Dragonflies Flitting Around the Swamp that is my Mind

If the driver of my bus could peer into my muddled head today, he'd make me take a seat on the roof or the bike rack to blow said head out. I'm not particularly down, I'm just not particularly focused. In the 5-mile commute to work I was everywhere my head goes, and floating a little above the ground. I laughed, I cried, I ran the gamut of emotions. Then I tried, yet again, to run the 22 stairs to my office door. I'll keep trying until I've really run all 22. I have a way to go.

I was sad to see that Gidget died, and I'm not being wise. When that Taco Bell campaign was roaring, Amber was about 7. We collected all the stuffed toys, all the T-shirts and perfected our inflection of "Yo quiero." We "Yo quiero"ed everything from "Pepsi" to "a kiss" to "my allowance". I don't particularly care for dogs, and especially not for chihuahuas, but Gidget made me snicker and her dying made me a little nostalgic, for Amber isn't 7 any more and we don't snicker about such things.

Last night Stephanie pummeled me on the masssage table until I spoke uncommon words. "Back off a little, Stephanie." At that moment, she was pulling my leg backward over my shoulder to stretch me. I was using Lamaze breathing and focusing on my own personal beautiful imagined place. She had torn hell out of the neck from hell and never landed on relief. I was a little fretful. She finally asked me if I could possibly be overtraining. Hmmmmm. I wondered. When I got home, I referred to the marathoners bible I refer to. Maybe. Yes. Way too much, way too soon. Common eager rookie mistake. This needs to be paced.

I cackled a little bit about this anecdote in my theme of "I don't get men." I bought a top, cheap at Ross on Geezer Day. The label said its color is "grape". I wore it the next day. When David crossed the threshold, his eyes widened and he blurted spontaneously, "You look lovely today." There was absolutely no hubba hubba in this, folks. He simply walked in, saw something fresh and new, and gave his version of "Oh, how nice." The instant he said it, the home dudes - to a man - dropped their gaze to the floor and began to shuffle their feet. The place was dead silent as I said, "Well, thank you, that's a nice way to start my day." What the heezy? What struck them all identically and froze them in their tracks? It's been suggested that they frequently forget I'm a girl and that may have reminded them. I just don't know.

I sent Justin out to give an estimate yesterday. A commercial account - a well known country club clubhouse. Justin's just getting the hang of commercial quotations. He radioed me: "Limes, I'm going to be at least 2 hours measuring this." What? "Justin, what are you measuring? Are you using a ruler?" "Limes, if we get this, it will be the biggest job we've ever done. And they want it next week." Well, I'm a pretty quick study, people. Next week is still July. We're on pace for only a break-even month. I know the amount of the largest job we've ever done. I focused on my writing skills. For in giving estimates, home dudes inspect and measure. Limes is the wordsmith. I want that income for July.

And now, over the last cup of coffee for this day, an "I wonder". I wonder why, when I'm witnessing sunrise each day there is slight cloudiness. I wonder why, when I'm driving to work there is sunshine and few clouds. I wonder why the monsoon slides in as soon as our phone traffic should be starting for the day. It's only predicted for another week or so. Sigh . . .

In my ears right now: It's REM every time I get this way. Right now, it's Everybody Hurts, but I'll need to change it soon or I'll bleed to death.

Something that charmed me: I sat with Justin to "interview" him about his inspection of the country club. I do that so I can write my quote with more punch than if I simply looked at numbers written on a work order. He kept choking on his replies to me. "Justin, what's up? Aren't you comfortable with what you saw or what you're telling me?" He replied: "No, Limes, I don't know fancy words." Said I: "Just tell me what you saw in home dude terms. The words are my job." He just beamed and gave me a beautifully descriptive verbal tour of that vast carpeted area.

No More Bitchy Pills for You, Little Miss Crabby Ass

Mr. Insomnia and I were blogging around together on our date. I'd stepped away from the computer for a few days - surprising, because I've come to love to blog and have quite a group of favorites I follow, interspersed with writing my own. To be really straight about it, I was so unprepared to succeed at my first long training walk that I kind of stopped in my tracks and spent a couple of days changing the way I approach almost everything. There were actually some Bambi-in-the-Highbeams moments of fear. "Even if I did 17, I bet I won't be able to do 20." Which is rubbish, because adding 3 the next time won't be anything. But there were far more moments that were simply "What just happened here and what do I do next?" Should I go get the M(arathoner) tattoo? Probably premature, since I am not one yet. So, in the spirit of regaining my equilibrium:

David's back from vacation and I was never as happy to see a head covered by a baseball cap rising up out of the stairwell. He grinned, I grinned. In the first hour he made a one-sentence proclamation, "It was a $70 job - give the woman her money back," that took the weight of the world off of my shoulders. Geez, I know his philosophy very well. Why didn't I think of that? He took a group of extended family to San Diego for a week and did everything the way he does things - top shelf. He rented a boat and jet skis on the Fourth. He had some good stories spawned by the fact that multiple members of the family turned out not to be seafarers. Been there. A zillion times. San Diego Bay is choppy much of the time. One's skin really does turn a greenish hue.


As I sat at my desk doing not less work, but more "my" work as David did "his" work all day, I was repeatedly annoyed by the chirp of the WeatherBug. I keep the WeatherBug on my desktop at work and at home. I can glance at the temperature any time, and if there's anything remarkable to tell, the WeatherBug chirps at me. It's a very efficient arrangement. So WeatherBug was at me all day long - the alert went from moderate to high to extreme fire danger alerts throughout southern Nevada as we are enjoying screaming winds, extremely high temperatures and single digit humidity. OK, makes sense to me. We're sittin' on a tinder box and we see fires frequently in the mountains nearby. So how does that comport with . . . .

Shocking to me, as I am a SoCal woman and we haven't seen such a sight in decades, the fireworks stands begin to spring up in every convenience store parking lot in the city about 10 days before the Fourth. We have a lot of convenience stores, folks. I'm going to say there are not hundreds, but thousands of stands, each one benefitting this good cause, that charity or club, another wonderful organization. Sold from these stands are notorious poorly made fireworks imported from China. [Yes, this paragraph is going to contain all manner of assaults to my sensibilities.] The prices are shocking, the fireworks are well known, maybe even expected. to be duds or faulty or dangerous. Oh yeah, and anyone one can buy them and set fire to them late at night after a day that might have included BBQ and beer.


Friday as I stepped out of the car at 7-11, the Metro PD K-9 unit volunteers were setting up their fireworks booth ~ hey! it was the day before the Fourth. A few officers were there with their K-9 vehicles and several of the mammoth beasts sat obediently and quietly in a row. That was to my left. To my right was the Channel 3 news van, cameras at the ready, staffers looking for a story. I was one of few patrons in the parking lot and a young cameraman and a chirpy girl reporter stepped my way. "Uh-uh, guys. I'm not the one you want. I don't approve of the fireworks and that's not the organization that tugs at my heart. You'll have wasted your time getting bad video." Shocked looks! I was concerned the K-9s might be loosed on me. But just silence, and I walked on to buy my crappy cup of 7-11 coffee.

The night of the Fourth, it was arranged that a group of us home dudes would meet up on the deck at the office, BBQ food left over and frozen from Limes Appreciation Day, with David's blessing . . . and watch all of the valley's offerings of fireworks. Limes didn't go after all, having practically erased her feet and legs from her body that day. Yesterday morning (Monday, after the holiday weekend), I was regaled with a story. In the yard just behind and below our office, a family was setting off an impressive number of dud fireworks. Children and adults were excited and the home dudes were having fun watching them from above. When the store of fireworks was exhausted, the piece de resistance was brought out. This object resembled a small hot air balloon - and, yes - the apparent "dad" ignited it in the same place such balloons are fired up. Home dudes watched the upper balloon portion inflate as it filled with hot air and started to rise slowly. Once the balloon rose to a height higher than the block wall surrounding the yard, the wind caught it. Flung it across the yard into a tree which immediately caught fire. "Get the hose!"

Extreme fire danger alert, indeed. After the story was told, I said, "Now, I have a problem with that." Silence in the office. "Aw, Limes, it's all in good fun." I'm just in from my walk and time to get ready for work. Flipped on the TV newscast I enjoy and half-listen to on weekday mornings. Right this moment, fire in the Wetlands near Sam Boyd Stadium. Flames 25 feet high. Roaring for hours. We don't have many wetlands areas in the Mojave, folks.

In my ears right now: Reports and predictions of heat, wind, fire danger. WeatherBug chirping, which intrigues Dylan and Virginia Woolf.

Something that doesn't charm me: The Michael Jackson Traveling Circus rolls on to its seminal moment this morning. Enough - more than enough - already! I liked his music, too. Everything else is not our business. Millions of people vying for 8,750 seats x 2 in the Staples Center. 250,000 people expected in the streets. As David said, "When they have the Coliseum, Dodger Stadium . . . . "

Waiku No. 483, Seeking Peace & Tranquility

Massage tonight, hot
stones, no conversing with her.
BlackBerry off. Peace.


Photo credit: J. D. Morehouse


Insomnia visited, so I read my new marathon walker's bible for a long time. I now know what interval training is (for walkers) and the 4 different workouts I need to alternate to reach my goal.

I know how to eat so my body will feed itself from my fat stores and my carb stores, leaving enough carbs to fuel my brain, but also feeding from fat so I don't hit the wall. I can pretty much control whether I do or don't hit the wall.

I have a regimen of stretches that put those stretches I previously loved to shame.

My maximum heartrate is 170. I know which routines to use on the days I need to perform at 75% and 80% and 85% of my maximum. I understand how this is done!

I don't know why some days my feet plod like ducks' feet, but I know something to try next time they do. For someone who has walked as many miles as I have, I don't seem to know anything about walking. Mostly, I do it all wrong. At least for marathon walking.

And I think I can do this! I don't have to have walked a marathon before I walk the marathon, but I have to have had some long walks. Maybe 20-22 miles like TOB suggested.

I'm very excited. I feel more powerful because I have knowledge and there is a plan set out for me. 16 weeks of training and then a month to just keep building on it. I like things set out on a calendar - I like the visual. It's comforting to me. Something that surprised me: this marathon walking guru encourages complete days off sometimes. I don't think that will work for me, but he recommends it.

Learning new things . . . . it's a beautiful thing!

In my ears right now: ZZ Top ~ Deguello

Why I like it: ;)

Something that charmed me today: E-mailed praise for something I wrote from someone whose opinion matters the most.

Slow and Easy Sunday and Mother Badger's Musing

Mother Badger, circa 1930

Mother Badger was e-mailing her heart out to me on Friday as the Limes Appreciation Day Circus rolled on. In addition to other things, she had this to say: "I have been thinking about blogs. Pepys diary written centuries ago is still part of literature because it so reflected what was what in those days. I am wondering if blogs aren't going to be in the future (if saved archivally) be history as well. I like reading early diaries and how people lived and thought in earlier days." What does anyone think? Are we doing a baby boomers' written time capsule? Will someone read our words some day and laugh at how quaint we were with our communication devices and our 2009 sensibilities?

And that's as energetic as my head is going to get today. It's a lovely, rather lazy Sunday. The wind screams on and it will be very warm, but still not triple digits. I have enjoyed grinding the coffee beans after the walk and just generally putzing around my home in which I do not spend enough time. Today is "hair" day - every 4-5 weeks I go for the best razor cut in the valley, "half way across town", but a much shorter distance than I will walk on December 6th with TeamPrevention.

I eat oddly. There is every reason for this, and it will be blogged about sometime, but I don't eat like most people eat and I don't eat very much food at all. I have a lot of trouble getting in one quarter of the protein I need, and especially now that I'll be training. (Well, I guess I am training.) There's a recipe from Prevention that I read and thought would be interesting. Tried it out on the Badger who declared it amazingly good. I'd made it for him many, many times before I ever took even a nibble. Amazingly good doesn't even begin to describe it! This is likely what I will serve at the imaginary dinner party referred to in my blog's masthead.

Mustard-and-Brown-Sugar-Rubbed Salmon

2 tablespoons organic dark brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons freshly ground sea salt or kosher salt
Freshly ground pepper to taste
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon dry mustard powder
Salmon fillets, skin removed
1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil

Press the side of the salmon that had the skin on it into the sugar mixture, coating it evenly. Heat the olive oil in non-stick cookware over medium flame. Cook until the rub dissolves and slightly darkens - don't let it burn! This usually takes about 4 minutes. Flip the fish and cook for about 1 minute more. The brown sugar caramelizes and turns into a shiny glaze. The taste is amazing and it's amazingly simple to make. Think "candy on salmon".

I think we're havin' the salmon today. I'm thinking I'll have some, too.

In my ears right now: Dwight Yoakam, "I Sang Dixie"

Why I like it: I like anyone who gets that crack, almost crying, in their singing voice. Waylon Jennings, Patsy Cline, Lucinda Williams, Roy Orbison . . . Dwight . .

Something that charmed me today: Christine was cutting my hair and I was chattering about the marathon. No look of disbelief crossed her face at all. She clearly thought my doing that was within the realm of possibility. She said, "I'll come to the finish line, find your guys and wait for you."

Something else that charmed me today: Sometimes Mother Badger gets busy or doesn't feel like e-mailing, or maybe she just has nothing to say. But we've been e-mailing a lot for a couple of days and she began some discussion about some venerable things and some of her travels and reading. She posed a trivia question to me. She had to provide a hint before I could grasp onto a pretty logical answer. She is 82 (and sharper in some ways than I am). She is so bright and creative and so full of life. She has (still) a good, curious mind. She is a card sharp who plays against others online and likes to find a poker table from time to time. Her mother lived to the age of 102. Mother Badger is probably looking to do better!

I Wonder . . .

if the day after a party/ celebration is required to be gray, windy, dull or if it just seems that way because it's not party day, full of surprises and bright colors. I had the pleasure of having Cesar hang after the other technicians left to do their work - his first job wasn't very early. We talked of loved ones taken captive by too much Budweiser for too many decades and new loves, old loves, loves that just seem to be part of our personal tapestry even when we try to dry clean them out and our own personal smallness (how limited and just so human we are) . . . he's just radioed in from an emergency same-day-service add-on: a man about 80 whose wife has been admitted to the hospital this morning, but on her way there, had an accident on the carpet in the bedroom. "Limes, this is a sad case. He wants to get to the hospital to be with his wife, but he wants the carpet clean when she comes home. I'm tossing in some extra TLC and not charging him for it. Are you good with that?" Well, yes. That's a kindness we can do. It truly feels good to help out a person who asked for nothing free, but who obviously needs a kindness.

My day started too early. As always, I walked a zillion miles in wind and warm air (except when I walk in wind and frigid air). I'm mastering the Garmin and the heart monitor and that didn't take very long. Mother Badger reminded me yesterday in frequent e-mails that I'm a rather worthy person who can learn to do things quickly and well. That may be true.

The Badger would be about half-way through his 4 hour ride up and back down Mt. Charleston about now. I should add that the climb up Mt. Charleston challenges my Nissan when we drive there to dine at the lodge.

So ~ here I go. The phones are quiet. In the fridge awaits the cucumbers I eat every day of life at 10:00 a.m. And next to them are the cake, the dogs, the burgers, the potato salad . . . never mind.

The Bible just arrived via Mailman Steve. He noticed that I was pretty excited and asked if he'd just brought me money. "No," I said, "you brought me the lessons I need to do something that will give me self-respect." I told him of my plan to walk the marathon and his eyes kind of popped. "Aren't you about my age?" "No, Steve, probably older." "I couldn't do that," he said. And he walks postal routes day after day for probably 25 years. The Bible is a shorter book than I might have thought. I can probably read it cover to cover tonight. A quick blow through all the information and then I'll take it slowly to take it in deeply.

In my ears right now: Precious Stones - it's way out there and will require a complete posting of its own. But I promise it's the good goods. I like it because it's quirky and twisted.

Something that charmed me today: We keep a whiteboard in the office upon which anyone may write any words that they'd like to share. In David's handwriting is a quote I like very much, "Our favorite attitude should be gratitude."

Angst Rippling Away

Photo credit:
J. D. Morehouse

Barnes & Noble was a bust last night. The one square foot of shelf space dedicated to fitness and exercise was occupied by books on only Pilates, Yoga, and losing one's "mummy tummy" after childbirth. I went home and ordered my marathon walker's bible online, paid extra for quick shipping and expect it soon.

When insomnia visits, I've learned to go to peaceful or pastel places in my head. When I try to resolve world hunger or global warming or peace in the Middle East, I ensure that I'll never drift off. I never get those things resolved, either.

So last night, sleepless, I tried to think whether I'd ever taken anything on like this walk. And I have! And I was good at it. I exceeded the expectations I had of myself and that anyone else had of me.

I have a memory like an elephant and I'm sentimental. I can give you the dates that most important life events occurred. I have a friend who celebrates April 8, 1968 with me because that's the day we met in person for the first time. People wonder why my cool big belt buckle sports "1968". Because it was a momentous year for me.

Twenty years ago today, Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play and I learned that I was pregnant for the first time in my life. This was startling news to me as we had tried to make that happen for more than 18 years, it didn't happen, Blue Cross and we threw an awful lot of money at fertility treatments that had no effect, we gave up hoping with much regret and moved on, accepting we'd have no child. I now had a career that ate up to 20 hours of my day 6 days a week and my huband had the same career with the same hours, except he worked throughout the entire state of California. We weren't home much! For me, the age of 40 was not too far distant.

This pregnancy was harrowing. I was pretty sick pretty much of the time for nearly 10 months. Lots of time in the emergency room. I was scared of every part of it. Scared I'd lose Amber and never have another chance. But mostly, I was scared of childbirth. I'd grown up hearing the horror stories and the glory stories from all the women relatives and friends. I knew that 100,000 women could tell me how it was for them, but not how it was going to be for me. The thought of being an old first time mother lying screaming (read this "looking foolish, not admirable") made me cringe. So what did I do?

I got myself educated. Lamaze classes, every book in the world, a TLC network series. I told my husband and my girlfriend who would join us at the birthing center what I wanted and needed from them. [Note to self today: educate yourself so you'll enter the endeavor from a standpoint of knowledge, if not experience!]

One of the best things I've ever done in a long life occurred during the 36 hours of labor we shared, Amber and me. I used what I had learned and it was effective for me. I only failed to breathe through two contractions, saying, "I can't. I'm too tired." Each of those was so bad, I quickly huffed through the next and all of the rest of the contractions. In a highly dramatic finish, Amber's heart became distressed after 35+ hours and she was delivered some 18 minutes after Dr. Zucconi said, "We're going to the OR, stat." I talked to everyone in the OR throughout that C-section. I'd been logical throughout. I didn't forget how to use the tools, tips and tricks I'd learned. I gave birth to a human being who was nearly as large as I was at the time.

And that puts a little 26.2 mile walk into perspective. Learning to do new things well is a thread in my tapestry.

In my ears right now: Benson Bird tearing the holy Ned out of the cage fixtures. My voice hollering, "Little dude, stop it. Do not tear up the parakeet palace."

Something that charmed me today: Thinking about Dr. Zucconi coming into the exam room to say, "You're pregnant. I have never said this with such surprise to any patient." The ex-husband letting out a war whoop of pure joy. Me sitting stunned and wondering what just hit me.

Cloud of Negative Energy

I had a bit of a bad spell during the 24 hours I call a weekend. Down on myself thoughts. A pity party of one. Besides beating myself up for hours about the marathon and all the reasons I won't succeed at that, I finally landed on how ugly I am and that's when I knew the party was over. The only remaining thing to land on in a snit was "I'm fat."I snarled at the cats, struck out at a friend who didn't deserve it, and generally behaved badly.

Finally, deciding sleep was a good idea, I died out and woke up more myself this morning. Not that "myself" is all that wonderful, but you understand . . .

My friend says that fear or anxiety are symptoms of not having enough information. The tips from TeamPrevention are helpful, but I feel like I don't have a knowledge base about marathons that is either deep enough or wide enough. But I know how to Google and I know how to buy books, so a stop this evening at Barnes & Noble is in order. I've found a couple of likely books and I intend to own them today.

I wonder if any of you who have trained for an event - maybe even a marathon, who knows? - would ring in on this: before I arrive at the Start Village on December 6th, should I have already walked a marathon at least once? Or do I simply train, going farther, faster, harder and go that morning whether or not I've actually ever done 26.2 miles?

In my ears right now: the lovely voice of David, Jr. David has the most wonderful son - he's out of school at U.C.Irvine and has come for his first visit this summer.

Something that charmed me today: David, Jr.'s head popping up from the stairway. I got hugged, too!

Monsoon Season Has Come Early This Year

Flat, heavy gray skies and unfamiliar humidity . . . temperatures are fully 10-15 degrees below normal and my favorite woman meteorologist says this may be the first June since the weather has been recorded where we may not have one day that reaches 100. Driving to work on a north-south street, I was able to rubberneck at Red Rock. It was rather surreal because all the rock formations that are so familiar were right there. But all the vivid hues had left and only gray remained. Blech!

Mother Badger e-mailed throughout the day yesterday. She's cleaning out "stuff" again and has many things to send to me when the Badger goes to Phoenix next week. He doesn't know it yet, but she intends to fill the Prius for the return trip with everything he takes down (includes bike and everything cycling), a set of dinnerware for 8, a set of water glasses for 8, various and sundry other items . . . and an upholstered chair. Badgers not being known to tolerate nonsense, it may be awhile before I see those gifts.

Mother Badger also found a venerable thing to send me - a 1930s-40s salt and pepper set. She is a good woman who has treated me well always, and she listens to me. She pays attention to what I like. She offers good advice, but doesn't tell me what to do. She does not try to run me. Thank you, Mother Badger.

I took the heart monitor for a walk today. It would be inaccurate to say I actually used it. I'm not frustrated (yet), but I know I need to familiarize myself with it. I made the momentous decision to leave the iPod back for awhile. I have other things that require my attention on the walk now. The iPod can go along once in awhile. Once I have balanced the intricacies of walking, heart monitor, Garmin, BlackBerry, keys, and water I plan to start walking some parts of the marathon course. There are parts of the city I'm not as familiar with, and I can't begin to envision all those miles on the Strip. It will be closed to car traffic, of course, but what about all the human traffic? It's bustling there 24/7.

I issued an invitation that was accepted - the Badger will join me for a long walk tomorrow. I hope for some sun, as I am rather a hothouse flower. At some times of the year, I walk in darkness, go to work in darkness, go home in darkness. I am craving some sun on my skin. When we walk, the miles zip by - we're pretty harsh on odd people that we see, and we solve the world's problems, at least in our own minds. On Sunday walks we almost invariably see a middle aged couple who ride motorized bicycles. Their legs move, but one can hear the motor humming. The Badger has much to say about motorized bicycles. Some of his remarks are unprintable.

There you have it: a meandering stroll through my cluttered head this morning. I need to get busy. We hired a new, young home dude yesterday - business is hoppin'!

In my ears right now (an echo, it's not happening live): A hideous TV ad I saw yesterday. Cheap Trick is coming to town to concert Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, backed by a full orchestra. The tickets are "bargain priced" at $65, $80 and $95.

Why I like it: I don't. Call me a purist, but I'm thinking that nobody needs to touch Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. It's already been done, and admirably. John Lennon said it couldn't be done live. He would know.

Something that charmed me yesterday: The hour I spent on the phone with a rep for QuickBooks. He helped me install a new version and extract all of my old data, placing it into the new version. He was a young Scottish man, talking to me from Dublin. I kept asking him questions so I could listen to the accent in his replies.

Zones and Comfort Zones

I had a lot of help rearing my daughter. I needed it. I cannot be everything to anyone. During my pregnancy, I developed Amber's education plan. I had no doubt hers would be an intellect worth developing. Her third parent, Irma (our early life family day care provider), taught her about mud pies. A good thing, because that's out of my comfort zone. Her father bought a large rug with red and black squares and some checkers the size of saucers. At 3, she could play a pretty credible game of checkers, the two of them lying on their bellies on the floor and the checkers an appropriate size for toddler hands. A good thing, because that's out of my comfort zone, too. I was in charge of education, elaborate Halloween costumes I made from the ground up (sometime I'll blog about Pocahontas - I made the moccasins and beaded the dress I made from suede), and themed birthday parties. Those were in my comfort zone. All of us loved her in the best ways we knew how to love. And all of us occasionally had to step out of our comfort zones to do the best we could for a child who deserved to be well supported.

On the day she turned 3 1/2, I delivered my child to the door of a carefully selected Montessori Academy. It was the earliest age she was allowed to start - 3 1/2. I did this with trepidation. It happened that I was seeing a counselor at the time, for every reason. I agonized that Amber would collapse under the burden of "why did my mother bring me to school and desert me?" Paul was good enough to not snicker at me. He said, "No, we think they struggle more with where to hang up their sweaters, where the bathroom is, and which activity they want to try out next at school." Oh! OK. Enough ego, stability and security at age 3 1/2 to know that Mom would return for her that evening, and now, let's get on with all this new stuff.

I had been searching for some new things in life that were just mine. I needed a creative outlet, so I started the blog. I was afraid that my Seinfeldian approach (a blog about noting in particular) would render me a wallflower ~ no one would want to dance with me. But I've learned that the blog (and I) are actually about nothing and everything, and that people pop in and relate about things they have in common or things they want to learn about. I am enjoying it tremendously. Now I've landed on the marathon and I'm dreaming of something else that will be just mine. I am taking better care of my"self" than I had been previously.

I am feeling a bit Amber-like now and I'm not 3 1/2. Aside from all of the 1 million questions about myself and my physical ability to walk a marathon, my resolve, my discipline, I was distressed about the logistics of it. How could I carry enough water? What if I wanted to strip off some layers or add some? What about going to the bathroom? What if I need to eat something? What if I decide I need medical attention? What is the exact route? Nothing about this endeavor is in my comfort zone.

But I'm making progress! I've learned from the Badger's races that you start gathering information by going to the event flyers and website. Now I know where the port-a-potties are located! I know where the neutral water stations are, and they occur frequently enough that I don't have to stress it. At the Start Village at the Mandalay Bay, I can leave my backpack. UPS, one of the big sponsors of the event, will deliver the packs to whichever water station I choose. As long as I have my ID, I can get into the backpack and designate the next place I want it to be waiting for me, including the Finish Line. OK, the light has come on: I'm not in this alone or without support. And I haven't even met my TeamPrevention buds, yet. Maybe some of us can partner up to ease the way for one another!

One shocking visual was the course route - the full marathon. Las Vegas streets are laid out like a checkerboard, with major boulevards being 1 mile apart. When I looked at the route, I could picture the landmarks at the major intersections. It's paralyzing. Coincidentally, at different times during the marathon, I will be walking near my home and walking near the salon where I have my hair cut. So what? That's not news. Except that I am known to say every 4-5 weeks, "I hate driving all the way over to the Hair Attic - it's practically all the way across the valley and back. But I do it for the best razor cut on the planet." Well, folks, I'll be covering that distance and more. On foot.

In my ears right now and I wish it were not: David giving hell to a young home dude who does his job very well, but just can't get a handle on "get up, go to work, get up, do it again".

Something that charmed me today: An item that might bring all of you cyclists and all of us walkers together in peace, harmony, fraternity and community.

Harbingers and Omens (or silly little coincidences)

Pretty funny, as I sign on with TeamPrevention and make a commitment to do something challenging and new (and, therefore, a little scary), all manner of little "signs" are showing themselves to me.

There's a newscast I like each morning when I come in at dawn between walking and work. There's a 50-year-old woman meteorologist who is a hoot, and the (younger) anchors are pretty fun. When one of the roving reporters recently booked a carpet cleaning job (she has an unusual first name and I recognized her voice) I asked, "Do you come into my home each morning over coffee?" She laughed and said "Yes, I am she." There are lots of spots on this newscast about events going on in Las Vegas and it gives me the tiniest sense of community, which is otherwise lacking here - at least for me.

This morning I nearly toppled the coffee cup when I heard - between shower and blow drying, and just after buying the pink slippers - about the Las Vegas Rock 'n' Roll Marathon to be held on December 6th. Hey, that's my event! The promoter was talking, and I learned I'll be joining some 29,999 other souls that day. The focus was on the runners, and probably should be - a marathon runner is a marvelous athlete. But as the Badger pointed out in his comments to a previous post, the walkers would be taking on a nearly 7 hour non-stop walk, and that is probably deserving of a nod.

Later in the morning, Yahoo Messenger announced an e-mail sent by the Badger's mother. Subject line: "You'll Love This!" It was a cute little forward with all kinds of tongue-in-cheek comments about walking, which I'll attempt to duplicate at some point on the blog. I hadn't yet told her about my decision to do the walk, so I popped back an e-mail to say "Mother Badger, please go read my last couple of posts to learn some news." Remember, she provides the subscription to Prevention! She's also been heard to comment that the Badger and I spend inordinate amounts of time working on fitness, but we'll see her reaction. I think she'll be supportive because she likes girls who kick butt. She is one!

Last little funny thing. Our IT engineer went to an electronics expo and, being an octopus, he came back with bags and bags and bags of give-aways. Water bottles, pens, little oddities. He was down to one item nobody wanted. "Limes, do you want a book?" "Hmmmmm, I don't know, what kind of book?" Well, it's not a book, it's a bound journal with a pen attached, elastic closure. Embossed on the cover (you'll know who the vendor was): "Sprint", which is close enough to "walk". It will be my training journal!

I've been noodling around on the Rock 'n' Roll Las Vegas Marathon website. There's a new course this year. They're calling it "flat and fast". This being Las Vegas, there are some interesting little things going on like "run through weddings". Huge party, food, music and beer (what?) at the finish line at the Mandalay Bay. Course time limit? 7 hours. For the walkers!

Tunes in my head right now (I don't really own these, so they're not actually playing and being picked up in my ears): Walk Away, Renee; Walk Like a Man (uh-uh, no way); These (pink) Boots Were Made for Walkin'; Walk on By; Walkin' on Sunshine; Walk Like an Egyptian; I'm Walkin'; I Walk the Line; Walk this Way

Something that charmed me today: A sneaker in development that would allow walking while posting to one's blog ~ ~ if that's what one wanted to do

Full Hands, Full Head

This morning's walk had a very different feel to it. Not so recreational. More serious in tone. After all, I've signed up for a deadly serious walk. And I have 6 months to get ready for it. That sounds like a long time, but I can't let all those calendar pages make a reason for me to go slowly.

I already carry keys, tissues, iPod, BlackBerry, and water. Now some other tools are going along. The Badger bought himself a new Garmin and offered me the Forerunner I've dubbed Old Unfaithful across a few years. It's pretty notorious. Consistently inconsistent. We took out his weight and put in mine. We changed it from cycling to running. I need to familiarize myself with it a bit, but I already understand that its reports will point me in directions I need to go: longer, faster, farther, harder. I've set up the spreadsheets to keep track of my stats. I understand I have to work both my body and my head.


Also courtesy of the Badger came a heart monitor and I understand I'll need to learn about myself in all the Zones - 1,2,3,4 and more . . . I recently read Wheel Dancer's post about "to monitor or not to monitor" - I guess I'm going to monitor. I need to learn more about myself in this way, as I've never explored it before. As the Forerunner already challenges me, I'll start the heart monitor in a few days. It's my hunch that I am somewhat familiar with the zones, but I have called them "just huffing and puffing", "slightly gasping for breath", "I can't believe I can do this" and "dial 9-1-1".

I am wrestling with myself about whether to do the half marathon or the whole enchilada. I believe I know what I'll do. You see, it would be an easy gig for me to do the half. I wouldn't have to work very hard. It's not all that much more than distances I've already been able to do at a pretty good pace, without being in training. But the marathon would be a true accomplishment. A true test of myself. Remarkable for many reasons. Something I never dreamed I could do.

I'm no math whiz, but if it can be managed on the fingers and toes, I can usually land on the sum. I know how long my walks take me now. I know how long it takes to cover how many miles. I began to think in terms of 13 or 26 miles and I realize that I will be on my feet for a long, long time. Everything being equal, and training hard, I'll be faster than I am now. But 26 miles walking still takes awhile.

It flitted through my head that I have people who would come out to support me if I were swimming or playing volleyball. But I don't know how you'd ask someone to come to a marathon and wait. Too long, too far, no way to tell where one will be at any given time. Maybe ask someone to wait at the finish line some 4+ hours into the race. Then it flitted through my head that I will have to provide my own encouragement and kudoes. That will be very new for me.

Very unsettled by the time I got home, I found I'd shaved about 10 minutes off of my usual amount of time in the streets. So I went online and I bought the pink shoes. In all of my life I've only had one pair of shoes that cost more than those pink beauties, but the shoes are ordered. I'll start to wear them in late November.

In my ears right now: Pachelbel - Pachelbel's Greatest Hit. One CD, the same tune rendered by about 20 different artists.

Something that charmed me today: The smoke coming off the Visa card after I paid for the shoes.

Friends in Need and Prevention

The Badger was , indeed, a friend in need. Despite two races in two days, the horrors of the oilfields and a very long drive home, he appeared at my door with a computer under his arm! We made a deal: I'd fix dinner, he'd get me up and running again. He did. I did. My hands were trembling as I reached for the keyboard. After leaving work Saturday, I'd gone without for about 24 hours! I blogged around on the BlackBerry, but I could only look, not post comments or write my own post. It was difficult!

However, lack of a computer forced me to have a different kind of day yesterday. I read more than I typically read. I finally put the multi-disc changer on the Bose. It has remained in the shipping box for a year. I washed off the patio furniture. I cleaned windows. I put all the DVDs and videos into the piece of furniture meant to contain them. Do you think I spend too much time in front of the monitor? I pride myself on never having been a TV addict, but . . . . .

The Badger's mother gives me subscriptions to Prevention magazine and I am also addicted to that. I'm not sure why every bit of it grabs me every time, but it does. On the day that Prevention arrives, I sit down and read it cover to cover. There's always something interesting about pet health care, and the best workouts on the planet. There is always an article that makes one think about choices in life - the way we make our way. Makeup artist Bobbi Brown always has good tips for where not to apply the mascara and what colors not to use if you're over 22 years old. The cooking section always draws my attention and I've learned some of my favorite tricks there (you should taste the brown sugar/mustard rub I make for salmon ~ the brown sugar caramelizes on the fish . . but that's another post). There are sections about vitamin supplements, what new products do and do not live up to their claims. And the last page presents the Reflections of an older, habitually happy and grateful woman (Chief Inspiration Officer of the publishing company) that contain a good deal of corn and I like them anyway.

Often there appears a page that intrigues me. It is about a Prevention event, but it's never anywhere near Las Vegas. It goes like this:

Join Team Prevention Walk It!

Get fit, meet other readers, and achieve a substantial fitness goal. Signing up ensures you an automatic spot at the event of your choice, step-by-step trianing and tips from Prevention's editors and experts, online training tools, a TeamPrevention race shirt, and much more!

We'll be there to help you every step of the way!

Well, that sounds a lot like something I'd like to do. Meet other walkers and Prevention readers (who, like me, would really just be other people interested in a variety of things), visit their 2 day expo and walk either a marathon or half marathon. There are frequently articles about Susie from Maryland or Tillie from Delaware who joined up, were not even fit at the beginning, were not walkers at all, and who were older (sometimes they're even as old as I am) . . . . who followed the progam and walked a half marathon. So . . . . I've got a leg up on Susie and Tillie ~ I've walked for miles every day for years. I burn through good shoes every 4-5 weeks.

I signed up this morning. I'm in! December 4th or 5th I'll visit the expo. Sunday, December 6th, I'm doin' the Rock 'n' Roll Las Vegas Marathon and Half Marathon.

In my ears right now: Dwight Yoakam's Best, with a tip of the hat to Bakersfield

Something that charmed me today: Hitting the "Submit" button when I joined TeamPrevention