Getting Older

I've decided that getting old is very much like the Alanis Morisette song, "Ironic".  You know the one.

It's like rain on your wedding day.

It's a free ride when you've already paid.

It's the good advice that you just didn't take.

Now, I'm not one to argue with Alanis over the definition of "ironic".  I mean, the name of the song should really be "Unfortunate" but I guess it just didn't sound as angry.  I don't know.  The point is, I'm wondering if this song was written about getting older. I turned 39 last week and here are a few unfortunate circumstances I've been experiencing lately.

• I like to enjoy relaxing with a book, but that tiny, tiny print is so, well, tiny. When did they start shrinking the print? Thank goodness for the Kindle and the ability to enlarge the font. No reading glasses yet. That font will be one word per page before I acquiesce to that.
• I am working hard to stay in shape.  I run marathons, y'all. I can do 2 back-to-back Zumba classes.  But, I am tired.  So, so, tired. I don't sleep as well at night and there is no built-in naptime anymore. Oh, how I miss naptime.  
• We finally have money to do cool stuff, but we have to spend it on stupid stuff like tires. Tires are not cool!
• It takes me two weeks to lose 5 lbs, but two really good meals to gain it back.  What the hell?

These are just a few inconveniences.  They are really annoying, but I can't say that they are really impeding my life so much.  But, there is one recent discovery that really has a bee in my bonnet. I can't even wrap my head around this.  It's a loss.  A deep hurt that inspires the best songs.  A sadness that even Nicholas Sparks dare not attempt to write about.  I've been dealing with reflux for the past year or so.  I'm on a prescription for it.  It's the kind of reflux that will keep you up at night.  It feels like a tsunami of acid in my stomach, chest, and throat.  It caused me to lose my voice last summer, which is really bad for the whole singing thing.  It was so bad this morning that I had to stop my run for fear I was going to be sick. What I'm trying to say is, it's bad.  I do finally think that I've found the culprit.  You'd think I'd be elated.  You'd think I'd cut the bitch that was making me so miserable.  You'd think I would just kick it to the curb.  Well, I'm having a hard time letting go of this one, but we've come to a point where we have to part ways.  I just keep saying, "It's not you, it's me" in the hopes that if I say it enough, feelings will be spared and it will be an easy split.  I'd like to visit from time to time without things being all awkward.  We have so many mutual friends.  Y'all, guess what really causes the reflux.

Red Wine.

Call Me Grace

I apologize in advance for any typos that may occur. You see, I am attempting to write this blog as a talk to text document. Why, may you ask, am I doing this? Well folks, I broke my arm.

I don't even have a good story to go with it. My cleaning ladies had just left and the floor was extra wet. Lola needed to go out, so I answered her call. I took one step on the wet tile and I was totally airborne. Yes, the cleaning fairies did such a good job on my kitchen floor that I slipped and broke my arm. #firstworldproblems. Apparently your arm is not meant to hold your entire body weight. Unless you are Superman.

I knew when I landed that something was very wrong, so I crawled to the freezer and immediately put ice on my arm. After about 30 seconds I thought, "Maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe I'm overreacting." I barely touched the foot of my bed with my fingers and it felt like.... Remember when we were kids and we used to play super Mario Brothers on the Nintendo and we would just shoot fireball after fireball after fireball after fireball?  It felt like that short, moustached, overalls wearing son of a bitch was shooting those fireballs right into my fingers and up my arm into my shoulder.  At that point I thought....

I called Trent and got no answer. I sent him a text that casually said "I think I broke my arm". Next I called my new friend Kelly. 

I freaking love Kelly. I'm pretty sure that God moved us to Edmond so that Kelly and I could be friends. She is my running partner, our kids are BFFs, and our husbands have this cute little bromance brewing. Some other time I'll post about the day we went to Lululemon and she helped me try stuff on.

Spandex + bigass cast + thong mishap = lots of laughing.

RING-RING

Kelly: "Hey whatcha doing?" 

Me: "I'm pretty sure I just broke my arm." 

Kelly:  "I'll be there in five minutes." 

Me: "Okay. The front door will be unlocked. I have to take a shower." 

Who does that? Seriously. They are not going to care that I have crazy hair and yesterday's deodorant, but it was very important to me to smell fresh for the ER doctors. As soon as the shower was over, so was the adrenaline rush. The pain was the worst pain I have ever felt in my entire life. That includes two C-sections and an abdominal hysterectomy. Kelly walks in the front door to find me standing in my bedroom completely naked. I take one look at her, start crying, and say, "What if I can't ruuuuuuun the marathooooon?" Kelly says, "Let's get your underwear on first, then we can worry about the running thing." Trent meets us at the ER and we wait. Exes are Rayed and sure enough, it's broken. They put me in a splint, referred me to an orthopedic specialist with an appointment for the next day, gave me a prescription for pain meds, and sent me on my way.  

Divine intervention rather than a moment of insanity inspired me to cut all of my hair off the week before. Long hair is manageable. You get a blowout once or twice a week and find a good dry shampoo. Super short hair doesn't work that way! The morning of my appt, my super sweet hairdresser offered to come over and fix my hair. GOD BLESS HER! We also devised a blow drying plan that would impress MacGyver. I'm getting really good at fixing my hair with one hand. (Is there a contest for that? I would WIN!) 

This is the first bone I've ever broken. I managed to live 38 years without breaking a bone. There's a first time for everything. The little girl in me knew immediately what color my cast would be.

 The cool news is that I get a new one every two weeks. I get to have all of my favorite colors represented throughout this injury! My first question to the doctor was, "When can I run?" His response was more of a look and a snort than an answer. I said, "No I'm serious. I am supposed to run the OKC Memorial Marathon in a month." He told me that I should be okay to run in two weeks. That'll be nice, because I will have a new waterproof cast for that experience. I can only hope that it is a shorter cast, but my gut tells me it's going to be another big 'un. He then went on to say that I might not want to run. Trent just looked at him and shook his head in pity. I said, "You haven't met me. I will be running and I will have bling on my cast." That truly is the plan, unless my arm still hurts like a mofo and my thumb still looks like a giant turkey leg.

What I haven't told you is that I picked the worst week to break my arm. My sweet Clay was having his tonsils out on Friday. How was I going to take care of my sweet baby in his hour of need? How was I going to be the one to get up in the middle of the night and give him his pain medicine when I was in so much pain myself? I'll tell you how. I'm Supermom I can totally do this. We have weathered much worse storms in his short six years. This would be a cinch. We start talking to Clay about his surgery and how Mommy will be with him and take good care of him. He starts to cry and says, "No! I only want daddy." Neat. 

All has gone well so far. The tonsils and adenoids are gone and my boy is on the mend. Thank goodness I have those pill organizers so that I can dose his meds as he recovers this week. Why does everything have to have a damn screwtop? Those childproof caps would have made Jesus cuss. I'm sure of it. 

Taking pain meds did put a little damper on my wine consumption, but I'm dedicated to my craft. I switched to Ibuprofen and acetaminophen after three days just so I could drink some wine with Olivia Pope on Thursday. Some might call it a problem. I call it homeopathic medicine. I'm choosing my pain relief, yo! 

Coming up: Will I have to beat the crap out of someone with my cast for calling me a jogger? Stay tuned, my friends. Stay tuned.

I finally met the neighbors!!!

They do exist!  They don't airdrop food for their dogs!  

Yesterday, I was smack in the middle of a recipe and realized that I was out of butter and cheese.  Not sure how that happens, but whatevs.  I threw on a tshirt and some shorts, combed my just-out-of-the-shower hair, and walked out to the car.  There she was.  My neighbor in her driveway.  I apologized for my appearance, but needed to meet her anyway.  Very sweet lady.  She and her husband are retired and travel quite a bit.  Ah.  That explains their absence. 

This picture was Saturday morning.  The dogs were so confused by this made up bed business.I gotta tell you that I've been really good about making my bed everyday and keeping the house tidy.  I don't have to get dressed up in my work finery anymore, but still try to fix myself up on a day to day basis, and by fixing myself up, I mean I wear the nice yoga pants and put on just enough make-up to keep from scaring small children should we need to make a mad dash to the ER. 

Today was not one of those days.  Today, I got home from cising my Jazzer, took a shower, did some computer work and thought, "Hot damn!  I'm going to take a nap!"  And that's exactly what I did.  The kids came home from school, I was folding laundry, the dogs were sleeping, and then the doorbell rang.  My other neighbors were here to meet us!  They are also from Texas (Yee HAW!) and have a 5th grader and a 4th grader.  This is a match made in heaven.  You would think I would be so excited!!!  But, I'm not, and I'll tell you why.  Both of my children and both of my dogs start acting like complete assholes.  Boris wouldn't quit barking.  Lola was jumping all over the 4th grader. The boys were slapping at each other, kicking each other, and chasing each other around the kitchen.  Clay throws himself on the ground and starts crying about how hungry he is.  I tell him "Daddy is bringing pizza."  To which he replies, "We already had pizza!  We eat pizza everyday!"  To make matters even better, this is what my house looks like at this very moment.

 Blankets all over the couch to attempt to cut down on the imbedded dog hair and a fresh pile of towels in the chair.

Nice pile of laundry that you can see right from the front entry way.  Lovely.

My kitchen table that I just cleared and Windexed this morning.

My kitchen counters.  I think they just exploded during my nap.

And remember me telling you how excited I was about my good DL picture?  

Here it is:

Too bad they didn't come over on Monday.  I would've looked just fab.  Instead, here's what they got:

Welcome to the motherfucking neighborhood.  

Where's the wine?

I can't keep calm, I'm from TEXAS!

Yes, I am fully aware that it is only Tuesday; however, I went to the DMV yesterday.  Ho. Ly. Mo. Ly.  Getting my car registered in Oklahoma might send me over the edge. I'm just sayin'.  It's one more reason to make sure you pay your shit off before moving to another state or purchase in full.  Not having the paper title is going to subtract years from my life.  Whatever.  It's cool.  I'm not in a hurry to get rid of my Texas license plate. At least I got my Oklahoma driver's license after a multi-step process.  You see, in OK you aren't gonna spend your entire day in one long line.  Oh, no.  You get to make an appointment online to go to one office to apply for your license.  Then, they send you to another office where you have to take your approval letter (yeah, my self-esteem needed that) and that's where they take your picture and give you your license.  Good news is, I'm still an organ donor (and you should be, too) and my picture is fabulous.

Y'all.  They actually put your weight on your license here!  I gotta say, if that ain't motivation to get my ass back in gear, I don't know what is.  (I may have told them my weight prior to Christmas.  Whatever!  Don't judge me!  I've been stressed out!  Surgery, then the holidays, then the move and all those wonderful Tex-Mex restaurants I had to hit before leaving, and all the goodbye celebrations, and all the wine that needed to be consumed, then I ate and drank my feelings for a few weeks, and they were delicious...)

But really, y'all.  I didn't lose 60 lbs to just gain them back.  Especially if my weight is on my license (minus the 10 lbs I've gained).  OH HELL NO!  So, I've gone back to the program that I know works.  Weight Watchers. 

I realize that some of my habits extra curricular calories have gotten a little out of hand, so I've decided that I'll start a Whole 30 on February 9.  What is a Whole 30 you ask?  Well, it's 30 days without grains, sugar (except natural sugars in fruit), dairy, or alcohol.  As my friend, Jaedeanne says, it's 30 days without joy.  No, no, no!  It's not that bad.  I still get to eat bacon.  Holla!!  Remember back when I had to do the 30 day candida diet?  It's basically that again, but this time I get to have fruit from the beginning and I don't have to explain to the pharmacist that I'm not buying all the anti-yeast medication in the store for a yeast infection that isn't "down there".  What?  TMI?  Then why are you reading my blog?  I digress.

Why am I doing another Whole 30?  Because it really is good for my body, especially after three months of food and drink debauchery.  It will help me through the toughest part of marathon training (WOO HOO!) and will help rid my body of all the toxins...those delicious, tasty toxins...that have built up over the past three months. Why am I waiting until February 9?  Because it would not be wise to set myself up for failure before a weekend with Erin in College Station.  The point is, the book It Starts With Food sorta changed my life and my relationship with food and we all need a little relationship counseling from time to time.  After those 30 days, I'll be a month out from my marathon and ready to eat a small village.  Let's just hope that I can keep my crankypants attitude in check.  I won't have trips to Starbucks and glasses of merlot to do that for me.

OK is OK

Helloooooooo friends!  It's been one week and one day since I moved to Edmond, Oklahoma.  I'm certain you were all waiting with anticipation to find out what I think of it.  Well, congratulations.  The wait is over.  Here are my thoughts....

My bff, Erin, drove up here with me and the dogs on Friday.  It was 9 hours of hilarity, but we made it.  It didn't hurt that we spent the night before at a very cool hotel (Hotel Icon in Downtown Houston) and had the best meal of our entire lives at Brennan's. Hey, we had to carb up, and wine definitely has carbs, and we were riding in my dream car (a fully loaded, brand new 2015 Suburban)  

Our drive up was uneventful, but did include a stop for convenience store lunchmeat that was a total bargain at $1, (the dogs needed Benadryl and cramming it down their throat didn't work.  By the way, Lola snarfed that shit down like it was a chocolate cake) Whataburger, and Dairy Queen.  (What?  We needed a Blizzard!)  

My first thought upon pulling into our neighborhood was, "Holy crap, it's DARK!"  See, here's the thing.  Apparently they don't believe in street lights in Oklahoma.  All along I was worried about needing a Rosetta Stone program, but it turns out I needed to invest in night vision goggles.  We got here at about 7:30 and at 7:35 my friend, Cissa, pulled up with a Welcome Basket!  She included wine (duh), a corkscrew, and glasses.  She is so smart!  There was also some cheese and crackers and an odd-shaped cutting board that looked sorta like a pot...  

Anywho, we visited with her for a bit and drank her wine because we didn't want to be rude, (ahem) and then we got to work.  By Sunday afternoon, Erin and I had everything unpacked.  Yes, we are machines.  We get shit done, yo.  Sunday night was ugly.  I won't lie.  When I dropped Erin off at the airport I felt like I was leaving a piece of me at the curb.  I love this girl, and I can't wait for her to visit!

Monday morning I was on my own.  I woke up and drank my coffee while gazing out the kitchen window at the breath-taking view.

Yes.  That is a pump jack.  Welcome to Oklahoma.

Even though we'd unpacked everything, there was still much to do, so I got to work.  Can I say that purchasing 2 ipad minis for Christmas was the greatest decision ever?  The boys were content, and I worked until we had to go enroll at the elementary school.  The boys started Tuesday.  Luke was dressed head to toe in University of Texas burnt orange.  The kid had to represent.  Did it pain me that he didn't choose maroon?  Hell, yes, but the kid wants to be just like his daddy.  (It's my hubby's only flaw) Clay was just excited to have chips in his lunch.  It was a good day. 

Fast forward to a week and a day later, and here's what I think....

First, I think I'm going to be really skinny by Valentine's Day because I'm about to start doing three-a-day workouts.  Unless I make some friends.  Fast.  I worked all week to get the house set up.  I took breaks to run, go to Jazzercise (Oh, how I missed you, Jazzercise), and Hobby Lobby, but other than that, I was working on getting the house set up.  By Friday night I realized that I really miss my girlfriends.  Here's hoping I find some God-worshiping, wine-loving, marathon-training, dog-loving, cussing friends soon!!!  I could join the PTO.....NAH!!!!  I'd rather run, go to the Y, or Jazzercise.

Second, I think I need more fleece.  I ran 4 miles on Wednesday and it was COLD AS BALLS.  Y'all, my snot froze to my face.  It was 28 degrees with a northern wind.  It was the kind of cold that makes you think you've peed your pants.  Luckily it's warmed up now and I was able to run in shorts and a t-shirt today.  Another added benefit?  People are finally taking their Christmas decorations down.  There's nothing sadder than a deflated Frosty Family in the front yard on January 16.  I'm just saying.  Don't be that person!

Third, my neighbors are nonexistent.  I have yet to see or meet one.  They all have dogs, but I think they  must just air-drop food on a regular basis.  My dogs talk to their dogs, but I haven't seen any humans.  

Stay tuned, my friends.  There are more tales to come...