that too many people drank too much wine in this setting so when everyone was back in their seats they'd pass around a chalice for everyone to take a sip out of. As I walked back to my seat I took a wrong turn and found myself in this weird narthex-annex. In this weird narthex-annex were tons, and I mean tons, of good looking red-headed teenagers playing frisbee, having a good time and listening to the church service via an overhead speaker. Then I found myself outside the church. I noticed that the name of the street the church is on was changed from its former name to Bethany Lutheran Street. It was only this changed name for the block the church is on. I looked inside the church and some elder came up to me and I while I was telling him what the church looked like when I lived in Long Beach, people who were sitting in the pews kept turning around and shushing me.

Eating #8

I'm doing #8 on my list this month. Bring my own lunch to work for a month.

The purpose of this list item was to save a bit of money.
Lunch costs a lot of money in downtown San Francisco.  Figure a trip to the salad bar at 7.99/lb or a sandwich at $6.99 plus a drink, plus some fruit to have later in the day. That totally adds up. It frequently adds up to be about $13 a day. Gee whiz, that's a lot of money. That's $260 buck-a-roos a month.
I had intended to stick to the only-bringing-in-leftovers rule, but amended that. Since the goal is to save a bit of dough, I decided that all lunches I don't pay for count towards "bringing my lunch to work for a month"

Week 1 started on February 21.
I did pretty good. We made sure to make yummy dinners and when we put dinner away I made sure to pack my self a lunch. One night Tom made some super-duper rockin' lamb stew. So good the next day at lunch.
Week 2 started on Feb 28.
On Monday I had to order lunch for a meeting that was taking place in the office. I poached a sandwich, instead of bringing an actual lunch.
On Tuesday I was treated to lunch by someone I work with. I wanted to go to Houston's because I really like their coleslaw. He wrinkled his nose and dismissed that idea quickly. Who was I to argue? He was, after all, paying. I sold him on the idea of Truffled Fries with Asiago Cheese, so we went to Fog City Diner instead. We split a plate of fries. He had a burger and I had a BLT with a fried-egg on it and we talked about iPads. For dessert I had bananas foster, which was OK, nothing special. He had a pistachio creme brulee. He picked off all the sugar from the top and put it in a little pile on the side of his plate. When he was done eating the creme he put the sugar in his coffee.
Week 3 started on March 7
No company sponsored lunches this week. Good thing, though. As yummy and as free as they are, they don't have the best nutritional value. Can you say "chocolate wheat-germ cookie" from Specialtys? I started P90X this week. For the next 90 days (minus the 7 that I'll be in Hawai'i in May) I have a particular diet to try to follow. Food from Specialtys or Il Fornaio certainly aren't on the menu of a P90X-er.
Week 4 starts today, March 14
Why am I writing this post before I actually finish the list item? Well, at the risk of counting my chickens before they hatch, I don't think it'll be any problem to finish out this week making my own lunch. I'm enjoying packing my lunch every night before I go to bed, and although I've been particularly poor this month and haven't actually benefited from saving $260, I definitely didn't put an additional $260 on my credit card this month.

It'll pay off in the long run.

Sometimes Haste Doesn't Make Waste

I had a dream a few mornings ago. I should have written about it that day but I was so busy I couldn't sneak any time away to write. I have to remember that it's a bad idea to wait to write when dreams are concerned. A few mornings ago I had a dream that I was at a bar. It was really crowded. I was walking along the "employees only" side of the bar and I happened upon Tom Bosley. Tom Bosley had really long straight hair parted in the middle, not unlike Neil from The Young Ones, except that it was brushed, well groomed and one could tell Tom Bosley had a much better diet than Neil because his hair looked better (not part of my dream but once upon a lifetime ago I worked for The Food Whole and Tom Bosley came in and I saw him buy 5 roma tomatoes and a loaf of Grace pugliese bread).
He kept flipping his hair back much in the same way Cher did in the 70's. Tom Bosley had diamond piercings in his face where his dimples would be. Tom Bosley was glowing with happiness. Now, here's where I need to remember to write down my dreams right away instead of waiting until the weekend, Tom Bosley told me that something happened to him recently that made him very happy. I can't for the life of me remember what it was.
Lesson Learned.

Yay 12!

The Girl turned 12 over the weekend. Every year I tell her the story of her birth and then end it with "I can't believe I kept something alive for 12 years in a row."
The cliff notes version of her birth story involves  a VW Rabbit getting stuck between an inbound and outbound L trains at Sunset, steamed toast, Ali Farka Toure, pre-eclampsia and the sweetest, bestest little girl, ever.
The Girl had a little party last Friday night. I took her and two of her friends out to dinner. They got a table of their own and I sat at the bar. We went to Park Chow on 9th and Irving.
I think The Girl has such a positive memory about this place because one time, when she was 3 or 4 years old we went there to eat dinner. It was Hubby's and my anniversary. We attempted to drop The Girl off at her grandparents' house for the evening while we went out to enjoy a nice romantical dinner. She pitched the biggest fit ever when she found out we were going to eat at a restaurant. She didn't want to stay w/ her grandparents. We let her come with us, and we were grumpy the whole ride over to the restaurant. 
We shouldn't have been grumpy. We ended up having a great time. The Girl has always loved restaurants. We ordered their mussels appetizer. The Girl jumped right in, dipping her bread into the yummy yummy butter/wine/herby sauce, and eating all the mussels. About halfway through she looked up and said "what's this, it's good." For the rest of the night we had a really good time and I'm glad she came with us.
So fast forward, she's 12 now, and in between that one night and last Friday we've eaten at Park Chow a number of times and we're always pleased.
Last Friday night was no different. The girls sat at their own table, ordered their appetizers, drinks and main courses and desserts all by themselves. At one point the waiter introduced himself to me and even offered to inform me when they were going to sing Happy Birthday so I could be there as well. He was just the right amount of flirty, courteous and professional. The girls gushed about him all the way home. I think the night was a total win for them. They had a good time.
My dinner was pretty yummy, too. It was nice to sit at the bar, watch some sports on TV, eat my dinner and people watch.
Happy Birthday Baby. I love you.


The Girl and her 2 BFFs.
I'm not sure how her friends' parents feel about their kids' pics on my blog so
I turned their pretty faces into pretty flowers.



Where Did My Dreams Go?

I've always had a pretty vivid dream life. I've always been able to recall the most minute detail, what color something was, how many buttons it had, what songs were sung, how something smelled.

Lately my dream life has been somewhat off kilter.

I've been waking up knowing I was just dreaming but unable to remember what it was, or even worse, been waking up not remembering any dreams. It's really bothersome. Frankly I was pretty darned entertained by my weird dreams and I miss them, a lot.

I think they might be coming back. In the last two nights I've had two dreams I almost kind of remember.
Here are my fragments.



Picture stolen from nayontenor.blogspot.com

 Dream #1 - I overheard someone tell someone else that Ulrich Roth had died. I was sad, but was happy to hear that it wasn't Klaus Meine.
Note- when I woke up yesterday I wasn't sure if I had dreamed this or if his death was reported on the news and I just incorporated it into my dream. I don't usually fall asleep with the TV on, but that night I did. I have been known to incorporate outside noises into my dreams. When I got to work I investigated. As far as I know both Ulich Roth and Klaus Meine are still alive and kicking. No word on whether their careers are, though.

Dream #2 - I woke up this morning remembering only one phrase: It's Taco Tuesday Somewhere! I wish I had some background on that one. I'd be nice to know why Taco Tuesday was so important.

I hope this is the start of a new pattern of remembering my dreams. I really do miss remembering them.

Where's my Stick? I Have a Dead Horse to Beat.

If I had a secret blog that nobody knew about (hmm, isn't that called a diary?) I would write a post and I would call it "Where's my Stick? I have a Dead Horse to Beat."

Picture stolen from afurtiveglance.com

So, instead of going on a big rant, I'll just quote a line from Antigone by Sophocles, spoken by Tiresias.
"Nay, allow the claim of the dead; stab not the fallen; what prowess is it to slay the slain anew?"

Our day at the zoo.

Yesterday I took the kids to the zoo  to enjoy the beautiful day. Our journey started out fine enough. We walked our usual route, stopping off at Java Beach for a few sandwiches and some iced tea to bring to the zoo with us. I got my usual, chix salad on sliced sourdough which I shared with The Boy. The Girl got tuna on toast on slice sourdough. We were both a little bit disappointed that one has to have their sandwiches prepared "for here" rather than "to go" in order to get a handful of chips but decided that all in all it's not a big deal. It would be nice, but it's not a deal breaker. When we ate our sandwiches we decided to go halfsies. After tasting both sandwiches, we decided that the chix salad was way better than the tuna salad. We had quite a lengthy discussion on how tuna salad should be made; how much mayonnaise, what size to chop the celery, onions and carrots, whether to include celery, onions and carrots, how much salt and pepper, etc. We decided that tuna is more of a personal dish and the fact that we didn't really care for their tuna wasn't because they didn't make a good tuna sandwich, they just didn't make it to our own personal preferences. It's sort of like when you're at a salad bar. The salad you're making is super fantastic delicious, but the salad the person in front of you is making is super yucky and you can't imagine why anyone would find their choice appetizing.  You're presented with the same choices but the combination in which you put them in your clamshell is reflected in your personal likes and dislikes. I think that putting walnuts, cranberries and blue cheese is delicious on a bed of field greens. Your choice of cornichons, kidney beans and hardboiled eggs on iceberg, smothered in Ranch dressing really grosses me out. It's not really wrong that you like that combination, I just think it's gross.
Anyhow, we got to the zoo safe and sound. After dodging the poor saps who have to put on a fake smile and try to get people to pose for pictures that you can purchase on your way out (we try to be nice and say 'no' politely, though. it's gotta be a soul-sucking job), we headed to the children's zoo. The Boy says he likes to go to the petting zoo but most of the time he doesn't like it and only wants to play with the little tractor or the rakes they have so kids can move poop around the yard. The Girl likes to visit Wakoda, a navajo churro sheep. She likes to go to his habitat and talk to him. She says he listens to her. I'm not sure if he does, but I'm not one to get between a girl and her sheep . . . .
As we were leaving the Children's Zoo, taking our usual route, we stopped by the turtle habitat. We usually stop there and count turtles and make up conversations that they're having. ("no that's my log," "stop basking in my sunshine," "hey, get out of my way. I'm swimming there.") But when we got there there was a little boy about 4 years old running around inside the turtle habitat. He had jumped the rope and was running around inside the habitat. The parents were just sitting on the adjacent bench having a conversation between themselves and not really paying attention. All of the sudden I saw the little boy drop trou and pee inside the little pond the turtles swim in. I said in my outside voice "hey, that's not cool". The parents looked up and saw what he was doing but didn't say or do anything. They just sat there until he was done and when he was done, they just got up and walked away. I tweeted the zoo and told them about the incident, and as they walked past me I told informed them that I tattled. They shrugged their shoulders and walked on. What horrible people. If we still lived in caves or trees they would have been eaten up long ago.
After the children's zoo we headed to the playground. The Girl had a friend who was at the zoo with her family. The Girl met her friend there and I watched The Boy climb to the top of the tallest structure. What a good little climber, scared me half to death. I like the playground at the zoo. Because it's in the zoo there's no dog poop, nobody living in the bushes, no needles, no teenagers sneaking beers, plus the sand is really scratchy so I always walk out of there nicely exfoliated.
We saw the family again at the playground. We gave each other side long glances and stink-eye.
We left the zoo shortly thereafter. The Boy got into his stroller and fell asleep. Because he was asleep we took the opportunity to make a stop at Java Beach on the way home and we got The Girl an ice cream cone. She got the Choc/Van Swirl kind. On the way home we talked about what makes a good swirl on a soft serve cone.
When we got home The Boy was still sleeping. He continued to sleep for another hour, The Girl worked on her homework and I washed dishes.
Except for the peeing on turtles thing, the day was a pretty good one.

This is my Back.

I did it.
Here I am. Hot and Sweaty, but Happy.

And here are my results.

More observations on the race later.

5 days to 5K. 5 days to #35

In 5 short days I'll be able to cross #35 off my list. I have to say, I'm very excited about it. There were a few weeks where I was a bit sick of training and maybe slacked off a little, but hooray for me, I completed my training, and come this Sunday I will run a 5K.
The great news is that I've already run a 5k. I did it last Sunday. Here's my route. I started at Sloat, at the beginning of the running path that runs along Great Highway, ran to Kirkham, turned around and ran back. Yay me!
Sunday will be a breeze.