My quads, hamstrings, and calves are tight as can be but still I have a remarkable flexibility that allows me to put my foot into my mouth. I’m talented like that.
See…
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My quads, hamstrings, and calves are tight as can be but still I have a remarkable flexibility that allows me to put my foot into my mouth. I’m talented like that.
See…
[Read more…]
On Sunday, I set out to play spectator to a road cycling event. Through narrow and winding roads I went, with the hopes of getting a few snapshots and offering a cheery smile & wave to a friend.
Seeing as I had no idea what I was doing nor where I was going, I found myself caught in the middle as the cyclist road the downward spiral of one these roads. It was the most narrow of them all. Did you know that cyclists can descend these hills faster than me in my little blue car? It’s true. I can only pull over so many times and actually get somewhere. Oh, and my blood pressure. Yeah. I was not pretty.
“This is wrong,” I mumbled, “This is fucking WRONG.”
“It’s O.K., Mom,” YaYa said in his most soothing voice.
But, with a death grip on my steering wheel and a cyclist on my bumper, my panic-stricken state exploded until I was on the verge-of-tears.
I cried, “I don’t belong here. I’m ruining their ride.”
But there was no escaping that narrow and winding road. I had to pull it together. Believe it or not, I actually wished I was a cyclist instead — which says a lot. I’m petrified of the descent on bike too.
Somehow, I got down the hill and enjoyed a nice stretch of wide road where there was plenty of room for all of us (cyclists and me). A short while later, I landed at a quaint little store/cafe near the ocean. Which is where my friend found ME. So much for me being supportive.
I took the long way home — where the roads are wide and straight, and I am the one getting annoyed by the slow cars.
by Juls 2 Comments
On the way to school yesterday, I reiterated that disorganization and complacency do not have a spot in our world. I went on to convey my opinion that a messy and disorganized room or house will only lead to mess and disorganization in the rest of one’s life — OUR life. I thought back to the days of cluttered counters and routine dumping of “stuff” (shoes, books, keys, etc.) where ever and whenever anyone wanted when I said this.
Truly those were the days where I often cringed when I opened our front door. Not exactly the “Welcome Home” I wanted. With my home in disarray, my life felt much the same.
“It Does NOT Work!” I insisted. YaYa just nodded.
Taking the pressure off of YaYa for a moment, I noted that I had also caught a touch of spring fever. Acknowledging my recent pattern of not laying out the clothes, the meds, and the coffee the night before, I pointed out the return of the morning scramble. Once again, I stated, “It doesn’t work!” Only this time, I was speaking more to myself than to him.
That evening, YaYa insisted his homework was complete. In the same breath, he also noted a test in Science the following day. I, having utilized my big-brother tendencies for something other than obsessing over my blog traffic, had an up-to-the-minute beat on his grades. I handed him the post-it noting each one of them. His Science grade was the 2nd lowest and I was not happy.
Then, as soon as we were through the door immediately launched into action:
· I cooked got dinner while he got organized.
· I went for a run while he ate and reviewed his study guide.
· I shot him the questions while he answered them.
· I folded laundry while he tore apart the place looking for his volleyball uniform.
And although we have yet to find the uniform, we did get organized enough to skirt the morning scramble. Better than that, my daily obsessing has revealed that YaYa nailed his Science test.
Next up: Revolutionary War and bills – neither of which I have confidence in.
by Juls 4 Comments
Over the past 3 years, I’ve made a habit out of filling the empty spaces left from my husband’s passing. My finding ways of filling the void left behind has been good. However, filling the empty is not always a good thing.
Filling the empty closet and drawer space was not necessary…but that didn’t stop me. In 3 short years, I went from one to TWO closets filled with clothes. If that wasn’t enough, I filled up a 2nd dresser as well.
Fortunately, I suppose, I didn’t spend money on most of these items. Unless it was run wear that is. Like a shoeless woman, I’ve taken clothing from anyone offering. The clothes need not fit well or even be in style. I took them anyway.
I also kept the old stuff too. I actually had dresses in my closet which I hadn’t worn in over 20 years.
There was only a small section of closet space which I did not fill. Instead, I left the last few items of clothing from my late husband sit there. I said that they were there for this boys — in case they needed a tuxedo AND grew to my husband’s height & weight AND wanted them. It’s a lot of If’s and very little sense. Honestly, I think I feared I’d fill that space with more poorly fitting clothes too.
All I needed was someone to give me permission to toss my clothes into the donation pile…
When I look back on my life to date, there are a few moments in particular where my decision was critical. One, in particular, comes to mind today.
It was the summer before entering high school. My best friend all through elementary school talked me into joining her and a few of her new friends on an outing.
We all piled into two cars and drove to an abandoned house down a nearby country road. Once in the house, the alcohol came out. The beers disappeared like the time — all too quickly. Before I knew it, the sky was dark and I was late. I began to panic. Surely I’d be in trouble if I didn’t get home quick.
While I could easily grasp the consequences of being late, I could not grasp the potential consequences of riding in a car with a drunk driver. The guys swore they were fine to drive. Though I’m sure none of us actually believed them, we didn’t think twice about piling back into those cars.
Next thing I knew, the two cars were drag racing down the 2 lane road and, from the rear middle seat (which did not have a seatbelt), I was faced with death. It was sobering for sure.
We were on the wrong side of the road barreling down the road towards another car. All the while the driver was taunting the car beside us as we raced towards our death.
We barely cleared both the oncoming car and the car we were racing. That day, I walked away from both the car and that friendship. Through my high school years, I held tight to this memory and did not ever feel the need to succumb to peer pressure again.