The End of The Week

Some thoughts for the end of the week...

1) When the sun came out yesterday, the mountains were covered in snow and it was beautiful.

2) Every day on the way to work, I pass a field. It is right next to this 6-lane monstrosity of a road, but for some reason, cranes choose to hang out on the field all winter. This morning I saw a few silhouetted in the morning sun. They are completely graceful and unaware of the craziness surrounding them, the people racing down the road to get to their offices...those like me who are late, taping their fingers on the steering wheel. This morning, I decided that the cranes are a gift and a reminder that it's ok to slow down -- or something like that. In any case, this morning's cranes helped me take a deep breath and appreciate my life.

3) New music can often make me feel better than a new outfit or eating really good food...Even though I shouldn't have, I bought the new Ani Difranco CD yesterday. So far it's great. One song even gave me the chills. Unlike movies or books, songs and poems deliver the emotional payoff in a smaller package. So instead of waiting for an hour and a half for the kiss at the end of the romantic comedy, I can read a poem, or listen to a song and get to the emotional truth of it within minutes. There's something really simple about that -- like having a shot of culture/art/human experience... instead of having a beer.

4) There are so many things to be afraid of in life and I am working on limiting my fears. Wouldn't it be amazing if no one was limited by financial fears, for instance? I am realizing that I am really terrified of money and I don't like that about myself. I will see what can be done about it, short of winning the lottery.

Update

The sun came out.

Ahhhh....

Rainy Day

I really don't like rainy days. I think it's probably due to the fact that I grew up in a sunny climate ...or maybe it has something to do with genetics, since I know my dad doesn't like them either... but my mom loves rainy days...who knows? Whatever the reason, when I wake up to grey skies and drizzly weather, I always feel like I should just go back to bed. Most days like this, I make a big effort to rally. After all, I have things to do, a life to live, I can't let the lack of sunshine stop me in my tracks.

So, this morning, I crawled out of bed only about 8 minutes later than usual and I got ready for the day, despite the rain that was falling steadily on my roof. Having dogs has made rainy days even more complicated than they used to be. Barbie and Wiley are prissy. They don't like water to fall on their heads from the sky and refuse to go outside when it's raining. This presents a problem when they have to use the restroom... since, the restroom is outside. Neil and I have taken to following the dogs around the backyard with umbrellas when it's raining in order to prevent accidents on our carpet. Not fun. So this morning, we were both traipsing around the wet yard with Barbie and I (of course) stepped in poop. Soggy wet poop, thanks a lot rain. After cleaning my boot off, I left for work.

The dog debacle caused me to leave late. Then our neighborhood is blocked off because of construction and we're forced to take a detour out which adds about 8 minutes to the commute. I went through the detour and ended up in a mess of traffic. It normally takes me only 14 minutes to get to work from my house. Today, it took 56 minutes because people in New Mexico have no clue how to drive when the roads are wet. Oh the wonders of rain.

For lunch, I had to go home to let the dogs out... but despite my valiant efforts with the umbrella, they weren't having any of it and I had to put them back in their crate without a successful bathroom break. Now, I get to look forward to going home tonight to find pee on their crate blanket.

Now, I am back at my desk, it's almost 6 and wel past time to go home and I am so cranky! At least I am willing to own my crankiness. I just hope for my sake, and the sake of everyone around me, that tomorrow is sunny and dry.

That Sneezing Girl

Flashback to last night. At around 8:15, I met Neil at the gym. I spent 30 minutes on the Precor and another 10 with weights and then decided to call it a night. I kissed Neil goodbye (He was peddling fast on one of the bikes. We had been watching American Idol and laughing at the last girl, Mary Something? The one with all the voices in her head. Soooo funny.) Anyways, I threw on my Northwestern sweatshirt, grabbed my car keys and iPod and headed out of the locker room and toward the front entrance. I did manage to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way out and I marveled at the unevenness of my complexion and at how I really do look like I am about 12 years old when I have my hair in two pigtails. I was almost to the door and then I sneezed. It was one of those sneezes that make you jump a little and miss a step and this guy who was near the door laughed a little and said "Bless you!" I smiled, laughing at myself a little, and said "Thank you."

I suppose it was the smile? Because I really looked terrible. I had been sweating for 40 minutes, my skin was totally broken out and I had sloppy pig tails in my hair... But as I pushed the door open to the outside, the nice guy who said "Bless you" said to his friend, "There's that sneezing girl. She's really cute."

It took me a moment to process what was happening. But then it dawned on me... I was being hit on. I looked back and smiled, not wanting to be impolite, and then picked up my walking pace down the front steps of the gym and toward my car. The guy followed me and made some other comment about how cold it was and how I shouldn't sneeze... (He was clearly running out of material) I panicked and raced to my car, got in and drove away. I have no idea how old the guy was. He could have been 18... or 22? Maybe he was my age? Not a clue.

Interestingly, I had no idea what to do when he started hitting on me. I can't remember the last time a stranger did that to me. I was thinking that it was because I am older and married and so on... but now I think it might be because I don't put myself in situations where I could be hit on anymore. I rarely go to bars and if I do, I am with Neil. I mainly do things like go to the zoo and to dinner, almost always with Neil. When I am not with him, I go to the gym, the grocery store and work. Not prime locations for being hit on.

Anyway, because of my lack of recent being hit on experience, I totally freaked out and ran away from the guy. I do feel kind of bad about that. But what could I have said? “I am very flattered that you think I am cute, but I’m married.” At the time, running seemed to be the better option.

However, I did get in my car and smile to myself. No matter where you are in life, flattery always feels good. Like being complimented on a new outfit, or my curly hair, having a random guy at the gym think I am cute made me feel good. I know Neil thinks I am cute and that is a different kind of wonderful…that going through life, knowing every day that there is one person out there who thinks I am beautiful… But I am all about the occasional flattery from strangers too. So whoever that guy was last night…thanks for reminding me to feel good about myself -- even when I am a sweaty, sneezy mess.

I'm a Joiner But I Don't Think I Have a Secret Life

I'm late, I know, but last night (thanks to my friend Sean's diligent recording) I became a "Desperate Housewives" devotee. I am not sure how I managed to not see the show for so many weeks. Maybe it was because my birthday launched me into weeks of watching Angel DVDs instead of current TV? Who knows. In any case, I was such a fool not to be tuning in. This show is the perfect combination of trash and class and I can't get enough. Thank goodness there's good TV to provide an escape from everyday life.

Today, I read an article in the New York Times about how people are predisposed to having secret lives. I think you're more likely to have a secret life if you are plagued by mental anguish, but it's fairly normal. Not everyone has a secret life of drug addiction and prostitution, some just have secret credit card bills or take secret ballet lessons, but still, this secret life stuff is a little disturbing to me. Should I have one of these secret lives? Why are humans so compelled to keep things from each other? Is this a statement about marriage since most of these secrets really affect the spouse of the person more than anyone else?

The following quote is also interesting to me: "In a very deep sense, you don't have a self unless you have a secret, and we all have moments throughout our lives when we feel we're losing ourselves in our social group, or work or marriage, and it feels good to grab for a secret, or some subterfuge, to reassert our identity as somebody apart," said Dr. Daniel M. Wegner, a professor of psychology at Harvard.

OK. I am all for reasserting identity as somebody apart. That's why Neil and I don't do absolutely everything together. We do our own things, have our own lives, but not SECRET lives. I don't know if I like Dr. Wegner. What's up with him saying that unless I am keeping some secret from my loved ones, I don't have a self? Or am I keeping secrets? Is it possible that I have secrets that I don't even realize are secrets?

The characters on Desperate Housewives fit the secret life mold. I don't think there is one who is not concealing something. In that sense, I suppose we all keep certain things from certain people, but I am not yet convinced that we need secrets to define us, to make us feel whole, to give us a sense of self.

Note to self: Stop reading psychology articles in the New York Times.

What if...?

I have been thinking...If I just took a bunch of candy from the lame vending box that some clever entrepreneur installed in the kitchen at my office and I didn't pay for it, would the vending box man eventually take it away? I realize that this would be stealing, but I figure the man has it coming. He planted this box full of candy and salty goodness at my office, formerly a completely healthy place with only coffee and half and half. Now I am addicted to the late afternoon sugar rush and it's all his fault.

All my coworkers were less than thrilled about the box when it arrived, but now on refill days I see people sneak off to grab their favorites and stash them in their desk drawers until needed. We're all addicted. It's like crack, only it makes us fat and its legal.

Something must be done...