String theory for dummies . . .

Certainly you have heard of string theory?

It all started when Isaac Newton invented calculus to describe the motions of falling objects and orbiting planets...

I've co-opted the name for my own string theory of sorts. With exercise one would hope that they could lose extra pounds accumulated over the past decade. This however, has been quite a struggle for me. I avoid a scale at all costs, mostly out of denial but I have a new measurement tool. I cut three pieces of string, color coded (actually it's yarn, but that didn't work with my title) and measured the three normal measuring parts of the body, chest, waist and hips. My plan is to "snip" off the extra string as my dimensions decrease. Now I'm not expecting overnight results. My goals are a bit longer term. With any luck there will be some decrease and then who knows, perhaps I'll brave it to the scale!

And now, since I've advertised this adventure- I damn well better perform!

how is that for self inspiration?!

p.s. had seven succesful flips at the pool today!

pictures of you, pictures of me

Coincidence? The last song I listened to on my swim mp3 player during today's workout was a song by the Cure "Pictures of you" A couple of hours later I am at a memorial service for a friends husband in which the daughters had created a lovely slide show. Pictured in the presentation were images of Peter from early years to present day. While watching that I realized something, though there are heaps of pictures of me as a young girl, and through school, once I had kids of my own the pictures seldom include me. I am not blaming anybody but myself for this. Like many women I'm not particularly pleased with my appearance. I remember the days where I did look good, with little effort- those days are very long gone and to see myself, as I actually look today, isn't something I enjoy. But, I must remember, this is how I go through each day . . . each one of you are subjected to this appearance, and rarely anyone runs away screaming!. And so, I've made a deal with myself , though I'm not going to become a camera whore (as I was when little, just look at the family movies) I am not going to run away from every photo op. This is me, this is how I look, I've got a family who loves me as I am. so there!
This unfortunate self picture was taken minutes ago when I made this decision. With luck, future shots will be a little kinder!


Oh, and as an aside, Ashley thought it would be a good idea to post my progress to my 300 mile swim year. My year to date total is 12.15 miles. (and three successful flip turns)

now, time to make dinner and then watch Amazing Race!

as suggested by my sister . . .

This year, both Groundhog Day and the State of the Union Address fall on the same day. As Air America Radio pointed out: "It is an ironic juxtaposition: one involves a meaningless ritual in which we look to a creature of little intelligence for prognostication, and the other involves a Groundhog."

in case you are confused, the picture on the left is the groundhog.

and we will miss you . . .

Within the last several months I have had an aunt pass away. Kyle had a friend die weeks before Christmas, my friend lost her husband days before Christmas and just yesterday Randy's Uncle Ron succumbed to a short battle with lung cancer. But, this isn't going to be a gloomy post. Each of these people remain in our hearts and thoughts, today I'm only going to talk about one though. Uncle Ron was a force of nature. A career military man who was as comfortable on an aircraft carrier as he was out hunting or playing pinochle with the family. I have a good Uncle Ron and Randy story and of course, it involves hunting. Ron was always looking for a hunting partner when he came to Napa, or more recently to our home in the East bay. Many years ago (about 26 or more) when in Napa visiting his mom (Nana) he invited Randy to go out duck/geese hunting with him. They had a great time and scored well (see picture below). Randy's goose was especially large and my Mom dressed that bird and made it for New Years dinner that year. It wasn't especially tasty though and I couldn't blame my Mom for that. It wasn't until a bit later that we discovered that that giant goose was instead a swan! Can you imagine? Several years ago, during a visit North, Ron invited Kyle to go pig hunting with him. Kyle had a great time, and often comments on Ron's unorthodox hunting rules . . good times.


Uncle Ron will be missed- especially in May at Bay to Breakers. What will the naked girls do without his comments? Looks like we are going to have to sent a contingent over to run in his memory, and keep up the dialogue with passing runners. Not always politically correct, Ron called them like he saw them . . . and would tell us after the race what he said to people on the road.


I'm sure that once he made it to heaven yesterday he checked in with Nana, whistled to Judy and Turtle and took off for a hike and a little hunting- that would surely be his vision of heaven.


we will miss you Ron.

unintended noises

It could be my age, it could be my size, my fitness level, I'm not sure the reason but I find myself making little unintended groans occasionally. It's a sound I expect from an old man, not a nearly 50 year woman. Don't worry, I'm not groaning for no reason- it's usually during some sort of exertion. Murray makes a sound every time he lays down, a long exhale with a rumble in the back of his throat. I am finding myself making some noises recently too. Thank goodness they aren't as deep and resonating as Murray's, but I'm hoping to stop it before they get that way!

My car is low to the ground, when exiting it's a bit of a workout and on occasion and I'm finding myself making that "ughhh" noise, do you know the one I mean? I've always had super good control on involuntary noises. The only exception in memory was that weird jungle growl I remember making when Kyle was born . . sorry- TMI. Anyhow, I started thinking about this today when I was swimming. (3500 meters, not a single flip turn). There was a man in the lane beside me and with each breath he made an "ugh" sound. Worried I started analyzing my breathing and wondering if any noise was escaping as I gulped for air. I didn't want people to refer to me as the lady who grunts as she swims, and can't make flip turns. I think I'm safe, I didn't hear any noises.

Great, something new to worry about!

as Homer would say "D' oh"

Let them grow up already . . .

My mind is swirling and I'm not sure that this is going to make much sense, but I'm going to try anyhow. Excuse me as I climb up onto my soapbox . . .okay, I'm up here, now here I go. My frustration today is with parents. I often am asked by patients "if I hold the baby all the time, and respond early to crying, will I spoil them?" answer: "no, you don't spoil with affection or attention, you spoil with stuff" "if you don't buy them a pony on their demand, (or any item they wish for capriciously) you probably won't spoil them". Take this a few years into the baby's future. If you constantly give in "because it's easier" you've set up a dynamic in which the kid rules the roost. This behavior crosses all social/economic strata. Families who can't afford to buy the latest games or electronic equipment give in to their children by way of groceries. High sugar drinks and high fat snacks are what many kids ask for, and the obliging parent gives. I heard on the radio today that with the burgeoning diagnosis of type 2 diabetes this generation may well precede their parents in death . . .frightening isn't it! Carry this further down the road, if you continue to support your adult children, past the point of reason, you are spoiling them. Why does this matter to me? These "grown ups" are now in society, making decisions which do affect me (voting) and their attitudes toward things is through their rose colored glasses. Many of these kids live far beyond their own means, heaven help them should the gravy train run dry and they actually have to figure things out.
And what, you may wonder, makes me think I have any authority to write about this? Well, not much except in the case of obese toddlers, I had none (of three kids) . So far I only have one "child" who can be considered an adult- college graduate and living on her own. All expenses are self paid (except her cell phone which I laughingly say i will pay until she makes more money than me) This isn't to say that if she needed help for something I wouldn't be there- but, she doesn't rely on me for day to day help. I have still two kids to go, here's to crossing fingers and hoping they do as well.
Well, I warned you- told you my mind was swirling. Now, down I come from the soapbox and will try avoid too many trips up there to rant.

setting goals

I returned from my swim today with cold fingers and toes. Brrrr, it was cold. With all the wind from the last two days of storming, the tarps evidently had blown off at night and the pool lost a significant amount of heat. I only had the umph for 2000 meters today which translates to about 1 1/4 mile. Once home Randy suggested that I track my mileage for the year. Pretty easy to do as it's only the 5th, and due to the holiday I've only swam twice since the first. Randy thought a good goal for the year would be 300 miles. Sounds a bit lofty to me, but heck, I'll see what I can do with it! oh, and in case you are wondering, still no success at the flip turn. . .

Walkabout

Walkabout is an Australian pidgin (or perhaps quasi-pidgin) term referring to the belief that Australian Aborigines "go walkabout" at the age of thirteen in the wilderness for six months as a rite of passage. They then trace the path of the ceremonial ancestors of their tribe, following the exact route that those ancestors took, and imitating in a fashion, their heroic deeds.
Why, you wonder, am I sharing this information with you?
Murray, our eldest golden retriever, on occasion finds the need for what we call his walkabout. Though at nearly 10 he is way past that 13 year old age that the Aborigines consider appropriate for this activity (if the old "1 dog year is 7 people years" is true, Murray is nearly 70), Murray goes, usually about 2-3 times per year on his own little adventure. For years we attributed this to Tucker, they younger "wilder" dog and assumed Murray was just a co-conspirator. As time went by we realized that Murray is the mastermind of the escapes and Tucker was just going along for the ride. The past several great escapes have been solo adventures for Murray as Tucker remains behind.
This morning, after a long night of hard rain and incredible winds I got up (late) for work. After an abbreviated shower and uninspired clothing choices I packed my bag to leave for work. Before leaving though, I thought it prudent to bring the boys (Murray and Tucker) inside. Tucker was asleep in front of the patio door but Murray was no-where to be found. After whistling several times I realized that he was likely not in the yard. I walked the property for about 10 minutes (and ended up just as wet as apres' shower) and at this point knew that if I didn't get on the road, i would be more than an hour late for work. Reluctantly I woke Kyle and told he what was up. I got into the car and set out for work, eyes sweeping each street looking for Murray. I drove through the last neighborhood he walked to about 3-4 months ago which is over 2 miles from home, but alas- he wasn't there either. As I made my way to work my stomach was in knots and I was so incredibly worried that I didn't even fuss with the long drive in horrible weather. Once at work I checked messages at home hoping someone had called having found Murray. I studied the animal shelter website to determine what to do next and then finally called Kyle. Kyle had found Murray, just about 100 yards from home having visited our neighbors (which was always his destination as a puppy). Now I'm breathing easier and Randy and I agree it's time to get that boy (Murray, not Kyle) out for his regular walks. He has spoken loudly that not going out is not okay with him! Below you will see a depiction of a conversation between Murray and Tucker (Tucker speaking) as Murray plans another great escape.



Stay dry Californians!
oh, and way to go Mr. Obama yesterday in Iowa (YIPPEEEEEE)

Caucuses . . . primary's . . can we just get rid of Bush already?

First I apologize for the snarky title. I should just keep my anti Bush vitriol to myself . . no, that isn't probably going to happen. Okay, I didn't want to turn this into any sort of civics lesson, but I was entirely confused by the whole caucus vs primary procedure. Being a California girl through and through I never considered how people outside my state ran their political process. I am a bit of a political junkie. What I mean by that is this is the season which I adore. Gearing up for primaries , waiting to see who the candidates will be, watching debates and then voting. I love the voting process. I vote at the precinct, in person- none of this "mail it in" for me. When the kids were little I would drag them along to the precinct- their favorite part was the cookies provided. This is why I'm liking what I read about the caucus process. Here is a link that explains it quite nicely (if you care) http://www.howstuffworks.com/question721.htm. After reading this I thought how FUN it would be to do a caucus. Obviously it is an in person experience. It sounds like you actually get to "argue" for your candidate. It then combines two of my favorite passtimes, observing and participating in the political process and arguing!
Well, I'm not an Iowan so I will have to watch this race on TV.

Let it be said though, "this Mama is for Obama"

Happy New Year, sweep the needles and pass the black eyed peas please

Happy New Year!

Here is hoping that 2008 is healthy, productive and allows you to achieve whatever bliss you desire. Yesterday (New Years Day) we started the New Year with the removal of the Christmas tree and all Christmas adornments around the house. It's great to clean away the decorations we have enjoyed for more than a month as a sort of symbolic cleaning of house and preparing for the new year. This year we had a mammoth tree, over 10 feet tall and not actually pine, but Douglas fir. Thank goodness for the new wood floor- after we were done clearing out the tree I swept up 2 litter boxes full of needles!


New Years Day is such an interesting holiday to me. Not only is it the beginning of a new year, but it is considered national hangover day. Did that apply to you? So many of us connect what we do on the 1st to how the rest of our year will go. There are so many interesting superstitions surrounding the day as we attempt to guarantee, through our acts, a fantastic new year. I usually make soup or chili on the first day of the year. Into which ever recipe I decide to use I always add black eyed peas. Eating black eyed peas on New Years is a southern tradition which hopes to attract both general good luck (financial in particular) to the one doing the dining. I'm not from the south, but adopted this tradition many years ago. Monday night, after dinner, I made a big pot of split pea soup, but forgot (because I hadn't bought any) to add the black eyed peas. Regardless of my two trips to Safeway yesterday I still forgot to buy the peas so we supped on non lucky soup. I was a little bummed about this omission until I happened upon another New Years legend. This one is called "first footing". To paraphrase what I discovered: The first person to enter your home after the stroke of midnight will influence the year you're about to have. Ideally, he should have dark hair, be tall and good looking. Blonde and redhead first footers bring bad luck, female first footers should be shooed away before they bring disaster down on the household. "Aim a gun at them if you have to, but don't let them near your door before a man crosses the threshold." The first footer should knock and be let in rather than use a key. and a final note, first footers may not be cross-eyed or have flat feet or eyebrows that meet in the middle. Now, why do you think I've adopted this as my 2008 lucky charm? (remember that I didn't follow through with my black eyed peas). Monday night Randy and I stayed up to midnight and then off he went to get some pre-garage sale sleep- I stayed up knitting and watching "Weeds" (to which I am shamelessly addicted) anyhow, both boys had made plans to stay at friends houses. At about 2:45 am Randy heard a noise outside. He got up, checked doors and before coming back to bed heard a knock on the door- it was Kyle who decided to come home after all. Randy let him in and lucky for me, he is tall, dark haired, good looking, without crossed eyes, flat feet or eyebrows which meet in the middle. Based on this, 2008 should be quite good for the Harrell's