Humor

Does anybody know what time it is?

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Every time I think about the clocks in my house, the Chicago tune ‘Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is’ pops into my head.

“Does anybody really know what time it is

I don’t

Does anybody really care

About time”

Time after time, I start my day off on the wrong foot. The clock on the left is in my living room. This is the clock that I rely on to get the kids on the bus in the morning and it is the clock that tells me when I should go to bed at night. I am not sure how a digital clock loses time, but this one does. After a month, the clock loses 10 minutes. You would think that 10 minutes really wouldn’t matter, right? Have you ever had a kid miss the bus? Not something that you would want to watch. Or have you ever had to deal with me when I don’t get exactly 8 hours of sleep? Don’t wind me up.

The “clock” in the middle is my iPhone and it is always right, just like me. Okay, okay the clock is always right and I always write. Wrong right. Sorry.. Time to switch gears.

The “clock” on the right is my iPad. It has never been right (except in this picture). I think that it was probably designed for a procrastinator. The strange thing is that if I publish a blog on the iPad, it won’t actually publish until 12 minutes later because it seems to be confused about the time. Has anyone ever heard of an iPad with the incorrect time?? People just give me a strange confused look if I tell them my iPad is off. I can tell they are thinking that I am a little bit off. It ticks me off a little, but not to the point where I want to clock someone.

Winter fitness forecast

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Last year my husband and I bought cross country skis. We thought that it would be an excellent way to enjoy exercising outside in the cold snowy winter months. Running on icy snowy roads really isn’t all that it is cracked up to be. I did end up dusting off my treadmill last week. Not because of the snow, we haven’t had enough of that for my grandma to even write flurries on her calendar if she was still living. Last week brought about cool and very windy days. Even I am not crazy enough to run outside in the cold against 40 mph winds.

Last year we bought skis and didn’t get any snow. Really? Well, it figures. In the winter months, I cut back my running down to about 18 miles per week and let Jillian Michaels kick my butt an hour a week. I don’t have any races coming up until next May. I am planning on doing another marathon. Call me vain, but I love how I look all muscular, tone, and lean when I am training for a marathon. This time of year, who cares? I mean half of the month I don’t even bother to shave. I guess there are a few benefits to living in a cold climate.

I am really counting on snow to supplement my exercise routine. We really want to go cross country skiing this year. On average where I live we get a little over 50 inches (130 cm) of snow per season. Statistically speaking, we should be able to ski unless my buying skis last year gives me another year of bad luck regarding snowfall. Imagine if I bought a snowmobile?!? Geez.

My husband and I also depend on snowfall for our other form of exercise, snow shoveling. We have a moderately long driveway. All our neighbors hire someone with a snowplow or have a snow blower. We argue over who gets to shovel. Seriously, this doesn’t give us many sanity points with our neighbors. Yes, we are those fitness freaks. I am so happy that my husband and I are at similar fitness levels. We have so much of the world left to actively explore.

Snow tires

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In our school district, we have a late bus that drops kids off at various locations after after school activities. The late bus has been a good experience, well except for that one time. What can I say? Snow tires!

When my son was in middle school, he took the late bus to the drop off spot after wrestling practice. One dark, cold, winter Friday night I went to pick him up and had a little adventure. I attempted to make a Y turn and slid on the ice into a snow bank. So here I was with the back end of my car hanging out sideways on the road. My headlights were buried in the snow and I was afraid that oncoming cars would not be able to see me. Yeah, right about that time I had the image in my mind of getting hit by the bus. I called my husband in freak out panic mode. He was in the middle of making supper and couldn’t get there right away. 

Right after I called home two men, that were strangers to me and each other, showed up and pushed my car out of the snow bank. I really appreciated their kindness. Immediately after that, my son showed up on the late bus. He got in the car and exclaimed that he forgot his homework and wrestling gear on the bus. Big problem because the wrestling meet was the next morning. So here I am trying to flag down a school bus in the dark. The first stop I tried to send my son to get his stuff but the driver didn’t see him and left. So here I am driving along side of the bus waving and honking trying not to hit kids wandering around in the dark. Finally my son got his things off the bus. 

In the meantime, my husband set aside supper to help get me out of the snow bank. Except, I was no longer there. He was getting really worried that perhaps by snow bank I meant ditch. Or something really bad happened, like the bus driving around with my car in its front grill. I tried calling him in the process, but he already left. Thankfully, we all made it home safely that night. This winter I will be sure to have good snow tires.  

If running doesn’t kill me, it will make me stronger!

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On my way home from work this past week, I followed a drunk driver. He was weaving all over the road, in and out of the ditch almost taking out some signs, just missing mailboxes and garbage bins. I felt anger towards the man in the truck as I thought of the school bus returning the little neighborhood kids meer minutes ago. Then it hit me. I wasn’t safe either. Neither were the other bikers or runners. 

At my last doctors appointment, I was told that I was in great shape. My already low cholesterol levels dropped 50 points. My blood pressure was low. I am the epitome of health (something I always remind the doctors of when I am sick). My weight was perfect. Absolutely everything was wonderful. I attributed this to all of my running. I thought the doctor would prescribe me cigarettes, liquor, and a sedentary lifestyle. Seriously, how else is she going to make money off of me?? Injury, well yes, I suppose there could be that. 

There is no doubt that running has made me stronger and healthier. But my anxious mind also thought about how it could kill me. Here are my 50 ways to kill a runner:

1. Getting mauled by a bear, wolf, or dog. 

2. Getting struck by lightening. 

3. Getting overheated. Warm running days don’t happen that often in WI, but when they do we are not prepared for it. 

4. Freezing to death. 

5. Sweating to death. 

6. Tripping over my own feet and hitting my head on the control panel of my treadmill. 

7. Getting struck in the head by flying debris. This could happen when a truck carrying rocks goes over a bump or when someone tosses a beer bottle out the window. This happens, I see all of the crap that you throw out your window. 

8. Dehydration. 

9. Drunk drivers. I try to run in the mornings to avoid this problem.  

10. Dark trails in the woods that happen to be next to a gun range. What? That is a homicide waiting to happen. 

11. Getting hit by a stray bullet. 

12. Getting attacked by a swarm of angry birds or bees. You never know about the birds and the bees. 

13. Delivery drivers, they are always in a hurry. 

14. Now that I think about it, maybe my mail carrier. She never smiles or waves. 

15. Getting caught in white out conditions from snow and getting lost or hit by a car. 

16. Getting hit by a car. 

17. Getting hit by a car!!

18. Getting hit by a car!!!  At least you have a chance of outrunning the rapist. 

19. Getting swept away by a tornado. 

20. Did I mention flash floods?

21. Slipping on ice and bumping my head. 

22. Those service truck guys who ask for directions. 

23. Electrocution from downed power lines. 

24. Running so fast that people don’t seem to see you. 

25. Items that fall from overhanging trees. 

26. Trying to save a cat from getting hit by a car and getting hit by a car. 

27. New drivers. 

28. Old drivers. 

29. Getting hit by a train. 

30. Getting an infection from all of the chaffing. 

31. Getting West Nile, malaria, or Lyme’s Disease from bugs attracted to a sweaty stinky body. 

32. A deadly sunburn. 

33. Being scared to death by a runner that sneaks up behind you. 

34. Choking on rehydration products. 

35. The smell of stinky sweaty running clothes is enough to kill someone alone. 

36. Getting hit by a school bus due to kids distracting the driver. 

37. Training for a marathon. 

38. Infected bloody toenails 

39. Getting pneumonia from running in the rain. 

40. Running in the dark. 

41. Running barefoot and stepping on dirty needles. 

42. Idiot drivers that are texting. 

43. Women who are doing their hair or makeup while driving because they are late for work again. 

44. New parents distracted by a crying baby or the kid who snuck out of his car seat again. 

45. Is there really nothing good on the radio people who veer the direction they are changing their radio station in. 

46. Did I tell you about the wooded trails?

47. Creepy guys in white unmarked vans. 

48. People so in love they can’t keep their eyes on the road. 

49. Falling over in exhaustion. 

50. Seriously, do you know hard it was coming up with 50 ways to kill a runner???

I used to think that running would prolong my life, but now I am not so sure. 


“Run” way model feet

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This week my husband and I went to a concert for a date night. I decided to dress up for the occasion. Being a hard core runner, this tends to be more of a problem than you might think. You see, I can’t really get away with wearing my running shoes with a dress. Maybe I could get away with it if I was running late for the show. Haha.

When I became a serious runner, I decided to give up the stiletto heels. I no longer wanted to wear shoes that could in any way harm my precious running feet. Without healthy feet, I have nothing to run on. Yes, high heels are extremely sexy. No, I haven’t given them away yet. I can’t stand to be barefoot. So, that pretty much leaves athletic shoes or slippers. Slippers can be dangerous too. This week I tripped over a rug while wearing them and fell into my sliding glass door. I also stubbed my toe. Good thing I am not a dancer.

So, when we went to the concert I was forced to wear dress shoes that pinch my feet, my left more so than my right foot. The seats were staggered back at the concert and I sat at an end seat with no one directly in front of me. During the concert, I thought I was being discrete when I took off my left shoe. The guy in front of us kept looking over at my feet. Then he started taking pictures. 

At intermission, the guy turned around and started talking to me. He said that he didn’t mean to stare at my feet the whole show, but did I ever think about being a foot model. He talked about how he noticed I took off my left shoe and not the right. He liked the shape of my feet. Nothing like sitting near a drunk guy with a foot fetish!

image

Here is a picture of my feet. Now imagine them in a darkly lit room with strobe lights. Not bad, definately model material. Well except that my summer nail polish is half worn off. Oh, and I might lose a couple of nails next time I run a marathon. Will that be a problem? I guess I won’t quit my day job anytime soon. Oh well.

After talking more about my perfect feet and tripping over his beer cans, he seemed to notice that I was not alone. Now my husband is this big, burly, muscular man. The guy looked over at Paul and got a little nervous. “Oh man, is that your wife?” “Sorry man, I didn’t mean anything by it.” “Are we good, man?” This is always followed by high fives. I think that it would be funny, just once, for Paul to act really jealous and pissed off when guys hit on me or compliment me. He sure can put the fear of God into people.

When my son and his friend got into trouble a couple of months back, his friend’s mom threatened him with my husband. “No please, don’t make me talk to Paul,” he cried. Then he confessed to every bad thing he ever did with my son since 2008. It works great. 

Nothing like modeling feats and run way model feet. 

Bean runs

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I have another confession to make. I am totally addicted to Jelly Belly jelly beans. I recently became a hummus addict too, but that is an altogether different bean. Last night we were invited to a bonfire. They had an excess of Almond Joy candy bars that my husband gladly disposed of. However, being good hosts, they noticed I was empty handed and wanted to know my poison. They gladly gave me 2 packs of Jelly Belly jelly beans. I devoured the first pack immediately. However, the second pack said energy sports beans. Oohh aahhh, that was interesting.  I decided to save those for my run today, then promptly forgot them there. 

Last year I decided to give something up for lent for the first time. Ash Wednesday fell on the anniversary of Aunt Grace’s birth and death. Yes, she passed away on her birthday! So I felt that it was a proper time. I decided to give up all snacking after supper and all desserts. I gave up cheesecake, tortes, cake, pie, pudding, ice cream, and all candy. Well, except for Jelly Belly jelly beans. But I could only eat a few at work in the morning. God knows I get paid beans!! You do know I run marathons for fun. If I start whipping myself or decide to give up beer and cheese for lent, please talk me out of it!

So if it was just a regular old candy bar, I would have said forget it after it was forgotten. But these were Jelly Belly sports beans. I NEEDED to try them. Our friends live 3 miles away. Since I was planning on running 6 miles I thought it would be perfect to run there, get the jelly beans, and run back home. But this involved change. Gulp! I run around a 6 mile block sometimes once, twice, three or more times on one run. I have been doing the same exact route for over a year without deviation. I run the same route, at the same time, on the same exact days. A couple months back a friend said that I needed to change my route to make sure that I am not favoring one leg over the other. So sometimes I run my route backwards. Lol. Change is hard. 

I know my route. I know when the train comes. I know what time the cops sit at the intersection. People know me. My haters would have to find someone else to force off the road into the ditch. My stalkers would need to find someone else to honk and wave at. People talk about me. They stop me on the road. They ask me what I am doing, when I am running my next race. They smile and wave. I recognize the bikers. I even get taunted. An older guy from church told me that he saw me walking (what!?!) and said that so-and-so who is older runs faster than me. She is better, you SUCK! I had ungodly thoughts like tripping her on the way up to communion. Terrible, I know.  Then I stalked her to find out she is a walker. Lies! Oh, the grief I get. 

So I decided to change my route just for one day and hesitantly embrace the unknown to get the jelly beans. Once I got them, I devoured half the bag on the way back. Then I thought, oh crap. What if the serving size is 2 jelly beans? I  worried that having a half a bag would cause explosive diarrhea. About scared the crap out of me. I don’t like those kind of runs. Check the label. Check the label!! Serving size, one bag. Good, good. It’s a miracle, I survived change. Now I can say I am spontaneous and open to change in arguments! Yes, but don’t expect me to change my routine again anytime soon. Unless you have jelly beans, that is. 

Sheerly not cut out for it

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I really suck at cutting hair. I could use the left handed excuse of having to learn how to cut with my right hand, but I don’t even think that would cut it. I didn’t always think that I sucked at it. As a teen, I got sick of my autistic brother constantly pulling my hair. It hurt. I noticed that my younger brothers didn’t get their hair pulled, probably because it was too short to pull. Just my mom and I got our long hair pulled. I got really sick of it so one day I took a scissors in my right hand and hacked off around 6 inches of long tresses and lot of stress. People commented. They liked my new hair cut. I thought that I wasn’t terribly bad at it.

Then I got married and had kids. My oldest daughter needed her bangs trimmed as a toddler and I was on it. I cut her bangs, but they were crooked. So I kept cutting until they were straight and about a quarter of an inch long. I didn’t really suck. She wasn’t sitting still. People commented. Ah, your daughter decided to cut her own hair. Poor thing. She wasn’t talking too much yet, so I didn’t argue that I was the one who hacked her hair. It wasn’t too long after that when she started to cut her own hair. She was better at it then I was.

Then my husband got the idea of buying a hair cutting kit to shave some money. He liked to cut his hair short so it really wasn’t that complicated. I could almost handle that. I decided to take on bigger things, my dad’s hair. First, let me tell you that he looks exactly like Santa Claus. He has a humongous stomach, everything else is flat. He has long gray hair with an equally long beard that children could try to yank off and find it to be real. He has the glasses that he looks over, worn on the lower part of his nose. He would be a perfect Santa Claus in appearance. He would just have to work on being jolly. He would have to smile and tolerate little children. He would have to give them candy instead of hiding it to eat himself. Darn, it would have been so perfect otherwise.

I made the mistake of offering to cut my dad’s hair. This is a job that my mom always did, but for some reason didn’t have time for. At one point in her life, my mom wanted to be a hairdresser. During her senior year, the high school had a career day. They brought in someone that worked with the disabled doing what she does now. That person probably never knew that by telling high school kids about his career changed my mother’s whole career and life path. I don’t see her being happy as a beautician. She loves her career and finds it very fulfilling.

The day came for my dad’s hair cut. He came over to my house. I realized quickly that I was in a little too deep. My dad’s hair was long. My husband’s hair was short. I decided to buzz my dad’s hair using the longest setting. It really wasn’t going very well. As I was buzzing the back of my dad’s head, the guard came off. I gave him a very noticeable bald spot down the back of his head. Thankfully, he just laughed the whole thing off. After that incident, things such as scissors and hair cutting kits mysteriously vanished from my house. My mom made time to cut my dad’s hair. My husband stopped complaining about $20 hair cuts.

I realized that cutting hair was sheerly not my thing.

The adventures of Hickory

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Our foreign exchange student from Japan arrived safely Friday night. She was tired, so we gave her a little cheese and sent her off to bed. She already has the knickname of Hickory, very similar to her own name. I liked the name so much it made me long to have one more child. What? Wait! No!  Forget about that, but it is nice to have one teen in the house that doesn’t talk back. Lol. Everything is exciting and new for her. Her sense of wonder reminds me of a 2 year old without the tantrums. So far it has been a very pleasant experience. Paul and I would like to have a foreign exchange student longer than a week when our youngest is in high school. 

Saturday morning, Paul made bacon and pancakes with real maple syrup on top. As is customary when we have a family meal, we say a prayer in thanksgiving for our meal. We tried to explain to Hickory our culture and beliefs. Paul asked Hickory if she knows what Christianity is. “No” replied Hickory. He asked if she knows God. “No” replied Hickory. He asked Hickory if she knows about Jesus as he was bringing out the cheese. Very excitedly Hickory replied, “Yes, I know cheeses”. I suppose it will be confusing if we send her home with a cheesehead. She may end up telling her parents that we have a strange culture. Stories of us Wisconsinites worshipping cheeses before eating it. Stories of us worshipping strange men in cheese colored uniforms while wearing cheeseheads. Makes me wonder what other people think of us, huh? Don’t ya know? 

Hickory also arrived bearing gifts from Japan. She gave us green tea cookies and chocolate, a fan, soup bowls, chopsticks, and saki. The saki was wrapped in newspaper written in Japanese. Of course, I am thinking of sending back some good WI beer wrapped in newspaper. I could wrap it up and send it back in a cheesehead for protection. Hickory’s dad is a sushi chef. No pressure, right? We have been making a lot of “American” food for her. Paul is making his homemade pizza tonight. It is the best pizza ever. Good thing you don’t know where we live. We are thinking of getting her dad either a Brewers or Packers apron. Now if we could only get some brats and cheese to them…hmmm. 

Other than that, we have been trying to show Hickory as much of our culture as we can. Last night we went to a chili dump. Some of the other foreign exchange students were there. They had a bonfire, live music, pumpkin carving, a piñata, and other yard games. Today we played miniature golf and had a picnic at a park with the school group. I hope she really has a good experience here. And she doesn’t go home telling everyone that we worship cheeses. 

The civil war reenactment

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Apparently there is a memo out there about the things parents shouldn’t do with young children. Apparently that list is a little longer when you have a newborn. But I am a parent that never got that list. When my aunt and uncle told us that they were going to be in a civil war reenactment in our area, my husband and I loaded up our 5 year old, 3 year old and newborn into the car. 

Everything was going well at first. I just didn’t realize at the time how much acting I was going to be doing in the reenactment part. We had a fun time touring my aunt and uncles tent. My aunt sewed all of the costumes. We had our family picture taken in civil war period clothing. I think every family should do an old time picture just for fun. Then my uncle and two teenage cousins geared up to go to the battlefield for the reenactment. 

This is where things got a little sketchy. I probably should have stayed behind or had my aunt take the baby at this point. But I thought, this is just acting. I mean, how bad could it really be? We took the kids to an arena type area without seats. We were there a few minutes when my baby started crying unconsolably. After dirty looks and nothing else worked, I did what every breastfeeding mother of a newborn would do (except being there, of course).  I tried offering the comfort of milk. At this time, an announcer stated that the event was about to start. He said that there was going to be loud gun shots, loud noises, and cannons. It was advised at this time that parents with young children exit the way they came in. Not even stopping to reattach my bra, I headed out the way I came in. The only problem was that I came in the back way. When I left this way I couldn’t go back in and to make matters worse I was heading straight towards the cannon which was going to go off in a matter of minutes. The man next to the cannon said there was nothing that I could do but run fast. So here I am running as fast as I can with a newborn and my breast half hanging out. 

It really didn’t feel like a reenactment to me. I’m sure that mothers were running away from cannons all the time during the civil war. Lol. I couldn’t stop laughing when the other people saw me running. I haven’t been back to a civil war reenactment since. But with my performance I could say that I had a lead role. I’m surprised I didn’t end up in the local newspapers. 

Even my imagination runs

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I took a couple of days off unintentionally, scrapped another blog idea, and just ended up being very busy on a “light” weekend. I ran 12 miles Saturday, stopped in for awhile at a church event, and then spent 4 hours moving stuff out of my grandma’s house. I have learned a few things, like not to run 12 miles and lift boxes for 4 hours. I did sleep good that night! Sunday ushered in the last sailboat ride for the season. The weather was perfect. 

Saturday’s run was average although something strange happened. There were 2 young guys (20’s) in a truck with a trailer behind it. They were at a stop sign when I ran by. The driver was checking me out. Then a half mile later they drove by me again and pulled to the side of the road a mile ahead. This worried me a little. Even though I run on the “busy” roads, it is still pretty rural and no one was around. How could I protect myself from 2 young muscular men if they meant harm? I imagined sinister conversation. “Let’s go get that runner and tie her up in the back of the trailer.” I was praying that they saw my gray hair. After 9 miles, I was a sitting duck. They ended up driving away before I got to them. Pffwhew. Maybe they were lost. Last night my friend was telling me how she was the only woman doing the trap shoot league. It was then that I decided that I want to add learning how to use a gun to my bucket list. I briefly announced my day dreams of running with a gun holstered to my hip or in the back of my running bra fighting off wild animals and predatory men. My husband said I would probably end up shooting myself. Sometimes my imagination runs wild too. 

I am still having some knee pain while running. I feel sore all over and my endurance has been pretty crappy lately. I started taking glucosamine chondroitin like my active brother who had the 2 knee surgeries. Also, like my dog. But if I start blogging about digging a hole to China or escaping my yard to get to my neighbor’s caged rabbits like my dog did while under the influence of this drug please let me know before it is too late. I have been wearing my brace. The only other thing it said to do is lose weight. I don’t even think my doctor would recommend that. I am probably now at the point of being underweight. People are now saying wow you lost a lot of weight. Are you ok? Even though I burn a lot of calories, I am not usually hungry. When I am really stressed, my body tells me not to eat. I could go all day without really noticing that I didn’t eat. Yesterday I ate too much and my acid reflux let me know. I associated eating with pain as a child. For months I barely ate. My parents threatened to take me to the doctor then. I wish they did. 

It has been almost a year since I have been diagnosed with acid reflux. Looking back, I knew I had it since childhood. The burning pain when I ate. The dentist asking me if I had acid reflux because it looked like acid was wearing down my teeth on one side probably from sleeping on that side. Of course it makes sense now. I have been taking Prilosec now for months supplementing it with liquid antacid and close to the max dosage of Tums. What happens when this no longer works? I mean really. My stress levels probably aren’t going down in the next 5 years. Even running is starting to be stressful. Maybe it is time to revisit my bucket list to add some just for fun items to it. Or book that winter trip to Florida.