matriarch

happy birthday nan!

i didn't have the privilege of really knowing my grandparents on either side, since they passed when i was a child, or even before i was born.  i say 'privilege' because it really is an honor to have someone in my life who is filled with love and warmth and wisdom and stories i could listen to over and over again.

so to show how much we care for my husband's grandmother, i put together a photobook from the family.

here's the link to the birthday album:

http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0Acs2LRk1YtWLCHA

nan, wishing you many, many more birthdays to come.

jolt

this morning we finished week 5 of training, which is a milestone for me because i never thought i'd get this far.  the last workout of the week was a 20 minute (~2 mile) run that i was dreading since i first studied the program.  but here we are, and we made it through.

i like when i'm able to surprise myself.

sunkissed

after a morning at the beach and afternoon mini golfing (i beat my husband for the first time) and crabbing (we caught a blue claw!), we headed home with rosy cheeks and sand still in our shoes.

it was a hot day, and as we drove further and further away from the island, the skies darkened and soon we were beneath an endless cloud.  not long after we had driven through the city, we were hit by a heavy rainstorm.  the sun was nearly forgotten by the time we arrived home.

except that it was evident on our skin.  it seems that we don't ever notice how tan (or burned) we are until we're out of the sun.  and we, having soaked up an excess of vitamin D for the day, were drowsy and sluggish, barely unpacked before we headed to bed.

goodnight, sun.. until we meet again tomorrow.

hidden agenda

waking up to no agenda ends up being a bit like this:

breakfast on the patio; collecting shells on the beach and the inception of "shell face off"; lunch with the group; crabbing for the first time, and even catching a few; sunset at the bay; seafood and steak dinner outside; night stroll on the beach; birthday celebration with both laughter and tears; staying up late inventing ridiculous card games.

i kind of like this type of schedule.

tradition

we're on the road again, the dotted lines and tail lights guiding us to the same destination as the year before it.  the smell of the ocean mixed with sand is already beckoning through the darkness, and i can almost feel the warm breeze against my face, knowing that it will be warm if i were to open the window, even at this time of night.

the mile markers count up, and we have reached ocean county.  it won't be long now before we cross the bridge to the island, the familiar strip of lights and people and action, separated by 30 some-odd stoplights as we haltingly make it to the old beach house.  there, we have the promise of a dreamy slumber, to be awakened by the rustling and aroma of life in the morning -- breakfast on the stove, chairs pulled to the table, forks on their respective plates, the TV bellowing some kind of sport.  laughter and hugs, pleasantries exchanged, plans for the day. 

there, we have the promise of family.

locks of love

recently, i've been receiving a number of compliments about my hair, mostly because it has grown so long, which is noticeable since we're in the dead of summer (and i generally leave it down).  my hair ranks pretty high on my meager "list of things i like about my body," which could hardly be considered a list when you have maybe 3 random things you're okay with about your physical appearance, and ranking them is probably alittle silly when they could easily be tied or thrown off the list completely.  but, i digress.

so my hair is probably my signature, a trademark if you will.  i've kept it long since i was in grade school, for really no reason at all except i can grow it out and pretty quickly at that.  the only time i can remember cutting it short was when i turned 16 and chopped it all off on a whim.  when i say "chopped it all off," i mean it was chin-length, which is inconceivable to most people when i tell them.  i remember going into the salon with no clear agenda in mind except to make a change, and i kept telling the stylist to snip more and more off, while she kept asking me if i was sure.  i think i even remember returning home and my mom being a bit shocked that i'd done it, and i can't recall now if she was pleased with the result.  the only evidence i had at the time was my driver's license photo which was taken shortly after the impulse cut, but even so, i appear almost unrecognizable to those i've shown the picture to.

a few months ago, i told my husband that i wanted to grow my hair out again since i missed how long it used to be.  it generally is long enough to hit the middle of my back, but i am talking about wanting it close to waist-length.  every summer, i end up caving and chopping a couple inches off, and then a few more, and by the end of the summer i'm back to where i started.  so i told the hubbie that if i could make it through the summer, by fall it would be where i want it, or at least fairly close to it.  i made him promise to help me achieve this, which he's been doing a great job of, despite my rantings about how my hair is starting to drive me alittle insane in this heat.

after it reaches a satisfactory length, and i didn't set a date or even a season for this, my plan is to chop it all off again.  this frightens me.  alot.  and again, there was no solid reason i wanted to do all this, except that i wanted to experience a drastic change.  to feel it.  to make a statement of sorts, a felicity-esque moment.

as it is nearing the end of july, and we've just survived our 5th heat wave of the summer, my resolve on this plan is beginning to falter.  so i decided that i needed to reevaluate my motive(s) for doing this, because without real purpose, what is the point?  and that is what has led me to locks of love.

locks of love is a wonderful organization "that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children in the United States and Canada under age 21 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis," per their website.  personally, i have not had contact with them before, but have spoken with a few involved that have continued to donate year after year.  and to be honest, i've considered donating my hair to them several times in the past, but was too chicken to do it, and came up with excuses to talk myself out of it (i.e. they did not accept dyed hair, but now that they do, i've run out of a reason not to do it).  so, this has become my new mission, and the fact that i'm "announcing" it on my blog only makes it more real.  and a bit scary.

so to end this post (yes, an entire post dedicated to my hair!), stay tuned for my new hair's debut!

ESP

the weirdest thing happened to me this afternoon.  it had been a typical day so far, no major items to report.  i was sitting at my desk at work and my mind suddenly wrapped around the phrase, "God is good."  i wasn't praying; i wasn't thinking about much of anything (except for the e-mail i was writing), but this phrase kept popping up, almost like a chant.  i thought, yes, it's true, God is good.  despite my troubles, namely those as of late, my life is blessed.  i have no complaints.  this thought was comforting; i even smiled.

a buzz woke me from my reverie.  it was my phone.  a text from my sister.  she explained that her and my mom had been in a head-on collision and the car was totalled.  they were both okay and were in the ER getting checked out.

i called immediately and my sister's voice on the other end was subdued.  she said the car that hit them literally came out of nowhere.  i asked if the airbags had deployed, and she said yes.  she still sounded a bit shell-shocked.

my mom got on the phone next.  the first words out of her mouth were that if she hadn't had airbags, she was sure she'd be dead.  and my sister too.  i asked her if they both had had their seatbelts on.  she said of course, and mentioned how we had just been discussing seatbelts and airbags only 2 days ago.

on saturday, anthony and i ran into the store manager of a discount grocery store we frequent at a farmer's market.  she has become a friend of the family over the years so we were catching up.  somehow our conversation moved to the topic of seatbelts.  she admitted that she didn't wear hers anymore because she had been in a bad accident years before where the force from the airbag deploying had caused her seatbelt to hit her in the face.  my husband and i both pointed out that the reason she probably was standing there today was most likely due in part to the seatbelt, so it was silly not to wear it for that reason.

we saw my parents shortly after that meeting, and i mentioned the seatbelt debate to them.  we discussed our feelings on the subject (wear your seatbelt!), started talking about airbags, and moved on to other topics.

it's a strange coincidence that we had just been conversing about the very things that came into play a couple days later.  believe what you want, but that was a sure sign to me.

and what can explain the "God is good" chorus in my head?  maybe ESP.  i wouldn't be surprised if my sister and mom were both thinking that after their accident.  and somehow, across the miles, i could hear them.

circle of trust

my mom, being the planner that she is, likes to coordinate family get-togethers.  i am not just talking about immediate family though.  after only a few months of dating my husband, she asked if she could meet his parents.  my husband said sure, after we'd be dating a year.  and in true form, right after our one-year anniversary, she asked to set it up, and we (somewhat hesitantly) agreed.

soon afterward, there was a meeting arranged for our families, this time with our sisters involved.  it wasn't long before our parents started alternating when to take the other set out, and as my husband and i moved forward with our relationship, so did our families in theirs.

these days, my parents and his parents (and his grandmother) will plan dinners or outings together, sometimes without us.  they'll exchange presents for holidays and birthdays, call and e-mail each other.  in fact, one time my husband and i were over his parents when my mom's number popped up on the caller ID.  the funny thing was that she didn't even know we were there at the time.  and recently, we met my family for lunch, not knowing that my husband's grandmother would be there, but pleasantly surprised that she was.

i know this is not really typical for in-law families to be as close as we are, just based on hearing the stories my friends and coworkers tell me about.  they feel lucky if they even get along with their in-laws, let alone their in-laws' families.

so our families have become a solid unit, a tight-knit family.  if something happens to my sister, my SIL will know, and vice versa.  if something happens to one of my parents, my in-laws will be there.  and vice versa.

i remember when my husband and i had reached the one-year mark, and our reluctance to have our parents meet.  it wasn't that we weren't committed or that we didn't see a future.  it was alittle bit of fear, alittle bit of uncertainty.  alittle bit of worry if things didn't turn out like we hoped.  but my mom felt none of that.  she wasn't fearful or uncertain, and the only anxiety she had was probably about the family i would one day be marrying into, which is why she did what she did.

sometimes i don't give my mom enough credit.  but i have her to thank for this, because this bond, this closeness we have would not be present today without her and that first meeting years ago.

helping hand

sometimes there are no words that can be enough.  sometimes all you can do for someone is to hold their hand.

conviction

tonight we watched 'conviction,' based on the extraordinary true story of betty anne waters, who devoted 18 years of her life to free her brother from prison.  her brother kenneth was convicted of robbing and murdering his next-door neighbor in 1983 and sentenced to life in prison without parole. 

never doubting his innocence, betty anne put herself through law school, first earning her GED(!), bachelors, masters, and finally a graduate degree in law.  she did this all as a single mother of 2 boys and working part-time.  once she passed her bar exam, she became her brother's attorney, hoping to obtain assistance from barry scheck, the founder of the innocence project, an organization focused on overturning wrongful convictions using DNA evidence. 

but first, she needed the evidence.  being a 16-year-old case at the time, she was told the evidence had been destroyed according to state law, but that didn't stop her (or her attorney friend abra) from searching until it was found.  with the evidence and help of barry, they were able to prove from DNA testing (which was not around at the time of kenneth's conviction), that he was, in fact, innocent.  yet the story did not end there. 

although kenneth had been proven innocent, he was not released because it was not enough to show that he had not been an accomplice in the murder.  again, in true erin-brockovich fashion, betty anne did not give up.  she went after those who had testified against her brother, convincing one of them to come forward with the truth, which was that she had been coerced by police to claim kenneth had committed the murder.  with this, he was released from prison in 2001.

betty anne did not continue to practice law after her brother's exoneration, since she became an attorney with a sole purpose in mind: to free her brother.

after the movie, i went online to read more about the case and discovered that kenneth died only 6 months after his release, after a freak fall and fatal head injury.  i wondered how that must have felt for his sister, who dedicated nearly 2 decades of her life to essentially save him.  she had sacrificed her marriage, time with her children, and so much more purely out of love for her brother and unwavering belief in his innocence.  it was incredibly inspiring.

what lengths would you go to in the name of love and justice?

on a mission

whenever i'm in the midst of a project, it's like i have tunnel vision.  but i don't mean this in a negative light.  i'm focused, efficient, and in the zone.  there could be a bunch of stuff going on around me, but all i see ahead of me is the goal, and i will not stop until it's completed.

it doesn't matter what type of project it is; it could be work-related or personal, assigned or self-designed.  once i've committed by jumping in, the only direction to go is forward.

sometimes this means i'll be sacrificing sleep.  or it could mean that i'll be sacrificing other things.  but the outcome, once i am able to look back, is always worth it.

i hope that whatever i decide to dedicate my time and energy to will continually have merit.  meaningfulness.  weight.

heavy

every once in awhile, i experience what i can only call the beginnings of a nervous breakdown.  i tend to hold my feelings inward, until one day when it gets to be too much.  suddenly, my stress begins to take on a life of its own, growing before my very own eyes until i am crushed with feelings of despair.  what once seemed manageable is now insurmountable.  everything on my plate becomes impossible, and the weight of responsibility is too much to bear.

then i have a good cry, and with the outpouring of tears comes the relief.

and then the cycle resets.

heart of the matter

i am not a combative person.  i prefer to walk away from any kind of confrontation rather than stir the pot.  but as with most things, there is an exception.  if i am faced with a situation i believe to be wrong, you will not find me on the sidelines.

when my passionate side shows, this often shocks those on the receiving end.  normally calm and collected, i guess it's not expected for me to put up a fight.  but if i really believe in something, i will stand up for it and will not back down.

i am not talking about disagreements, because we all have those.  i mean those times when we have a choice between saying nothing or doing something, to go with what we innately feel is right and true.  and even though i know that i can get myself into some uncomfortable situations by doing this, there is no hesitation.

i know someone who shares this trait: my husband.  granted, he is much more outspoken than i am and has many a time put his own foot in his mouth, but i can trust that he'll never compromise what he thinks is good and honorable.  and i love him for that.

if you were stuck between letting something slide or speaking up, what would you do?

gibberish

during our morning run, a large turtle was in our path.  i don't think i've ever seen one that size in the wild, and it was just hanging out.  i wasn't even sure if it was alive, but my husband saw its head move.  by the time we turned around again, it was already gone.

since we couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl (though i usually just assume animals are males, lol), i decided to name it 'shelby' for a girl and 'shelton' for a boy.  hopefully we'll see her/him again.

when my husband and i used to work and commute together, we would often see (what we believed to be) the same blackbird perched on a tree as we approached the light at the base of the exit ramp off the turnpike.  one day, my husband called him 'george' and that was it.  every morning thereafter we'd say, "hi george!", "good morning george!", "how's it going, george?"  he couldn't hear us or reply of course, but that didn't stop us.  soon, we noticed that george was consorting with 3 other birds, who we were convinced were his girlfriends.  so we appropriately named them georgia, georgina, and georgette.

even after i changed jobs, i would ask about george and his girls, and loved seeing the instant recognition on hubbie's face.  it was something between us and only us that we understood, like our own language.

this probably makes us sound like crazy people, but it's the silly things that tie us together, that make our relationship ours.

troubleshooter

our printer was acting up this morning.  the paper wouldn't feed properly and would jam, resulting in a crinkled, inky mess.  i tried to prop up the paper, add more, even hand-feed it, but none of these worked.  soon, i had a half-dozen sheets that had to be pulled out to avoid more jamming.  i opened the lid, fiddled with the controls, tried again, and when it still didn't help, i nearly had to stop myself from throwing the printer out the window (imagine that lovely scene in 'office space' when the printer is getting a beat down).

collecting myself, my rational side kicked in and i decided to google printing errors with my model and the first few results exhibited the same issues i was having.  there even was a youtube video showing the jam happening.  apparently using cardboard was the solution, since people were finding that the reason the paper wouldn't feed was because there were objects stuck under the rollers.  since i didn't have any cardboard, i applied the same logic by force-feeding the paper through and manually yanking it out.  next time i tried to print, it worked.

problem solved.

i think i really like figuring stuff out.  a couple of months ago it was with my cell phone, when it kept auto-erasing my call log and incoming texts.  i googled the problem and searched through online manuals and forums, trying a bunch of things until it stopped doing it.  i'm not sure if i enjoy playing detective, or if it's my hate for letting things go to waste/preference for getting the most out of something which is more at play here.  either way, they are both a couple of dad traits i must have picked up along the way.

so printer, you survived another day, thanks (in part) to my dad.  and thanks to the power of google too.

tamper damper

have you ever had one of those really good days and then something happens, and you can't quite recover from it?  the mood is gone.  the day is ruined.  or in other words (and being less dramatic here), you're unable to pinpoint the same feeling you had prior to the something.

i wonder... do we feel this way because we don't suspect anything to come between us and that happy place or because we try too hard to get our high back?  i think it's probably more of the latter.  you can't miss what you never had.

rest in peace

today marks 8 years since my cousin's death.  she was killed in a car accident on her way to work, a month shy of her 21st birthday.

i still remember the day my dad told me; i had just made it back to my stuffy apartment from class, and it was a stifling, summer day.  i remember this because i went outside to take the call, hoping it was more bearable than indoors with no AC.  the call was weird from the start.  there wasn't a happy greeting or fillers ("how are you?", "what are you doing?" etc.), and my dad's voice wasn't right.  he mentioned the accident, and naturally, i inquired whether my cousin was okay.  he told me she didn't make it, and i asked him what he meant, because the reality of the situation would not take hold in my mind.

things moved quickly after i hung up, stunned, crying and stopping, crying and stopping.  i spoke with my professors to be excused from my next few classes, packed and drove home, and my family piled into our van to make the drive to chicago.  we were on the road all night.  it was a quiet and methodical trip, the shock and disbelief still hanging in the air.

during the wake and funeral, there were 2 instances that were the most sobering to me: my dad literally sobbing (one of the few times i've seen my dad cry in my entire life) and the look on my uncle's face when he shoveled dirt over the casket.  those images do not ever leave a person, and even to this day the thought of them gives me a sense of sadness and heartache.

i kept the placard from the funeral service which lists the dates of my cousin's birth and death accompanied by a touching poem.  for a long time, i had it stuck in the visor of my car, like a warning to drive safely (although my mom reminded me quite enough).  then it moved to my apartment refrigerator.  even after a number of moves to several apartments and finally to my house now, i never lost it.  today, there is a place for it on our fridge, amidst the magnets and wedding save-the-dates and birth announcements, in memoriam.  it is a constant reminder that life is short, but also that it moves on.

during my senior year in college (less than a year after the funeral), when it came time to choose my location for my month-long out-of-state internship, i decided to go back to the windy city to work at my aunt's hospital.  i knew i would not have many chances to spend time with her every day, so the decision was easy.  she picked me up every weekday morning (i was staying with my cousin from my mom's side who lived nearby) for the commute to evanston, and we'd chat about anything and everything.. i confided in her about my boyfriend and we talked about my mom alot.  she pointed out the cemetery where my cousin was buried, which we'd pass along our route.  i asked her if it was hard to go by the gravesite every day, but she told me that she had picked it purposely so that she could stop by whenever she felt she needed to, like her daughter's presence was always there.  it displayed a quiet strength in my aunt that i had not had the opportunity to see before.

i didn't tell my aunt this, but before my month was up, i went to visit my cousin's grave.  the cousin whom i was staying with helped me accomplish this.  one saturday, we drove up to evanston, stopped to pick up a bouquet of flowers and disposable camera (thanks to his good sense on both accounts), entered the cemetery and found her plot (after much searching and eventually going to the main office to obtain a map and directions).  once there, we stood in silence for quite some time.  it was a bright, sunny day.  we shot some photos that i could take home to my family, namely my father, and then we left.

as each year passes, especially near the anniversary of her death, i think of my cousin, wondering how she would have turned out, what she would be doing now.  sometimes i am sad that i did not have the chance to know her more than i did, that we were not as close as we could or should have been.  i think about what i could tell her now, 8 years later.  i would thank her for the lessons she's taught me: to remember that life is a blessing.  to cherish every moment.  and that over time, it's possible for joy to come after loss.

conundrum

when one finds oneself choking on water, would the advice still be to drink water?  why water?  and why would the "remedy" be to attempt to swallow when one is coughing and sputtering and already having trouble breathing?

just some questions i'll likely never have the answers to.

and yes, i do feel alittle goofy today.

hump day

this particular hump day had alot of humps.

our system at work was scheduled to be down for an hour for maintenance and upgrades.. which turned into 2 hours.. then 3.. and when all was said in done, nearly 4 hours.  we do everything via this system, so it was an interesting afternoon trying to work around it.

as each hour passed, i felt the tension building around me.  anxiety turned to impatience, which morphed into utter frustration.  i checked in with my group often and we put our thinking caps on to make the most of the situation and to support other staff where we could.

at least i can say that work is never boring.

CONtacts

i wear rigid gas-permeable contacts, which is a nice, technical way of saying they can really hurt like hell sometimes.  when i first started wearing them during the summer before 8th grade, i had to pop them in for an additional hour each day (once i got them in, which would usually take close to an hour in itself).

it's been a long time since then, and i generally tolerate my lenses really well, except on particularly soupy days, or windy days, or when some miniscule object unsuspectingly flies into my eyes.

so this morning went alittle like this: right after backing out of the driveway, my left eye started watering like crazy (stray eyelash? hair? piece of dust? who knows), which made my right eye start watering and driving nearly impossible.  so i stopped at the end of the block to dry my eyes.  mid-commute, just as i was thinking about how nice it was to blink without pain, my right eye instinctively closed and i literally could not keep it open.  the blur of tears came again, and i can only describe it as feeling like someone was stabbing me in the eye.  i nearly had to pull over to recover.

how could something that small hurt so much?

racing minds

i think i prefer running in the rain over running in the humidity.  scratch that: i think i prefer running in the rain over running in humidity.  the humidity today was suffocating.

i didn't intend for this forum to sort of turn into a running blog, but the 5K training isn't an easy commitment for me.  i told my husband that whenever i'm faced with something that scares me, something i'm not sure if i can complete, i crave support from others, to draw from their energy and positivity.  he's the other way.. when he starts something that he is determined to finish, he needs the strength to come from within, to be the driving force.

a weird thing happens, though, before our runs.  something shifts.  my husband is excited and pumped, trying to rub some of his intensity onto me.  and i, on the other hand, am reserved and quiet, alittle nervous, alittle unsure, trying to set my mind right.  you'd think i'd want to feed off his enthusiasm (based on what i said above), but i can't.  it's like i need to mentally prepare or something, and need to do that on my own.

but once we're done, we're both animated, giving each other high-fives, talking about how good it felt to finish, crossing off another workout.  happy for ourselves, but ultimately for each other.

so it really doesn't matter how we got there, what method worked for each of us.  the real thing is that our individual formulas are somehow working together on a grander scale.

sunday morning

this morning we left super early in order to make it back to our area for hubbie's tee time.  i couldn't believe i was driving around before 9 a.m. on a sunday morning.  by the time i got home, i was wide awake so decided to make myself useful around the house... 4 loads of laundry, loaded up the dishwasher, cleaned and reorganized some, and made dinner.

it's amazing what can be accomplished when you're up before noon.

exit zero

cape may is exit 0 off the garden state parkway.  for me, it is alittle like being... nowhere.  the feel is relaxed and comfortable, even in the middle of town and despite the crowds during the peak of summer.

we were lucky enough to be down here on a terrific, sunny day, spending the leisurely hours with friends.  we took a walk to the beach, a trip to the dock to watch people crabbing (first time for me) and painting, a stroll into town for some window shopping and an ice cream cone.  it was a nice retreat, although i would have liked to stay longer than i could.

for someone that's not a beach person, i've sure found myself there alot this year!

vertically challenged

the rain didn't stop us from our run tonight.  my calf, however, was being a real jerk.  midway through our workout, i had to slow down my pace so told hubbie to pass me (allowing him to continue at a faster speed).  after we both finished, he walked back to get me and thankfully, he acknowledged that he has much longer legs, which naturally, produces longer strides.  you think?  it takes me about 1-1/2 to almost 2 strides to catch up to his one.  so no matter how hard i try, even when both my legs are working properly, i'm always chasing after him.

marrying into his family has thrown me into the land of tall people.  (now, my parents are tall for asian people, but i'm talking TALL).  my SIL has an inch over my husband, so walking with her consists of me doing a brisk-walk-turned-light-jog while she is merely strolling along.  after family parties, i wonder why my neck is aching, until i realize that it's because i'd been looking up the entire time.

i often wonder whether tall people remember how much more it takes for short people to keep up.  to be fair, it probably would be similar to short people remembering how hard it can be for tall people to find clothes and shoes (as my SIL tells me).  so, probably not.  but i was glad my husband recognized this little fact today about the differences in our strides.  it kind of let me off the hook alittle for not being able to stick to his side.

and hopefully, our future kids will get his genes, so they don't have to be running after anyone.

baggage

i've been on the heavier side for most of my life so am pretty defensive when the subject of my weight, or really weight in general, comes up.  growing up like this always meant there were brazen comments (i heard them even though i pretended not to), outright teasing and taunting, and even an unsolicited nickname from my dad.  (this is not meant to put my dad on blast -- he is the most loving, amazing father a girl could ask for, and i believe he only meant it in a joking manner).  but this means that the smallest gesture could trigger a reaction... looking chubby in a picture, being unable to fit into my smaller clothes, a suggestive remark from my parents that maybe i should join the gym.  even when my husband states that both of us should eat better and exercise more (primarily for our long-term health), i'll take that as a way to tell me that i need to shed a few pounds.

this type of junk seriously swims around in my head all the time.  it's enough to make a person go crazy.  or crawl into a black hole of self-loathing.

over the years, i've consistently gone up and down in weight along my rollercoaster of emotion.  some days i will find myself considerably unhappy about carrying the excess baggage around and other days i'll feel completely fine.  sometimes my OCD kicks in and i'll count every calorie (including my gum or drink mix or for the number of carrots i've consumed) and restrict myself from any kind of crap.  my most extreme was probably in high school.  i measured out the same thing every day for months one year -- cereal for breakfast, a plain bagel for lunch, chicken soup for dinner.  the results were quick.  i dropped so much in just a few short weeks that my dad even testified about this in church as inspirational.  me, inspirational?  i could probably be on the verge of an eating disorder but that was okay, since being thinner was basically better.

and then of course, there was my wedding.  i dropped a ton of weight, gradually though, and by doing it the right way -- portion control and regular exercise.  it was only a matter of time before i gained some back (ahem, 12-night honeymoon in europe), and with the additional weight came the poisonous thoughts again... especially because i couldn't maintain the skinnier side of me.

these days, my diet is healthier than it's been in years, even though i'm chunkier than i want to be.  no matter what i do, my body usually hovers around the same number on the scale.  it makes me think, am i just built this way?  and although i'm in good health according to my doctor, but when i look in the mirror, why is it still not enough?

there are times i wonder why the world seen through a slimmer lens is "better."  why battling this every day, expending time and energy and even some tears is what it takes.  because if i had anything to say about it, it really shouldn't be.

back in

my back has finally been feeling better, so i jumped back into training tonight.  i had been out of commission for a week and missed 2 workouts, so was alittle nervous about being able to complete today's run and keep up with my husband.

whenever i'm running, my mind is running too, counting the seconds (one mississippi, two mississippi..), telling myself i can do it or that i'm almost there, trying to take my mind off my feet.  this probably stems from track practice in high school and how our coach would teach us to think the opposite of what we were feeling.  it's really as much mental as it is physical.

so i made it tonight, just as i assured myself i would.  it felt damn good.

judge not lest ye be judged

i have been loosely following the casey anthony trial for weeks (mostly through unwarranted updates during the morning news) and am in no way a legal expert (or even close), but from the very beginning had the sickening feeling that this was the OJ trial of this decade.  and sure enough, after 6 weeks of testimony and less than 2 days of jury deliberation, the verdict was in: not guilty.

just as i had been in 1995, at the tender age of 14, i was... stunned.  appalled.  wondering how someone who could appear to be so guilty could be acquitted.  very aware of how similar this was to what happened 16 years ago.

but i also thought of another case that i first read about in a magazine on a plane: the amanda knox story.  this was also a woman who appeared to be lying, who did not appear to be grieving "correctly" (i am not claiming that there is a right or wrong way to grieve) and who had alot of circumstantial evidence stacked against her.  but her trial ended very differently.

so why do i bring this up?  because if you think about it, while your gut could tell you to judge on appearances alone, our justice system was not built that way.  we need evidence.  evidence to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the person is guilty of the charges against them.  and in casey anthony's case, the prosecution failed to do just that.  (and just on a side note, it's crazy that even with the kind of forensics i never thought i'd see in my lifetime, some cases can remain unsolved).  so while i've seen people jury-bashing and raving about our country's "unfair" legal system... well, in my opinion (and removing all my feelings about this subject, which is terribly hard), this may have just proved that the system actually works the way it's intended to.

the saddest part to me in all of this is after 3 years, no one is any closer to figuring out who murdered an innocent toddler.  and it will probably always remain a mystery.

firework

happy 4th of july!

can the 4th ever be complete without fireworks?  the neighbor kids have been setting off fireworks for the past couple of days, so a particular story comes to mind.

my cousin lived with us in our old house for some time when we were little, so he was like the big brother we never had.  one 4th of july, he got it in his head that he'd purchase fireworks and shoot them off our driveway.  as kids, we were crazy excited about this idea.  my mom, not so much.  she thought it was reckless and dangerous.  he promised he'd be careful, and so we gathered outside to let him do his thing.

imagine a quiet suburb suddenly disturbed by the pop and crackle of fireworks.  we were delighted, watching the colors burst in the sky.  my mom even seemed okay with it, until my cousin accidentally burned a piece of the driveway, and that was quickly the end of it.

afterwards, every time i saw that dent in the driveway, it reminded me of that night and the fun we had.  i think my parents finally had the driveway resurfaced at some point, but the memory can not be extinguished.

beach bummed

my parents were set on taking us to the beach today, although we weren't really up for it.  but we obediently packed ourselves in the van for a 50-minute car ride from their house.  upon arrival, we were greeted by an overcast sky, the mist so enveloping it was like standing in a massive gray cloud.  my parents methodically unpacked the beach chairs and started for the sand while my sister and i (and our husbands) tentatively followed, not in much of a mood to be where we were but appeasing them nonetheless.  as we made our way toward the water, droplets of rain started falling.  this didn't discourage either of my parents though.  they were jovial and laughing, all of us kids wondering how they could be having such a great time in such miserable weather.  as soon as we put our chairs down, they headed to the waves hand in hand, dipping their feet in the ocean.  mere minutes later, it started raining harder and the lifeguards kicked us off the beach.  we had probably been there no more than 10 minutes before having to head back home, since there wasn't much to do in a shore town in the rain.

during the car ride home, the sky dried up and the sun even poked through.  we joked about how funny it was that we traveled nearly an hour each way to visit the beach for about 5 minutes.  it was an event so typical of my parents, and we had agreed to tag along since we were doing it for them.

what i've realized as i'm writing this is that they were in fact doing it for us; planning this day trip to the beach, putting on a happy face once we got there, despite the crappy weather.  making our day enjoyable and memorable.

and i've also decided that by having just a glimpse of how happy it made them to have us there together, i would go to the beach with them on a rainy day any day.

cityscape

whenever i'm in the city, i'm hit with a sense of nostalgia.  the weird thing about this is, i've lived in a number of areas throughout the city but never downtown.  there's something about being in the center of it all, seeing city hall and the boulevards and the majestic buildings, a mix of old a new.  cafés, eateries, theaters, shops all crammed into boxed spaces on a grid, each offering something alittle different from their neighbors.  getting lost amidst the hustle and bustle, the hodgepodge of people, the noises of a place that doesn't sleep.  the streets are always alive with something, someone. 

now that i live an hour outside of the city, i only pass through for a couple of hours at a time, usually to try a new restaurant or with a specific agenda in mind.  it makes me feel like a tourist in a way, although some of my greatest memories with friends and family happened there.

there are city folk and country folk, things to love and hate about either place.  at the core, i'm probably an in-betweenie.. i want the best of both worlds.

strained

i pulled a muscle again in my back yesterday.  i say again because it happens frequently, and always in the same spot in my lower back.  usually i can pinpoint exactly when it happened or what i did, but this time all i can come up with is it happened sometime after lunch, and came on suddenly without a twist or a jerk.  i merely went from a seated to a standing position and couldn't get myself upright.

i guess i could be considered a bit young to have back problems, but i've always been... let's call it, "top-heavy," so i've had these issues since my early 20s (i've said it many times before: it is not a blessing!!).  the first time i remember straining my back, it hurt so badly that i could hardly get myself from my apartment into the car, and i think i cried the entire drive home.  my mom was able to get me an emergency session with an acupuncturist (it pays to have a mother who knows just about everyone) and i threw out any reservations i had about being stuck with needles in exchange for some relief.

so i have been walking around gingerly and essentially crooked for the last day and a half.  it's almost impossible for me to bend without feeling pain, so i pretty much don't.  it takes me about twice as long to do anything, whether it's putting on my socks or going to the bathroom (which requires pulling off/on pants and getting on/off the toilet seat).  stairs are my enemy now... i need to take a step at a time and generally do them sideways.  overall, my pace has slowed down significantly.

whenever i am out of commission like this, i am reminded of how fast the world moves around me.  why is everyone in such a rush?  it almost makes me feel helpless, like i am off-tempo with my universe.  and what's most frustrating is the only way to get better is with rest, patience, and time.  but how can i give up time, when it doesn't wait for anyone?