What's That Gym? Time to Go See You? Snooze button?

So I haven't written in a while. This has come to my attention by various readers of my blog, some of whom I did not know exist. While I have been busy and falling into new routines, I still love to write, and miss telling you stupid stories about what I am up to. Not that it's all about me...but it is in here, actually.

So this week I started swimming again. I love to swim. To feel light and airy, to watch the waves break before you, to move along silently while under the water everything is moving. I used to swim all the time. Yesterday during my laps I remembered the summer I learned how to swim at Interlochen Arts Camp, under the tutelage of Twink, a lovely woman that is no longer with us. At Interlochen there were 2 places to swim. Safe in the shallow area and out past the buoys, where I was certain life was terrifying. You had to take a 15 minute swim test just to go out past the line of buoys. In my 5 year old head it was another world. If I have a regret about this, it is that I never, not once, took the 15 minute swim test to see if I could do it (to be fair, I thought if I tread water for 15 minutes, I would be too tired to swim back in, and I would drown). But I digress. One day, Twink took us all out to the raft to test our skills in swimming. We had to jump off the raft and swim about 8 feet to her, waiting with her arms open to catch us. I was the last one in. I climbed off the raft backwards, and turned around in the water. I ducked underwater and swam to Twink, looking for her suit in the water. What I actually saw was murky water with algae growing from the bottom, but I remember so clearly in my mind how it looked like an aquarium; coral and tropical fish, sunlight cutting through all the clear blue water to highlight an anemone. I will never know why I remember it that way, but I do. Anyway, due to the murky water, I couldn't make out Twink's form, until I ran into her bosom, floating out halfway of the suit, which DID look like an aquarium. She was so proud of me, and I was so proud of myself, but that was the last time I was out that deep in that lake.

These thoughts came to me yesterday as I was swimming the length of the pool at the gym, using the breast stroke and chasing the ripple in front of me. It was so Zen to make the ripple, see the ripple, chase the ripple. I just focused on that, and I never needed a break.

My first return trip to the pool was not so lovely. Tuesday I decided that I was going to go to the pool, no excuses. I packed a gym bag and put my suit on under my clothes so there would be no drawn out preparation that could deter me. Funny how something like this can make it feel like junior high all over again. I checked in and took look at the pool; full. Ugh! I will still do this, it may be less busy by the time I get out, I told myself. If I walk out now, everyone on the ellipticals will see that I checked in and walked out. I walked into the locker room and didn't know where to sit. I chose a place and took off my shoes, socks and pants. Then I sat down and stared into space as the motivation conversation began in my head like the angel and devil that sit on your shoulders (you know the ones): oh no. I didn't shave. I can't go in the pool. And my skin is so dry, what is chlorine going to do to my skin? I can't do this. I don't have a swim cap, my hair is going to turn green. I should really go. Then the other side started to state its case: You're already here. Your suit is on. No one will notice your legs. You will feel so much better when you are done. You love the water. You're going snorkeling in 17 days, you really need to be able to stay in the water. You'll never be ready if you don't take the first step... on and on they went while I sat in my shirt and stared off to the right. After about 7 minutes of this, I looked up and saw the same look on the face of the woman sitting across from me, clearly having a similar conversation in her head, but in Hmong. We both sat there, unmoving in our swim suits, staring, clearly terrified of taking off that shirt. It was then that I went to autopilot and stood up, taking my shirt off and heading to the showers. I dug deep to find that confidence problem I have, in that I am OK with myself on most occasions. Fake it til it's true, right?

I came out of the shower and saw that she was also coming out of the shower, and I followed her to the pool door. She went out and immediately turned around to go back inside the locker room, passing me on her way back in. I stopped and turned around as she turned to give me a helpless look. I squared my shoulders and said, "can we do this?" and she straightened up her back and said hesitantly, "yes," and then disappeared back into the locker room. I got in the pool, which was not much less crowded, but worked out OK with 2 older men power walking and talking about their Bose radios and some converter to record DVD movies onto VHS (What???? WHY?). A lane opened up, and I left it open, hoping my commiserate would see it and come out. After about 5 minutes, she did. She swam to the other end of the pool and stood in the corner in the sun doing stretches and kicking up water. In an odd way it motivated me to just keep moving. I only spent a half hour in the pool, but I kept moving. It didn't really seem odd to me until I told my friend about it and she found it fascinating! :P

So, I went back on Friday, after calling my friend and asking her to remind me that I was NOT, in fact, too tired to go to the gym, and how great I'd feel after (and I did). The scale said I was down 2 pounds from Tuesday, but I don't believe it. I don't know how it could lie, but it is.

So, today's song of the day is twofold;

This song because it was on at the gym, and I just really like to move to it. But it's not how I'm feeling, I just love the beat.

But, in honor of my lame attitude I have about myself, and the stupid extent to which I need to motivate myself, today's song is:

I once again Embark (HA!) on a Dogsitting Adventure with Mr. Henry Magoo...MUSH!!

Many of you know I sporadically dog sit for my friend, Crystal, opening our doors to Mr. Henry Magoo, whom we have known since puppy-hood. Henry is a lovely dog, and our dog plays with him often. They know when they are within a mile of the others' house, and they both just....well they frenzy, really.



As my best friend has recently jetted off to Ireland (without me!!! In a show of good sportsmanship, I gave her the phone numbers and info for all my friends, and their bands, and where they are playing during her trip. See? Good sport, me!), Henry is at the house. I forget how he is so enamored with the aging, loud and irritable cat. It must be quite a sight for him, to NOT win someone over for once.





This morning, after Henry woke me every 4 hours to go out, or to revel at the cat's hissing, I took him and Ed out for a walk at about 6:30. Sometime in the last 12 hours, for that is when I last ventured out into the great tundra of St. Paul, a soft rain fell, then froze in a layer of ice about 3/16" thick on everything. Everything. What this means for you, dear reader, is that the streets of St Paul are currently as smooth as if they had just been caressed by a Zamboni. I should have worn my ice skates, but I opted for my boots. I try to imagine the look on the faces of the people driving by as I mushed these two dogs on long leads of 20 feet. Arms flailing, feet unsteady as I was pulled along ungracefully by a Shih-Tzu-Cavalier mix (i.e. lapdog) and a sheltie (size of lapdog). I was laughing so hard, I had to cut the walk short and let them run without leash. It was almost funnier seeing them slide all over the place.


It reminded me of this great news story by Jana Shorthal, here in the cities. She put on ice skates and went down the street in minneapolis. Here's the link, the video is on the right side, and it is AWESOME. http://www.kare11.com/video/default.aspx?bctid=60508402001


Today's song of the day is tricky. I could focus on the fact that I didn't sleep much, the house is a mess of couch cushions and dog toys, the cat is constantly hissing and clearly holds me accountable for the dog intrusion, and the basement is flooding, due to a blocked main under the house. Meh. Let's reminisce about mushing behind a shih-tzu.


Orpheus in the Underworld, by Offenbach
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Offenbach+Can+Can+From+Orpheus+In+The+Underworld/5938270

My Morning Epiphany; Thanks Google!

So, funny story. I just woke up and rolled out of bed and walked in to the office to write an article about cheesecake. First, as is customary, I checked my email and calendar. The oddest thing showed up on my calendar. Today, at approximately 7:13am, I am scheduled to have an epiphany. I have no idea how that got on my calendar; I'm sure I didn't write it. Maybe Google is trying to encourage me. Is it April Fool's?


I better hurry, I only have 6 minutes before my epiphany. I should prepare. But if I prepare, it won't be an epiphany (was THAT my epiphany?). Epiphanies, I am told, are sneaky creatures that are hidden under the mundane, and they are found by wandering around talking like Steve Erwin ("Todaiy we are liooking for the elUUsive epiphanay, croikey!"). Hm, that may not be right...


Oh, sad. Epiphany passed. I guess it was that you can't rush an epiphany. You rush an epiphany, you get rotten epiphanies.


So there it is, the comical start to my day. Hope you have one too! I still have to write my article and take a shower before work. That's life!


Today's Song of the Day:
A Happy Working Song, from Enchanted

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Happy+Working+Song/6311472

SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!! I just found out what it is...it's an Italian Holiday called Befana, or Epiphany. An old woman comes and delivers toys like Santa, on January 5th. I didn't know I had Italian Holidays in my calendar, but thank you to my Italian friends....in Ireland :) I love you.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Befana

Auld Lange Syne

So it is New Year's. Meh. I have all the goodwill and mushy feelings I should have at this time of year, but let's face it; it's another year. I'm still in debt, I'm working a lot, and today was a stressful day. It started when I burnt my toast. I decided right then and there, standing in the kitchen at 6am, that I was not going to have this kind of day. Burnt toast days are the worst, and I decided just because I burnt my toast did not mean that my day was going to go this way; like a Monday on steroids. After a day at work in which I became a bit overwhelmed and stressed out (I had to give myself a time out at one point), I came home, and Captain Awesome, who is using his last personal day of the year today, was home relaxing. We had a nice afternoon at home, joking and talking, watching a little tube. For dinner he made lobster tails with Caesar salad and champagne (not real champagne, I can't handle it and I don't really like it. He bought Toad Hollow Risque, which is like an amazing dessert wine with bubbles. I LOVE it, and it's what I had last Christmas, when life was not so hot). And yes, we cooked with the new fancy pot! Woot! It is easy to feel blessed right now on the home front. The lobster tails were a nod to the Japanese New Year tradition of decorating with lobster and lobster themes, representing old age with their bent over tails. Yay, we were festive! :)

I also was reading about Portmagee, Ireland, which still holds an annual tradition brought to them by French Sailors a couple hundred years ago. The villagers watched, awestruck, as the sailors embarked on land, and an old, decrepit man walked slowly up the hill at midnight, at which point he fell over, apparently dead. Then from the crowd, a sharply dressed, spry young man pounces, signalling the New Year, while the old year has died. I kind of like it. I have never really thought about aging until this year (thank you, 30), and time just seems....different somehow. Anyway, here's a cool link to that story... http://www.moorings.ie/Portmagee/Portmagee-NewYear.aspx. Check it out, it is actually very interesting, and the story (surprise surprise) is told well.

Thinking about New Year's and Ireland, I think about my friends and family all over the world, knowing that in each country where live the people that have had such impact on my life live (Norway, Ireland, Austria, Germany), they are all kindred spirits, and even though we are far apart, I love them. I miss them, and I would love to be spending this time with them. I've been thinking of Auld Lange Syne a lot lately. How it was written only a few hundred years ago, by my beloved Robert Burns, and how no one even associated it with New Years until the end of the 20s (and by noone, I mean Americans). And how no one really knows the words. Here they are now, for your enjoyment. In the Scottish-English, and Parochial English :)

This is copied from http://www.electricscotland.com/burns/langsyne.html

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
Chorus
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup,
And surely I'll be mine;
And we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,
Sin' auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd.
Sin' auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak' a right gud-wellie waught,
For auld lang syne. For auld, etc.


A translation from the Scots Independent

auld;old lang;long syne;since
auld lang syne ; days of long ago
pint stowp ; tankard
pou'd ; pulled
gowans ; daisies
mony ; many
fitt ; foot
paidl'd ; waded
dine; dinner-time
braid ; broad
fiere ; friend
willie-waught ; draught
owresettin

Should old friendship be forgot'And never remembered ?
Should old friendship be forgotten,
And days of long ago.

And surely you will have your tankard !
And surely I will have mine !
And we will take a cup of kindness yet,
For days of long ago

'We two have run about the hills
And pulled the daisies fine :
But we have wandered many a weary foot
Since days of long ago.

We two have waded in the stream
From dawn till dinner-time :
But seas between us broad have roared
Since days of long ago.

And there's a hand my trusty friend !
And give me a hand of thine !
And we will take a large draught
For days of long ago.

It is a nice sentiment. Friends who have known each other for years, drinking and trusting, enjoying each other. This is where the goodwill comes from, and whether or not you know the words, the feeling and sentiment is the same; remember the past, cherish those around you, and look forward to prosperity and better times ahead. I like it. I won't miss this year much, but I am grateful for what I have learned, and what I have seen in my own life. Health and Wealth and joy to all of you. God bless, and No Worries.

today's song of the day is two-fold; Auld Lange Syne, which you can find yourself. Also, Matt and Kim, Lessons Learned. I like the cadence, and I like the "close your eyes and use your mouth and tell me about your song" part :)
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Lessons+Learned/21999520

Plants: How they Inflict Identity Crises, or Possibly Reflect Them

I have plants. I have had plants for a really long time. As of late, I have felt defeatist about my plants; I saw them be so fruitful over the summer while outside, and when I brought in a select few, they dwindled. I lost my sage plant, and came close to losing my mint. I felt like, "what's the point? They don't like it inside, let them die." And I ignored them. I didn't water them. And they looked sadder and sadder. Consequently, among all the dead leaves there rose a dust problem, as well as a small insect infestation (except for the one VERY large moth that hatched somewhere in the house, presumably from the sunflowers we brought in to harvest and left in the basement....yes, I have a lot to learn). This morning as I took stock of the state of affairs in plant-land, I saw the sun peek out behind the clouds. I decided that the root systems of all the plants (except the sage...sniff! I LOVED the sage; I named my blog after it!) were all still intact, and that my plants needed (as well as deserved) a little TLC. I set out to remove all the dead leaves off all the plants, and then decided I should cut off all dead parts to give the living parts a chance. I got out a pair of scissors and a box from Christmas for all the debris. I started with the mint. It was like watching Wall-E. So much dead, I just pulled it over the side and snipped it. I was snipping along when I noticed that there was, in fact, new growth under all the death. This poor plant had been trying to break through the barrier of death and malnurishment to prove that it was, in fact, still living. This gave me new resolve to attend to all the rest of my plants as well.

I spent the morning trimming, feeling bad for letting things go so long, and hoping that out of this extreme cut back, new life would be able to thrive. Of course, as typically happens with gardening, I started thinking about my life. As the new year comes (I have never been one to make resolutions at New Year's...it seemed a losing battle, and the beginning of the year always felt like September, due to my birthday, and school, etc), how fitting that I trim back the death that surrounds me? Do I feel like I am a plant that thrived outside, but now that I am inside (am I inside?) I am withering? I look at my plants now, and I still feel a bit sad, but they are cut back, neat, there is no layer of dust and dead leaves sitting on their soil, they are very Feng Shui. I know that they will have a chance to live now, new growth can come; they won't have to use all their resources trying to nourish a dead branch or rotting pepper. I think about the things that I could cut out in my life; each of us has them, though no doubt they are different. I am slightly addicted to the food network, and HGTV. I could probably stand to spend time with my boyfriend or myself, rather than staring at the TV. It has become a friend, which can't be good. Also, I hold on to things that I suppressed, such as feelings that arose from an unfortunate incident about this time last year. I go through my life imagining that I have simply forgotten it, when I know I haven't. Those are dead things; it does me no good to hang on to them, even subconsciously. And the trouble with supression is, while it can be a helpful tool at the time, in time you forget the good stuff too, because you do not allow yourself to think about any of it. How many memories have I lost? How would I know?

It was a strange feeling, trimming the plants, wondering if I could be so much more than I am if I could just trim back and be nourished properly. Have you ever had that? You do the most mundane thing, and suddenly you have a new perspective on your life? Like the sheep who gets sheared; no doubt the first time they are frightened, and I am sure they always dread it a little bit, but it grows back, and they are still alive. That sheep could well have become veal or mutton. Maybe the sheep focuses too much on the negative, or the fear, or the death, and not enough on the fact that, even after a full shearing, they are able to go back out on the brae and eat the grass, wander around, and be sheep. Full, satisfied sheep, living to their potential, whatever that may be. It may be a little cold at first, but adapting to the elements comes with the territory.

So that is my thought today. Perhaps I need to see myself as a plant, and realize that I may be malnourished or self-neglected. Perhaps I could trim out the things that inhibit me from my full potential and see that in order for new growth to occur, the dusty, dead leaves need to be shaken off, and my wool sheared, so that I can live the life I was meant to. Live (I hate ending sentences with prepositions). I just hope that the shearer or the trimmer doesn't have allergies to my dust, as it can really irritate the sinuses!

It would appear that this is a crossover Blog Post for Sage Grasshopper and Wandersheep. Sorry!

Today's song of the Day:

Looks Like Love, by Need to Breathe

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Looks+Like+Love/3020028

Clever, Clever Boyfriend!

While reading the news, I read an article about a baby being born at 30,000 on MSNBC...quips the boyfriend: "The Mile High Cub." Clever!

Whilst Trying to Feel Pretty, I Ended Up Looking Like a White Trash Version of Tanya Harding: I Want My Day Back, Spa!

Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

I've needed a haircut for a while. I made an appointment at the Aveda Institute in Minneapolis, where spa grade haircuts are available for $15.00, instead of the usual $35. The best part about this is the great smell of the Aveda products, and the scalp, neck and hand massages that come with the professional grade haircuts. I secretly decided to get a soft curl perm, so that I could finally have curly tresses that didn't fall out after an hour. I can't tell you how excited I was about this. When I told my boyfriend, he winced. "A perm? Are you sure?" Silly boyfriend, perms aren't the poodle inducing image they used to be! I am getting a soft perm with big fat curls that fall beautifully around my face. I'm going to feel pretty. And I'm not going to tell anyone else, because they are going to be blown away by me finally looking beautiful, my hair not matted to my head. I arrived at 12:15 for my 12:30 appointment. Let's count the red flags, shall we?

I sat and read my book until 1:15, when I was called in for my appointment (1); when I sat down, she asked me what I wanted. I told her, and I told her that I wanted a perm so that my baby fine hair would actually hold curl and volume. She told me it would be best to perm my hair first and then cut it (2). She called over her professor, who told her how to roll my hair in preparation (3), asking if she knew how to do a brick roll (4). He also told her to cut my hair first. After a quick wash with NO scalp massage (5) and no towel to keep me warm or dry as I walked back to her station by myself (6), She piled all the hair on top of my head and made 2 snips (7). An hour and 15 minutes later, my hair was finally in curlers (8), with a second pass to put in picks to hold it. She pulls out the perm box and starts reading it (9), as if she just bought it at the Piggly Wiggly (10). After a 10 minute wait, she finally mixes the first 2 ingredients and calls over her prof (a different one (11)), to check her brick roll. The prof looks at me, down her nose and over her glasses (12) and says, "why are you getting a perm? If you use V05, Pantene, Suave or Aussie, you're hair won't hold it. You have too much wax build up." (13) I told her my hair has been this fine and smooth since I was a child. "Weeeeelll, we'll try it, but it may not stick. You can come back for a redo, but that's all we'll do for you." Who the f*** are you, lady, and why are you in my space??? Do you have any concept of SPA day, or pretty, or something nice to do for myself? I looked at her and said, "then why are there curlers in my hair? Where were you an hour and a half ago?" She quickly smooths over, "oh, well, let's just continue on..." "Well what SHOULD I be using?" I ask. "Anything Professional" she says. Oh gee, thanks. The "stylist", who graduates on MONDAY, then doused my head with the perm solution, ignoring the top and front (14) and stuck my head in a shower cap for 20 minutes. During that 20 minutes, I start reading the box. According to the box, I should have had the next step up perm, not the one she's giving me, and I should have a heat source on my head. I bring it up, and she says, "I have only ever done 1 perm." (15). (16). (17). So 20 minutes later, she takes me over to the sink, lays me down on all my curlers and rinses my hair for 10 minutes, forcing water down my back and drenching me. After we read the box together for the next 3 steps (18), all of which involved some sort of torture of me, whether it be squeezing the sharp curlers into my head to blot dry while sticking her finger in my eye (19) or having me sit in awkward positions resting on curlers, we take the curlers out and go back to the station, once again with no towel, and my back drenched into my underwear (20). We get to the seat, and she starts picking through my hair, pulling it out (21). She says, "Oh, I forgot conditioner." So she starts putting in hair gel and mousse, which are obviously the same thing (22). Then she doesn't see the curls, so she starts trying to tease my hair, yanking and pulling (23). I looked like a drowned rat, and that is NOT an exaggeration. When my bangs finally dried a little, she cut them. Too short and chunky (24). she flops them off to the side without even combing them and they start drying kittywampus (25). Then she calls her prof over to sign off on it. I was like, "WHAT? This is done?" The prof says, "hmm. Maybe we should dry her hair a little, it's still really wet." I say, "I really don't like my bangs, they are chunky and sticking out everywhere. Can we round brush them? I need them to blend in." She does round brush them, but they end up looking like an entirely different entity than the rest of my hair, and she frizzes out the front of the right side of my head in the crossfire (26). So, as she has done dozens of times in the last FOUR AND A HALF HOURS (that's right, it's almost 5pm and this point, and I got there at 12:15...(27)), she douses my head with water from a spray bottle. I am SERIOUSLY waterlogged by this point, and still soaked and freezing from all previous dousings and rinses (28). Aaaaaaand, my bangs go back to looking kittywampus and I go back to looking like a drowned rat (29). I don't know what was worse, because without conditioner, it was frizzy and white trashy wavy. I muster up the courage to say, "I still don't like my bangs. I just need them to blend." Her response to this is to cut all the way down my entire right side, so that it doesn't look chunky anymore (30). So now I have 2 uneven sides and nothing tapers, and I won't bore you with the other things that made me cry all the way home. She calls over her prof, because he has curly hair, and he can tell her what to do with my bangs. He comes over and his answer to this issue of how terrible I look is, "Can you go home and play with it? Can you fix it yourself?" So, to sum up: I spent 4 1/2 hours to look like a drowned rat, spent $60.00 to do it, and I am supposed to go home and work with it, and come back if it's not flowing. RIGHT. She took off my apron, and I was shocked that I was done. The logic: if we keep messing with it, it's only going to get worse. NICE. So I go down to the lobby, she refuses to give me the survey about my experience, and she HAS to show me product for her course study. The looks on the other customers' faces said it all: "I'm so sorry! Did that happen here?" I got out to my car, threw my hair into a ponytail and texted my boyfriend the following while crying hysterically: "I'm not sure how to get out of Minneapolis. On 4th and Central. I'm on my way home. Can we please not talk about this? Ever?" I didn't even return my movie from Redbox, because I refused to go in to the store. I'd rather pay another dollar. To add to my pity party tears, I didn't get ANY of the massages or ANY of the great smelling products. That's the WHOLE reason to go there! (eheh, eheh ehe eheh...cough cough....hate my life!!!!)

So. My day of beauty ended up being a day of pain (beauty is NOT pain, stop saying that!). I was insulted, embarrassed, and spent money I didn't have, because I wanted to feel good about myself. My best friend texted me and asked me out for dinner. I called her back bawling, and told her it WAS that bad. I finally convinced her after the story about the way people looked at me in the lobby. And Aveda graduate, let me give you some advice; do NOT show me the picture of what it is SUPPOSED to look like. Don't do that. Thanks to Elle Woods, I know that washing my hair in the first 24 hours deactivates the ammonium thyglocolate! So there is 60 dollars and 5 hours down the tubes. I want my day back! I came home with my hair in a pony and a hat on. I'll be doing that for a while, because I guarantee THIS will be the perm that actually sticks, even after washing, which I am not supposed to do for 48 hours? What happened to 24?

Today's song of the day is:
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Just+Like+A+Pill/22521998
Just Like a Pill, by Pink.

Just the Chorus. Angry girl music....mmmmmmmm. Rated PG-13, if your kids listen. It'll be better tomorrow, when this is all a memory. Sorry! I feel better, though! It's JUST HAIR! :P