Fishing Story

This is a story about two things: a pair of shoes, and two men who love to fish.

Brian owns a pair of basketball shoes that I'm pretty sure he purchased in 1983. Maybe he hasn't owned them that long but I feel like these shoes have been with us our entire marriage and helped us usher in the new millennium.

I hate these shoes.  

When they were new and shiny - and being used for playing basketball - I'm sure I was fine with these shoes.  But I don't even remember the time that they were actual basketball shoes and not the main point of contention in our marriage.

First of all, Brian has had a hard time coming to grips with certain fashion trends.  I know that back in the 90's it was completely acceptable for men to wear basketball shoes with any kind of attire.  It was what guys did.  I have tried to kindly explain to him that men no longer do this.  Basketball shoes are for basketball, only.  Unlike giving up pegged pants, this particular concept has been difficult for him to grasp.  He literally tried to wear these basketball shoes to my grandfather's viewing.  (Let that soak in for a second.)  He had them on his feet and got huffy with me when I made him change them.  

And thus began the great shoe debacle.  

Just so you can see what we're working with here, feast your eyes on these beauties:

I have hid the shoes, placed the shoes in the trash, had stern words about the shoes with him, and still these shoes are never in our closet - BECAUSE THEY ARE ALWAYS BY THE BACK DOOR BECAUSE HE IS ALWAYS WEARING THEM.  Now to be honest, if I wanted those shoes gone, they would be gone.  But I don't want to be like that.  So my hiding and trashing the shoes has always been with the intent to help him see how serious I am.  

He claims they are good work shoes.  Which I can agree with.  We all need a trashy pair of sneakers for mowing the lawn and doing muddy yard work. But he has been through a plethora of basketball shoes and other various sneakers since these have been purchased.  Why aren't they getting mixed into the rotation?  He doggedly hangs on to this pair?

So I thought we had come to an agreement.  He could keep the basketball shoes if he wore them only for dirty jobs and NEVER wore them out in public again.  And yet, over and over I find them on his feet.  If he has to run out to the grocery store, on go the old shoes.  If he's running to Menard's, on go the old shoes.  If we're going over to our friends house for a casual evening, there they are again.  You'll often hear me saying things like, "oh, the grocery store must be a construction zone, huh?" or "you expecting to play in the mud tonight?"  He really is incorrigible.  

So you'll understand why the next portion of this story is beyond horrifying to me.  Brian and his friend Dan love to fish.  They spent many happy hours together last year fishing the lakes of this region.  This past Tuesday was a beautiful, warm day and they decided to make this year's inaugural fishing outing.  What shows up the next day on the front page of the Warsaw Time's Union Newspaper?  This:

(Brian is the one sitting there looking like he's not really doing anything.) 

And guess what shoes Brian has on.

Which brings me to part two of this post, which is not shoe related.  (Thank goodness, right?)  

As I mentioned Dan and Brian spent MANY hours fishing together last year.  (We had an AMAZING fish fry at the end of the season.)  I was always a little curious about how Dan and Brian would spend their time, because let's face it, fishing is not, well, like playing a game of basketball.  There's a lot of downtime.  So Brian would come home and I'd ask, "what'd you guys talk about?"  And he'd saying, "Nothing really."  

Really?!?!  You sat side by side for four hours and you didn't talk about anything?  

Now I'm not trying to be nosy with him.  Their man time is sacred.  He doesn't have to share everything with me.  But I can't imagine coming home from my friend Heather's house and being like, yeah, didn't really talk much.  Just ate dinner and then watched a show.  No!  We're catching up, discussing worries, talking about work, talking about family, etc. I usually fill him in on a few things we talked about (whether he wants to hear about it or not) because that is what you do with your life partner.  i.e. "Heather and I were discussing your shoes and she totally agrees with me."  (JUST KIDDING!)

One day last summer Dan and Brian took Felicia's (Dan's girlfriend) nine-year-old son with them fishing. When they got back Felicia and I were sitting on the porch and Brian and Dan busied themselves with some other activity but Austin joined us there to tell us about their trip.  

We had our chance.  We would finally discover what these two talked about whilst fishing.  We began, very casually, pumping Austin for information.

Us: "Did the guys talk while you were out there?"

Austin: "Yeah."

Us: "Did they talk about baseball?"

Austin: "No, not really."  

Us: "What did they talk about?"

Austin: "Fishing."

Well. Mystery solved.

Second Date

I have said it before and I'll say it again.  It is HARD to make friends!  If you don't have several rug rats, a slew of co-workers, and you're not in college, how in the heavens are you supposed to make friends?  I see why people become regulars at the local pub because I think basically I would have to hang out at a bar and try to "pick up" friends.  I need to work on my pick up lines.  "Is your dad a thief?  Because someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes.  WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND?"

So tonight I find myself in a situation that has my palms sweating and my mind in a whirlwind of doubt and self-loathing.  Brian and I are going on a second date. 

Several weeks ago we were invited to a birthday dinner at some friends house (who are Brian's co-workers...thank God he has co-workers) and they had invited another couple and a friend whom we had never met before.  We had a fabulous time!  I mean the conversation was flowing, the group was clicking, we were laughing, the stories were titillating.  It was so much fun. 

And then Brian called me from work and the couple we had met that evening invited us to their house for dinner along with Brian's co-workers.  Now, I feel completely honored and a little flattered.  I mean, they liked us.  Enough to invite us to dinner at their home after meeting us only once. 

Oh no, I just had a thought.  Maybe they don't like us.  Maybe they think we're suckers and they're inviting us over to try to coerce us into a pyramid scheme.  I'm going to assume this is not going to happen.  They didn't seem the type.  One never knows though.

So, eliminating the above option, I'm back to assuming they enjoyed our company, which, after the initial rush of pleasure immediately made me panic.  Second date, we have to perform.  (Not put out or anything - that comes after the third date right? Oh gosh, what if they're into that kind of stuff and they're going to try to proposition us?  I'm also going to assume this is not an option.)  What if they deem that they're first impression of us was wrong, that we are NOT after all super cool, funny, or interesting but instead, we are real dullards?  I mean, we have to be charming, witty, engaging, intelligent conversationalists, and try not to smell bad.  (Did I put on deodorant?)  It is so much PRESSURE!  I don't know if I can do it.  As of this writing, I can't think of a single darn thing to talk about.  I haven't watched the news today.  I can't ask who they voted for yesterday.  I have done NOTHING interesting for days and weeks it seems.  I am thoroughly expecting disaster. 

Perhaps it is this kind of over-analysis that is the true reason I can't make friends.  Here goes nothing...let's hope I don't make a dolt of myself.

Not So Welcome

One of the fun outings I had this summer was attending Stitches Midwest, just outside of Chicago with members of my knitting group.  I referred to this event with friends and family as a "yarn convention" because it seemed easier for them to understand.  There were classes on various techniques available to take, but basically, we were there to shop.  And shop I did.  I was overwhelmed by all the yarn that surrounded me.  Beautiful yarn.  Lucious yarn.  Soft yarn.  Yarn that was hand dyed, yarn that was hand spun, yarn that was calling my name gently with its siren song.  And then there were all the knitting accessories: things to store your needles in, buttons, pattern holders, lint rollers, yarn stashers.  I wandered around like a country bumpkin who is spending her first day in the big city - wide eyed and a little lost - but knowing that her world will never be the same. 

But enough about yarn.  Because the real story here is about the fabulous weekend spent with my delightful yarn sisters in a lovely home in Hinsdale, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago.  Originally we were going to stay in the hotel attached to the convention center but then we were offered the home of Linda's son.  The family was out of town and they said we could stay.  And the home was absolutely lovely...and in a neighborhood I would never be welcome to live in.  It made the weekend absolutely fantastic!  We sat around and talked and LAUGHED and just enjoyed ourselves immensely as only a whacky bunch of knitters can do. 

I drove up with Linda on Thursday, arriving before the rest of the group, meaning I could have first pick of the bedrooms.  Now several weeks earlier Linda had mentioned that she had informed her youngest grandson, Neil, that her friends were going to be staying at their house and that someone would be sleeping in his bed.  His reply: "I don't like anyone sleeping in my bed."  Linda told him it would be fine.

So when we arrive Linda tells me to head upstairs and that I can choose from either Neil or Paul's (her oldest grandson) bedrooms.  When I entered the first bedroom I immediately knew that it was Neil's.  I laughed out loud, put my stuff in Paul's room and headed back downstairs.  I told Linda, "I think I'll be staying in Paul's room.  You should check out Neil's.  I think he was serious about not wanting anyone to sleep in his bed." 

This is what welcomed us:

A tiny army of soldiers was lined up pointing at the bed. 

The bed was being guarded by Imperial Walkers and you can see that the bed was covered with difficult to move Lego armies.

Here is another shot of the perfect semicircle of soldiers aimed at the bed.

A hill of canons and snipers.

Clearly, Neil had put a great deal of thought and energy into "welcoming" the lucky knitter to his room.  I can't imagine how long it must have taken him to line up all those little soldiers and to create this fortress of protection in his space!  All in all, it's quite subtle wouldn't you say? 

Mexico 2010

I have been horrible about blogging this summer what with all the fun I've been having.  So I am going to try to "catch up" a little over the next few days, starting with my annual vacation with friends that I took to Troncones, Mexico in June. 

My friend Heather wrote on my Facebook page recently, "What no blog about our MX trip? Not up to par? You don't think people want to read about sweaty yoga, late night peril filled walks to the outdoor kitchen, hot soup on a humid day and Andrea's infamous ocean somersault? Guess I should have added a spoiler alert!"  This about sums up the trip...but I'll fill in some of the blanks. 



Day 1:

Heather and I found ourselves taking a little mini-vacation to Phoenix due to the fact that there had been a storm in Chicago the night before and the flight crew had to catch a few extra winks of sleep.  There was nothing we could do but make the best of it.  However, US Airways probably won't be getting much business from us in the future not because of the cancelled flight but because their customer service was ATROCIOUS. 

However, the Embassy Suites near the airport made our little layover a pure delight with their lovely pool, manager's reception, free shuttle around town, awesome free breakfast, and colorful staff.  Heather, of course, has an obsession with Indian Taco's and since we were in Arizona we felt we should be able to find one.  Not only did the front desk staff look it up for us, find us a restaurant, and offer the hotel shuttle to take us there for free, but they thought the tacos looked good so they came with us to grab supper.  The next morning a tiny little man made us delicious omelets and then we were off to Troncones!

Days 2-6:
After being verbally accosted by a flight attendant due to a seating fiasco (read, we won't be using US Airways again) we arrived in Troncones and were welcomed to our little bungalow at Casa Ki by our friend Andrea, whose flight arrived as scheduled the day before. 

And commence the relaxation.  Our non-air conditioned bungalow was directly on the beach looking out over the mighty Pacific.  We sat on our porch and talked, and read, and talked, and napped, and talked, and listened to the waves.  I don't know if I've ever had such a relaxed vacation.  I did not open my make-up bag and never once touched my hair dryer.  That, my friends, is way more relaxed than I've EVER been on vacation!

Here's the view from our bungalow.  The gate is meant to keep wandering dogs, cows, pigs, from entering the property.

It doesn't really stop the local herd of wild dogs from entering at will though.  They liked to come around in the late afternoon and we watched them jump right on over.  There were other run-ins with wild life.  It was the season for the crabs to come down from the mountain and lay their eggs on the beach.  This meant in the evening when we walked the paths to our community kitchen for beverages or to use the wi-fi, one had to exercise caution.  Heather and I nearly had our toes taken off by a large, clickety-clackety, red crab.  And unfortunately, I took the life of a small hermit crab trying to reach the beach. 

Here are Andrea and Heather who, oddly enough, both picked up "Mennonite in a Little Black Dress" to read on the vacation.  Reconnecting to the old Menno roots I guess.  It led to many interesting conversations though!

The Pacific was a little too mighty for us to enjoy a leisurely swim but we did find a few tide pools that we lazed around in quite a bit to cool off from the oppressive Mexican heat.  Twice we were referred to as mermaids by passers by.  I guess mermaids must hang out in tide pools?

I will say that the waves still got us a few times.  Notice Heather clinging to a rock.  And the aforementioned somersault was a result of a taking poor Andrea for a spin.  Luckily no major injuries were reported.

Also mentioned above was sweaty yoga.  We ventured down the beach twice to a lovely resort called Present Moments to take in some yoga on a platform overlooking the ocean.  Morning yoga was a bit more rigorous, lasting two hours and involving immense amounts of sweat.  It can be a little difficult to hold a pose when your legs and arms are slick with sweat.  Afternoon yoga was more relaxed and included some two-person yoga poses which may have broken the mood just a bit since Heather and Andrea made me giggle. 

Present Moments also hosted a movie night on the beach which we took in, watching "Blue Crush," a surfing movie.  How appropriate.  It was the only thing we watched all week, save some FIFA World Cup soccer games that were being aired at restaurants.  Literally, work came to stand still when there was a game on.  (Notice the taxi drivers at the airport glued to the soccer game on T.V.)

Mixed in to the sweaty yoga and the relaxation was a massage that we had on the patio outside our bungalow.  Despite the fact that Heather was having a "modest day," we all enjoyed the massage utilizing hot cups to pull the toxins out of our systems.  More about toxins later. 

We also walked down hot dusty roads to eat at delicious local eateries in town - places with tin roofs and dirt floors but with super tasty authentic Mexican food.  I knew that we were staying in a town geared towards surfers and a little off the beaten path, but WOW we were staying in a town where there were few snacks available (Heather nearly starved one day) and the local restaurants knew NO English.  Thank goodness Heather knew enough Spanish to get us by.  We ate guacamole every day but one.  Heather and I enjoyed a delicious hot bowl of soup on the hottest day of the year.  And we were able to partake of some elusive quesadillas from a lady who had a tragic story.  Mmmmmm.....

We went kayaking one day.  Kayaking is a whole lot of work and really, no fun at all.  Andrea was not feeling so well that day so we tried to heal her with hot rocks.  And Heather and I nearly had a run in with a large Mexican cow who was crossing the lagoon.  In the end Alejandro, gave us a local coconut to drink to restore our fluids and then we were well enough to go back and continue our relaxation.

 

We saw some federalis storm through town.  The locals didn't act nervous so we just kept eating our quesadillas.  The picture isn't so great because Andrea was trying to do it on the sly.  We didn't really want a direct run in after all.

I attempted to teach Heather to knit.  Nothing like holding a bunch of yarn when you're all hot and sweaty and there's a bunch of sand blowing in your face.

And we laid around in hammocks pretty much everywhere we went including all the local restaurants.

Day 7 and beyond:

After a mad dash around the Mexico City airport where moments of panic were upon us so greatly that I'm still having nightmares, we arrived home safely.  However, I brought back a little friend.  A bug of some sort.  I made it through the entire vacation with not so much as one digestive issue.  Ah, but Montezuma shall have his revenge.  Within minutes of getting home the bug hit.  I named my little parasite Charlie and within a few days were on such familiar terms he let me call him Chuck.  But that's all worked out now.  So I shall leave you with a few more pictures of our lovely little home for the week.

Everyone's a Little Bit Racist

I pride myself on my cultural sensitivity.  I try really hard to avoid perpetuating stereotypes, I try to keep an open mind, to avoid judgements, blah, blah, blah.  This is not because I am such an advanced human being who, by my own superiority, received this enlightenment.  No, I have to credit this to two things: 1) my mom who, actually is a superior human being and never let a lick of discrimination pass between her lips, and 2) attending Bethany Christian High School and Goshen College where cultural sensitivity is all but BEAT into your system.  I remember gettting worn out by it in school, resisting it, feeling like they were just being overly sensitive.  And then, I don't know when exactly, it became a part of my living and breathing, it just clicked.  I understood why it was so important.  I credit them and thank them for that important influence in my life.  I do remember one day making a decision that I would speak only in inclusive language and would always avoid and stand against discriminatory statements and jokes.  It hasn't been easy but you can change your language with persistence and repetition.  But by no means am I perfect at it.  Not by a long shot.  However, I figure trying is better than nothing. 

We have some very close friends who, let's say, haven't quite had the background or revelations that I've had.  How do you try to get someone to grasp quickly what took you a lifetime to come to terms with?  Well you don't, and I have to reserve judgement about that as well.  But they all know that they are not to make racist, sexist, or descriminatory comments or tell jokes of the same nature around me.  Which doesn't really stop them...but they in no way question where I stand.

As an aside, my parents spend the winters now in Brownsville, Texas (on the border of Mexico) where my brother and his family live.  So I was asking my mom if she's picking up any words or phrases, absorbing the culture if you will, while there.  She told me that she had learned the word for "mountain" which is "montana."  She then lamented that it doesn't work itself into conversation much. 

So while hanging out with my friends the other night, I noticed that Terry was wearing a sweatshirt that said "Montana."  Trying to be conversational I began telling him that I had just learned that "Montana" means "mountain."  Except I botched it all up.  I began explaining how my mom had gotten back from Brownsville and I asked her if she'd learned any Mexican words while there.  IMMEDIATELY, our other friend Dan asked, "What did you say?  Did you ask her if she'd learned any "Mexican" words?  Because I believe the language they speak is Spanish." 

There it was.  I, the supposed great moral compass of the group, had committed a horrible cultural gaffe.  I don't know what posessed me.  I'm sure I was trying to combine the idea of picking up Mexican culture with learning the Spanish language and it just came out all wrong.  Right?  It had to be. 

But, I'm sure that this group will not ever let me live this down.  It will haunt me forever. 

As another aside, Heather and I just finished our season of musicals the week before this conversation ocurred, seeing "Avenue Q."  Which is hilarious and extremely adult.  (i.e. If you would like to see explicit puppet sex, this is the show for you.)  But it was chock full of scathing commentary on modern life.  One song immediately came to mind after my scandalous exchange with friends.  I would like to share it with you.  Be warned, it's a little adult...and a little bit true.

Update on Life

The Olympics are WAY done and still I have not gotten back into the swing of blogging.  But I'm going to blame my blog-laziness on them.  Stupid Olympics. 

BUT, here is a picture of my Olympic hat.  (Never mind how scary Brian may look...he is attempting to look happy for me.)  You may have seen this hat on the US Olympians in the opening ceremonies as well as on certain athletes while standing around in the snow.  Me and my knitting friends spotted the hat immediately and decided we MUST learn how to knit it.  Thankfully, our local yarn store owner went to town creating a chart and voila! the hat is mine.  It involved me tying yarn to my kitchen mixer and attempting to create twisted cord for the tassles, which I must say worked swimmingly.  However, the yarn shop owner rejected them (claiming they were too tight) and made me twist tassles by hand in her store.  How humiliating.  And my moose are dimply.  I am not happy about that.  I'll just have to make another one so that Brian and I can match.  :)

In March we hosted a mystery supper for our church youth group.  If you have never been to one you must.  They are tons of fun.  Or maybe you should host one but if you do, you may want to hire extra help.  Here is the menu just to give you an idea of what it entails.

Welcome to our Mystery Dinner. Dinner will consist of three courses. For each course please select 6 items from the menu below. Place the numbers that correspond to the items you've selected, in the spaces next to the letters below. No duplicates allowed! You will be served only those items selected for each course.


Among the items you are to select are such items as your utensils, beverages, and your napkin. You must make all of your course selections before the meal begins and turn this form into your maitre de.

We hope you enjoy your meal (if you can figure out what you are ordering). Good luck!

MYSTERY MENU

1. The fourth item required to summon Captain Planet

2. Racial Harmony

3. Poultry’s Sin

4. A tricky Situation

5. The Cat’s Meow

6. Prison Enemy

7. Immature Biscuit

8. Early Hodgepodge

9. Warm Snuggles

10. Dangerous to Cut

11. Particle Maintenance

12. Yellow Surfboard

13. Fork

14. Sleepy relative

15. Forest river

16. Tot’s Money Maker

17. Ebony’s Embrace

18. Beatles Favorite Crop

And here is what we served (not in the order of the menu above):

Deviled egg, cheese, pickle, napkin, lasagna, tossed salad, garlic bread, lemonade, fork, spoon, toothpick, knife, brownie cheesecake, cream of broccoli soup, hershey kiss, and strawberries.

Brian and I were so in control leading up to this event.  We went to the store on Tuesday evening and then spent the whole night prepping our food.  We were in such good shape that when we got home on Wednesday evening we sort of paced around for awhile waiting to put the food in the oven or to assemble things.  We became totally arrogant with our advanced preparation thinking it was going to be a breeze.  And then the 12 people present turned in their menus and HOLY COW! I felt like we began a sprint that did not end for 1.5 hours.  We totally underestimated how much work it would be to assemble everyone's plates.  And people were hungry and grumbly and Brian and I were frantically trying to decode menus and put plates together.  We also underestimated how many plates we would need.  Brian was washing dishes as we went.  I cannot describe the chaos that went on in that kitchen on that night.  You would weep and scream if you knew the horrors.  (Notice the blanket hanging over the kitchen doorway so the horrors could not be witnessed.)  But I think it was successful...I think the youth had fun but frankly I simply didn't have time to check in on that.

This is an "after" picture.  I don't know if you can see how dazed and shell-shocked I am from the experience.  Also notice that I am sitting on the floor.  When I mentioned sitting on the couch to rest my weary bones there were immediately 11 teenagers on the couch. The kids were awesome though.  I would do it again in a heartbeat.


I went to another wonderful show at the Morris with my theater going friend Heather.  We saw "Rain" a Beatles tribute show.  It was like going to the best sing along imaginable.  Nothing but fun.  And the show was done in a clever way so that you could sort of imagine what it would have been like to see the Beatles in each stage of their run together.  (i.e. the Ed Sullivan set, the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band era and look, etc.)  However, there were several people in the audience taking pictures on phones and other cameras  and Heather and I were like, ummm, you do realize that's not really the Beatles up there right? 

On the way back to Heather's house we realized how very animated we can get in our conversations when Heather glanced to her left at a stoplight and saw a young man hanging out his window mimicking our gesticulations.  Our conversation had been about the Olympics.  We are both very passionate, what can I say?

That about brings us up to the present.  This past weekend was Easter and what a great weekend it turned out to be.  My parents returned home from Texas on Wednesday night.  My sister and her family came to spend the weekend with us which is always so much fun.  Our good friends Dan and Felicia and Colin came and had a bonfire with us Saturday night.  Dan and Felicia came to church on Sunday and joined my family for dinner and it was just such a fun and awesome weekend!  Made so much better by Kevin's neverending stream of joke telling all weekend.  Therefore, I end this blog with my favorite Kevin joke of the weekend.

Two peanuts were walking down the street.
And one was a-salted.

Mary Oliver

Is there some reason I never knew that the poet Mary Oliver existed?

Last night after attending an absolutely delightful yoga class with my friend Heather (led by Jamie Robinson) our yogi read us a Mary Oliver poem as we relaxed at the end of class. It was so gentle and moving as we lay there, after having twisted our bodies like pretzels for an hour, to be caressed by this inspiring poem. He read it twice so we could soak up the words. And then, he rang a singing bowl. And frankly, I could not have loved him any more than I did at that point. (You may not know that I have a singing bowl given to me by my mother-in-law. A bowl that I love deeply and has been carted around to all sorts of places because it soothes my soul. And it's sort of a party hit.)

The poem connected with me in a way that poetry hasn't for some time - maybe because I haven't spent time reading much poetry and fostering my love for it. And frankly I think most of us need more poetry in our lives. So today I took some time reading her poetry online - and was completely entranced. I have visions of printing these poems out and wallpapering my house with them. They are that good.

I share with you the poem that inspired me last night:

Mornings at Blackwater

For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.

And it always assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.

What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.

So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,

and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.

-Mary Oliver

What the fit?

This morning I did something I never dreamed in a million years that I would do.

I joined a gym.

Now before you go thinking this is some sort of new year's resolution band wagon I'm jumping on, please know that I was supposed to sign up at the beginning of December and simply used my powers of procrastination to make my timing look unseemly. And the gym I'm joining is called "The Health and Wellness Center," and is part of our hospital campus/complex. I like the idea of being healthy and well - doesn't everyone? So, there I was this morning at 8:00 being asked to do push-ups (How many can I do lady? The answer is 0.), being hooked up to heart monitors and being walked on a treadmill like a lab-rat, having pulses sent through my body to see how fat I am (yeah, plenty-much), and being asked to display my flexibility (I think I pulled something).

This journey began with my friend Felicia and I deciding to train for a 5-K. It ended with the weather turning bitterly cold, too cold to run outside, but deciding we didn't want to quit exercising altogether. So one day last fall we made a date to tour every fitness venue in town. Turns out, that is a lot of fun. The thought of finding a place to get fit is quite a bit more enjoyable than the actual "getting fit" part. So our first stop was Curves. That actually felt a little like we were being sold a time-share (if you've never been through that high-pressure experience I recommend AVOIDING IT!) except without the smarmy sales people. I guess it just felt a little gimmicky. But Felicia and I sat down for a health assessment - together - and let's just say there are no secrets between us now.

Part of that assessment was having our body fat index measured along with measurements of our hips, thighs, and other various body parts. Numbers were crunched, the results placed on a chart and the results were revealed. Basically, on a scale of 1 to instant death, we were both hovering near one month to live. We were told that we are both "technically obese." Surprise, surprise. Frankly I don't think it takes that much to hit that mark, and I'd been told it before so there was no shock there. So we left there, more grateful than ever for each moment we're not dropping dead.

We headed to the Health and Wellness Center and demanded a tour. It was more to our liking, a little more serious, a little more comprehensive. The nice woman who led us around then told us about some of the other offerings that the center had available. One was a weight control class. We were interested and wanted to hear more. She then, almost in a whisper, told us that the class is for people who are "technically obese, so we're dealing with some of the largest people in town here." Felicia and I exchanged a glance. Not fifteen minutes before this we had both been told we are "technically obese." We did not need further interpretation to understand what that was saying about us.

So as we toured the YMCA, complete with the scary weight room full of sweaty men, and then a fancy fitness studio that we felt under-dressed for, we found ourselves exclaiming things like, "Oops, I tripped. I guess that's what happens when you're some of the largest people in town" or "I'm surprised I can roll out this car what with being some of the largest people in town." That is part of the reason I love to work out with Felicia, that ability to laugh it off. So we laughed and toured and gathered information and coupons.

And then we went to lunch. (We'd worked up an appetite walking up and down all those stairs in these fitness places.)

So here we are, ready to start a new year, a healthier year. Let's hope this, unlike all the potato chips I so dearly love, will stick to my hips instead.

No Pain No Gain

I've decided to train for a 5-K again, which is crazy and not really any fun. But I figure I should make some sort of attempt at healthfulness and this is cheap. Also, I have a great running companion, Felicia, and I would not be doing this without her.

I did this two years ago with some friends in Nappanee and ran the 5-K at the Michiana Mennonite Relief Sale. It was the year I turned 30 and it was a major accomplishment for me. It was amazing!

And then I stopped running. A fact that I could just kick myself over and over for. (I couldn't keep driving 30 minutes one-way to run with friends and goodness knows I don't have the will-power to do it on my own.)

But now I'm running again. And as much as I'm not a morning person (I get up and go run early) I sort of look forward to it. As I trained in Nappanee and now running with Felicia, I have come to cherish these early morning runs with friends. You share a goal with others, you chat (when you can breathe), you check in with each other several times a week...not to mention, the bonus of feeling healthier. While I hate the running - I like all it brings.

This morning though was especially taxing. We hit a new routine this week, run 3 minutes, walk 90 seconds, run 5 minutes, walk 2.5 minutes, and repeat. Holy Pete, it was HARD. I felt shell-shocked for 45 minutes after we were done. As we were running our final 5-minute section Felicia wheezed out, "Getting in shape is hard. No wonder people eat cheeseburgers and sit on the couch all day. It's so much easier." I couldn't agree more. This is crap. Why, if we're supposed to exercise, does it have to SUCK SO MUCH? But I suppose we'll just keep plugging away...and won't have to feel so guilty next time we eat that delicious cheeseburger.

Paved with Good Intentions

So the experiment is on hold. Rush Limbaugh is on vacation this week. He announced this information on Friday by saying that the president is on vacation next week as well. And since Obama is clearly a pansy for needing a vacation after already having had a week of vacation, Rush thinks he might as well take one too. I was all ready to do some side-by-side comparisons. But it looks like it will have to wait until after Italy...

We Report...You Decide

*I want everyone to know that the blog that follows has been written with a grand twinkle in my eye. I LOVE the friends I shall refer to and think diversity in beliefs is a wonderful thing.*

I have two friends who I enjoy immensely. We do not see eye to eye on politics. Let's face it, we don't see eye to knee on politics.

I loves me some NPR.

They loves them some Rush Limbaugh.

That pretty much sums it up. I think that NPR is fair and balanced, they think it's left-wing liberal propaganda. They think Rush is a great truth teller, I think he's a hate-spreading nut job. And basically...I think I'm right.

So we're always on each other about the information we've received from our various news sources - battling it out over "Obamacare" or gun control or foreign policy...you name it. So this week I had an idea. I challenged Terry to listen to NPR for one week and I'd listen to Rush for a week. (*Inhale Sharply* What have I just done?) He did not think he could go for a week without listening to Rush. (Oh for crying out loud.) So I said, fine. We'll both listen to Rush from 12:00-2:00 and then we'll switch to NPR for "Talk of the Nation". A better idea anyway so that we're both listening to the same discussions. Felicia agreed to join us as well. My goal in this experiment is to get a better sense about where the other person is coming from rather than just having heated debates every time we're together.

Also, I'd like to convert them into NPR fans. There. I said it. It's not a totally altruistic experiment. I want to bring them over from the dark side.

So yesterday, listening to Rush, I learned what a "waitress sandwich" is (in reference to something Ted Kennedy once did in a restaurant with another man and a waitress). I also discovered that, technically, the health care plan being proposed by the Obama administration is not socialist. It's fascist.

And then I switched to NPR and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Terry called me later to check in on the experiment. I listened to 1.5 hours of Rush. He listened to 20 minutes of NPR!!! He said he couldn't handle it. It was too boring. Hmmm...you mean boring because there aren't people ranting and raving - rather they are carrying on conversations in a rational and intelligent manner? Yeah. I guess I can see how that might be boring to some.

But the experiment continues. Currently it's eight minutes till Rush.

I can't wait to see what I learn today!

Just Another Boring Blog

Here's a little update on the goings-on at the Showalter residence this week. Frankly, it's a bit boring. I've become a boring person. Oh well, I guess there are worse things to become - like a horrible, ugly, jerk. I'll take boring.

Knittery: I'll start with a week ago Saturday. I got up early (8:45 a.m.), on my own, without crying or whining, on a Saturday morning to go...to a knit-in at my local yarn store! I was a little nervous considering I wouldn't know anyone there. Would I fit in? Would they think my project was lame or that my stories were dull? Would they tell me, in as many words, that my kind was not welcome? When I got home at noon Brian asked how it was and I replied, "It was only the best time ever." Something about sitting around knitting with a bunch of people and having idle and interesting chit-chat, enjoying each others company and admiring their work is so relaxing and energizing. Conversation ranged from knitting projects to books we're reading to bras. Even though these are strangers conversation is easy and enjoyable. We do, after all share a common interest which is a good start. And everyone is pretty much looking at their hands, lest they drop a stitch, which provides a safety in sharing. None of this intense eye-contact business. They meet the first Saturday of the month and I intend to become a regular.

Here's the project I finished that day. I call it my "I am Woman, Hear Me Roar" bag. Because it's really the first project I've done completely on my own.



Cleanery: Last week was spring break around here, so I didn't have piano lessons. And the weather was beautiful and it made me want to spring clean. And so on Monday I turned into a mean, cleaning machine. (Here's where that "I've turned into a boring person" really comes into play.) I had to pick and choose my projects because I so wanted to turn this house upside down in my cleaning frenzy. But I got a lot done. What is it about a day of thorough cleaning that makes me feel like a productive and worthwhile citizen? Wow that was rewarding. I really need to wash my windows though. I'm embarrassed to say how long it's been. But the last time I did it a bird immediately flew into my clean window and dropped dead. I decided it was a sign from God that I should not have clean windows. But I think even Jesus would be shaking his head in disgust at the current state of my windows.

Friendery: We've recently started playing Rummy with friends of ours, which is a darn good time. That's how old and boring we've gotten. But I also had a great time at the Theater with my friend Heather on Friday night. We saw a great production of "Annie." Which leads me to...

Vacationery: On Saturday morning we had the most lovely and fun Easter breakfast with my family. We had to have Easter breakfast a day early because I then had to get Brian to Da-Lite so he could catch a flight to Holland. Again. (Over Easter? Really Da-Lite?) So he's trotting around Amsterdam right now and I have another week of solitude. Although this time I'm not quite as excited about it. I talked to him a few minutes ago and told him to tell me what he's seen. All he could say was, "Well, we've seen everything...You know." No, I don't know. Name some names. Give some detail. "Well, we've just seen a bunch of stuff. Everything really." Thank you for such a compelling and detailed account of your travels abroad. I can't wait to hear more about you seeing "stuff" and talking to "people" about "things." But, after finding out that he would be heading to Europe again Brian didn't feel any compunction about Heather and I heading to England!!! So, plane tickets have been purchased and travel guides bought and Heather and I are making plans to have tea with the Queen! (The last part is a lie but I would like a spot of tea while there.)

Pettery: So, for now it's just me and the animals around here. After the trip to the vet last week with Fitty, I now have another animal with undignified itching. Reggie's hind-end seems to be giving him trouble. So tonight I shall don my rubber gloves and attempt to do some unpleasant veterinary-type procedures and see if I can heal him. It should be a very fulfilling evening.

That's all for now. More boring blogs to follow...