Crazy Is as Crazy Does.

For some reason unbeknownst to me and my feet, we went out running at 4:15 this morning to do 17 miles. Oh lordy, I had forgotten how much I *love* the longer runs (hint: I don’t.). With the marathon in December, though - they seem to be a necessary evil. And, with the 1/2 marathon next weekend, I’ve fooled myself into thinking “pfft! I just did 17 miles last weekend! This 13 will be over in a second!”

Well, that’s what I’m hoping for, anyway. Although we did the 14 miles two weekends ago, I don’t remember feeling this…tired, exhausted, and emotional. I hit a wall at mile 12, this time. Where as I had easily been able to maintain close to an 8 mile pace for the 14 mile run, I JUST.COULDN’T.DO.IT. This time.

My legs weighed about 235 pounds each and squeaked and groaned as I begged and pleaded for them to just keep going for just a couple more. I laugh when I talk about sobbing during the marathon in the last miles, but I did the exact same thing today. I was so tired, nauseated, and sweaty (yup, even after shower and stretching) that I didn’t know what else to do but cry. I wonder when that stops?

More sleep, more water. And NO MORE orange flavored gels. They make me barf.

Definitely not as much fun as surfing with td, pal, and dh yesterday.

In a Handbasket.

If someone offered to kill me right now, I would say, “Yes Please, and Thank You.” Have I mentioned how much I abhor being under the weather? And it is not a knockyouonyourbutt kind of under the weather where I *actually* have to stay in bed and read books and sniffle and nap. Just sick enough that I can’t get to the sub 8 mile. Or stop my head from screaming when the ref blows the whistle at the soccer games.

No, I still have to drag my aching, sneezing, rotting carcass into work. Where at the precise stroke of 8:30 a.m. I SPACKLE a SMILE (yup, complete with tooth ping!) on my face while I really feel like I am dying inside.

And you can bet your bippy that I’ll be running all 26 miles this week. Because I am stubborn. And insane. Although not as insane as MG, who, after running 8 miles went and played not 1 but 2 soccer games.

I also *really* need to spend some time in the classroom. I wish I had 80 million hands.

I will say that my attitude seems to plummet in direct correlation to the proximity of daddy, who is “in the area” but not stopping by the island. YET. Family has been tugging at my heart strings, for some reason.

Probably because I feel enveloped in warmth and love when I am with family, and when I am here I feel enveloped by dh, but feel like it is largely up to me to exude the love and the warmth with td and by default tis. Too bad I am a cold fish. Emotionally stunted. Do you know how many times I have touched, hugged td? ZEEEE ROOOO. I just can’t bring myself to do it. The only thing I can equate it to is the first time you tell someone you love them (and you say it first), and you hold your breath, hoping they’ll say it back.

Because I still give a damn what people think. Even teenage boys. Who not only don’t come with a manual, they don’t even come from this planet.

As an aside, I am reading “Teach with Your Heart”, by Erin Gruwell (I think). And, I definitely realize that I have NOTHING to complain about. At all.

It’s just the green meanies getting me down.

I’ll be running stumbling it out this weekend.

R.U.I.

I really thought I was going to die this morning. On the 8 mile run.

Yesterday I ignored all e-mails and soccer games and other after school fun activities - hey! I even ignored my BRAND SPANKING NEW BIKE that is so cool, it redefines cool. Really. - went home, took some Alka Seltzer Cold and was in bed and asleep by 5:45 p.m. Really.

This morning, when I got up, I floated out the door and to our meeting spot. Hello, medicine head. It was reminiscent of being on another planet. I was trying to RUN IT OUT, BITCH! but ended up with the worst form, ever. I seriously felt like a cavewoman. I *KNOW* I sounded like one. Or at the very least, an obscene phone caller with all my panting and throat clearing and gasping for breaths. My arms were scrunched up tight to my ribcage, and I’ll be darned if I didn’t have the smallest stride ever today. My feet were dragging, quite literally, as they struggled to place themselves (because I definitely didn’t have ANYTHING to do with it) one in front of the other, over and over and over for 8 miles, again. I felt like one of the zombies in the Will Smith movie. Or Shaun of the Dead. But SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Like that.

See?

But I made it. And that makes me happy.

12 days until the Columbus Day 1/2 marathon.

Life with Teen: A Study #80083

Td: Rq! Rq! There are boobs on TV!

RQ (amused that td called me by name and puzzled that there ARE in fact boobs on the Armed Forces Network): Hunh? Pshaw! Those are just National Geographic boobs. It’s not like they’re porno boobs!

Td: RQ! I know! But they *ARE* boobs!

Rq: I guess you have to take what you can get.

Teenage boys. It’s a whole new bag.

Girlfriends.

So, yesterday, I get a phone call as I’m doing the dishes.

“RQ!” she giggles, “Guess what I am watching?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, blowing the hair out of my face as I try and do dishes while cradling the phone between my shoulder and head.

“Timmy Turner!”

“Timmy Turner?!”

“M’mm hmmm. You know Timmy Turner, right?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Yeah! And guess where his dad got a job?”

“Uh…I don’t know?”

“URANUS! And then they said, ‘Who knew that was a planet?’ Bye!”

“Bye!” I laugh.

I am thankful to have girlfriends like that today. Who will take time out of their days to call me and make me laugh. It didn’t always used to be like that.

Heartbreaker.

Holy crap do I need to get a grip. Or a crate of Calgon, for Pete’s sake. When I was talking to dh on the phone yesterday, as opposed to, you know, being in his physical presence which I would be if my body weren’t so…^&#%@^!!! he told me that when he was on the phone with td, that td could barely be bothered to talk to him, and told him that this year would probably be his last one out on the island. Hu WHAT?! This from the kid who at summer’s beginning asked us if he could graduate out there and told us how happy he was to be living out there?

He broke up with his current girlfriend on Kwaj, and is now “in love” with a little girl stateside. IN. LOVE. Let me let that sink in for a second and then remind you that HE! IS! 14! A new 14, even. Not even close to 15! So, he is essentially telling us that he is going to forfeit a better education because of a chick. I swear that if sexually active couples knew that they would eventually have to deal with this kind of emotional rollercoaster drama, THEY WOULD NOT DO IT. EVER. I’m tempted not to touch dh as it is, and then I remember that I’m infertile, so it is OKAY! YAY! Take that, future imaginary babies that will eventually be teenagers! I’m some sort of stunned superhero.

But, I digress.

I was wondering why td was refusing to answer any of my messages and generally ignoring my presence. Now I know. Tis further turned the screwdriver by speculating gleefully that td and his new amor were “having sex! Because the first time you have sex is when you fall in love!” and all my hair turned grey AT THAT SECOND. I also had to have the cat give me mouth to mouth when I fell over dead, because no one else was around.

In all of this, I am wondering, where the HELL is ex-y? Not watching over her children, that’s for damn sure. I had a needling feeling that it might be to her benefit to let td get reacquainted with his (by his own definition) drug addict friends (who he swore he DIDN’T want to see) and get settled back into chaotic life. I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to be…mean? judgmental? negative? but was beat to the punch by other family members. Dh observed that she doesn’t seem to have any clue as to how to parent, which he is realizing now that he is with tis 24/7 and tis is responding to dh’s structure.

I do realize that td is 14 and that this relationship will most likely not weather the oceans in between our island and the amber waves of grain. I was just looking for a little relief from the HELL that was last year and know that I probably won’t get it. Last year he was homesick and defiant. This year he’ll be lovesick and defiant.

It also goes without saying that dh and I will NOT allow him to return to the States. He doesn’t know it yet, but that’s just not an option. So, keep your eyes peeled. You might see us on Judge Judy. Or Judge Alex.

Fabulous! (Think of the Orbit lady, here!)

I just had a scary thought: I might be against dating until kids are 16 or so. Am I turning into some kind of tyrannical parent? SAVE ME.

A Thousand Words

I can’t believe 6 weeks has come and gone in the blink of an eye. A mere blink! I’ve been carrying my camera around, trying to document every moment, and I feel I have come up short. Stunted, even. I keep snapping and snapping, and almost wish I had taken a picture every hour, so I would have my collection of hours at the end, proof that I was here for 90 or so odd days. Not just 90 or so odd seconds.

At the 4th of July Parade in Akron, NY

 

I can't remember what they were dancing to. Every time I see this, I think, "They couldn't pay me enough."

 

Is it just me, or is this in complete violation of ALL things politically correct? You see it too, right? RIGHT?!

 

We actually did something touristy and went to the Anchor Bar, HOME of the Buffalo Wing. Yes, I had some. That's all I'm going to say.

 

Momma and I saved our pennies for a rainy day.

 

As you can see, even though I was ready to WIN! BIG! The gambling gods were NOT in my favor.

 

My Where's Waldo picture of the summer. Yup, I am actually on there.

 

At the Salamanca Pow Wow - a bit of Indian humor.

 

I thought the women in the traditional dress looked amazing. I also learned that it is not called "costume", as that is for Halloween. Regalia is the proper term. Interesting, hunh?

 

American Indians love Hello Kitty, too! All this beadwork was done by hand. I was completely in awe. And VERY jealous.

 

The littlest Indian. She was so precious. And SO serious. She reminded me of those pictures from the turn of the century.

 

There's something wrong with these on a level I can't put into words. At least his face isn't on the front.

 

Momma models this 'gem' of a pillow from Big Lots. I still don't understand how this got past the quality control department. Good sense of humor, indeed!

 

AT and I were able to get together a couple times this summer. It was wonderful to see her, but it also made me realize how much I miss her DAILY friendship.

 

Riding with Grandmommie and her Husband up to the Tuscarora Indian Reservation.

 

...where, as you can see, they sell quality Indian handicrafts. 1.) What would the summer be without a silly hat picture? And, 2.) C'mon Sitting Bull totally started this classic look.

 

I told dh I was leaving him for another man, and HERE he is. Too bad he'd be gone in 7 or so hours, with lots of warm, melted, butter.

I still have some days left. I’m still clicking!

Less is *NOT* More

You know how they have those books, “Everybody Poops”, etc.?

Well, they should have “I’m sorry, honey, but those ARE going to shrink.”

When I went to Victoria’s Secret today? A CUP! A! F*#*(@ING CUP! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN SINCE I HAVE HAD AN A CUP?

Ath GRADE! Or thereabouts!

I knew that after I started running again I lost some weight, as evidenced by my woefully empty b cups, but when the lady who does the fitting pronounced me an “A”. I was so positive that she was wrong that I would’ve bet my first born child on it. When I actually stepped into the dressing room and saw that she was HOLY COW! GOOD AT HER JOB! AND ACTUALLY RIGHT! I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry, and I believe that my eyes actually teared up. Momma tried to soothe my woes by telling me that my back was tapered and that I looked athletic and had a great figure, but….

It’s kind of like a banana split without the banana. It’s just not the same.

Do you feel my pain? Do you internets? Because now, not only do I have noticeably UNEVEN TA TAS, but they are shrinking, too.

Fabulous.

Or, as the appropriately morose dh put it, “Poor tiny boobies.”

*sob*.

The Trouble with Trouble.

All right.

So, I haven’t even plugged in my cell phone to charge it, but it seems coming to the States has awakened in me some guilt about not blogging for the longest I haven’t blogged since starting this damn thing!

I am probably delirious after a three day trip.  Or something.

I was nervous as we landed in Seattle, not knowing what to expect. My heart was pounding so loud in my ears that I was sure the dude could hear it, and thought it was going to actually come through my shirt and land on my OPEN TRAY TABLE, FAA regulations be damned. Wet and moist, pump, pump, pumping away.

TIS was there. He hugged td, and said, “You too.” I embraced him loosely. Highly uncomfortable and distant. Ex-y and dh’s momma were outside “doing circles, because circles! are cool!” tis informed us. The entire exchange was bizarre. Td slugged tis in the shoulder, pissed. I stepped away and let them have their moment, wondering if I was going to have to jump in to a full on fistfight. I didn’t.

Tis noticed a gatorade perched in the vending machine…just waiting for someone to liberate it. The lady next to it informed us that her husband had already lost $6.00 in the machine and that the Gatorade, stubbornly, would not budge. tis seemed excited by this and began rocking the machine. I remarked that at a kid at my college had been killed like that (urban legend? truth? I’ll never know) before I arrived there, and TIS remarked that “Great!” he would be the first kid to die in an airport! As he resumed shaking the machine, then resorted to punching it.

A near by teenager snorted that, “Dude! You’re going to have to punch it a lot harder than that,” so TIS unleashed a furious hit against the glass. He turned around to the kid again, “Want me to hit it harder?” “Yeah.” SO he punched it again, justifying it with, “What? I can’t have that kid think I’m a pussy.” So involved with this little exchange between the machine, the teenagers, and himself, that he didn’t notice td just step away from him. I assume he was as uncomfortable as I was at this point.

It was bizarre to watch; I feigned indifference, noting that he was searching for approval and would do just about anything to get it. I didn’t even twitch when he told me had a mouth, “like a fucking sailor.” 1.) If only he knew. and 2.) Shock value = 0. Wah, wah, wah. Thankfully our luggage came and we walked out of the car to be greated by Ex-y and dh’s mom, Hallelujah!

I didn’t pass go, did not collect 200 dollars as I marched straight by their mother. I heard her squeal, “Oh my GOD!” and was happy that she was happy to see her son, but didn’t and STILL don’t have a damn thing to say to her. I made sure that td would be all right, gave him my cell phone number, and left.

THe deal with TIS: They never heard his case. Apparently, he didn’t have enough of a history, so the judge “on a feeling” let him go. The attorney said that kids have to be damn near dead to get into the system. Fabulous!

He is on some sort of house arrest right now. Unable to be downtown, unable to be unsupervised. He sees a COURT ORDERED psychiatrist (THANK GOD), and will be regularly drug tested for the next 6 months. I do NOT know if they are testing for LSD and Salivia (which they should be), his new drugs of choice. I don’t even know if I spelled the 2nd one correctly.

Where we all stand. Or fall: Ex-y is furious at dh, says he should live there to help his son. She is beside herself and doesn’t know what to do. I cannot say anything nice about her or how she handles the situation right now, so I’ll shut the hell up. Dh: is coming to the States soon. I don’t know if he realized the gravity of the situation - at least not until I explained it to him. td: Is at his house. I hope he doesn’t get sucked back in by their insanity. Dh’s mom is on hand should he need an emergency exit. TIS: diagnosed with bipolar disorder - we’ll see if that sticks. It’s more probable than what he diagnosed himself with before, but, he needs serious, professional, ongoing help. Me: I’m at Momma’s. A little tired, but none the worse for wear.

It is freezing here.

Have I mentioned that?

How to: An Instructional Guide

How to:

Make me lose my temper: Believe that you are starving to death at 6:15 in the morning on my day off, making it absolutely IMPERATIVE and a MATTER OF LIFE and DEATH that you rouse me from a pleasant (well deserved) slumber to fill your food dish by repeatedly sticking your claws into the soles of my feet and biting my toes.

Make me feel all warm and fuzzy: Accompany me to one of my AA meetings even though they make you a little uncomfortable because you’ve never been to one before.

Make me howl with laughter: Write a note to your friends, repeatedly referring to “buttalks”, which is obviously the newest compound word in the Merriam Webster Dictionary.

Make me leave the house: Entice me with a double workout during which we’ll laugh repeatedly and get a really good ab workout.

Shortcut: Invite me out on a boat.

Make me salivate: Fill the house with smells of brownies or blueberry muffins, which you know I will eat all at once.

Make me miss old friends: Write me an e-mail, strategically placing your capitalized words JUST SO, so that when I read the e-mail to myself I can hear the lilt in your voice, the intonation of your words.

To be continued.