A few weeks ago, The Spouse decided that the most important outdoor project to get out of the way this year was rebuilding the retaining wall that lines our driveway, since the wall wasn't exactly retaining anything anymore. I had promised him I would help, and I did. I took down exactly two rocks and I placed exactly two rocks, arbitrarily deciding that this constituted 'helping'. I may have thrown a shovelful or two of dirt, as well. Luckily for me, Josh was amused. He successfully managed to complete the wall in a weekend, and I think it came out nicely.
The Spouse has a bit more of an artist in him than I think he gives himself credit for. This artistry comes out not only in his voice, but in som
e of the interesting ways he works with our unusual backyard. (For those of you who are uninformed, his singing ability earned him the nickname "Sexy [The Spouse]" in college.) Given the high prices of fresh produce and dining out, we are desperately longing for a successful garden. We want a garden so badly that he is willing to dig out the top of a giant rock to place one, and he is working on creating a terraced garden for the second year in a row. It's a good thing he has the skills and willingness to work in the yard, as his semi-recurring reluctance to pick up dishes and place them in the sink can be infuriating.
While The Spouse is busy swinging 
a crowbar about on the top of our hill like an enraged Yeti, I'm down below in the yard, under a tree (where it's safe), spreading mulch around. I first stumbled across the therapeutic benefits of mulch-spreading last spring, when I was in the throes of finishing my Master's Capstone Portfolio and needed to do something that didn't involve sitting at a desk or driving somewhere. This year, I've emptied a few bags of red mulch under our pine in the backyard, and some less-red red mulch in our backyard beds around our flowers and ground cover. I love how it looks, and I think we are extraordinarily blessed that the landscaping in this yard maintains itself with so little of our effort. I'm so grateful for the fact that we have such a beautiful patch of land on which to enjoy our springs and summers.
For those of you who follow me on Facebook, you know that I recently completed my first 5K run and that I am in my first week of training for my first triathlon. A friend of mine told me that she did her first triathlon last year and loved it, and I was inspired. The triathlon I'm planning to complete is SheROX, an all-women's sprint triathlon that's happening nearby at the end of July. The good news is that starting this training has shown me that I'm in much better shape than I thought, indicating that all of the sporadic trips to the gym I've made over the past year have paid off in ways I couldn't have anticipated. However, I've learned a few things already about myself and about how I might approach my training, and I thought I would share them for the amusement of the general public.
How to Complete a 0.5 Mile Swim If You Don't Like Getting Your Face Wet.
I'm not sure why I didn't think about this sooner, but I don't like having my face wet. Something about not being able to breathe. I am not a natural swimmer. I didn't learn to swim adequately until I was 10 years old. The last time I attempted to dive, I was 13, and injured my back going in and was convinced for a few seconds that I could not move my legs. That ended diving for me. A few years ago, I took whitewater kayaking lessons over one weekend. I spent way more time in the water than I did in my boat. When I got out of the pool on Monday -- the first time I've done any serious swimming in, oh, 15 years -- I laughed aloud. I have no trouble staying afloat, propelling myself through the water, or completing strokes. In fact, I was able to maintain non-stop swimming for 20 minutes today. However, the not-wanting-to-get-my-face-wet thing is a little bit of an issue. I did a lot of sidestroke and backstroke, and I'm not sure how well this is going to serve me on an open water course. I am seriously considering getting someone to coach me for a few lessons to help me get comfortable with having my face in the water and to help me practice breathing. If all else fails, I have the sidestroke and backstroke, and I rock at floating.
I hear that goggles are a must. I'm totally on board with that, but I wonder if it would be too much to ask to swim in a waterless pool?
Biker Butt
Bike training is going okay so far. I have managed to surprise myself on my indoor bike, covering 4 miles today in 15 minutes. However, I'm quickly realizing that training on an indoor stationary bike isn't going to work for long. First of all, there are no downhills on which to coast. Second of all, I can set the bike to change resistance at random, but it's a very different experience than trying to ride up a hill in real life. Finally, stationary bikes are way more unpleasant for me to sit upon than regular bikes. Upon reflection, I'm realizing that I will need padded shorts for biking, but this concerns me because it seems like a slippery slope from padded shorts to padded cell.
On The Run
Since I just completed that 5K, I'm feeling pretty optimistic about the run, which will be a little less than 5K for the triathlon. I think it will be my easiest event, but ask me in four months because I may change my mind. Oddly, I find that I really like how my legs feel when I get off the bike and start to run. I swear I can feel my quadriceps bulk up. It makes me feel like the next incarnation of She-Ra.
Tri, Tri, Tri Some More
All of this stuff to learn! Once I officially sign up, I just may decide to request a mentor. It would be nice to meet someone who has done this before and get a few pointers.
This week is school vacation week, but instead of hanging out on my back porch for hours on end, staring at the water that sometimes trickles off of what The Spouse and I refer to as our 'giant rock,' drinking tea, and reading one of the several books that I'm attempting to make progress on, I have instead found myself contending with job-related legal paperwork that must be dealt with this week, the fact that the bathroom needs cleaning, the kitchen needs cleaning, the floor needs vacuuming, and a few mice have made themselves all too welcome within our home.
While my brain understands that this is just part of life, I can't help but find myself annoyed.
There. I said it.
I stood in the trash can aisle at Target for way too long this afternoon, trying to decide on what cleaning products to buy, as well as whether or not to spend what I felt was a rather steep amount of money on trash cans with lids. I am tired of seeing and smelling the open trash can in the kitchen, I'm sure it's contributing to the mouse issue, and I've wanted one for a long time. I checked the price: $40.00. For a trash can? Sheesh. The New England miser in me came up, thinking about all of the other things I could spend $40.00 on. I found myself debating in the aisle about whether or not to buy the trash can. Would Josh be annoyed about this? Would I be annoyed if I didn't get the trash can? I paced back and forth. I looked for less expensive options, but could not find what I wanted. I sighed. I felt myself grow even more tense and agitated than I already was. I tried hard not to feel that way. I asked myself, rather unkindly, what is your problem? This is just a trash can.
As I lugged the trash can into my shopping cart under the watchful eyes of the nearby security guard, who probably thought I was some kind of lunatic (a person muttering to oneself for ten minutes in the trash can aisle at Target could be disturbing to some), it became clear that my irritation wasn't about the trash can. It couldn't have been, since it's been steadily growing since Saturday night, when I was notified by mail that I had urgent legal matters to attend to for work. The key was in what I thought in response to my own self-inquiry:
But I'm on VACATION! I shouldn't have to deal with this crap! My vacation is ruined!
All of a sudden, everything made sense. Of course I was angry! I kept on telling myself that all the stuff I was doing this week that I didn't really want to be doing was ruining my vacation! Instead of just letting myself be irritated and accept that this was what I had to do, I instead tried to get things done as quickly as possible, to make them all go away and to allow me to get back to what I really wanted to be doing with my time. As often happens for me when life decides to teach me something new about myself and I'm not quite getting it, I found events outside of me conspiring to point me toward my anger. I found myself stuck in traffic, being cut off by other vehicles on the road, in line behind the person paying with all pennies, and the irritation grew as the thought kept cycling around in my head: this is ruining my vacation. I don't want to be doing this.
Once I gave myself permission to feel angry, irritated, and helpless, and fully move into it, I had the freedom to discover what I was thinking that led to the feeling. And once I knew what I was thinking, it was clear that it was my own thinking -- rather than the events happening outside of me, as inconvenient as they were -- that was causing me to act like a cute, fluffy bunny had just stabbed me in the back.
So I've decided to do something called 'dropping the story' or 'reframing.' I stop telling myself that my vacation is ruined, dropping my crappy, anger-inducing story. I decide to shift my focus to the good things coming out of this vacation week: dinner with friends one day, brunch with another friend, bowling, guacamole, chocolate chip cookies, a clean kitchen and bathroom. I tell myself that my vacation has been productive, that I've been able to do a few things I really enjoy, and I still have plenty of time left -- three whole days! -- to hang out on the back porch and watch the water trickle across the rocks. This feels like a better story. It certainly helps me feel less pissed off. And maybe I'm starting to feel like I'm on vacation after all.
I am on vacation this week, and I am making chocolate chip cookies AND guacamole. They are intended to be separate dishes, for those of you who are not culinarily inclined.
The thing with both chocolate chip cookies and guacamole, in my experience, is that they're both disappearing foods. That's why I make them only when The Spouse is not home. I've already taken care of at least two cookies and a few forks of guacamole on my own (under the guise of 'taste-testing' to make sure the food is acceptable), and I am hoping that we will be able to bring to the people we are visiting tonight before they are consumed.
My penchant for multi-tasking has gotten me into trouble this evening, however. The guacamole was fine; I managed to make it, and chill it, and not spill it or damage it because the process of peeling, chopping, and slicing limits one's ability to multitask skillfully. Most of the cookies came out just fine; right shape, right color, right smell. However, for the first time in history, I managed to burn TWO SHEETS of chocolate chip cookies!
Why? Because I was trying to think of a good way to start my new blog, and lost track of what I was doing. Now I've burned cookies, and as a result, I have a blog post.
I guess everything has its purpose. Even burned cookies.
A few weeks ago, The Spouse decided that the most important outdoor project to get out of the way this year was rebuilding the retaining wall that lines our driveway, since the wall wasn't exactly retaining anything anymore. I had promised him I would help, and I did. I took down exactly two rocks and I placed exactly two rocks, arbitrarily deciding that this constituted 'helping'. I may have thrown a shovelful or two of dirt, as well. Luckily for me, Josh was amused. He successfully managed to complete the wall in a weekend, and I think it came out nicely.
e of the interesting ways he works with our unusual backyard. (For those of you who are uninformed, his singing ability earned him the nickname "Sexy [The Spouse]" in college.) Given the high prices of fresh produce and dining out, we are desperately longing for a successful garden. We want a garden so badly that he is willing to dig out the top of a giant rock to place one, and he is working on creating a terraced garden for the second year in a row. It's a good thing he has the skills and willingness to work in the yard, as his semi-recurring reluctance to pick up dishes and place them in the sink can be infuriating.
a crowbar about on the top of our hill like an enraged Yeti, I'm down below in the yard, under a tree (where it's safe), spreading mulch around. I first stumbled across the therapeutic benefits of mulch-spreading last spring, when I was in the throes of finishing my Master's Capstone Portfolio and needed to do something that didn't involve sitting at a desk or driving somewhere. This year, I've emptied a few bags of red mulch under our pine in the backyard, and some less-red red mulch in our backyard beds around our flowers and ground cover. I love how it looks, and I think we are extraordinarily blessed that the landscaping in this yard maintains itself with so little of our effort. I'm so grateful for the fact that we have such a beautiful patch of land on which to enjoy our springs and summers.
