Now I'm running triathlons, just in case you're curious

I crack myself up sometimes.

I started a new job a few weeks ago, and I met a super cool girl/woman/lady (at our age (mid to late thirties and possibly forties), what are we supposed to call other females?) there who happens to do triathlons. Now, granted, she's single and doesn't have kids so I suppose triathlons are right up her alley, but hearing that still made me feel like a slovenly pig. Oh, and I watched The Biggest Loser for the first time in my life, the premier episode for this season where Jillian yelled at a bunch of people, a girl went to the hospital and a bunch of folks who weigh 400 lbs. ran two miles. So I vowed while I was in training to learn to run.

Yes, that's right. I feel like running just isn't in my DNA. I get winded super easily. I feel chest pains. I feel like my Lord is drawing near and this is usually just running to catch a cab (when I'm in a metropolitan city) or my plane or a donut.

My brother (shared genetics, people) was an officer in the Marines, so he made it through Basic Training and OCS and ran a lot. Still, for me? Not a runner.

I talked to Christine about it while we were in training, and she gave me some tips. She said to start slowly, and she literally meant slowly. Like, don't run fast at all. And she said if I'm used to walking two miles, to go that same course but run one block, walk three, run one, etc.

So this weekend (a full two weeks after she told me all this, by the way) I finally tried it. I put Griffin into the jogging stroller, plugged my iTouch's earbuds into my head, and set out on a fast walk. I had the requisite expensive Nike shoes on, and some new exercise pants I bought at Walmart. So I was all set for success.

Two and a half miles later, we yogged (that's what we like to call jogging around here) into our driveway. As it turned out, I was able to jog the downhills and most straightaways, and I walked the uphills. Webster is a very hilly place when you're on your feet, pushing a 30-lb. child in a 20-lb. stroller. Probably second only to Colorado or something.

Then, can you believe this?, later on that same day we hitched the trailer to my husband's bike and we rode our bikes up to our local ice cream shop! I mean, if I add the time in I spent splashing around in the shower, I think it qualifies as my first triathlon.

I've been trying to keep up this newly found exercise regimen. I got horrible shin splints the day after my first run - oh, yeah, I should add that I didn't stretch before or after running, so that was genius - so that day I only took Griffin for a walk, but then today we rode our bikes to downtown Webster again for dinner. Two miles there and back!

All uphill, too.

In a blinding snowstorm.

Barefoot.

Well, it's a start.

- H

The times, they are a-changin'

I love Bob Dylan, but this post isn't about Dylan. It's about a bunch of other random junk that's going on around here (which means, things rattling around in my head) and since I've been totally lame about emailing or calling people back, I figured I'd share it here.

So the first bit of news is that I've taken a new position at work. It's kindy like a promotion but with extry work involved. [I've decided to talk like our old friend, Jean. It makes me giggle.] I think promotions should include less work. That somehow seems more appropriate as a reward?

So soon I will be off to training in Hotlanta and then roaming the wild and wonderful states of Missouri and Iowa and possibly Kansas or Nebraska which is yet to be decided. I'm excited!

The bummer is that I have to set aside my Etsy shop for a while. Maybe forever. It's a little too popular and I just don't have the time to spend in the sweatshop like I did last spring. It makes me a little teary-eyed, but I parted with a bunch of fabric on Sunday and I'm trying to pack everything away so I'm not tempted. My mom makes quilts for the kids in the oncology unit at Cardinal Glennon Hospital, so I know they're going to a good home.

Next up, my husband turns forty today. Big milestone, eh? You'd think his wife would have planned something super cool for his fortieth birthday, right? Well, you'd be wrong. And then again, maybe not? [He may be reading this.] But yes, forty! Yikes, he's old.

We got some great news just in time for his birthday. We're going to be spending the Thanksgiving holiday in sunny Hawaii. We will be leaving on November 21, which happens to be Griffin's second birthday. Whew, pressure off to find an excellent birthday present for either one of them.

Wait, what?! Second birthday? But he's just a baby! He can't possibly be nearing two years old. No, that's not right. It couldn't possibly have been two years ago that I begged my OB to set a freaking induction date for crying out loud, and get this gigantor of a child out of my body! No, certainly it wasn't that long ago. There's a mistake somewhere.

I wouldn't be so bummed out about it if it weren't for the fact that this uterus won't be holding any more babies (by choice, not by science or whatever, no I haven't had a hysterectomy in case you're curious). We're plenty overwhelmed with two kids, let alone another child, but I want one. Isn't wanting one a good enough reason?

Oh. I see. Apparently just wanting something isn't a good enough reason to get it.

Got it.

So I will continue carrying on as though Griffin were a babe in arms until he's...oh....twenty three? Is that too old? Ok, I'll compromise. Seventeen. I wonder if his high school buddies will make fun of him if I offer him his bedtime bottle in front of them? Or ask if he wants to go potty? Or tell him it's time for nigh-nigh?


[This is his idea of potty-training.]
- H

This guy, he's something else.

It's not enough that my brother is a Good Guy. Not a good guy like a wise guy like he's in the mafia. I don't think they allow people of random German and Dutch descent into the mafia.


I mean he's a good guy like he's genuinely nice and caring and helpful and whatnot. Yes, he posts sexist things on his blog, but if you knew him you'd think he was a good guy, too.


No, it's not enough that he's always been easy to get along with and nice and successful and whatnot (the whatnot includes serving as an officer in the Marines and enduring the many trials those men and women go through in order to serve this country). No, now he's also fit and a runner and running a marathon, for crying out loud. [I am secretly, if you can call it a secret now that I'm confessing it on the world wide web, jealous and/or envious of runners. I wish I was a runner.]


This is my public service announcement for my brother, Brett. He and my sister-in-law Jericia are running in the sold out Houston marathon. That sounds like an oxymoron, a sold out marathon! But alas, it is sold out and in order to be allowed to torture themselves with two hundred and thirty seven miles of running in one stretch they've joined the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society team and are raising money for their marathon participation.


So please, help a brother out. My brother. Go to his website and read the stories and give these kind people your support or your money or both.


Maybe I'll take up running.


Hah! I crack myself up.

- H

I'm swelled with pride.

Or maybe I'm just retaining water. Or it could be that I've simply put on ten pounds for no good reason other than I've been trying to eat my way to the West Coast to visit my friend Sara.

Whatever.

Later today I'll share with you all (y'all for my suthurn readers) an excellent way to torture yourself into skinniness, a la my brother and sister-in-law.

But for now, I will simply share with you a drawing of such stunning quality that my son Cooper, who is a mere three and one half years old, created last night whilst sitting at my mom's little desky thing in her kitchen. [For the record, I'm not British. Whilst is a word typically reserved for the British, but I saw it yesterday and decided to use it today.]

Look at the detail! Look at the circles that are completely closed on the ends! Look at how Griffin was drawn with such thick hair!




In order, from left to right (although that's not how they were drawn, but whatever): there's me. I didn't get a face, he ran out of steam. Then there's dad. Dad's legs seem to start in his face but to be truthful he is a little shortwaisted. Then there's Cooper (who was drawn to perfection), and then little Griffie. Griffie got very thick hair and very long, pointy ears. I was initially thinking those were super long arms but Cooper corrected me. They are ears.

My heart swells with pride.

Too bad artists don't make any money. I guess maybe his brother could take care of us in our old age.

- H

What?

I can't decide - is the web translator I'm using (not that I've chosen it, it just seems to magically appear) insane or is it me?

I have no idea what the hell my French blogger is talking about here. Is she picking her nose? Is she making jewelry? Is Minie laying out on the grass, looking at the pretty clouds?

I promise you, this blog is always entertaining. It's like trying to do sudoku or crossword puzzles.

- H