Here's Mud In Yer Eye!

...and on the floor, and on the patio, and mainly on the DOG!

For the most part, I love winter. I love wearing sweaters and hoodies, snuggling up under my down comforter, wearing my various hand-knitted items and drinking hot tea. A chilly breeze is invigorating, a flurry of snow and I feel like a kid again. I would enjoy these things a lot more if I didn't have a 70 pound MUDDY dog yelping and jumping to the back window begging to be in the house. The other problem is that once in the house, she keeps wanting to go outside again. You know...checking for squirrels, barking at boogey men and chasing flying birds is of utmost importance.

My dog is 13.5 years old and doesn't act a day over 8. She still runs muddy ruts to and from her water, to and from both sides of the gate. And when she runs, she doesn't just get her paws muddy, but her entire chassis. My brand new patio is now covered in muddy footprints. That patio furniture and grill I was dreaming about getting? Cross them off my list. The leisurely mornings reading and sipping tea on my back patio? That dream has drifted away like a puff of smoke.

Cleaning my dog requires me to heft her 70 pounds of squirming dog mass through my house to bathe her. A towel, you say? You may as well give me a moist towelette...a cotton ball...it is of no use. I spent the morning spreading wood chips over the muddy areas. I have never tried this before, but found the idea on an online forum. I am SO hoping this helps! A muddy buddy she is not right now...

Knitting...er...Snow Day!

They let me out of work early at 1pm. The roads are wet and snowing and the temp is supposed to make a quick dip below freezing to ice the roads nicely for us winter-illiterate Texans. The snow is beautiful floating down. I love the way snow dances on its way down not like the stoopid rain we usually have.

My daughter just got in her car to drive to her boyfriend's house...wait...no...FIANCE! ::strikes forehead with palm:: so I worry about her driving in this. Yes, by Canadian standards, Texans are winter wimps, but we don't have the de-icers like they do. We all act like igmos when the snow starts falling. We flap our arms and point to the sky and exclaim "look! snow!" (said in your best bubba voice) and just stand there and stare at it as if something strange like kittens or juiceboxes were falling from the sky.

So I'll take this early day off to work on some Christmas knitting...and to stare at the snow like an igmo...

Firsts and Lasts

As parents, we like to mark the "firsts": first words, first steps, first day of school... We take pictures, make scrapbooks, keep programs and save little souvenirs of the event. Our mental archive is full of these occasions for access later.

Things that are harder to identify are the "lasts". Some lasts are worthy of celebration: last diaper, last day at daycare, last carpool. Other lasts are harder to take and a little grieving process accompanies each. Parents of teenagers witness these lasts early on with exponential increase in the latter teen years: last time she lets me have a mommy kiss when dropping her off at school, last school project I helped her complete, last slumber party...

Many times, we don't recognize the lasts when they occur. In the same pair of pants it helps cushion our grief for its loss if we're not aware of it, and make us wish we had cherished it more when it was still here.

Where is all of this coming from? My daughter's boyfriend proposed to her Saturday night. They plan on getting married next August. She will be 20. I...will be having regularly scheduled nervous breakdowns until then. This is where the flood...no...hurricane of "lasts" begins. Was it a surprise? No. They have been dating since she was 15. Through school changes, college, his bootcamp and going to school in Huntsville, nothing has drifted them apart. He's a good guy: a Marine, sweet, a Christian and absolutely adores her and her high-maintenance emotional ways. I truly love him like a son. BUT...and there is always a but...she is my

roommate and best friend and I'm having issues here. (gets up to get a hanky) I fully understand my charge as a parent is to raise her so she can make it in the world on her own. I GET IT. I'm all about that. But here I sit during the holidays realizing that it will be our LAST Christmas at home together. I GET that there will be other joyous events and holidays and this is BY FAR not the end...but I get to grieve, okay? I should warn you also, dear reader, that when I take down the tree and have to put her ornaments in a separate box, I will be a basket case. I WILL, however consciously cherish this Christmas as much as I did our first, but with a few more tears.

Turkey Trot

No, I'm not talking about the intestinal aftermath of eating poorly prepared Thanksgiving day treats, I'm talking about Thanksgiving Day's 5K to benefit a local charity. It was 7am, a brisk 46 degrees and as it turns out, I was WAY overdressed. Not overdressed in that I was rockin' some formal attire, but that I had too many clothes on. What is comfortable sitting still is NOT what is comfortable running a 5K. Stripping while running is a bit difficult. Sweating is easier. I made a PR! 38:30 for a 5K and I didn't walk once (except briefly at the water station...can't run and drink yet) That may not mean much to you running types, and I'm sure you could achieve that time with a broken leg and with the flu, but I was pleased.

Thanksgiving dinner at my grandmother's was fun, and I could barely detatch myself from my 6 month old nephew. We played Farkle and ate too many desserts. Unfortunately, my family is full of excellent cooks. Good thing I made the preemptive strike on calories with a 5K before dinner, I could barely waddle afterward!

Running Hurts Every Time...That's Why it Works

God must have a brain chemical devoted to pain amnesia. You know the one. The one that makes women partially forget what labor felt like? Well, he has an even more powerful one for runners.

The next day, we forget that running is uncomfortable. THE NEXT DAY! Something always hurts, taking breaths is a struggle, making the limbs obey is a struggle. We pant and gasp and walk like zombies back to our cars where we guzzle water. We get home and ice our knees or calves and moan. We sleep. Then, like the Etch-A-Sketch-for-brains we are we think "wow, the weather is great for running today". What sane person does this? (I say with an air of incredulity as if I AM sane)

The constant tearing down is what builds us up. Such an imitation of life, no? I need to write this so I can read it later for when my logical brain tries to tell me that running is too hard and I should stop.

The half marathon is in January. (insert panic attack here). I just need to finish... before the cripple cart comes and scrapes the rest of us off the pavement.

Back on Track

What's worse than being down for 2 weeks with a back injury? Try coming down with the flu! THREE weeks I have been away from running. THREE!! At first, I missed running and felt an empty hole in my life, but the scary thing was...after awhile I got used to it. I got used to being sedentary to the point that when I medically improved enough to get back into running, I resisted at first. Part of my hesitation was fear of FAIL. I knew that after 3 weeks I wouldn't be able to run for crap, but the other part was...well...just...lazy. I don't want to be THAT person again. THAT shiftless blob whose arse could easily become one with the couch cushions. Add the half marathon looming over my head and there is my motivation. Don't get me wrong, my first two runs were pretty crappy compared to what I had been running, but actually weren't as bad as I had expected.

The two GOOD things that came out of my sabbatical were the two knitting projects I finished!

First is the lace Elm Row lace scarf from Knitspot knit with Dream in Color Baby in the Happy Forest colorway.

The next project has been languishing on the needles for awhile while I was working on other things. Spiral Eyelet socks knit in Sunshine Yarns sock in the Chocolate Covered Cherries colorway. The pattern is free! I love free. I finally have a pair of socks for myself! The pattern went rather quickly and the lace part was easy to memorize. The socks fit perfectly!!!

Aunt Flo Conquered

I haven't posted about this before now, because I wanted to give it a couple months trial run before I give my final verdict. I can heartily announce that I have beaten Aunt Flo without surgery and without hormones. A little over 2 months ago I had a Novasure procedure done at my OB/GYN's office. (No affiliation, just a happy customer) If you are one of the happy peppy people who welcome your monthly girly time as a feminine renewal or a womanly catharsis ...there is no need to read any further.

I won't overwhelm you with the gritty details, but let's just say that Aunt Flo paid me a lot more attention than she used to. Exercise during that time was close to impossible and working a 12 hour shift during that time necessitated hourly trips to the bathroom.

The procedure was a breeze. They give you "milk of amnesia" (propofol) a very good sedative which knocked me out for the 5-10 minute procedure (see the website for more info). After "waking up" I actually felt fine...well, like I had about 2-3 beers, but fine. Afterwards, my daughter and I went to eat and went to the mall. (Don't worry, she drove) I would sit in the stores while she tried on clothes, but I still felt okay. After I got home, I took one pain pill and "slept it off" and didn't need anything else for pain after that.

Results? My first "period" afterward was one day of spotting. I missed my next period entirely. This was THE BEST thing I have ever done. I couldn't be happier. I still get PMS just as bad, but the bloating is a little better, and NO CRAMPS!

Aunt Flo? K-O!