No, I Will Not Smell That!

Picture it. Phoenix, 2016. 

It's 4:15 in the morning and a bleary-eyed woman stumbles to the bathroom and flips on the light. Still squinting from the ocular shock, she touches a tender spot on her face.

Shark week approaches (not the Discovery Channel version).

She leans closer to the mirror to inspect the bright red beacon that is planted on her chin, dead center, and grumbles audibly, “...not fair…” and “this shit should not be happening at 40.” After a face washing and an counter-assault by benzoyl and peroxide, she sighs. She considers her beloved, making his breakfast in the other room. She doesn’t want him to see this, but he’s seen worse. The blemish is in its angry phase, so she takes a stand.  

“I am NOT covering this. I’m just not,” she grumbles to the mirror.

It would be futile anyway - make-up smeared in the cracks, the brilliant crimson defying even the most carefully applied concealer. A small victory of defiance, but a victory nonetheless.

I don’t know if I will continue to experience these wonderful epiphanies for my entire 40th year, but with so many gems already revealed in just a few short months, I sure hope so. Here are some others:

• I can say the F-word in front of my father. Sure, he’ll wince a little, but after a few more times, maybe he’ll get used to it. (I still have to hide an alcoholic beverage in a soda cup at a party, but baby steps…)
• I wear the bright pink workout pants in public. If my brightly-colored backside offends, just don’t look.
• I keep the windows rolled down at the red light, even if the song is really loud and potentially embarrassing. (Doesn’t everyone love Air Supply?)
• I no longer apologize if YOU almost hit ME with your shopping cart. (I’m talking to you, Costco lady getting samples while also talking on your cell phone.)
• I will knock on a car window or trunk, if they fail to stop while taking a right on red and proceed to drive into pedestrians (and runners) crossing on a walk signal. (Still contemplating carrying an air horn...that might get their attention. ;).
• And, NO, I will NOT smell whatever thing you just smelled that made you wrinkle your face. Extending it toward me, as if offering a delicious treat will not change my mind. I saw your reaction and I will no longer confirm that your nose works just fine. If you think the thing smells bad, I’m taking your word for it from now on. (Why did this one take so long?)

What little revelations did you have (finally)?

Do you smell it anyway? Be honest...you do, don't you?

Why I Took Them Off

Don’t get excited, this is not that kind of post.

I didn’t realize that I was a feminist until well into my 20s. Back then I thought of feminism as a movement during which women burned their bras and helped working women get ahead (think Sally Field as Norma Rae). I was raised by a feminist, so the idea of equality was just natural to me. Both of my parents worked - my dad did dishes and my mom captured snakes and put them back in the woods, so in my naivete I thought that’s the way most people saw the world. Sure, my dad would open jars, but he was bigger and stronger - it was about body mass, not gender. There were certainly some double-standards between my brothers and I, but overall my view of the world (thank you, Mom!) was that I had equal opportunity as a female and that my thoughts were just as important.

Then, the real world hit. Then, religion entered the game (that journey is for another post). I struggled to reconcile these worlds while still a very young (and terrified) new mother. I did the best that I could believing that I could be all things, but in the end, my desire for equality won out over all other opinions and expectations. In my late 20s I realized, with glee, that I was a feminist. I was not, however, the feminist idea of my youth. I was a real feminist, which simply means that people of all genders should be treated with equality - and yes, women were marginalized and objectified and on the receiving end of many horrible things across the world and throughout history. However, this is not that kind of post either.

The bottom line is that every person should be what and who they want to be. There are no rules, parameters or obligations. Specifically for women, you can be whatever you want to be. Painted nails, high heels, makeup, muscles, pants, tutus, dresses, ties, top hats, shaved heads, armpit hair - none of it matters and none of the things that we choose for our bodies makes us anything. They are simply things we do, not who we are. Which leads to the photo above.

When I realized that I was experiencing great discomfort every day in the effort to be “attractive” “cute” “stylish” “curvy,” I made the decision to stop doing anything that made me uncomfortable. So into the trash went every padded bra with underwire. (Have you worn one of these? How is the wire digging into your ribs tolerable?!?! Why did I do it???) I also greatly reduced the time I spent in heels, because running fast and having ankle mobility and a lack of foot pain is so much more important than how my calves look in a skirt. F*ck that. That doesn’t mean that I won’t put these things on for 5 minutes for specific purposes that suit me (wink, wink), but it’s now a choice because I want to, not because I think I should.  

There’s no reason for pain and discomfort simply to fit a mold that society expects. There’s no reason not to be joyful doing whatever we want to and with our bodies...if it’s what we want.

So, who’s up for a bra burning? ;)

Personality Tests and Why I Talk to Myself

I find books about personality, psychology and how people think fascinating. Why do we do what we do and think how we think? What really shapes our thoughts and behaviors? What aspects of behavior and personality can we adapt or change? How do people with different personalities interact? How do we communicate with each other and why is there so much confusion?

It is wonderful to explore these questions. Various personality tests, though often flawed, can reveal some clues about our personalities. For instance, I find that the Myers Briggs test is generally true for me, although as with anything related to the human mind, most things are on a scale. Sure, I’m largely an extrovert, but I find certain types of crowds over-stimulating and stressful. I also need alone time. That doesn’t mean that I’m not mostly an extrovert, but that I fall generally in that direction. Introversion/extroversion is not just about interacting with people though, it is also about how you process. I process externally, for the most part. Here’s something most people won’t admit, but I will. If there were hidden cameras in my house, or in my car, you would see me talking to myself. A lot. I imagine that extroverts probably talk to themselves more often than introverts. I don’t know for sure, but that’s my guess (and something new for me to research, yay!). 

For those who don’t talk to yourselves, you probably imagine that listening to someone who does would sound like a two-way conversation. That isn’t the case, at least not for me. Most of the time, I don’t even realize that I’m doing it, unless I’m on a real rant. If you were to listen, it often sounds like snippets of sentences, phrases mumbled or whispered without enunciation, especially if I’m thinking about something or working a problem in my head. Other times, I let loose with monologues - tirades to an invisible audience, most often on the subjects of inequality, misogyny, cruelty and violence. Now that I have dogs in my life, they provide an impartial ear, especially if I’m outside admiring a bird, a cloud, the mountain, a tree...I get to verbalize (as I like to do), but I can pretend I’m talking to them. Just the other day, I was admiring the sunlight on the mountain and said, out loud, “Look at the mountain, puppies. Isn’t it lovely?” They couldn’t see the mountain, of course, but anyone who may have seen me wouldn’t think I was crazy.

Another test, the Newcastle Personality Assessor, provides more fluctuation or degrees of personality traits. Do these provide self-revelations? Maybe, but probably not. The usefulness comes, I think, when we can identify a tendency and understand it so that we can better relate to and understand others. This helps us take fewer things personally, which is a very important lesson to learn for a peaceful existence. We can also use this knowledge to communicate with each other in ways that are better understood. There’s another test (and book) called The 5 Love Languages, but it’s really about personality. It helps us understand our relationships better and gives us tools to make them more harmonious. My top two scores there are Quality Time (a match with my guy) and Words of Affirmation. So I know that I am particularly sensitive to what people say and I find positive words (out loud or written) really important. I also remind myself that other people aren’t as sensitive about words, so when a child says something mean, I try not to feel hurt or take it personally.

It’s an intriguing world, the mind. Where we are born, how we are raised, our genetics, the events that shape us, evolution, procreation, our humanity - these all influence how we think and who we become. Gaining even a modest understanding of the human mind is a wonderful endeavor in itself, but for me, using that knowledge to strengthen relationships and find ways to make life more joyful is the very best part.

These are some of the best books I’ve read so far on not only personality, but also how the brain works:

Personality: What Makes You the Way You Are - Daniel Nettle

Predictably Irrational - Dan Ariely

Brain Rules - John Medina

The 5 Love Languages - Gary Chapman

A New Earth & Power of Now - Eckhart Tolle

The Fifth Agreement - don Miguel Ruiz

What books about the mind do you enjoy?

What is your Myers Briggs personality? (I’m ENFJ)

What is your primary Love Language?

Mending Fences

photo credit

A middle-aged man enters the coffee shop and orders two coffees and one muffin. He sits with his book, to read and to wait, the second coffee and the muffin placed carefully in front of the empty seat. Every few minutes he looks out the window, scanning the parking lot. Long after the coffee has grown cold and most would have given up, he looks up and stands suddenly. Anyone observing can see the anticipation and cautious delight on his face as a young woman approaches. She seems resigned to the meeting and does not greet him with a smile or any physical contact. He gives her his full attention and she sips the coffee with disinterest. She seems to answer his questions, but makes little eye contact. After what seems like only a few minutes, she stands and shuffles off, shoulders hunched and head down - muffin untouched. She stops at a vehicle that is not hers and pets a dog through an open window. For a moment, her face comes alive. She kisses the dog and gets in her car. The man sits still, watching her until she leaves. Then he gathers his things, gets in the van with the dog and drives away.

The man will return week after week. Sometimes, he waits to order food for the young woman, other times he orders in advance. Often, she does not arrive, and with a final check of his phone, the man gathers his things and drives away. He has a kind face and an open demeanor. It is clear that he cares deeply for the young woman, but carefully hides his sadness and desire to connect behind a casual smile.  

This routine continues for months. Slowly, observers would notice that the woman begins to approach with a smile. She stays for longer periods of time and eventually, she even eats the food he offers. Still, there are times when he waits in vain, but week after week, month after month, he persists. One day, several months later, there is a palpable change in the relationship. They hug, she laughs, her conversation with the man is animated. Once, she even brings a male friend to introduce to the older man. I cannot say for certain, but having frequented the same coffee shop and watched the evolution of this relationship, it seems clear that this man is the young woman’s father and has slowly, with persistence and love, mended whatever broken fences existed between them.

It’s a strange term to suggest a strengthened bond or relationship, mending fences. For in reality, fences provide a barrier, a separation, a way to keep things out or hold them in, depending on the type of fence. But Robert Frost did say that “good fences make good neighbors,” so it has persisted that to mend a fence means to repair a relationship.

My guy and I performed some literal fence mending this weekend. Bracing gates and strengthening boards, he likes to say with a grin that I am great at mending fences. It’s our second fence repair together and fences are not as complicated to mend as they seem. You have to find the weak areas and remove any items that are keeping them from functioning properly (rusted out nails, for example). Then you carefully put them back together, making the bonds stronger. The old scars and holes left from improper construction or made through the stress of time or stormy weather do not disappear, but a strong fence is created when you take the time to mend them.

When we were talking about mending fences, my guy reminded me of the man and the young woman (and inspired this post). We have been watching them for well over a year and trying to fill in a back-story for what we can only assume is a father/child relationship. It is beautiful to watch, no matter what happened in their past and you can see on their faces how much joy they now have in their repaired relationship. It’s a lovely demonstration of the power of healing.

How to Mend a Fence
Step 1: Identify the weak points
Step 2: Remove barriers to repair
Step 3: Reinforce with patient, methodical steps using strong bonds
Step 4: Keep fence in good repair with regular maintenance and care

Are there any fences you need your attention?

Easy Like Sunday Morning

We love early Sunday mornings at the gym. There are very few people working out at 5am on a Sunday. There are no displays of exaggerated grunting, no aggressive weight slamming to make my ears ring (and ruin my concentration), and all the equipment that I want is available. It’s certainly not as entertaining, but I can fearlessly hip thrust my heart out if I want.

Today was LEG DAY (said with a low, ominous voice). I love/hate leg day. Split squats are the worst, but they are so effective. I follow the guidance of some of my favorite websites (you can read why I love strength training so much here) and I also spent a lot of time with this great book.

To maximize the efficiency of my workout, I have settled on these three basic workouts per week (plus our fun cardio workouts).

Leg day:

3 circuits:

seated split leg presses

bulgarian split squats with dumbbells

weighted walking lunges

weighted box step-ups

weighted elevated hip thrusts

single-leg elevated hip thrusts

Upper body day:

3 circuits of the following:

pull-ups

dumbbell bench press

torso pull-overs

bent over rows

overhead presses

lateral raises

planks

weighted leg raises

Posterior chain day:

5 sets of the following:

barbell squats

push-ups

deadlifts

planks

After coffee, breakfast and a few errands we took advantage of the great weather and ran 3 miles. There were hills involved, so I was sucking wind, but it was still fun. I’m mostly chatty when we run, so my guy can tell when I’m tired or working harder to breathe, because I get quiet. He finds great amusement in asking me questions during these moments. Did I tell you he’s a brat? Tomorrow, I will beg for a rest day.

What are your favorite strength-training moves?

Any that you love to hate?

I’m no expert, so don’t be shy if you think I’m missing any muscle groups.

Forest Therapy

I have loved the forest all my life. I can’t remember a time when playing in or among the trees was not important to me. From a very young age, we were “forced” outside to play, told not to come inside and would disappear for hours on end scrambling up pines with generous boughs, perfectly spaced for small climbing children. My friends and I would perch in the trees and talk about things that children talk about. We would play hide and seek behind boulders, play chase with leaves and twigs crunching under our feet. We’d explore the many tiny creeks cut through forest and imagine their beginnings and talk about following them all the way to the ocean (even if they ended at the lake ¼  mile away). We were adventurers, fairies, nudists, chasing magic or hunted by ghosts. We built secret forts, discovered climbing boulders that we were certain no other human had ever discovered. We were children at play in nature.

As a teenager, my love did not wane. Tumultuous emotional upheavals drove me into the woods. I found comfort in walking alone over rock walls that once lined a colonists field and around tiny swamps burgeoning with life. The sounds of the wind in the trees, the gentle call of birds and the earthy scent of wet moss calmed me. 

We also explored our wilder sides. On the edge of adulthood, we ran under cover of night to jump naked into the lake, laughing wildly at our own inhibitions. We took to the forest for secret gossip sessions and walked along rivers, blushing with young love. I really believe that these experiences shaped who I have become and I worry for the children of today who don’t seem to have adventures anymore. Their lives are an eerie prophecy-come-true of Plato’s assertion that we all live in a cave and watch the shadows of life playing out on the wall, rather than living in the real world.

I still return to the forest for fun and for peace. Sometimes my forest of choice is inhabited by towering saguaros and coyotes and sometimes by pines, maples and oaks. Whatever the world has in store, I know that the forest is a place I can go for restoration. Will our children have the same experiences? Will they seek the ocean, mountains, streams, lakes and forests for their adventure or peace of mind? I am afraid that if they don’t, they won’t be equipped to handle the stress that comes with life. I’m afraid they won’t have the coping skills to self-manage their worries. Most of all, I fear that they won’t have the experiences of peace and beauty that I have and I find that tragic.

Easy Egg Cups

These simple egg cups are great for a breakfast on the go; they store well and are satisfying and delicious. I love to bake, so these also fill that need without the temptation of cookies in my face. The variations for this recipe are endless, so give it a try with your favorite ingredients.

When bacon is in the reduced section (yay for morning shopping!), I stock up and freeze them.

Arrange the bacon in a muffin tin so that the tail end of each piece sits in the bottom of the well. I don’t grease the tins or use liners, but you can try that. It might make clean-up easier.

Lightly whisk the eggs in a large bowl.

Add peppers (or your favorite ingredients), cheese and ground pepper.

Then carefully fill each cup about ¾ full with the mixture. I made a mess and used too much (I forgot how much they puff up in the oven). If you have an ice cream scoop, this would help tremendously.

I feared for my oven, so I placed the muffin tin on a cookie sheet. Bake at 375 for 40 minutes.

Yep - I made a mess, but that’s normal for me :).

I find that removing the egg cups when they are still hot using a large spoon makes removal easier (swirl the spoon around the edges of each cup before scooping the cup out). Let them rest on a paper towel.

Eat hot or store when cooled in an airtight container.

This is the recipe I used, but next time I’d adjust the egg and cheese amounts to the number of bacon slices in the package. Or, you can just cook up the remainder as an omelet while the cups bake. I decided that overfilling the muffin tins would be more fun (just go with it…).

10 eggs (too many)

4 chili peppers

about 1.5 cups cheddar, shredded (also too much)

1 package bacon

pepper

What are your favorite ingredients?

Who’s with me as a Messy Marvin in the kitchen?

Thank you, Scary Mommy.

http://www.scarymommy.com/

I really enjoy reading blogs and Scary Mommy is one of my favorite. I go there to feel normal, because frankly - sometimes being a mother is painful, frustrating, terrifying, lonely, and heartbreaking. I go there when I feel like I’m screwing up big time, when I need a laugh and a reminder that I’m not alone in my insecurity as a parent. To feel like it’s ok that even though I love my kids (why do we always need to say this before we make a confession…), sometimes I don’t’ like being a mom.

There, I said it. It’s true. Sometimes I really don’t like being a mom. It would be so much easier if I was my kid’s aunt instead. I could dole out advice (and they’d listen), I’d hear their tales of sorrow, dating drama, and listen to their reasons that they are bombing their classes and I’d offer sympathetic nods without having my heart break. They’d complain about how their mom never had any “good” food in the house and I’d whisper, conspiratorially, “I know, right? Blah - how much healthy food can one person eat? Where the fuck are the cookies?” And we’d laugh and laugh and they’d tell me that I’m the best and that no other adults listen to them the way I do.

But I have to be mom. And sometimes it sucks. I have to do the hard things - like push them to do homework, try to inspire them to try the spaghetti squash, and clench my jaw when I hear them fighting on the phone with a girlfriend who is no good for them.  I have to insist on inpatient care when they try to hurt themselves, or pester them about wearing condoms when I think they are way too young for sex. I have to give tough love when they act like jerkwads and not give in when they try to work my emotions. I have to teach them how to be independent, even if it means that they think I’m mean. I have to be the mom and hope that one day they will understand why I do what I do and that I love them more than they will ever know.

What blogs or books keep you sane?

Embracing What You Don't Know

“You don’t know what you don’t know.” I’m sure someone very wise was the first to say this, but darned if I can find the source for proper attribution. In any case, the saying is oh, so true and deeper than it seems on the surface. Think about it for a moment. We can’t know what it is that we don’t know until we learn it. Even when we think we know something, we don’t know we were wrong until we learn otherwise, or new information is revealed. This is humbling to me, but also freeing, exciting and mind-expanding. Understanding this concept has brought me peace and enrichment in a variety of ways:

• I change my mind. If you don’t attach any personal stake in what you think is your knowledge, then when you are presented with new information, it is much easier to adapt. There is no painful strike to the ego, no embarrassment for having been wrong and no need to justify your change of mind. It’s straightforward - I think something, I receive new information, I change my mind. Easy.
• Everything becomes more interesting. When you are open to learning, everything becomes an opportunity for growth. Conversations with others spark interest - maybe not because of the topic, but simply to understand someone else’s perspective. Books, articles and blogs become portals into other minds. It doesn’t mean they’re right, but you no longer immediately categorize something as right or wrong, good or bad; you take it in with possibility.
• Relationships are strengthened. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve heard people argue about who is right and who is wrong. When you can change your mind and disassociate from ownership of an idea, you can readily admit when you are wrong and it causes you no loss of self. The thought isn’t you, it’s not who you are as a person - it’s just a thought or an opinion or something you once believed, but have learned is not accurate. Let it go. Everyone is wrong at some point and your relationships will benefit from this mindset.
• I judge less. I’d like to say that I never judge others, but I think judgement at some level is part of the human condition and was once required for survival. Happily, I judge far less now than I used to. Why? Because I don’t know what I don’t know! The person cutting you off in traffic? Sure, they might be a giant ass or a terrible driver, but maybe they have an emergency or are distracted and upset because a family member is in trouble. Maybe they really have to go to the bathroom. You don’t know, so don’t imagine that you do.
• I share what I think I know. When I think something might be useful to others, I like to share that information. There are things that I am certain to know - my own experience, for one. That is truth and maybe by sharing it, someone else will have an eye-opening experience. I also like to share in hopes that I can gather new information. Writing or talking about something helps to reveal knowledge gaps and it’s fun to share with other people.
• I’m always learning. I do know that there are so many things to learn. So many things that I don’t know. An open mind makes me eager to learn and to seek out information about things that interest me. I also learn that there are topics I have no interest in learning more about...for now. That’s ok too. The universe is vast and my knowledge is tiny. I want to know what I don’t know!

What do you know that you like to share with others?

Have you changed your mind or opinion about something recently?

Why I Love Mornings

I guess you could call me a morning person, although I don’t know if there really is such a thing as a morning person or a night owl. I’m sure there are scientific studies about circadian rhythms and all that, but in any case, I get up early. I also go to bed early.

When I started running a few years ago, in order to get in the miles I needed each day (and then later to meet up with the group who helped me progress), I had to get up early enough to run before my kids were awake and before I had to go to work. Over time, my bedtime adjusted accordingly, because I am a messy heap of weeping woman if I don’t get enough sleep consistently. Thus, a morning person was created.

Now, morning is my favorite time of day. Here’s why:

• My guy and I have our best alone time in the morning. Uninterrupted, no phones ringing, no dogs begging for attention. Just the two of us.
• The gym is glorious during the early morning hours. The squat rack is always free and I can hip thrust with zero worries about who might be watching.
• When we run in the morning, we have fewer near-death experiences (fewer cars too busy texting or running stop signs)
• Our coffee time is quiet and peaceful and we get our favorite seats for people-watching.
• I take long walks without my phone. This electronic-free time is vital to enjoying the walk. I have no distractions as I watch the mountain lit by morning sun or watch my favorite bird friends at their morning hunt.
• I watch the sun rise.
• The grocery store is empty and I get first dibs on all of the recently reduced products. Bags of produce for $0.99 and extra large eggs at $1.49 a dozen? Yes, please.
• The house is silent when I remember to meditate.
• Writing is easier and my focus is sharper in the morning.
• It’s easy to catch astronomical displays of wonder: meteor showers, planets, stars, the moon. The pre-dawn dark sky is great for taking it all in.
• I get to see the animals that emerge when humans are sleeping. Coyotes, javalina, owls and the occasional bobcat seem to show themselves mostly during the early morning hours.
• My teenager is finally in a deep sleep during the early morning hours and that gives me the peace of mind to do all of the things listed above.

Do you consider yourself a morning person?

What is your favorite thing about getting up early?