Short. Tired. Bum Knee. Dang.

I’m so tired tonight. So very, very tired. Part of it was brought on by going to bed late. The other part was brought on by Liam waking up at around 3:30 and not being real willing to go back to sleep. Add a touch of work, a screwed up knee, and an insane number of static shocks at the grocery, and I guess you get me right now.

I tried to catch extra Zs. I was in bed a bit late, but no matter. No extra Zs. Up. Shower. Later than I prefer to be to work. Zombie. Hide it. Oatmeal with flax. Mocha. A bit better….

I’m so tired and it was my long day at the office, so I won’t go into boring details. My knee left knee is messed up, and I’m not sure why. I ran yesterday, and it was a bit longer than my recent distances, but it was also highly broken up with berry-searching/eating and dog play. I didn’t notice anything during my run. I just ran. I played. I ate berries. I felt a bit tight in the quads when I got home, especially the left one, so I stretched it and it just felt…too tight right above my knee. I didn’t think much of it, then I realized it hurt when I’d squat and stand up out in the garden. I still didn’t think TOO much of it, then I woke up this morning and it was swollen. No intense pain. No redness. It’s basically fine unless I bend my ankle to my butt or lift my weight with it. R.I.C.E. (Where the C stands for wine.) I hope it gets better soon. I’ll take it easy.

The knee means I can’t run. I won’t bike or anything right now, and that sucks. I’ll give it a few days. But I can still do SOME things. I sat on my exercise ball in my office. I did 25 pushups. Later I did 20 pushups with my feet up on the ball. I also did reverse pushups hanging from my desk, which isn’t enough to allow full extension, but it still does something.

I didn’t have much for lunch today: a banana, an apple, and the rest of a bag of potato chips that has been in my office for weeks now and somehow those chips weren’t stale and I was out of other things to eat other than more oatmeal, sooooooo…I ate all those chips. I drank a lot of water. I wished I could have done more, but I couldn’t, and we all have to deal with those things from time to time.

Hence, I just left the office a bit later than I like to (‘cause I’d gotten there later than I like to) and came home. Angie left for a run and I took Liam to Whole Foods and got what we didn’t get at the farmers’ market. I came home to some gardening, Angie made tacos (variety, I know), I drank a couple of beers, I just finished my wine, and I’m going to bed.

~~I should take a moment to pay homage to native plants, but I’m too tired. I started, then deleted because I’m just too darn tired.~~

So goodnight, mock-orange that I thought was dead when I planted you. You’ve surprised me with new growth despite your neglect, and you validate my love of the natives. 

Not a Manic Sunday

Sundays are such fun days. Not like manic Mondays. Although it was a run day. Huh. Day.

The sleep wasn’t great. The getting up at 6:15 again wasn’t great, but letting my wife sleep in was. Light-roasted Mexican. (Butch: “Now, if anyone should ask you about who your fare was tonight, what’re you gonna tell them?” Esmarelda: “The truth: three, well-dressed, slightly toasted Mexicans.”)

Out to the garden. Rounds. Some watering. (I don’t water everything every day; hence, my apparently frequent watering. Although the corn is a real pain in my ass and since I planted it so late, I guess, I’m having to water it pretty much every day. That, or I watch it curl up and beg for water. I’m not good with this corn thing.) Coffee drinking. Fetching. Liam running. Dogs.

Back in the house at 7:20. I’d already given Liam some milk, and was about to give him food when an urge struck, and he was going to have to endure that urge, but then lucky for him, Angie got out of bed.

What did I do this morning? I’m struggling to remember for no good reason. Oh yeah, I typed. I wasn’t real hungry. I’d had…orange juice, I think. OJ and coffee. But my wife came to the rescue and made some spelt pancakes. The spelt has been getting rocked around here. It’s her. I didn’t really know anything about it. Still don’t know much. But it makes fine pancakes and waffles.

We walked the Nosta dog down to the farmers’ market. I think the apostrophe after the “s” must surely be the appropriate usage. I may have done that wrong in the past. I’ll probably do it wrong in the future, and maybe I’m wrong now. I’m tired now. I’m drinking a real cheap (on sale) carmenere from Chile, “Honoring 120 patriots who helped lead Chile to independence.” My knee hurts. We loaded up the bottom of Liam’s stroller with fresh goods, which included some succulent white nectarines. That’s the guy who grows the nectar plums, but they have a short season and go fast, and he’s certified organic, and those white nectarines are good. I never knew until today. Advancements in good eating on-going. I make myself proud.

I trimmed my dogs’ nails, which is always a bit of a pain. It’s my least favorite thing about dog maintenance (granting I rarely brush them and even more rarely bathe them), but it’s necessary and I got it done. Then I ran with Elba. We ran the Berry Loop, which is further than I’ve ran in a while, about 5.4 miles total. But that makes it sound like I just went out and busted out 5.4 miles, and maybe you’d assume a 7:30/mile pace or something, but that wasn’t the case. I never hit the stop button on my Forerunner so I could illustrate that. It was a pretty leisurely run. I know we ran the first mile in 7:34, but beyond that, the actual running pace is a mystery to me.

We ran…probably about 2 miles, which took us from pavement to trail, then hit the first patch of blackberries. I stopped and searched. I found a few, but not as many as I would have liked. They’re late this year, and more people seem to have realized they can actually eat them. (Seriously: as though it’s completely new information.) We strolled along a bit. Picked a few more berries. Ran a bit further to the next patch. Strolled. A lot of people were out, but a lot of berries were not. Darn those people, taking my berries; my running fuel. Still I found a few, and I snarfed ‘em down, and we continued on.

It was a longer run, and the Elbster: she has some long fur. (She scares people, which can be fun, but that’s beside the point, although I’m pretty sure she made a guy dribble in his drawers a bit when he spotted us coming around a trail bend.) I promised her we’d stop at the river so she could cool off, and I kept my word. We ran a bit more, then went to our usual spot on the river, and she enjoyed a good 10 minutes of fetching sticks in the water. It cooled her down, and she was rejuvenated, and we walked a little bit more so she could have some free time off leash, then we started our run home. We stopped off for more berries on the way out of the park, and I was talking to her, lamenting the lack of ripe berries. I still found a few, though, and let out an “Mmmmmm…” and some girl I didn’t know was walking up from behind said, “They’re good, aren’t they?”

-Yes they are. I’d swear, though, that two years ago no one knew you could just pick berries off the bushes and eat them.

“I know! They’re going faster these days. But they’re also coming in a bit late this year.”

-Yeah, that’s definitely a part of it.

We ran on maybe 50 feet, stopped for another look, saw nothing ripe, and ran home. Garmin makes our run/berry/fun time look like this:

Garmin makes it look like we ran really slow, but while we were actually running, it probably wasn’t THAT slow. I think I can walk a 10-minute mile. You can see our long pauses in there. I could put arrows where we stopped for berries and played fetch, but if you care that much and can’t figure it out, wellllll….

I got home and drank some water. Ate an apple: gala. Maybe I had more, but I know I was hungry and not quite filling that vacuous stomach of mine. I realized my left knee had gotten messed up somehow, which sucks. (It’s fine mostly, it seems, unless I squat down or, even worse, use my left leg to lift myself up. This isn’t great. I may have to take a day or two off. Tomorrow is supposed to be my gym day, which would mean squats and running intervals—this knee won’t let that happen.) At some point I ate corn chips. I really don’t know why my memory is failing me so much right now. I had errands to run, and I ran them: Home Depot, Ace, BelAire. I bought things.

When I got home, Liam was napping and we adults of the household had some time to ourselves. Angie had some errands to run, so she ran them. I ate a white nectarine. (That was the first ever for me, other than the sample I’d tasted that morning.) Mmmmmm…. I was still hungry. Angie got home and I started prepping dinner.

It was a grilling night. If we were on Iron Chef, the theme ingredient tonight was gypsy peppers from our garden. I cubed some red potatoes and tossed ‘em with olive oil, garden-garlic, gypsy peppers, salt, and pepper. I wrapped ‘em in foil and grilled ‘em. I did essentially the same thing for our chicken breasts, minus the foil. I grilled corn on the cob, some poor excuses for said vegetable from our garden, and two good ears from the farmers’ market. I picked some French green beans from the garden (long and thin and tender and good) and tossed those with all the aforementioned ingredients except garlic. I used the last of our homegrown garlic. That’s not why there was none in the beans, though—I just chose to leave it out.

We opened a rosė (when I started prepping dinner), which is not a type of wine I typically like, but we found this one a few weeks ago at a place called Andis up in the foothills and it’s damn good so we bought it and tonight we drank it. Dinner, it looked exactly like this:

I ate mine, then I ate what was left of Liam’s, which was mostly some of the ‘taters and a couple bites of chicken with a bit of the garden-corn, which was okay. After dinner, I had some garden work to do: temporary, portable fencing to keep dogs from eating fertilizer and destroying tomatoes and beans and peppers in the process. Oh, those dogs. But I didn’t buy enough fencing, and it was getting dark, and I did what I could, and I came inside. I came inside to brownies, which my wife whipped up while I was out working. See how great my wife is?

I had to shower off a bunch of things that were making me itch, mostly having been all up in some of the sub-par corn to get to some pole beans we’ll eat later this week. Liam had a bath. I sat here, typing this. The rosė was finished with dinner and we’d moved on to that carmenere. I’m drinking that now. I’m a bit tired and hoping for some good sleep. I always do. But maybe first….

So goodnight, good Sunday. Until next week.

Funk to Playground to Concert to Yard

It’s the next morning and I’m writing about yesterday, and that’s okay as I sit here with my cup of French pressed light-roasted Costa Rican coffee (with a bit of a light-roasted Mexican bean mixed in because, you know, I ran out of the Costa Rican, and really this Mexican is probably just about my favorite of all). I'll back-date this, just to help continuity. Or maybe that doesn't help. Oh well, I'll did it anyway.

Liam has been waking up a bit early, which is also okay, I reckon, although I’d sure prefer to tuck a few more Zs into my bag before I jump up from bed. Angie made an attempt to let me sleep in, but I was awake around 6:15 and pulled one of my pillows over my head to block out the light and it wasn’t working, plus I started smelling bacon, so I got out of bed around 7:00am.

I drank a Berry Veggie. You’d think I work for Naked Juice. I don’t.

When it comes to bacon, your nose never lies to you—I came out to spelt waffles and bacon. I was dragging, but coffee was made and my boy was running around and my smiling wife will always brighten my day, even if I am in a bit of a funk. I’ve been in a bit of a funk. The day started full of funk.

It’s nothing particular that’s going on, really, I’m just in a bit of a funk. I’m lacking some motivation. It’s nice, in a way, because I’ve been…maybe relaxing a bit more. I haven’t been out working on endless projects, or projects with ends but doing one after the other. I HAVE been spending more time in front of the computer—all my work, and then this typing. But I’m getting some encouragement from this typing, and it’s an outlet I seem to need at the moment. I’m still going.

I spent most of the morning and early afternoon sitting around. Funking around. (Oh, that reminds me of a story. I HAVE to blog about that sometime.) Angie was making preparations for an upcoming art showing. I did some reading about soil nutrition. I researched some garden problems. I played with my boy and he fell asleep on me on the big bag while I was reading out loud to him about compost and soil nutrition and I transferred him to his crib. Angie went to the gym. I didn’t do anything of great significance or consequence. Funk.

Before Liam fell asleep I’d started eating a banana, but Liam loves bananas, so I had to split half with him, and then I forgot to eat any more of anything for a while. I may have had a handful of walnuts. I decided I was going to swim, but that was still a little while off. Angie got home. Liam woke up. I went to the pool planning for a shift in brain chemistry. Exercise is good for that type of thing: positive changes in brain chemistry; mood shifts. I ate an apple on the way.

My swims continue to get better, which is odd because they hadn’t really been doing so for the last couple of years, which is pretty much the entire time I’ve been swimming regularly. I spent around 40 minutes in the pool with a bit over a mile of distance done and some intervals thrown in to spike the heart rate. Intervals of any kind of exercise are pretty fantastic. I soaked in the hot tub. I sat in the steam room. I sat in the sauna. I don’t know why I enjoy these things, but I do. I left.

I did feel better. There was mood improvement. I drank a beer: the Four in Hand IPA. We decided margaritas and Mexican food sounded good, so we headed off to El Torrito sometime around 5:30. Chips and salsa. Too many chips to be considered healthy. Too many margaritas to be considered healthy (three), but they were making them weak, so what’s a couple to do? My dinner consisted of two chicken tacos on hard shells, and they had some chunks of tomatoes in there and I don’t love tomatoes but I know I should eat them and that’s one of the ways I do it is to just sneak them passed myself, so I left ‘em in there and ate ‘em. There was also a jack cheese enchilada and some Mexican rice (‘cause what other kind of rice do you get at a Mexican place?) and although I don’t like beans much, I made myself eat a bite of my refried beans before I forked the rest over to Liam. He loves beans. He was also experimenting with voice volume. Happy screams. People look, and he can be loud, but it’s also kinda funny. He’s learning; that’s all.

On the way back, this is when things got real good: my wife suggested we stop off at the playground at the park down the street from us: Carmichael Park, which is where our farmer’s market is going on right now and where I’ll be making a trip after Angie, who just woke up, finishes whatever breakfast she decided to make. Sometimes I’d just miss meals if she didn’t’ do things like this. I love her. Although I did have a Blue Machine and a half a banana already this morning. (The other half of the banana? See above reference to Liam’s love of bananas.)

Anyway, we stopped at the park and went over to the little tot’s playground, which we had to ourselves, and we had a good time. It was about 7:30pm. It was a beautiful evening. Liam was loving the climbing and the slides and sure, he fell and bonked his head once and has a nice souvenir from that, but the cry was brief and the playing continued. Slides make smiles.

There was music, and we always hear the music, but we had never investigated the music. On Saturdays our park does this Concert in the Park thing, and we started strolling over to check it out. The stroll was slow, luring Liam along, and we took off our flops and sandals and enjoyed the soft grass under our feet. (It’s true I hate the concept of grass like that in California, because it doesn’t belong here and wastes water, but I also can’t deny that grass underfoot is a pleasant feeling indeed, and one I hadn’t felt in a long time.)

We got over to the concert happenings, which happen over by another couple of playgrounds, and Liam was captivated by bouncing balls and lots and lots of kids. I can’t believe we’d never explored this option before. It was fantastic. I mean, the band was okay, playing mostly covers that it’s hard to hate, really. That’s the nature of a decent cover band, I suppose. Liam played with a little girl, two months younger than him. They played some ball. She started dancing. It was really cute. She was really cute.

The Concert in the Park has a great atmosphere. There were so many families out there, all these kids and adults of various ages, couples and singles and folks just hanging out. There were lots of dogs; dogs of all different kinds; big and small and wieners, which are small but that’s just such a funny word it should be said and typed often. Wieners. The stage had a dance floor in front of it, and adults and kids were there dancing. People take chairs and small tables and coolers and dinners and snacks and drinks. Folks had bottles of wine and glasses and different kinds of beers and juices. All the time we’ve lived in this house hearing that music every Saturday (during the summer, at least), and we never knew all this was happening down the street from us—we just heard the music.

It hit 8:30 and, although the concert was on-going, we came on home. Liam needed a bath and a bedtime. Those things happened. I fed the dogs and went out with them and it was dark so I wore a headlamp and did some garden watering because it gave me something to do while they did their business.

There was a big party down the street in the opposite direction of the park too, apparently, and there was a band playing there as well. I could hear them while I was out. Decent musicians, not the greatest singer, not the greatest music, but it was original and the drummer had some talent, which came through in those moments of no music because drummers sometimes have trouble not drumming. It’s a fidgeting thing, I think. Or it is for me.

I was drinking some of the Montevina barbera. I came in and read a bit. I went to bed.

I can’t say good night to anything in this blog entry, because it’s morning. And it’s a fine morning, even if the sleep wasn’t great and Liam made me get up early again. That’s okay. I had my coffee, I had my Blue Machine and my half of the banana and now I’m gonna go eat some pancakes with real butter and maple syrup. Good morning, beautiful wife!

Roll-out Day: Things are Happening.

It was an unusual Friday, with my wife and I both telecommuting today. It threw me off my routine a bit, admittedly, but also enabled me to get quite a bit done.

~~WAIT! There was yesterday! And yesterday, journal-wise, wasn’t much different than any other day, except that it WAS date night, and for date night we went to Roxy, and Thursdays at Roxy is Bottles and Burgers night, and on Bottles and Burgers night they have a couple of wine specials (we got a bottle of zin for $20) and you get to build your own burger. Now, building your own burger might not sound that great or unique. I mean, you don’t actually build it. But you get a sheet with all these options and you choose everything you want your burger to be. Again, that might not sound so unique, except Roxy has their very own beef ranch (and that beef is GOOD, which I know because I’ve had it before but I didn’t have that last night), and the other options are…probably some kind of veggie burger (which I would never pay attention to), turkey, and buffalo. Yes, I went for the buffalo burger, medium-well, with aged white cheddar cheese, caramelized onions, lettuce, mustard, and ketchup. Thin-cut lightly garlic…ed fries on the side. Man that was good. And then we went to Cold Stone and I had a Like It of coffee ice cream with some M&Ms mixed in there. I also drank a lot and then didn’t feel like blogging. I also took the day off exercise. I also stared at a book for minute then decided not to start reading it and went to bed.~~

Waking up today was weird because, as best as I can piece it together, I dreamt I was waking up about 3 or 4 times before I actually woke up. And each of those times I dreamt I woke up, I looked at the clock (which doesn’t actually exist in our room) or I asked my wife the time (which she may know if she happens to have her cell phone nearby), it that dream clock was progressing into the future: 6:37, 6:48, 6:54, and that’s when Liam woke up, which seemed fine enough, so I got up and grabbed Liam and changed his diaper and we went out into the kitchen to get him some milk…and it was 6:11. Huh.

Okay then. I put pants and sandals on him and to the garden we went. There isn’t much excitement in the garden. I keep complaining about it. It’s not that we’re getting nothing from it, we’re just not getting what we got last year. I’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay. Just not this summer. And I’m not yet optimistic about winter, but we’ll see…

We came back in and we were both getting hungry and since we knew Angie was going to be around, we’d planned to go to Bella Bru because Angie never gets to go with us. And then none of my special folks were there. Regardless, muffins were bought, three different muffins for the three of us, mine of course being lemon poppy seed, and I got a mocha. I’m so routine.

Home again and the work started. I have some work stress, but I think I gave someone I work under the wrong impression and she thought I was way over-stressed when in fact I’m just frustrated with a few work things, but it made for an interesting day overall. Work work work.

I had no fruit. I had no almonds. I snacked on some corn chips. Lunch time rolled around and Liam was sleeping and I made the grilled swiss on double fiber bread with some mustard and sided that with more corn chips. I drank water.

Work work work.

Work day done, I hopped on my bike for a quick but intense out-and-back. Wanna know what Garmin says that looked like? See below. A bit under 12.5 miles in a bit over 36 minutes, averaging 20.5 miles per hour and topping out above 30, but that was surely on a downhill. I’m not as strong at the biking as I was a few years ago. This is expected.

I love living near the American River. I love biking on the American River Parkway.

Bike ride done, handful of blackberries picked and eaten, my wife left for a ride of her own and I sat and stacked some blocks with Liam, goofed around with him a bit otherwise, folded some laundry, and did some kitchen cleaning. It was my night to cook, but I used a combination of excuses: Liam needed milk, we all needed bananas, I needed apples, a lot of the dishes were in the dishwasher, and “I’m pretty hungry right now.” It’s not like it took a lot of convincing, but I had my reasons lined up, and we made it a Whole Foods dinner night. I drank an Inversion IPA while I showered. I put on my kilt. We left to get some foodstuffs. (I can’t believe Word accepts foodstuffs as a word.)

I made myself a small salad with mixed greens, carrots, beets, broccoli, onion, cheese, croutons, and Italian dressing. (I had the croutons and dressing at home.) I ordered from the cold food section and got three fried chicken breast tenders and some garlic pasta. We got a six-pack of this Four-in-Hand IPA: simple and tasty.

~~There was a beer I’d not seen there before, and I’ll call it ridiculous. There are some really good beers out there. Two examples of good beers I rarely ever drink because of the reason I’m about to mention: Dogfish Head and Green Flash breweries. They make GREAT beers, but they sell them in four-packs for the same price or more than most six-packs (that I’d buy, not a six-pack of Bud or Natural Ice). Green Flash really pissed me off when they made that switch, because I used to love to drink them, but I’m not going to pay the same for four of your beers that I was paying for six of them two years ago. And anyway, those beers in the four-packs tend to be some pretty strong brews with lots of alcohol. Well, there was this new beer there tonight, and it was a four-pack, and its labeling was declaring it to be something great and it was $12.49 for the four-pack, so I figured it must have been loaded with drunkability (not drinkability, although at that price it MUST be tasty), but that shit only had 6% alcohol! Right: I’m gonna pay $12.50 for four beers with 6% alcohol in them. Kiss my ass, whatever brewery you were. I don’t even remember, because that’s just stupid. Maybe you’d be the best beer I ever tasted, but I’m not gonna find out. I have principals.~~

I ate my dinner. It was good. I poured another beer. We’re watching Bachelor Pad, because it’s important to…aw, hell, there’s no excuse or justification. We just love the crappy hate-worthy people that make up the cast and all the silly drama that goes along with them. It’s paused right now. We’ve been working on the first episode for the last 3 nights now. We don’t watch much TV. I’ve mentioned this.

I fed the dogs and accompanied them outside while Angie bathed with Liam. I nearly killed my older girl with negativity when I caught her in again eating fertilizer from the base of one of my plants, so now I may have to make bits of portable fencing to shield these poor vegetables from the beasts that are my fertilizer-eating dogs.

I’m on my third beer of the night, but the first one was at 6:00, the second was with dinner, and now it’s 9:49. I reconceptualized my blog today. I had new ideas. I renamed, added things, built in some tabs. It doesn’t function exactly as I’d like, but it functions. You can see some of that. I need to reach out to you for help. I will.

My wife and I gave the first bit of a silly idea we came up with out to the facebook public today: we’re making some t-shirts, and we’ll probably end up with them all stuck back in our closets after they don’t sell. Whatever. I could justify it here, but that’s not the point of this blog.

I’m gonna slug down the rest of this beer and probably poor myself a glass of wine, because that’s how I like to end my nights: with wine. It may be a barbera because that bottle has a screw top and it’s easy, but maybe I’ll go for the petite syrah. I do love a petite syrah. Actually, that decision has now been made: the petite syrah it will be. Concannon, I think. Sure, I could check the bottle, make sure I spelled it right, all that. Nah. I want to get away from the computer. I’ve been here too long today.

So good night, small can of tomato sauce that’s inexplicably sitting atop my computer desk. I see you there, I guess I could probably come up with an explanation for you, but it really makes the scene no less odd. I’m gonna go read some Brett Easton Ellis.  

Toddler Nose Bleed Leads to Inexplicable Mood Downturn

I’m tired, I don’t feel very witty or interesting, I drank a Little Sumpin’ Wild and I’m drinking an IPA from a can in a glass, and I sorta fear my “green thumb” has turned into the touch of death. Oh, and my dogs are still destroying garden to eat fertilizer, which doesn’t help.

My days get repetitive, so maybe I’ll be short tonight. I’m a man of routine, after all. Routine in many basic ways, at least: my diet is reasonably healthy, yet not highly variable; I work; I try to spend as much time with my family as I can; I try to exercise six days per week; we have a standing date night; and I fill down-time with other bits of things, sometimes gardening or housework or various projects like wood-working or building fence or whatever may need to be done. I’m no pro at anything. The garden and front landscape have me down a bit. And I’ll admit it: I feel a bit overwhelmed at work. So there.

I might have slept fine last night if Liam had. Things started off fine, he ended up in our bed, I think he probably had some gas bothering him, which meant he was tossing and turning all night, which kept Angie and I from a good night’s sleep. That’s being a parent, though—I’m not complaining one bit, I’m just recounting things: I also go to look over and see his sweet face sleeping, feel him lay his head on me, and place my hand on his little arms or belly while I drifted in and out. I love my family.

I got up early with Liam, ‘cause I think my wife had a rougher night of sleep than me, even. When we’re up that early—it was probably 6:15 or 6:30, I don’t know—I strap sandals on him and we head out to the garden. It has been chilly in the mornings, kinda, but I figure if I’m okay out there shirtless in my boxers, he’ll live in his diaper and a shirt.

I didn’t do anything in the garden, really, except look. I think we may finally have one little habanero pepper set, but the way I feel like now my negativity will probably kill it by morning. That plant has been one of my frustrations, but one of many. I didn’t water. I didn’t harvest anything, although I could have. I’m a downer tonight. Or I feel it in me. I wasn’t energetic this morning.

I drank a pint of orange juice and headed to Bella Bru for my mocha and muffin. I bounced on my exercise ball at the office while reading resumes, amazed at how poor people can be at applying for jobs.

<<Pro-tip here: read the job description. If specific experience is demanded, use your words to show you have it. If the posting states “resumes without salary requirements will not be considered,” then for crying out loud, include your salary requirement. This isn’t rocket science, folks. People complain about not being able to get a job, but they can’t even apply for them correctly. Do you know what you’re doing when you don’t follow directions? You piss off your “potential employer” and waste their time—they become an employer for someone else. I could go on and on here. This isn’t a career advice blog. But if you’re wasting your work time reading resumes from jackasses (really, you want $80,000 EUROS per year for an entry level position?!?), burn Calories by bouncing on a ball. And listen to music, because music is good.>>

Work today was frustration. I snacked on a banana and an apple. This is actually NEW routine, but you see it has become routine. I’m out of almonds. I left the office later than I prefer, pulled the car switch with the wife, and picked up Liam.

I’ve had some knots in my stomach. My wife and I are working on an…endeavor. You’ll probably learn about that soon enough. It’s nothing big. Just fun. But it’ll cost us money, and that’s probably about it. It has given me laughs and some bits of optimism, too.

Liam was napping when I picked him up, which can be bad. He hadn’t been out long. He slept through the transfer to the car. He woke up when I set him in the crib. I rocked him. He was so tired, but not going out. Ten minutes passed, I knew it was a destined failure, but I laid him in his crib. He sat up. I was hungry. I picked him up and took him to the big bean bag. He was tired enough to stay put and drift off. I made grilled swiss on double fiber bread, real butter, sea salt and cracked pepper ‘tater chips. Water. Not enough water, maybe. I had a headache. It lingered.

I got work done, but realized I’m falling short of time. I may not get what I need to get done completed in time. This bugs me. This means I’ll work weekends and evenings and I’ll do it for free because that’s how I am. I hate not getting paid for overtime, though. I can, sure, but then there are budgets to be considered. Oy.

I had a conference call. I think I’m a member of the meetings-and-conference-calls-are-generally-a-waste-of-my-time-generation. Send me an email: the info is there, and it’s more efficient. Plus six other people aren’t sitting there twiddling thumbs while two people talk. Goodness.

So then Liam wakes up, I get him snacking, and he falls and cracks his nose on one of our steps. It’s tile. I didn’t see it, exactly, but he was right behind my computer chair, about 2 feet away. I was working.

I’m pretty calm with these things. Cuddle, affirm, assess, reaffirm, clean, reassess again. His nose really bled. He’d been eating a banana. The banana on his face confused things a bit. Blood and banana on your kid’s face: that can be unnerving. But I held him to calm him, took him to the bathroom so I could check him out while he cried: blood from the nose, none from the mouth, although maybe some, teeth present. Probably 5 minutes of crying. (My tech writing breaks through often: spell numbers, unless they’re units of measure. I try to suppress it, which results in me seeming confused and like I don’t know how to write. So be it.) He stopped crying. He wanted the rest of his banana. I cleaned him up a bit. I gave him a new banana since the first one was covered in dog hair from the floor-drop. He walked off smiling, laughing, eating his banana, and dancing and bobbing his head to Trombone Shorty. Resilience.

No swelling now. No bruising. Resilience: toddlers are amazing.

My mood turned south around then too, though. Plants in the front yard dying, and I don’t know why. Well, one in particular. This pains me. I had more work to do. My wife got home and I unloaded my guilt and frustrations and she listened and I appreciate that. Despite my headache and not feeling like doing a damn thing, I knew there was a good chance some exercise would alter my head, and I hate to skip swim day, so I went to the pool.

My swimming is surprising me lately. A bit over a mile in a bit over 40 minutes. Again, the distance and duration aren’t necessarily the point: I didn’t feel like doing it, didn’t want to do it, but I did it, and I felt better afterward. I spent a bit of time in the hot tub, the steam room, and the sauna. I don’t know why, but I enjoy all three. I stretched some.

I came home to my smiling family, a salad with mixed greens, carrot, onions, croutons, cheese, and Italian dressing. The pepperoni pizza was almost done, made with tomato sauce my wife cooked down from the garden this past weekend. I ate half that pizza. I drank my beer with it. I’m still working on that second one, the beer from the can in a glass. Angie got Liam bathed up and his teeth were brushed. I sat in the small bean bag while he ran naked laps and occasionally threw his self on me and/or kissed me. Naked babies are so cute—it’s amazing anyone could turn that into anything negative. But you can’t even show pictures of your naked kids anymore. I probably shouldn’t even admit we have some, or that he has ever been naked at all. I find this a sad sign of our times.  

Liam fell asleep. I wrote this. My life is routine. I love routine. There’s such comfort in it. I didn’t always love routine, but I appreciate it more and more the older I get. I like to shake things up once in a while. I’m not boring, I don’t think. But it’s date night tomorrow night. We’re going for…well, you’ll find out. But this one has been pre-decided. Usually it’s a day-off decision.

I did fold some of that laundry on the couch. I started some more in the washer. I’m tired. I’m down. I’m out.

So good night, pile of paperwork sitting in front of me, annoying me with your very presence. I don’t want to sort through you. I don’t want to turn you into a plan. I want you to go away, and you won’t. Shit. Tomorrow is another day, and hopefully it starts with a good night’s sleep.

I need to start adding more pictures. I need to start taking more pictures. I need to spend time to turn my blog into what I really want it to be. I need time for that. I’m not sure I have time for that. Even this takes so much. But I do kinda love it. Ah well. Done.

Running Backward

Carmenere gone, seasonally-inappropriate Grinch boxer shorts on (“I know just what to do”). Liam going down for sleep, nice and clean and teeth brushed, even if it IS always against his will. Montevina zin in the glass.

My stomach is so full, it reminds me I’ve neglected to mention that lately I’ve been finishing off Liam’s leftovers in addition to my own dinners. Last night I had an extra helping of about ¾ of an ear of corn with a few roasted ‘taters snuck in there, which I was pleased to realize. Tonight I ate his chicken breast. I always start off so far ahead of the day’s beginning, so I’ll try to work backward.

There’s about ¼ of a pint of some sorbet Angie bought now in the freezer. It’s peach champagne flavored, or something like that, and it was made by Talenti (I would normally be going through a pint of ice cream every other night, but things have been different lately, and you don’t get to know why), and I wouldn’t normally even think to eat it, but my belly is even more full now and it wasn’t before I ate that half pint, so now all is well. Man, back to front is confusing. There WAS about ¾ of a pint of that stuff in the freezer, before I started.

I polished off Liam’s chicken breast and his last bit of mashed ‘taters. Mashers. No garlic. Our meal tonight had no garlic which, in the Golaski household, is almost like a dinner without alcohol, but maybe even more rare. I ate my chicken, my mashers, and a wacky mix of green and purple beans from the garden. I always eat my vegetables first because I don’t like ‘em as much when they’re cold and vegetables tend to get cold fast, so I dig right in.

Before that, I cooked the dinner: chicken breasts in a green peppercorn cream sauce that I fucked up once and had to start over ‘cause I haven’t cooked it in a long time. Uh oh, did I type fuck? Oh, no: I typed fucked. Moving essentially sideways, I’ll consider all of the dinner-cooking to have happened at once. So the chicken in peppercorn sauce, green and purple beans from the garden, and some mashers from the farmer’s market. I mean, the ‘taters were from the market—I cooked and mashed ‘em. The peppercorn sauce I made with half and half, so I used some of that in the mashers as well. I was already drinking that carmenere.  

I did the dishes. I hadn’t done them after dinner last night, which is often the case (perhaps sadly), but I had to do them before cooking, so I did them. The kitchen could have been cleaner. It wasn’t. This is my life. I don’t like cleaning; I just know I have to do it.

I ate a handful of blackberries. I picked a handful of blackberries. I walked to the blackberry bushes that explode from our neighbors’ yard and are neglected by most, stopping to lean over, recover, and recover my breath. I ran.

So my Garmin Forerunner was charged tonight. I wore it, but I didn’t let myself look at it at all while I was running. This is no easy thing for me. But I wanted an honest run, nothing pushed or altered by pacing or pushing or what-have-you—I just wanted to gauge how I’m running. I could run backward, but this blog entry hadn’t been conceived yet. Thank goodness. The battery in my heart rate monitor is dead and I need to replace it, so I have no heart rate data. Wanna know what one of my runs looks like, Forerunner-style? See below.   

It’s hard to see probably, I know. That’s the Sutter/Landis loop, el-reverso—more appropriate: Landis/Sutter, but why would you care? It’s not flat, but I’m not climbing mountains. The stats, since they may be hard to discern: total distance 3.43 miles; elevation gain 93 feet; average pace of 6:55/mile; elevation loss is an obvious error because it was a loop, so it had to be the same as the gain, although a 2-foot difference isn’t all that bad, considering; my estimated Caloric burn is based on out-dated me-data). You don't have to do this. You don't have to run 3.43 miles. You don't have to run a sub-7:00 pace. You don't have to run. (Sure, maybe you do more and faster, and my hat is off to you.) Just do SOMETHING. Even better: do something you wouldn't normally do. I pushed myself a bit harder tonight, maybe. It's the irony of this blog. I'm getting off-base.

Every time I run a loop I think about the fact that, as far as physics is concerned, no matter how far I run or how much elevation I gain or lose, when I complete that loop I’ve done absolutely no work. That’s physics for you. That and a bunch of calculus.

I was still working when my wife got home from her office at 5:30. I was into something and I needed to get worked out and I’m not opposed to working beyond a standard day when the situation is right. I put in a long day of work today. The situation was right enough. It demanded such measures.

I played with Liam a bit, but felt bad being so focused on my work. He woke up from his nap just minutes after 4:00pm. I worked and worked and worked before that. I sent emails. I tried to figure things out. I laughed at the crappiness of some work that had been done, which also made me cry a little inside. I finished my lunch.

Are you keeping up? Or back? I’m having a hard time. This concept blows, but I’m committed, and when I commit to something…timmoc I.

Lunch? Okay: roasted peppered turkey breast on the double fiber bread, stout and stoneground mustard, red-leaf lettuce, red onion, Swiss cheese. Corn chips, because I forgot my potato chips at the office. I hated myself for that for a minute, but the corn chips did the job.

I put Liam down in his crib, already sleeping. I picked him up from daycare. I ate an apple on the way to switch cars with my wife. (Have I ever mentioned or explained that? I don’t know right now.) I left the office later than I should have, sometime after 12:30. Work is taking a lot of my time and focus, lately.

<<Refill. I won’t refill my wine glass again tonight…probably.>>

I sat on my exercise ball, office door closed, rocking and and dancing and smiling and eating almonds and a banana and guzzling water. I worked. I had meetings.

I solved problems.

Maybe I just recognized problems.

I created problems.

I finished my bowl of oatmeal, and thankfully I’d remembered to take the new box of oats and flax I’d forgotten yesterday to the office with me today. Two packets down my gullet, along with the usual mocha. I take my own cocoa mix for my mochas—I prefer it that way.

<<YAAAAAWWWWN>>

I got to the office, after having left home and listened to NPR on the way. I didn’t pay much attention to NPR because the news is annoying me lately. I had kissed my wife and son goodbye. They left shortly before me.

I got my shower in, and before that spent some time in the garden. I got Liam some milk, kissed him and played with him, changed his diaper, and took him out of his crib. He was awake at 6:45. I got out of bed at 6:45. I slept well last night. I’d only taken one valium. I did drink quite a bit. Well. That’s what I do…sometimes.

To the Presentmobile, Robin! I see my houseplants need care. Most of them need water, others have special needs. I won’t deal with any of that tonight. In fact, I’ll put it all off longer than I should. I’ll wait ‘til they can’t even cry out “WATER!” anymore, and then I’ll let another day pass, probably, mostly because I’m busy and distracted and sometimes a bit lazy, and then I’ll finally get around to watering them. They'll live.

I need to pee.

So good night, pile of clean clothes on the couch, waiting and hoping I’ll actually fold you tomorrow. Good luck with that. Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll probably get to you. Ultimately, I must. That’s just the way. But I can’t piss myself. I need to go. 

The Difference is I Slept, Which Results in No Difference at All

Who can kill a plant faster than you know? I can.

Who can kink the kink-proof hose? I can.

I’ma start this off a bit different tonight. Prepare yourself.

I SLEPT WELL LAST NIGHT!!!

Maybe it was the odd day coming to an odd conclusion. Maybe it was the two valium I ate. Maybe it’s because my son was going to hit something on my keyboard today that has made MS Word think I’m Portuguese. (I’m working in Documentó, for some reason). I’d bet on the valium, but stranger things have happened—I may be Portuguese.

<<Much later, while re-reading this, I realize I’m working in Document6, not Documentó. I thought it was weird the Portuguese MS Word didn’t number blank documents. But then, how can I be sure? I may still be Portuguese. I may never trust a “6” again; it IS the sign of the devil.>>

The wine: a cheap carmenere—La Playa. That’s after polishing off an Iron Stone zin from…last night? I don’t know, I didn’t finish it—my wife did. I’m not drinking by myself. My wife is sharing. I don’t always drink by myself. I don’t usually drink by myself. There’s no liquor hidden in my closet or the tank of the toilet. I swear.

A friend and I were chatting the other day about wines, a message I typed way too long about, and I mentioned I think ridiculously expensive wine (wanna know how much: ask) is ridiculous, so allow me to make a broad point. I stopped on my way home and picked up six bottles. All originally cost over $10 each. All were on sale. And by buying 6, they throw a 10% discount on top of that. So I got a $10+ bag of hardwood charcoal (those briquettes are bad for you, according to some [sorry], so deal with the annoyance of real hardwood charcoal ‘cause it tastes better anyway [food cooked on it, not the charcoal itself, although…]) and a box of 300 sandwich bags and that 6-pack of 6 different wines and left about $54 poorer. HA! And these are tasty wines. But I’ll grant: good alcohol is cheaper in California than anywhere else I’ve been. Our wines are better and cheaper, if you’re buying them here. Same with the beers. But you poor Hoosiers, I know, I know. It’s sad. Coloradans may think they have it good in the beer department but, sorry, you lose. California = better and cheaper. It’s one way I justify living here.

Starting off-topic already. Man. How do I get it back?

<drink.>

Okay, up around 7. Boy going, me showering, me watering, me running late. Me packing lunch, me packing gym clothes, me forgetting about the box of instant oatmeal and flax I planned to take in for breakfast. I finished off another Berry Veggie, apologizing in my head to Liam if he had hoped to tackle that himself. Sorry, son.

I write differently at different times. Is there consistency? You’d have to tell me. I know there’s at least a little bit.

So I got to the office and realized I’d forgotten that oatmeal. Okay, so I have a backup that’s a backup ‘cause I bought it a while ago and didn’t really like it: this multigrain oatmeal plus flax, which is fine and dandy except it has NO sugar, and what’s breakfast without sugar? So I poured two packets of that out and added water four packets of sugar—almost, but then feared it’d be too much so I returned package number four—and let it sit while I made my mocha, then I tasted the oatmeal and realized it needed more sugar so I added that fourth pack and thought about more but I held out. Not ideal. I’m not proud. I could have gone for more. I guess I’m proud I left it at that. I ate my breakfast.

It was my long Monday, as usual. I’m finding I have less time to do what I’d consider my “normal” work tasks and I’m having to spend a lot more time “managing.” This is fine, but it’s an adjustment. I like to have my projects. But as far as they’re concerned, I can get way more accomplished on writing a document in a day while watching and playing with my son and dogs and flying a kite and trying to teach myself gymnastics and maybe giving out free haircuts in my driveway than I can in 24 hours at the office—people always need something at the office. Management.

Lunch came and went, and it didn’t go unnoticed by my stomach. Or my mind. I mean, it didn’t just go, it was enjoyed…thoroughly…over multiple hours. I was munching almonds all morning. I ate my banana. I drank water. I made a PB&J, and you know that standard by now. I ate way too many sea-salt-and-cracked-pepper potato chips. I was still hungry. I drank more water. I considered chewing on my shoe. I licked crumbs off the desk. That was a lie, those last two sentences. So I guess it’d be more appropriate to say, “Those were lies.” At least I admit it. I’ve never been a good liar. And who would believe those things, anyway? I DID eat an apple sometime around 4:00.

You know what can make work fun, though: when you pull out your giant exercise ball, and maybe it is a bit flatter than it should be, but you turn on music ‘cause you’ve finally taken speakers in for your work PC and you shut you door and turn that shit up and you bounce and squirm and dance around on that ball while you type. It burns Calories, sure. It’s good for your core, sure. But most of all: it’s really fun. So are the looks people give you. So I did that for a couple of hours toward the end of my day…while I crammed more almonds down my gullet…almonds and water.

I left work around 5:00 for the gym. I’ve said I’m bored with my running lately, and this is true, so I’m doing a bit more than just running at the gym. Regardless, I hate the long Monday away from my family so I go for short and intense on the Monday gym workouts. I love to work my entire body with as few exercises as I can in as little time as I can. Today it was like a super-set, but with three exercises instead of two, and I’m sure Men’s Health has a name for that, but I forget what it is. Oh, I like off-balance things, too, so this is what I did.

Squats: 35 pounds on each side, which is pretty normal. But instead of just that, I did the first set of 8 reps with 5 extra pounds on the left side. Then I did 8 pull-ups. Then I did 10 pushups with my feet on an exercise ball and my hands on a bosu ball (look it up if you must). Repeat, but this time I put that extra 5 pounds on the right side for my squats, did a different version of pull-ups (yes, there are different versions), then the same pushups again because I hadnt’t done ‘em that way in a long time, and it isn’t easy. Last, I evened the weight out on the squats with just the 35s on each side, did another variation of the pull-ups, then did 10 pushups with my feet on a bench and my hands on an exercise ball. These are all good things. Full body workout done. Or close enough, at least. So then I ran, because…well….

The running was intervals, also short and intense. Since the numbers are less tangible than minutes-per-mile pacing (and I was all over, anyway), I’ll go with miles per hour. So it was ¼-mile at 7.5-mph, then ¼-mile at 9.1, then ¼-mile at 7.3, then ¼-mile at 9.5, then part of a ¼-mile at 7.3, then maybe a drop a bit lower to 7.1 ‘cause I was beat, then ¼-mile at 9.5, then ¼-mile at 7.2, then ¼-mile at 10.0, then I almost popped a lung and my sweat was probably splashing on those next to me (sorry) and I dropped it to a 3.5-mph walk. Then I bumped it up to 7.5 (an easy 8:00/mile pace that’s not so easy after all that) to get myself to a solid 2.5-mile run, then hit the stop button. Workout done. It took me about 35 minutes, all total.

You don’t have to run intervals. You can walk them. Or jog them. You don’t have to run. That bit of lifting I did was cardio in itself. If you work it out right, you can turn anything into a good cardio workout. I guess it just takes a bit of knowledge. I’m always willing to share. I hate routine. Get it? But interval workouts do way more for you in a short amount of time than doing the same thing at a sustained pace, so if you’re time-crunched: do intervals. And super-sets. Or whatever I described above, or maybe even circuits. Just keep that heart going.

I stopped off for the aforementioned sandwich bags, charcoal, and wine on my way home. I got here and gave my wife some love, loved on our boy, and got to playing with him and the dogs. I didn’t much care for the garden at the time—I’d been away from the family too long.

My wife grilled dinner: corn on the cob and ‘taters from the farmer’s market, plus some tasty steak. Beef three nights in a row: a dietary taboo, I’m sure. I could write out the negative predictions here. I’ve read the nutritional “studies.” But I eat broccoli! That will lessen my risk of cancer by 30 percent! And those whole grains? They’ll make you 16 percent less likely to have a heart attack! (I don’t know. I’m making this crap up, because I mean, really, whoever does those studies are doing pretty much the same thing, otherwise I could make my diet fight cancer in other people’s bodies, by my logic. It’s flawed, I know, but so are most of those non-stop “studies” we’re bombarded with in the popular journals and literature. Google News Health Section. Screw metastudies, for crying out loud—EXPERIMENT! DO SOME FRIGGIN’ SCIENCE, YOU LAZY BASTARDS! Ahem. Sorry. Let me compile all my disjointed thoughts into one and establish a rule. Or recommendation. Goodness, is that what I’m doing? Why are you reading this?)

We played a bit more as a family after dinner. I gave my boy a bath, the wife took over, and I took the dogs out for no-fertilizer-eating supervision and a bit of garden perusal. I came in and kissed my boy as he was drifting off to sleep. A lot of wine has been drunk tonight, but it’s not just me: my wife is in good form. The art is flowing. She’s a brilliant artist. She has shows coming up. Shameless promo: http://angiegolaski.blogspot.com/2011/08/summer-inspiration.html. She keeps me in constant awe, and she’s a constant inspiration. There is no shortage of reasons I love this woman. Add to the list: she remembered to set the DVR to record Bachelor Pad when it had completely slipped my mind. THAT’S a good woman. How else do I dull down my IQ? I need these things.

So goodnight, Bachelor-Pad-I-Have-Yet-to-Watch. I’ll see you tomorrow. And I’ll wish I could discuss it with a certain co-worker who, if she’s reading this, knows exactly who she is but has said she won’t be watching it this season. Again, I tear a bit. I dry my eyes. And I’m going to read. I’m not very tired. Maybe I’ll tap the valium faerie on the shoulder again and see what she has in store for me. Maybe I’ll trust the wine. Maybe I’ll just fall asleep. Even I don’t know at this point. It’s 9:43pm. Good night.  

<<Damn. We had to open another bottle of wine.>>