A Wii Bit of Guilt

I began wanting a Wii after visiting a friend who had Wii Fit. The games were fun and you got a workout on top of it. I started watching the ads and after several months bought a system when there was a gift card perk. We bowled and played tennis for awhile. I bought Just Dance, also after playing it at another friend's house, and later Just Dance 2. Darts soon entered the picture. I purchased the balance board and got into boxing and yoga. I even started weighing the family every week. But after awhile, as all novelties do, interest faded. And I haven't played anything in many, many moons.

I keep talking about getting back into all the games, especially for fitness purposes, but I haven't done much about it. Until last night. Pmo and I had dinner at the Fiddler Fest, then came home to drink wine and listen to music. I specifically requested record playing. After sitting in a chair for a bit, sipping my red Roberston King, trying not to fade like I often do on a Friday night, I knew I had to move or else it would be lights out soon. So I asked Pmo, "You wanna bowl?"

It took awhile to set up the Wii again because batteries had to be changed, the sensor bar had to be picked up from behind the TV and the remotes had to be reconnected. But once we got going, it was fun! I even stayed in my "go out" clothes for awhile and stayed in my shoes. Like I was at a real bowling alley. We moved on to darts later. I finished the night by playing some ski ball and hoops. The biggest advantage was it kept me up past 11pm!

So now that the ice has been broken, I hope I truly will get back into the Wii as the colder months approach. I find it hard to justify playing video games when it's 80 degrees and sunny. I think that's part of my constant battle of "what *should* I be doing right now?" Read a book or clean the bathroom? Surf the internet or take Jack for a walk? Cook a meal or do laundry? Watch a movie or sort through papers? Write a blog or flip through a magazine? Not to mention work, sleep, groceries, etc.

There are only so many hours in the day. Boredom is obviously not even an option with all of those things I just mentioned. However, as always, I expect time and energy to work against me. Just need to remember last night's fun!

Circle of Friends

I don’t make friends easily. It’s not that I’m a hermit or no one likes me. Though I doubt I’ll ever win Miss Congeniality. But I’m not social. I’m horrible at small talk and meeting new people. I don’t mingle. Which is why I’ve met all of my friends through circumstance. Having to be in the same place for a certain amount of time and getting to know them. Not because I met them at a party once and exchanged phone numbers to get together again.

My circle of friends starts near Terre Haute. My best friend from home lives there with her husband and two children. About 20 years ago, we started hanging out in junior high because we were in the same classes and our families were close. She’s been there from virtually the beginning and probably knows me better than anyone ever could. Luckily, we don’t live too far apart and I see her a few times a year. Most recently at our high school reunion, and some shenanigans before and after.

Next stop is Indy where my sorority BFF lives with her husband and two children. We actually met in high school because she lived in a neighboring county and worked with one of my friends. But I didn’t really get to know her until senior year when we roomed together at college. We visit about twice a year during our “summits” where a small group of sisters get together at someone’s house for the weekend. And occasionally, we see each other in between if one of us happens to be in town. Her sister lives here, so that’s a bonus.

Head over to Louisville and you’ll find another one of my college besties along with her husband and two children. You see a pattern here? I met her freshman year when I went out for track. She was a sophomore and the only girl thrower who wasn’t exactly thrilled about me invading her turf. But that quickly changed when we spent some time together outside of practice. Let’s just say she and the boys introduced me to a side of college life I hadn’t seen before. And I’ve pretty much been enjoying it ever since. A group of us try to get together at least once a year, but I don’t see any of them as often as I should.

Further south, you’ll meet a single girl in Nashville who’s like a sister to me. I was married to her brother for a short time, so I guess I’ve known her for almost ten years now. We got acquainted during holidays, family gatherings and other events. She’s always been my counselor. Her ability to listen and give advice is quite unique. I can talk to her about all kinds of things: relationships, religion, careers, you name it. We try to meet up for lunch and/or shopping a few times a year. Though as I write this, I realize I haven’t seen her in a long time and I’ve had a note to call and catch up with her on my to-do list for several weeks now.

The circle ends with Evansville and my work friends. These are the people I see on a regular basis and who are most up to date with my life. Although with Facebook and this blog, pretty much anyone knows what’s going on with me. We often go out with 2 of my friends and their husbands for dinner and usually karaoke. In fact, that’s what we’re doing tonight. Each couple has a child so it all depends on getting babysitters. But it usually works out about once a month. I have other friends from when I used to work evenings that I don’t see much anymore. Sometimes breakfast plans can remedy that.

After writing this, it’s apparent I have plenty of friends. I just wonder if I’m settling for what’s in front of me instead of breaking out of my comfort zone. Am I being content with the people who have walked into my life instead of getting out there and meeting others? Should I open up the circle?

Then I realize I *do* make an effort. I work to keep the friends I have. It’s hard to stay in touch with people, even if they live in the same area, but especially if they’re out of town. I think I do a pretty good job of sending emails or getting on Facebook to check in, even make plans.

I’m not so good at picking up the phone. Unless it’s for texting. Digital correspondence is somehow way easier than calling. I still send cards in the mail for baby and bridal showers or weddings I can’t attend. But writing a letter? That’s a lost cause. No friend, old or new, wants to try to read my handwriting.

Ambi-Kid

I’d have to say I’m pretty ambivalent when it comes to most things. Perhaps this is why a career in news suits me because I can see both sides of the story. But I even fell into that because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life.

I don’t have any real political views. You probably won’t ever see me marching on Washington or protesting property taxes. I don’t have any stance on immigration or gun control. I’m not really pro-choice or pro-life. Though the older I get, I tend to lean pro-life even though I think women should have the right to choose. See? Can’t make up my mind.

The subject I’m most ambivalent about right now is whether to have children. I think many people believe I’m anti-kid. Which is not true. I love kids. I love my cousins’ kids. My friends’ kids. I’m “friends with toddlers” as one of my girlfriends puts it. I’ve just never had a maternal urge or felt I had to do something about that biological clock.

I always assumed I would get married and have children. But there was never a real plan for that, much like my career. College was definitely a goal, even had my sights set on a master’s degree in…something. But by the time I got to that 4th year of higher learning, I’d had enough of school. Marriage happened, so did divorce. Then marriage again. But the kids thing has somehow always been put on the back burner.

I’m about to turn 33. So the baby vibe is all around me. Friends, family, neighbors…seems like everyone is procreating. I’m not saying there’s peer pressure or anything, but there must be something in the water, you know? Still, I’m not sure it’s for me.

On one hand, having a baby would change my life forever…
On the other hand, having a baby would change my life forever!

See, for the first time (in a long time) I’m pretty content. I’ve got a good job and a great relationship. I still see my friends from high school and college. I travel. I stay pretty busy. And who knows what is on the horizon? I’m perfectly happy sans kids. But I don’t want to have any regrets. I don’t want to look back and see I missed out on such a special experience. And, in essence, a contribution to the world. A legacy. Something we would always share.

Since neither one of us feels strongly on the subject, we don’t have a real problem. It would be an issue if I was the wife who *had* to have children and would go to great lengths to do so, and my husband was totally against it. But that's not the case. I also would rather be happy with the love of my life and not have kids, then settle for my second choice and have a family.

I guess what it boils down to is I’m afraid of rocking the boat. I fear what having a baby would do to our relationship. Our free time. My body. My mental state. ‘Cause there’s no going back. It’s not like adopting a puppy that pees on the carpet and you send it back to the pound. Though I probably wouldn’t do that to a dog. Plus, let's face it: we’re not getting any younger. So a decision must be made.

I’ll have to keep wrestling with it until something or someone persuades me one way or the other. But obviously I'm not easily persuaded. I would pray about it, but I’m not very religious either. I just wish for once I had a strong opinion. Maybe I do. I just don’t want to accept it yet.

Journal Yearning

Pmo and I used to have a habit of recounting the entire weekend on Sunday night. Everything we did, everywhere we went, everything we saw. That task has fallen by the wayside, same as my journals.

On our first vacation together, I wrote up everything we had done at the end of the day on my computer. While it was fresh in my mind and I could still remember details. Because if you wait much longer than that, you lose so many memories. I eventually turned my writing and pictures into a scrapbook. It was a lot of work, but I'm glad I have it in the back bedroom to look at whenever I want. I have also put sets of pictures on a few DVDs (with songs, of course) and given them to Pmo as presents.

I enjoy putting stuff like that together. I just haven't done much of it in lately. I started looking at journals the other night at Barnes and Noble. Crisp, unwritten pages bound by leather or canvas. Sometimes with a tie wrapped around or buttoned by a flap. The travel journals really sparked my interest. I thought about getting one but wasn't sure I would actually use it. I hate waste.

This blog is a journal, obviously. But you see how often I come up with something to write about on here. And how often do I just write about writing? Sometimes, I don't want to go public with my thoughts. I have a few journals I keep from difficult times in my life that I don't necessarily want everyone to see. Then again, I have considered trying to make a book out of those entries, too.

As I've grown older, it's been much easier for me to write fact than fiction. That's why a blog works. And keeping something like a travel journal would make sense. I don't have to sit and wait for inspiration to hit me. I just tell what happened. Sitting here at the kitchen table helps, too. When I sit in the recliner with the TV on, my mind goes numb and I quit thinking for awhile. Which I like. Which I often need to do, especially after work. But with just music playing and creativity flowing into the air, I can actually form thoughts and come up with a plan. I don't like silence. Dead air, as we call it in the TV biz :)

I bought this computer in 2007 because I wanted to be like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in the City. I've admitted this before and I have no shame. But another advantage to blogging or keeping a journal in a word document is that you don't have to see my handwriting. I love the look and feel of a journal in my hand, but if it's not legible, what's the point? Alright, my handwriting isn't that bad, but if I get in a hurry, I start making mistakes. Not a big fan of white out. And my hand starts hurting. Then I quit writing. And that's no fun.

Still, I may go back to B&N and buy that travel journal for our next trip. I could drag my scrapbooking supplies out and go shopping for new ones. I might print out some pictures and take a stab at another memory keepsake. I may go find one of those journals in the back that I know is blank and start filling it. I could read my old entries and form those thoughts into a rough draft. But for now, I'll probably go start reading the book I bought Friday night and go to sleep. And dream of brown leather and perfect cursive.

Hot and Cold

I'd say my summer is going well. For summer. I'm not a big fan. The bugs, the sweat. It would almost be okay if those things went away when the sun went down. But they don't. I went to work the other night and it was 86 degrees. And pitch black. Unreal. Thank goodness for the A/C.

I did the pool thing when I was younger, but now it's just not my thing. I'd rather hang out at a lake or the beach. But I don't do that either. There is a lake at a park about ten miles from our house but we've only been bicycling there.

That's another thing. I hate when it's too hot to ride bicycles or motorcycles. Nothing worse that sitting on a motorcycle, a black one for that matter, with the hot pavement beneath you.

I know, I know. After the winter we had, I shouldn't be complaining. Plus, I'm not even awake during the hottest part of the day, unless it's a weekend, so what I do I know? But I'd rather be comfortable. Cozy. And able to breathe.

I'm forgetting one thing. It may be in the 90s outside but it's pretty chilly at work. So I have to bundle up when I go in, then shed the layers when I come out. It's ridiculous. I prefer fall. And a cabin in the mountains. With a glass of wine in a hot tub. Hmmm. Time to make vacation plans.

Me Against the Music

I often wonder why I didn't pursue a career in music. I attribute it to the fact that they don't teach you the good stuff in school. This fact is portrayed perfectly in "The Runaways" when Joan Jett goes for guitar lessons. He wants to teach her "On Top of 'Ol Smoky" on acoustic guitar. She wants to plug in an amp and crank out "Smoke on the Water".

I could have joined the school band but I really wasn't interested in playing the clarinet or the tuba. Classical music wasn't my thing, and that's all I had heard the band play, besides pep rally material. I do remember getting to sing a few "popular" songs in junior high. It was in Mrs. Scherzinger's class: "Yesterday" by the Beatles and "Spinning Wheel" by Blood, Sweat and Tears. I was told I was a soprano so I felt like all I got to do was sing the high notes like an opera singer or choir member. All I was really did, all I've ever done, is imitate what I heard. I never learned how to read music. It seemed boring at the time and I guess I just didn't get it.

Before I go any further, let me make it clear that even though I enjoy a good karaoke bar, I do NOT think I'm a good singer. Never have. In fact, I cursed the fact that I wasn't given such a talent. How could I be so passionate about something and then not be any good at it? The first time I sang in public was my best friend's wedding in 2005. My dad later told me the bride was dancing in the crowd and mouthing the words right back to me. I'll never forget that.

My ultimate dream was to be a singer/songwriter. Even if my voice sucked, I still could have learned how to play guitar or piano and write songs. Went on to college and perfected my craft. But even in college, you're expected to have a basic knowledge of your subject before you start that journey. I didn't understand the dynamics of music, just that I loved it. Plus, you're supposed to invest in a career that's profitable. Unless you're any good, the music industry can eat you alive.

I've always enjoyed a variety of music: rock/country/pop/hiphop, etc. I like to say, "A good song is a good song is a good song." No matter what genre. But I always come back to Stevie Nicks as one of my biggest influences. If you looked up the definition of singer/songwriter in the dictionary (or did a Google search these days) you'd see her picture. Next month, I'll get to see her live in concert for the first time. I really can't believe it took me this long. Stevie's like one of my oldest and dearest friends who I still have a connection with even though we lost touch over the years. I may not listen to her music every day or even have all of her albums, but she's still so important to me. Not just her voice, but her lyrics. It's like she knew exactly how I felt. And she made me want to put my emotions into song, too.

I guess if I had wanted it bad enough, I would have pursued music as a profession. I suppose it's not too late. I could still take singing lessons. I could write down lyrics. I used to write poetry all of the time. And what is a song if not poetry set to music? I could learn how to tickle the ivories or play my grandpa's guitar. I actually dabbled in guitar a bit in college. I had a friend (who reminds me of Joan Jett) who tried to teach me. But I lost interest. And it hurt my hands.

Maybe one day I'll get my act together, literally. Or maybe I'll just be a professional appreciator.

Either way, the music will always be with me.

"...you can sing the melody to me and I could write a couple lines..."

--Bon Jovi

The Sleep Monster

I fought the good fight this weekend. You win some, you lose some, right?

Saturday was a loss. We knew it was going to be hot, so we were trying to think of things to do that wouldn't kill us, physically and financially because we're going on vacation in a few weeks. I had a few errands to run so I went out on my own around 11am and got back before noon. I think we had some lunch then I proceeded to lay on the couch. All damn day. We couldn't really agree on what to do, a wave of tiredness hit me and that was pretty much the end of it. Perry tinkered around the house and I took several cat naps. I managed to wake up long enough to have dinner. I planned to make chicken, rice and mashed potatoes but all of the energy had been sucked out of me so Perry made 2 out of 3. Which ain't bad :)

I was determined not to fall into the same sleep trap on Sunday. We decided to cash in our Bar Louie gift card and hit up the Super Flea Market while riding our motorcycles. Unfortunately, we rode right into a storm and had to take cover immediately at the flea market which put a damper on the situation, pun intended. After an hour or so of picking up some cell phone accessories, we decided to make a go of it. It was barely sprinkling and the storm had mostly passed. Plus this guy let us park under the carport so our motorcycles weren't too wet.

I wanted to forge ahead to Bar Louie, but after a few minutes on the bypass, I realized the bottom of my jeans were getting soaked and we probably needed to go home first. A couple of quick showers, change of clothes and we were off again. The thing about Bar Louie is that Perry and I both got gift cards earlier this year for being employees of the month. But we're really not that crazy about the restaurant. So we used up his gift card and gave the remaining balance to some other customers. It was just a buck and some change.

I knew if we went home after lunch I would just end up passed out on the couch. All afternoon. Again. So I looked up showtimes for The Hangover II and turns out we had just enough time to check out another nearby flea market, Trader Bakers, before the movie. This is where I proceeded to buy 4 dvds for $10. Not bad I thought. In fact, I'm watching Mystic Pizza right now. But since I was yawning at lunch, I was afraid I might fall asleep during The Hangover. I didn't, and the movie was insane. But I was pretty wiped out afterward so I succumbed to a snooze when we got home.

As I napped, again, Perry commenced more tinkering. When I woke up, we thought cereal sounded good for dinner. With a bowl of Corn Flakes (Perry) and Rice Krispies (me) in hand, we watched our Netflix movie of the week, Due Date. And I'm proud to say my eyes stayed open during the entire flick, although they did droop a few times. It took little time for them to close completely after the movie was over, a good hour or two before official bedtime.

Since I dozed off early last night, I got up at 5am this morning. Again. The other part to this story is that I'm off work today, my long lost Memorial Day. Which means I just slept through most of my shift. Perry has to work, of course, so my plans are to clean the house. It should be easy to get going once he goes to work because my energetic hours occur in the earliest part of the day. I just have to wait for him to get up and keep quiet until then.

So if you hear music blasting from my house around 8am, it's just me mopping. I'm sure I'll be out like a light this afternoon. Again.