Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Don't Eat a Dog Turd

Lately, I have been watching the world and all I can seem to think is something Dad has always said, "If everyone was eating a dog turd, would you?"

Let's ponder this thought. He used to say it when I would use the excuse that everyone else was doing it or had it or whatever other lame thought you can insert here. He would not stop what he was doing but simply ask me that question. Of course, I'd say no, and admonish him for not sticking to the topic. His response: "If everyone jumped off a cliff, would you?"

I'm seeing a whole lotta dog turds being held up on fancy platters and swallowed like ripe figs. I am seeing people following the masses to get in line first so they can get the freshest dog turd. They stand there looking like little boxes begging for a steaming piece of dog shit like everyone else has! When they get the turd and smear it all over their face and smile through the tears of disgust, I wonder if they realize they are full of shit? It's a stinky, nasty piece of poo that you have all over you! A shower can only wash so many things...

I have a collection of polished rocks Dad gave me when I was just a kid. I love this box of rocks. Did you know, even though this box of rocks have lived together for years, they still maintain their uniqueness? There's one that is shaped like a foot. There's one that looks just exactly like white ocean sand with the tide coming in. There's one that looks like the forest. There's even one that looks like part of it is on fire. There's one that looks like a maze; and, I marvel at the tiny creature who would enjoy following that maze to the fortune it must hold.

Individuality is important. It is NOT screaming out to the masses to look at all the differences. It is NOT intentionally blending so well with the masses that you lose your own perspective. No. Individuality is being who you are without regards to what everyone else thinks. When you are your true self, what others think about you doesn't matter. You will be you regardless of the masses. You will never get in line for anyone's dog turd because you know your own flavor and don't want it tarnished. You won't be hungry for acceptance because you know self acceptance is what counts in the long run. So long as you are harming none, be you! Stay away from those long lines of deception social media likes to wrap in bows and plastic bling. Be your own rock, staying true to your own special pattern. You'll fit in where you're supposed to fit, not where you're forced to fit.

If everyone else is eating a dog turd, you don't have to, too. Go pick some grapes. Wild onions would taste far better than a turd.

Friday, March 25, 2016

Single and Smiling

How many of you readers would happily call this home for the evening? Please note, the wonkered pole in the middle of the tent (my hand-me-down tent's pole broke as we were assembling it); the gravel underneath the tent; and the overall simplicity of this setup.
This was home for a night on the beach in beautiful Destin, FL at the Henderson Beach State Park. It was amazing! Gabe and  loved out camp out. We only wished it could have lasted longer. We got to the campground where the hunk of a ranger gladly told us all about the camp ground and the amenities it offered as well as the rules of the beach. We easily found our site and noted our tent would have to be set up on gravel. That was fine, I had packed each of us a yoga mat. We started putting up the tent. Hammering stakes into gravel takes a little effort; but, we managed. As we were assembling the tent, one of the support rods decided it had withstood the winds of campers long enough and desperately wanted to retire. It broke. I sighed, probably with a curse word, before fetching the duct tape (don't you all have a roll in your car?) and taping the pole's splintered self back together. After adding the other two poles, Gabe and I gingerly watched to see if the duct tape would hold the tent long enough for our one night of sleep on the beach.
As we donned our swimsuits and made our way to the beach we joked about whether our tent would be standing when we returned.  It didn't matter to Gabe and I. We were on the beach and even if our tent fell on us in the middle of the night, it was cool by us!
It was quite windy during our stay, as you can see by the red flag. Again, we didn't care. We were on the beach; and, any day on the beach is a good day. We played and frolicked and took photos and let the breeze blow away our worries. Our toes and fingers were numb as we walked back to our site; but, we were smiling!
The next morning, I awoke before 5 to get the fire burning to make campfire coffee. You do not want to experience me without my coffee. No, no, no! As I sat, satisfied that the tent had not fallen in the night, waiting for my coffee to brew over the open fire it occurred to me that I do not know a single man who would have enjoyed that setting and rolled with it as we did. Every man I know would have complained and been a complete baby about some part of our set up. I could not think of how a grown man would have made my camping experience one bit better. He would have fussed about being cold, sleeping in a tent on gravel, having to start a fire for coffee, walking to the bathroom, sand in his clothes, the tent pole breaking (don't think I wouldn't have made some crude jokes on that one!), the crowds at Fudpuckers, the traffic... That list would have been pretty long!
So, I say all of this to point out: a partner should enhance a life, not make it miserable. It was pretty liberating to realize that NO one could have made my vacation any better than it was. It was a slice of heaven Gabe and I will cherish for the rest of our lives, thanks to ourselves and the ability to roll with the punches.

Monday, March 21, 2016


Yesterday, I actually climbed that mountain, so to speak, and ran! I deliberately ran, without a donut dangling in front of me like a carrot in front of a rabbit.

I took off for my brisk walk. It felt good, as usual. But when I could see the stop sign in the distance, I took off with the determination to not stop running until I was aligned with the stop sign. I think it almost killed me. My body turned to me and asked, "What the crap? I thought we had a deal to WALK, not RUN! What changed?"

I didn't die.

I walked some more, until once again, there was a street sign in the distance beckoning me to run to it. This time, my body ran, but it was in shock. How could I stop the soothing walking rhythm we had honed for this out of control jiggling, rocking motion I was making myself do? It was madness, and I really did gasp and groan after this jaunt of catching up to my bike riding son. "I might die!" He wasn't perplexed at all as he flew away on those beautiful two wheels that had to be better than running feet!

I walked, again, since I did not die...

I walked until I saw one of my favorite trees. This tree is amazing! It is huge and sports all kinds of ferns sprouting from every limb. No telling how many times I've stopped to marvel at this wondrous creation. Yesterday, this tree begged me to run to it. NOOOO!!! Why did this tree have to get in on the cheering? I couldn't tell her no! So, I ran to my tree. Her ferns waved in encouragement to me.

I walked into the house astonished to be doing so after my decisive actions of mixing running into my walk. I was filled with a sense of accomplishment that I ran part of the way through my neighborhood. While to some I am sure my run wasn't much, it was to me. It was empowering to know my body didn't let me down. I wanted to do something; and, I did it! I dared to be more than just a walker.

I have to warn you, I did feel the difference in walking and running by the afternoon. While immediately after my run, I felt energized and ready to go again, in the evening, I was ready to crash with side stiches and knee groans. And, I did crash last night and slept better than ever.

Maybe, I truly CAN be a runner...

Sunday, March 20, 2016 run or not to run

This morning my cat, Smudge, ate my dachshund's food. Lola just stepped back and let her have it, the food, that is. She went back to her chair and curled her tail under her to admit the cat! She gave me a look that said, "Please, feed me somewhere else while that cat is occupied with my first round of food." I did. I took Lola to the kitchen where I gave her another dish of food. She ate it, quickly! Lola was afraid of the cat!

We are all probably giggling at the prospect of my scrawny cat taking over the dog's food bowl; however, how many times in our lives do we allow the very same thing to happen?

Of all the magazines I buy, the ones I devour are my running magazines. I love them! I have always dreamed that I am a runner; so, when I read these magazines, in my mind, I am reading about myself! Strong, athletic, and totally in control of my two clumsy feet striding down the pavement. Not worrying about my boobs bouncing around, my tummy jiggling, or my hair not looking right as it sprouts from my ball cap! And especially not worrying about the neighbors looking out their windows wondering, "What the hell is that fat chick out there trying to accomplish?"

Hearing these types of things are paralyzing! I recently read an article about a man who was so embarrassed about his weight that he would not step foot outside to walk until he'd lost weight inside his apartment (Weldon, Nick. "Game Changer." Runner's World. Pg. 26, April, 2016) by basically pacing! Now, he is out and running marathons! He conquered his fear! Way to go, Brian!

I have dropped lots of weight in the past 3 years (about 75 lbs) by walking and eating good foods (of course, I eat bad foods, too). I am pretty sure I am at the point that I need to start running. What am I waiting for? I'm not getting younger! I have friends older than I am who are running daily. What's my excuse? I can answer that...fear. Fear of falling flat on my face in front of a group of people who will point at me while laughing and say something hateful like, "Ha, fatso! What did you think would happen?"

Ultimately, I have to decide if I want to be like Smudge or Lola. Do I want to move back to my comfy chair, tucking my tail; or, do I want to growl and take what I want with my tail flicking in the air? Fear...will it motivate me or paralyze me? I think I will strap on my running shoes and at least go for a brisk walk.