My last blog was six weeks ago. So I should have several in the can by now, if I had kept up with my goal. But, I'm blogging now. Pat on the back.
I have kept up with volunteering at the animal shelter, and I love it. I do feel pangs of guilt for neglecting my dogs and going to play with others. But Jack and Gizmo get plenty of love when I get home, along with plenty of smells. I have fallen in love with a few shelter dogs, but so far I have not taken any home.
Yoga never happened. I was getting so much exercise walking the shelter dogs at first, for free, I thought, "Why should I pay for a yoga class?" Truth is, I can do yoga at any time. For free. In my living room. There are two mats in the closet, right by the TV, along with the yoga DVDs or plenty of videos on youtube. Just need to set my mind to it.
Meditation went well for awhile, but that, too, has fallen by the wayside. I'm hoping because I'm less stressed and don't need it as much? I tend to meditate when I'm having difficulty. Same thing with praying. And though the past few weeks have not been all rosy, things are getting better in the "what is my purpose" department.
I've completely stopped the brain games (Lumosity). It was fun at first, but I just got bored with it. And I didn't feel like it was doing me much good. I'll stick to reading ebooks and tons of articles on other ways to get smarter.
The classical music? Love. Pretty much a daily habit. It's calming, relaxing, peaceful, lovely...and I feel very intellectual when I'm listening to it. Like I need to have a library, with many leather bound books, and wear my glasses, though I tire of them easily.
Like this blog, I haven't touched my journal in six weeks. Probably too much to ask of myself for today, but hopefully, I'll get back to it soon. It's another one of those things: if I don't sit down to do it, I won't. I default to flipping through my Facebook feed with the TV on in the background. FOMO?
Meanwhile, Pmo and I are still all about discovering new parks, mountains, eateries and breweries. And loving every minute of it. I tried to eat healthier yesterday. I had a salad. With my boneless wings. Dipped in teriyaki and honey BBQ. So freaking good!
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Mental Makeover
At 37, I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Unfortunately, the time has come to admit, I am well into adulthood and should know what I'm doing by now. And who I am.
I'm on a mission of self-improvement for the new year. Losing weight would be great, but I don't enjoy that pressure. And I like food. I am trying to eat better, just for the sake of living longer with less ailments. I'm always "trying". Willpower is a fickle beast. Especially when you live in a city with a restaurant on every corner.
What I am "into" right now: cerebral enhancements and soul searching. My passion for pups has led me to volunteer at an animal shelter. My struggles at work have steered me toward brain-training games, reading more books and listening to classical music to help me focus. My general disposition (the way I handle, or don't handle, stress/people/life) has driven me to take up daily meditation and possible bi-weekly yoga classes.
Writing lists and scheduling events helps me attempt to keep it all going. I'm more inclined to follow through when I see an activity on a calendar, and I haven't over-scheduled myself for the day. Getting, or staying out of the house helps. too. I can tell myself I'm going to do yoga when I get home 1,000 times. But the minute I hit that recliner, it's "Downton Abbey" episodes with a blanket and snacks.
I'm having to push myself in a way I've never thought necessary before. Even further outside my comfort zone than just moving away from home. There were several opportunities to attend the animal shelter volunteer training before I actually did it. I would come up with an excuse each time and say, "I'll go to the next one." Finally, the new year arrived, and I was out of excuses, so I just told myself, "you're going." This sort of thing is hard for an introvert. Meeting new people scares the you-know-what out of me. Being in unfamiliar places makes be uncomfortable. But I think I've finally realized, I truly just need to not "be me" sometimes, for the sake of personal growth. And those other activities that allow me to revert to my inner, quiet, self...become rewards for good behavior.
Writing more is another goal of mine. I've started another journal on my computer, because my handwriting is horrible, and I'm so used to typing all of the time anyhow. I've read plenty of articles that say getting all your thoughts down on paper is a very good way to release. Hopefully, blogging more will also become a regular habit in 2016. I've really slacked off in the past few years. I think I had almost 80 posts one year in the early days! My goal has always been at least once a week, but I've found one reason or another not to write. I'll fix that. Excuse me, while I go add "blog" to my list/calendar :)
I'm on a mission of self-improvement for the new year. Losing weight would be great, but I don't enjoy that pressure. And I like food. I am trying to eat better, just for the sake of living longer with less ailments. I'm always "trying". Willpower is a fickle beast. Especially when you live in a city with a restaurant on every corner.
What I am "into" right now: cerebral enhancements and soul searching. My passion for pups has led me to volunteer at an animal shelter. My struggles at work have steered me toward brain-training games, reading more books and listening to classical music to help me focus. My general disposition (the way I handle, or don't handle, stress/people/life) has driven me to take up daily meditation and possible bi-weekly yoga classes.
Writing lists and scheduling events helps me attempt to keep it all going. I'm more inclined to follow through when I see an activity on a calendar, and I haven't over-scheduled myself for the day. Getting, or staying out of the house helps. too. I can tell myself I'm going to do yoga when I get home 1,000 times. But the minute I hit that recliner, it's "Downton Abbey" episodes with a blanket and snacks.
I'm having to push myself in a way I've never thought necessary before. Even further outside my comfort zone than just moving away from home. There were several opportunities to attend the animal shelter volunteer training before I actually did it. I would come up with an excuse each time and say, "I'll go to the next one." Finally, the new year arrived, and I was out of excuses, so I just told myself, "you're going." This sort of thing is hard for an introvert. Meeting new people scares the you-know-what out of me. Being in unfamiliar places makes be uncomfortable. But I think I've finally realized, I truly just need to not "be me" sometimes, for the sake of personal growth. And those other activities that allow me to revert to my inner, quiet, self...become rewards for good behavior.
Writing more is another goal of mine. I've started another journal on my computer, because my handwriting is horrible, and I'm so used to typing all of the time anyhow. I've read plenty of articles that say getting all your thoughts down on paper is a very good way to release. Hopefully, blogging more will also become a regular habit in 2016. I've really slacked off in the past few years. I think I had almost 80 posts one year in the early days! My goal has always been at least once a week, but I've found one reason or another not to write. I'll fix that. Excuse me, while I go add "blog" to my list/calendar :)
Saturday, August 22, 2015
The New Normal
My home is very empty. Not only of furnishings, but the usual sounds and smells. In fact, new ones are emerging: inactivity, staleness, sitting. Creaks and pops, waiting to be disguised again by the hustle and bustle of a full family. A regular routine. A lived life.
At the end of this year, which if you didn't notice is fast approaching, Pmo and I will have been together for nine years. In that time, we've rarely been apart. I take a few weekend trips each year to see girlfriends, but that's about it. We're very used to being together, doing things together and that's the way we like it. So, needless to say, it sucks when he's more than 500 miles away. Thank goodness for Skype.
Pmo's promotion took him to North Carolina, along with his and most of my possessions. We decided to go ahead with the move before I had secure employment so he could get on with his new role. I'm hanging back until 1. the house sells or 2. I get a new job in Charlotte. We really like the area, so I'm eager to get down there and start exploring our new city together.
Before I start sounding too "woe is me", I know the situation is harder on Pmo. He's the one alone in a new place, though thankfully he knows a few people. I have familiar surroundings and the dogs to take care of and keep me company. I also don't mind being alone. But still, it's just not right being without him.
This weekend, I will mow grass for the first time in more than a decade, possibly longer, I can't even remember. I'll have to take the trash out to the curb Sunday night. I won't be able to turn in early and let someone else take the dogs out. I won't be treated to a great breakfast, then asked with much anticipation, "What are we going to do today?"
But, hopefully, our routine will be back soon, and things will be righted again. Many things will be different though. The dogs will have a fenced yard and no longer need leashes to keep them safe. Trash day will move from Monday to Thursday. We'll have to find a new place for our Friday night happy hour. The smell of bacon and hashbrowns will return, but in a different kitchen. Life, as we know it, will be full again.
At the end of this year, which if you didn't notice is fast approaching, Pmo and I will have been together for nine years. In that time, we've rarely been apart. I take a few weekend trips each year to see girlfriends, but that's about it. We're very used to being together, doing things together and that's the way we like it. So, needless to say, it sucks when he's more than 500 miles away. Thank goodness for Skype.
Pmo's promotion took him to North Carolina, along with his and most of my possessions. We decided to go ahead with the move before I had secure employment so he could get on with his new role. I'm hanging back until 1. the house sells or 2. I get a new job in Charlotte. We really like the area, so I'm eager to get down there and start exploring our new city together.
Before I start sounding too "woe is me", I know the situation is harder on Pmo. He's the one alone in a new place, though thankfully he knows a few people. I have familiar surroundings and the dogs to take care of and keep me company. I also don't mind being alone. But still, it's just not right being without him.
This weekend, I will mow grass for the first time in more than a decade, possibly longer, I can't even remember. I'll have to take the trash out to the curb Sunday night. I won't be able to turn in early and let someone else take the dogs out. I won't be treated to a great breakfast, then asked with much anticipation, "What are we going to do today?"
But, hopefully, our routine will be back soon, and things will be righted again. Many things will be different though. The dogs will have a fenced yard and no longer need leashes to keep them safe. Trash day will move from Monday to Thursday. We'll have to find a new place for our Friday night happy hour. The smell of bacon and hashbrowns will return, but in a different kitchen. Life, as we know it, will be full again.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
The Bucket List
Mom tells me many a story about Dad, but I found this one particularly funny.
He came in the house one day mumbling something about a bucket. And she says, "What?" He says, "I need to get a bucket of lyme. I need to put that on my bucket list."
She says, "Oh." And let it go. For a second or two.
Then she says, "Wait, bucket list? You need to put a bucket of lyme on your bucket list?"
He says, "Yeah, that's what I said."
Still trying to process what she heard, and what he must be thinking, she says, "Do you know what a bucket list is?"
He waits a moment and says, "I guess not."
Then she proceeds to tell him what a bucket list is.
He apparently took the term a bit too literally.
The end.
He came in the house one day mumbling something about a bucket. And she says, "What?" He says, "I need to get a bucket of lyme. I need to put that on my bucket list."
She says, "Oh." And let it go. For a second or two.
Then she says, "Wait, bucket list? You need to put a bucket of lyme on your bucket list?"
He says, "Yeah, that's what I said."
Still trying to process what she heard, and what he must be thinking, she says, "Do you know what a bucket list is?"
He waits a moment and says, "I guess not."
Then she proceeds to tell him what a bucket list is.
He apparently took the term a bit too literally.
The end.
The Griddle
Mom got us a griddle for Christmas. Among many other things. The woman goes overboard. Anyway, when I took the old griddle to Goodwill, I somehow, accidentally, put the new cord with it. So now we had a new griddle, with the wrong cord, and no way to cook pancakes. We even looked online to see if we could order the part separately. No dice.
Fast forward to the day after Valentine's Day when we came back from Brown County to pick up the dogs at her house. I had debated on telling her the story, because frankly I was embarrassed that I could do such a stupid thing and ruin a perfectly good griddle. But I decided, what the hell, she might think it's funny. So I tell her. Then she goes outside and comes back in with another griddle! Pmo and I were flabbergasted. I said, "Where did you get that?" She says, "Out of my van."
If you didn't know her, you'd probably think this was strange. If you do know her, you'd know this is dead-on Darlene.
Fast forward to the day after Valentine's Day when we came back from Brown County to pick up the dogs at her house. I had debated on telling her the story, because frankly I was embarrassed that I could do such a stupid thing and ruin a perfectly good griddle. But I decided, what the hell, she might think it's funny. So I tell her. Then she goes outside and comes back in with another griddle! Pmo and I were flabbergasted. I said, "Where did you get that?" She says, "Out of my van."
If you didn't know her, you'd probably think this was strange. If you do know her, you'd know this is dead-on Darlene.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Shifting
I've been on a new shift at work for a few weeks now. If you've read my previous blogs, you know this has been a long time coming. My dual role as line producer and executive producer had ended, and now I'm just executive producer. I start my day at 3am instead of midnight. It may not sound like a big deal to you, but believe me, it's a major improvement.
I used to go to bed around 2 or 3pm and get up at 10 or 11pm. Which means I spent the afternoon and evening asleep while most people were getting off work and having dinner. Now I'm awake when Pmo gets home so we watch Nightly News, or maybe an episode of The Waltons, and have supper together. We've even taken the dogs for walks the past two nights because it's been so cool. Sure, I still go to bed at an insanely early hour (7pm), but I truly feel a bit normal now.
Since this is virtually a new position at work because the job has always had two facets, I honestly didn't know what to do with myself the first full week. When you've produced an hour of news (or more) every day for 10+ years, you get used to the rhythm, the details, the deadline. The first half of my day still has that in a sense because that's when the show airs, but someone else is responsible for putting that hour together and making sure it gets done. I help, tweak, take care of issues, look for new content, etc. After the show, I move on to planning for the next day and beyond. That's where I was a bit lost at first because there's no structure, except what I make of it. And I'm a structure gal!
But I'm in the groove now. It's not that I wasn't doing anything, I just didn't know where to start. I have plenty of ideas and to-do lists that I'm now prioritizing which has helped. I attend the morning meeting. I have time to talk to people about things in person instead of having to send them an email and wait for a response. I have time to take a break and visit Pmo. I have time to plan. I have time to think.
I didn't know what to do with myself at home either. It was hard to stay awake past 3pm at first. I have at-home to-do lists, too, and other recreational things I could do like read a book or watch a movie. But I sat there in my chair for a few days, trying to figure out where to begin. My bedtime deadline was much further away now. Gizmo did not mind me sitting around at all. He was more than happy to help me be lazy. Jack was confused though. He would go into the bedroom at the normal time I would lie down, then come out a bit later, look at me, and trot down the hallway.
The 2am wakeup call is not bad. I wear a Fitbit that has a vibrating alarm so I don't wake up Pmo. Since I'm sleeping right up until the very last minute, I no longer snooze. But I do have a backup, audible alarm on my phone in case I don't get the jolt on my wrist for some reason. I lay out my clothes before I go to bed and try to have an idea of what I want to take for "lunch". I can get out the door in a little more than a half hour.
Weekends are better. I no longer have to take a nap on Saturday to make it through the day. Well, it may still happen if we're not active, but at least it's not as necessary as it once was. And I'm not completely off the hook from the night shift. I still have to fill in when someone is on vacation or sick. But for the most part, this is my new routine and I'm loving it.
I managed to stay very busy today: after leaving work and getting an oil change, I took the dogs for a walk, cleaned out my car, vacuumed the house and wrote this blog. However, I'm looking forward to "sleeping in" until 5 or 6am this weekend ;)
I used to go to bed around 2 or 3pm and get up at 10 or 11pm. Which means I spent the afternoon and evening asleep while most people were getting off work and having dinner. Now I'm awake when Pmo gets home so we watch Nightly News, or maybe an episode of The Waltons, and have supper together. We've even taken the dogs for walks the past two nights because it's been so cool. Sure, I still go to bed at an insanely early hour (7pm), but I truly feel a bit normal now.
Since this is virtually a new position at work because the job has always had two facets, I honestly didn't know what to do with myself the first full week. When you've produced an hour of news (or more) every day for 10+ years, you get used to the rhythm, the details, the deadline. The first half of my day still has that in a sense because that's when the show airs, but someone else is responsible for putting that hour together and making sure it gets done. I help, tweak, take care of issues, look for new content, etc. After the show, I move on to planning for the next day and beyond. That's where I was a bit lost at first because there's no structure, except what I make of it. And I'm a structure gal!
But I'm in the groove now. It's not that I wasn't doing anything, I just didn't know where to start. I have plenty of ideas and to-do lists that I'm now prioritizing which has helped. I attend the morning meeting. I have time to talk to people about things in person instead of having to send them an email and wait for a response. I have time to take a break and visit Pmo. I have time to plan. I have time to think.
I didn't know what to do with myself at home either. It was hard to stay awake past 3pm at first. I have at-home to-do lists, too, and other recreational things I could do like read a book or watch a movie. But I sat there in my chair for a few days, trying to figure out where to begin. My bedtime deadline was much further away now. Gizmo did not mind me sitting around at all. He was more than happy to help me be lazy. Jack was confused though. He would go into the bedroom at the normal time I would lie down, then come out a bit later, look at me, and trot down the hallway.
The 2am wakeup call is not bad. I wear a Fitbit that has a vibrating alarm so I don't wake up Pmo. Since I'm sleeping right up until the very last minute, I no longer snooze. But I do have a backup, audible alarm on my phone in case I don't get the jolt on my wrist for some reason. I lay out my clothes before I go to bed and try to have an idea of what I want to take for "lunch". I can get out the door in a little more than a half hour.
Weekends are better. I no longer have to take a nap on Saturday to make it through the day. Well, it may still happen if we're not active, but at least it's not as necessary as it once was. And I'm not completely off the hook from the night shift. I still have to fill in when someone is on vacation or sick. But for the most part, this is my new routine and I'm loving it.
I managed to stay very busy today: after leaving work and getting an oil change, I took the dogs for a walk, cleaned out my car, vacuumed the house and wrote this blog. However, I'm looking forward to "sleeping in" until 5 or 6am this weekend ;)
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
You Should Be Dancing
Maybe it's because I've heard "Night Fever" three times in the past couple of days (radio/store/Pandora), but I just read an article in Rolling Stone on Barry Gibb, the last Bee Gee brother, and it made me really sad. And angry. And happy. I'll tell you why.
It makes me sad because Barry seems quite depressed without his family. Although they didn't always get along, and he wasn't on the best terms with each of them when they died, he seems to grieve all over again when he speaks of them. The wound opens up and he has to close it.
It makes me angry because there's a moment when Barry looks back on his career with doubt, disdain even. The article says he will greet a fan at his home every once in awhile. Barry says, "It does your heart good. Makes you realize not everyone hated it." I'm not angry at him. I'm angry at people who worship the Kim Kardashians of this world, who have not contributed one lick of anything to society, yet they are put on pedestals to fawn over and we are supposed to give a damn about their every move. And here is this great, magnificent singer/songwriter who's made such beautiful music...playing the role of Eeyore: head hung low with a "thanks for noticing" kind of defeated attitude.
It makes me happy because Barry is going out on tour again. By himself, for the first time. It seems he became a bit of a hermit after Robin died and some friends/family had to snap him out of it. I understand wanting to be alone, hide from the world, not be "on" all of the time. I totally get that. But he has a gift and I'm glad he's still willing to share it, even if it's only six shows and will cost him as much as he will make. Haters be damned. You've got fans, man.
I'm also happy that I downloaded some Bee Gees songs I didn't have. And I should be dancing with night fever on the way to work later. That's what's important. Not a multi-million dollar wedding. Not a clothing line. Not a reality show. Music lives. Music lasts. Music counts. The rest is just cheap entertainment.
It makes me sad because Barry seems quite depressed without his family. Although they didn't always get along, and he wasn't on the best terms with each of them when they died, he seems to grieve all over again when he speaks of them. The wound opens up and he has to close it.
It makes me angry because there's a moment when Barry looks back on his career with doubt, disdain even. The article says he will greet a fan at his home every once in awhile. Barry says, "It does your heart good. Makes you realize not everyone hated it." I'm not angry at him. I'm angry at people who worship the Kim Kardashians of this world, who have not contributed one lick of anything to society, yet they are put on pedestals to fawn over and we are supposed to give a damn about their every move. And here is this great, magnificent singer/songwriter who's made such beautiful music...playing the role of Eeyore: head hung low with a "thanks for noticing" kind of defeated attitude.
It makes me happy because Barry is going out on tour again. By himself, for the first time. It seems he became a bit of a hermit after Robin died and some friends/family had to snap him out of it. I understand wanting to be alone, hide from the world, not be "on" all of the time. I totally get that. But he has a gift and I'm glad he's still willing to share it, even if it's only six shows and will cost him as much as he will make. Haters be damned. You've got fans, man.
I'm also happy that I downloaded some Bee Gees songs I didn't have. And I should be dancing with night fever on the way to work later. That's what's important. Not a multi-million dollar wedding. Not a clothing line. Not a reality show. Music lives. Music lasts. Music counts. The rest is just cheap entertainment.
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