All Downhill From Here.....

I turned 30. 3 days ago.  Already, I’m falling apart. 

Took myself for a walk Sunday, on my Birthday (technically two walks), a total of 12 miles. The second 6 miles I did with MacKenzie, the Westie, who is by far the smallest animal in the house – and I had her run parts of it with me.  She had been outside all day and was probably tired before the walk even got started, but she has huge heart and went the whole way by my side! I giggled when I got home and she was asleep almost immediately. I shouldn’t have done that.  By the end of the day, my ankles were swollen and bruised, my knees hurt and my calves and shins were totally achy and like Jell-O.  I have been walking miles each day for the past several weeks – what gives!?!?

I’ll tell you what gives: I am officially old and my body is revolting against me.  29: 12 miles = no problem. Overnight, I turned 30: 12 miles = what feels like a broken ankle, sore feet and knees that don’t want to bend or help hold me upright. Stairs are out of the question at this point because they take me F-O-R-E-V-E-R!

Due to my “physical ailments”, I bought new tennis shoes. My body, from the knees down, laughs at them. I tell the shoes not to worry, as the rest of me, from the knees up, is being laughed at too.

Compounding the issue: I currently weigh more than I ever have. By 4 lbs. I don’t think this is causing the ankle troubles, I’m not that nuts. My mother, unlike my body, is kind to me and insists it is muscle weight.  I love my mother – have I mentioned this previously!?! I hate the scale.  And my pants. My pants and the scale are in cahoots with my ankles. They’re all out to get me. I eat vegetables and fruit and drink milk – it’s supposed to do a body good.  Whose body? I need an example because it certainly isn’t mine.  

Maybe I could be couch-bound.  Daytime TV is awful, but I have NetFlix and Facebook and could really afford to spend a little more time writing for the Blog. Porter could learn to open the fridge door and bring me things and Sophie seems most likely to learn how to make microwave popcorn.  MacKenzie…well, she’s a great snuggler, so she’ll be on the sofa with me. Brilliant!

Wait – who will help me get to the bathroom? And why doesn’t Starbucks deliver!? And who would answer the door if they did?  After careful consideration and review, I have decided the couch will just have to be reserved for evenings and weekends. 

Bribery. If I offer my ankles a post-walk Bloody Mary, perhaps they would be more cooperative?  Well, if nothing else, that will make me care less if they’re swollen and bruised.

Cheers!

The BIG 3-0

As my dreaded 30^th Birthday arrives, I can’t help but notice that others are keeping track of events, like a top 30, of things they have done leading up to the “big day”.  I’m just not that interesting. 

I live in a corner house with 3 dogs and am 1 rocking chair short of being the crazy lady on the front porch that yells at cars to slow down. This is not top-30-worthy. It also isn’t my fault: Patrick won’t buy me the chair.

I tried to start a top 30 and it didn’t turn out so great. No sky diving, crab fishing, climbing Everest, bungee jumping or snake wrangling in Cambodia. I gave up on the list because after number 7 or 8, I ran out of things. Yes, ran out. Even after expanding the parameter from 30 days to 1 whole year, I was stuck. Then I began adding absolutely ridiculous things that were a stretch to say the very least, just to see if I could even make it to 30 things. Some of it may have been fabricated – don’t judge!

My 30^th Birthday has been something I’ve focused on since I was, well, probably 19. What if I don’t accomplish much/anything before then? What exactly am I supposed to accomplish? Who makes the list of things to do? Do I make the list? Skip ahead to uh-oh, I’m 25 and there is no list! Cut to now, 5 days before my 30^th, and there is still no list to be had for what I was supposed to accomplish by now. 

There’s that show on the Travel Channel called Burt the Conqueror.  From the commercials, I don’t see many conquests, just a guy doing kid stuff and appearing to have a great time doing it! He may be on to something – but really, being a kid wasn’t my gig even when I was one, so the likelihood of me being a BIG kid now is totally out of the question. Honestly, I’ve never thought I missed out on all that much and adding kid-like things to the list just isn’t me.

Pretty sure whatever I was “supposed” to do, I’ve probably done, and anything I’ve missed can be taken care of later. Later than now…but before 40…better get started! And where is Patrick with that chair!?!?

My Mother....

My mother is my favorite person on this planet.  She has to be.  She has the infinite wisdom to say things like, “I’m lost because I don’t know where I am…...” and ultimate denial that she’s anything like my Grandmother.  I get that from her and deny, deny, deny to Patrick that I am my mother. When I’m mad I have her voice and from the bridge of the nose up, I look like her – all great stuff that I’m learning to embrace! My mother passes no judgment and encourages me to do whatever I want; I get that from her too.

When I was probably 7 or 8 and wanted a new Easter dress, she figured out how to buy one at Wal-Mart even though we didn’t have the money - a memory that brings tears to my eyes 20+ years later. We used to play "restaurant" and I remember making a gingerbread house while watching Jaws (don't judge!). At the end of my 5^th grade year, she let me leave school a couple of weeks early to go to New York to visit family with my Grandparents for a whole month!

She tells stories of my upbringing that show instances of boredom (she calls it "creativity") on her behalf.  Like telling me to "sit like a lady" which apparently had me stop what I was doing and sit down, then cross my legs (may explain my prudish behavior as an adult!). Helping me learn how to walk - she put the stiffest soled shoes on me that she could find thinking that would be helpful with balance. She strung pipe cleaners through the holes on my pacifier and looped them around my ears so I wouldn't be so inclined (read: able) to spit it out. 

She insists on referring to herself as “Bella” when talking to the dogs because she thinks if she plants the seed now, my children will call her that too.  I’m going to get them to call her “Old Lady” instead. Her favorite answer is, “HEY! I made that”.  “Yah, I know Mom, in 1988. Time to let it go….Joe’s going to be 23…you made it before he was born.”

My mother just wants everyone to be happy, comfortable and have a place to stay…..and this is how our conversations go when I’m visiting her:

M: “Are you going out with friends while you’re here?”

A: “I don’t know. Maybe.”

M: “Why don’t you just have them come here?”

A: (‘To do what!?!?!’) Blank stare.

M: “Are you going to dinner first?”

A: “I don’t know, maybe. But you always make plenty of food, so even if I stay here, I won’t starve.”

M: “You should have everyone meet here before you go out.”

A: (‘Who is everyone and how many people does she think I know?’) Blank stare.

M: “Why don’t you have your friends over – I’ll make dinner for everyone!?”

A: (‘Uhhh – is this Junior Prom?’) blank stare

M: “Just invite everyone over; you can have the basement.”

A: (‘Who are all of these people she keeps referring to?)
M: “Better yet, have them over tomorrow and you can all lounge by the pool; wouldn’t that be FUN!!!!?”
A: Blank stare.

That is literally how fast the conversation moves…..and typically without me. 

Mom and I ask questions in 3’s and make statements even faster; drives the rest of the world nuts, but that’s how we communicate.  And lots of hand gestures – we could have a whole conversation with arms flailing and no actual words. Put it this way: I’ve noticed people pay more attention to my arms flying around than to the words coming out of my mouth – yes, it’s THAT bad!

My mother is one of the most hilarious, genuine, giving people I’ve ever met and I’m so fortunate that we are close and have a fantastic relationship! Every year, she lets me know the day I was due and what she was doing.  Then most days after that, and for almost a month until my Birthday, she remembers what she was doing before I arrived. On my Birthday, she recalls the events of her day which apparently include vacuuming and sending my Uncle off to school before going to the hospital.  Pretty cool!  Everyone should be so lucky……

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY MAMA!!

Bring on the Chainsaw

I’ve always been a fan of the Discovery Channel, animals, nature….etc. It was even a part of my application letter to CSU. Critters are cute, raccoons have those little hands, squirrels can hang upside down (from my bird feeders while the dogs bark at them) and large game are magnificent. Bears are scary as hell but the cubs are hysterical with absolutely zero control over their bodies. Birds – okay, they need some freaking manners!

Every morning before 5AM they start singing. For what? Then, miraculously, when the sun comes up they stop. REALLY!?!? Now, on top of the regular birds, my trees have become the nesting grounds for hawks. Don’t ask what kind, I know nothing other than they must be the kind that live somewhere and bug the hell out of a homeowner for LIFE and never leave. A few summers ago they arrived. I thought this was pretty cool because I am an idiot and had no idea what we were getting into. Sophie points at them mercilessly, Porter is annoyed by their never ending squealing and squawking and MacKenzie isn’t allowed outside unsupervised.

Cut to now: they have made their residence outside my bedroom window. Great. They have many nests built and have officially taken over – doesn’t this make them squatters?  The neighbor and his son have decided to start videotaping them.  You ever have a video camera pointed directly at your house? It’s a little disconcerting to say the least.

All day and most of the night the hawks screech and scream and last week I caught them doing some very inappropriate things in my front yard! If I don’t have sex in my front yard, they should have the common courtesy not to either. I cannot wait for the babies to arrive (eye roll). Something tells me that will all be caught on camera too….reminder: that camera is pointed at my house and the birds live outside my bedroom window!

Today I found the truck plastered in bird poop and they left part of something they had been eating stuck to it….uh, thanks.  I had to run errands like that!  Very classy driving to the grocery store with splotches of poop everywhere and something fleshy and furry baked on and blowing in the wind! Went to the car wash and I’m too short to wash the roof with much leverage, but I did notice that the fur was gone so tomorrow I can go to work with a little dignity….

I guess I’ll sit back, keep the cars out from under the trees, try not to get caught on camera being naked or doing something stupid, and wait for the babies to hatch and flight school to begin…..hoping the whole time that the babies move away and this doesn’t become an even larger hawk habitat!