It could be worse.

For $400 I got an afternoon of knitting by myself, a cup of bad coffee, and the check engine light to turn off.

Determination meets Frustration

I decided it was time to get serious. I need to move beyond sedentary and start adding real exercise into my life if I truly want to be half the woman I am. So this morning I got up and did almost 20 minutes of aerobics. Okay, I just danced around the living room in my pajamas until I was wheezingly out of breath, but that gave me 2500 steps before I even got ready for work.

At work, I took every opportunity to add extra steps each time I got up from my desk. 

After work, I had to run up to Singer Island to give my daughter some mail that had come to my place for her. I used that errand as an excuse to go to my favorite exercise trail in Palm Beach Gardens  where I walked two miles. 

At the end of the day, I had a grand total of 10,508 steps. That's five hundred steps over my goal! I was so proud. And so tired.

And now I'm depressed. I did 10,508 steps and I still did not get an adjustment for going beyond sedentary. What's a girl gotta do to be active?

(I suppose I should be happy that I was only 3 calories away...)

Finally, some activity

I got my very first Fitbit adjustment yesterday, and if I wasn't so exhausted I'd be ecstatic.

Do you remember the old Family Circle cartoons in the Sunday funny pages? Mom would send little Billie next door to borrow a cup of sugar, and the cartoon would show a dotted line that represented the long, rambling route Billie took all through the neighborhood -- over the fence, around the doghouse, through a puddle. I keep looking behind me for that dotted line, because I feel like I've become little Billie.

In an effort to exercise enough to get to beyond the level of Sedentary, I've been adding all sorts of little round-about additions whenever I go anywhere. If I need to go to the volunteer office, which is right next to my office, I might walk back and forth through all the pews on one side to the front of the church, then come back zigzagging through all the pews on the other side of the church. A trip to kitchen includes a lap (or two) around the fellowship hall. Even at home I will walk all the way through my apartment to get from one side of my two-step-wide kitchen to the other. These detours have gotten me closer to the magic 10,000 steps needed to be beyond sedentary, but it hasn't been quite enough.

Yesterday I stopped at the exercise trail in Palm Beach Gardens on my way to Knit Night, and I did a quick 2-mile walk. (Maybe it wasn't that quick, since it did take me almost an hour.) But it was enough, combined with the Little Billie detours, to give me 10,176 steps for the day. That was equal to an extra 15 exercise calories!

Yep. I walked ten thousand steps, or 4 1/2 miles, in order splurge on  4 M&M's. Sigh.

Sometimes you just have to step away from the madness

It's been one of those days. Actually, it's been one of those weeks. So I told my boss that I was taking a long lunch, and I went over to the park to knit. Which turned out to be exactly what I needed!

And if knitting socks in the park wasn't enough, I'm on my way over to meet my knitting group for an evening of dedicated fiber and friendship.

Yep. It's one of those days. (She says with a grin and a happy dance.)

Merry Christmas-is-over!

I never did find my Christmas spirit this year. I did finally manage to get up enough energy to put my tree up late Christmas eve. For someone who eagerly waited for the first sign of Christmas in the retail stores in order to justify pulling out my decorations early, waiting until the night before was pretty bad. I just didn't feel like Christmas this year.

At least it's over now.

A season of chaos

To be able to function properly, I need order and organization. I really can't cope well with chaos. So naturally, life managed to arrange itself so that construction on our volunteer office started this week. We had to move everything from the volunteer office into my office, with just one hour notice. Yep. It's a mess. And none of us (the volunteer or I) have any idea where anything is. Naturally this is the week that I have three bulletins and a monthly newsletter to produce. And our bulletins aren't some tiny affair. No, I'm expected to include the full service for people to read along with (since the pastor changes things each week, it could be confusing without a program to follow), the prayer list, the announcements for all of the scheduled activities, as well as any other important notices for the congregation. Typically the bulletin is a 12 to 16 page booklet. Our newsletters can run 16 to 24 pages, not counting the photo pages. The stress and the mess have turned me cranky. (There would be a better term for it if I worked someplace other than a church.)

It's rather ironic that working in a church has caused me to lose the Christmas spirit.

I'm back. Did you miss me?

 

Since my last post, I have gotten old and depressed. (There is, by the way, a definite a link between those two items.) I received two really amazing and unexpected birthday gifts, but overall the experience was horrendous. Since my last post, I have learned a new skill - tatting - and have become obsessed. I have started a group to deal with another obsession of mine, spinning. I've done a lot of reading, not surprisingly.  I have gone in - and out - of business. I had my first childless Thanksgiving in over 25 years, which made it difficult to give thanks. (Although I did enjoy not spending days in the kitchen cooking and cleaning.) I took a few sick days, and had my vacation time misplaced by a committee. I've baked cakes, cookies and cupcakes, all of which were greatly enjoyed by myself and others. I've finished several projects on the long, long, WIP list; but I've also added to it - without any expected feelings of guilt. I found, and was found, by long-lost family members.

And yet, I've had nothing worth writing about. Sorry. I'll try to do better.

I should just keep moving

I had planned this post out in my head, while walking on the treadmill. I was going to talk about getting into the habit of going to the gym, and how much fun I was having. I think that it might even become my newest obsession - even it it is just a tiny room with a few pieces of equipment the apartment complex provides. I was also going to lament over the fact that I have no idea of what I'm doing. Then I would brag that I have recently leveled up in Fitocracy. By the way, I now have a real-live friend on the site. Technically, everyone who posts on the site is alive. But one of my friends is someone I know off of the computer as well. This is wonderfully motivating, which is why I planned on suggesting that everyone join me on Fitocracy. Think of how much fun it would be to encourage each other, and to compete against each other on challenges. I also planned on bragging about my new sneakers (which is why I took a picture of my feet). New sneakers doesn't sound like much, but this is the first pair I've owned in over two years.

All in all, I had a long post planned. Unfortunately, I sat down for 15 minutes after getting back from the gym.I don't think I'll be doing anything, even something as easy as typing, a while. I hurt!

Not being able to sleep is terrible. You have the misery of having partied all night...without the satisfaction. (Lynn Johnston)

I think I'm going to give up trying to sleep any more tonight. I managed about 2 hours, so that's something to be happy about.

I wonder if the neighbors would mind if I did the vacuuming? I feel like I should do housework, instead of something frivolous like reading a novel or weaving. Otherwise I might not make the effort to sleep tomorrow night.

Who are you again?

I don't have much to say today. I'm feeling very depressed. I made arrangements to see an old co-worker, and it just wasn't the thrill that I thought it would be. I wasn't expecting hugs and tears of welcome, but I also wasn't expecting distraction and inattention.

Oh well, they say you can't go home again.* I guess that applies to jobs that you felt were your home, as well.

*Note to my daughter: YOU can come home anytime. So disregard the second paragraph above!

Real Life Sucks.

I liked it a lot better when my daughter was here, and I could stay home from work and just do fun things with her. Unfortunately, I had to take her to the airport early this morning (and I do mean early - we left my house at 5:30 am!) and then it was back to work and real life for me.

I miss her so much already!

K. loves his Grandma R!

I am so jealous of my cousin. She has the most adorable little grandson that she gets to spoil to her heart's content. She posted a couple of videos on Facebook this weekend, which is what has me so green with envy. I would love to have a grandchild to spoil.

Before I go any further, let me put in a quick disclaimer. I am very pleased that none of my children have decided to present me with a grandchild this early in their lives. It makes me proud that they have each recognized that they are not in a position to have children yet. (For pete sakes, my youngest is just finishing her first year of college!) Despite my desire for a grandchild, I am perfectly willing to wait for one.

In the meantime, however, it would be nice if one of my younger relatives or friends, many of whom are  having babies, would grant me the privilege of being an honorary grandma (or great-aunt, or whatever) so that I could have a child to spoil. Just think of all the adorable baby outfits, and toys, and stuff I could have fun making for him or her. Not to mention all the wonderful ideas I have gathered over the years for cards and letters and books. I'd offer free babysitting and even some parental spoiling, too. All I would want in return is an abundance of pictures (easy in this day of digital camera and internet connections) that I  could show off.

Oh well. I'm probably too young to be called "Nana Sandi" anyway.

I'm so blue

 

You know those kitschy t-shirts, "my parents went to ___ and all I got was this lousy t-shirt"? Well, my daughter went to NYC and all I got was blue m&ms. I would have much rather have gone on the trip with her. (And in all fairness, the opportunity was offered to me. Several times. Unfortunately, finances and logistics of a new job prevented me from taking the opportunity.)

But really. Blue m&ms. Everyone knows that the blue m&ms are horrible. I literally pick them out of the bag and get rid of them before hunting out the good flavors (like green, brown, red...). Sigh.

At least I'm going to get to eat a couple of "real bakery" cupcakes. (Mom was so tired when they got home from the airport, she left the treat from the girls at my house. And naturally they'll be too stale to give to her, so I might as well eat them.)

I hurt.

Fibromyalgia is horrible! 

But Fiber In was totally worth the pain.

Knitting to the Rescue

 I was determined that I was going to get my hair cut today. It's been a while and my hair had reached that awful too-long-to-style-but-not-long-enough-to-pull-back stage. For the past two weeks I've been stopping by to see if my usual stylist was around. (I use the word "usual" with a very broad definition, since she's only cut my hair once but I really liked the way it turned out.) I probably should have just made an appointment except (1) this isn't a fancy enough place to have an appointment book (okay, I confess -- it's a Walmart location) and (2) I don't have a clue what her name was because I lost the slip of paper I jotted it down on.

So, this morning when I didn't see her I was feeling horrible enough that I took a chance on the stylist that was there. Without even taking time to watch him cut someone else's hair to find out if he was any good. But he seemed nice.

Even a child knows better than to trust a stranger just because he seems nice. My haircut turned out horrible. Not just horrible, but oh-my-gosh-who-attacked-you-and-are-they-in-jail horrible. And if it wasn't bad enough to have one of the world's worst haircuts, he charged me a fortune for it. I take that back. He only charged me $16 for the haircut. Which is what I expected to pay. (And for $16, I truly didn't have that high of expectations -- and yet it still turned out really far below them.) But then he charged me $30 for blow drying it. What?! Really?! The explanation was that it cost so much because he had to use the metal round brush.

Being me, I paid him without too much of a fuss. Although I was mean enough to only give him a small tip. (Sigh. I still can't believe I tipped him at all. Although I did feel I was being very mean with the small tip.) Then I went home and cried. But after a while I managed to get up enough mad to call the manager, who naturally wasn't around. So I called the national headquarters. And they called the manager. Who called the store. Who called me and asked me to come back in so that they could fix it. So I did.

And they tried. Of course, first I had to have a long phone conversation with the manager about the charge to dry my hair, since that really was a legitimate charge -- if my hair was long and thick. Unfortunately, the longest (random) pieces were less than 2". Once we got that figured out, they refunded the entire cost and tried to restyle my hair. My hair is now extremely short, and still horrible. But I'm feeling a little bit better since I didn't pay almost $50 to look this bad. Plus I've cast on an Emergency Hat using a skein of my handspun yarn and I think I can get it finished before I have to go out in public again.

Seriously. Enough already.

I was trying to drown my sorrows in Starbucks and knitting. 

Except that I didn't have enough yarn for the project I wanted to cast on. 

And then I spilled the Starbucks putting the knitting away.

What need is there to weep over parts of life? The whole of it calls for tears. (Seneca)

It's still not safe for me to talk with anyone. Whining is so unattractive. So instead, I'm just going to offer you this pretty picture.

At least it fulfills two memes today:

• The Daily Shoot:  Make a photograph featuring nature in some fashion.
• Thursday Challenge: "yellow"

I'm hiding in a hermit cave

Contrary to popular belief, misery does not love company. Misery much prefers to wallow hidden away and alone, at least in my case. It's easier to hang on to the notion that you're unloved and unlovable that way.

Yeah, depression is out in full force today.

It started this morning when I attended a resume workshop at the Workforce Alliance. I've had such little luck in my job hunt that I decided to take advantage of the help offered by the state, even though I know how to write a good resume and cover letter. Except that apparently I don't know how to write a good resume. Thanks to the computer age, which I mistakenly thought I was keeping up with, resumes have different key words and are expected to be tailored to the individual application. Even thought I have a well-written, beautifully formatted resume on good quality paper, it's probably not getting passed along to the company decision-makers. In fact, scanning programs are probably dumping it into the computer's trash bin before any human eyes can read it. Sigh. One more thing thing that I thought I was good out, tossed out the window with the rest of my dreams. (I did mention that I was depressed, didn't I?)

But at least I still have knitting.

Ha! Just take a look at the plain vanilla socks I just finished knitting. I was feeling very proud of them, since I did it from memory only. I even managed to knit short row heels, which are not my usual style of heels. Do you see the problem?

You probably noticed it right away. Unfortunately, I didn't notice it until after I finished kitchenering the toe and I had woven in the ends.

Yup. I have a dropped stitch way back, just before I started the heels. Somehow I had picked up a stitch so that the count was correct as I finished the sock. But the originally-dropped stitch is just sitting there, waiting to unravel. If that was the only problem, I could just go in with a scrap piece of yarn and sew a stitch or two to catch it. But then there is the problem of the hole left with the short row heel. The other side of this sock, and the other sock, have perfect heels. It's just this one spot that I didn't wrap the stitches well enough to prevent the hole. Again, I could go in and fudge it closed. If there was only one problem or the other, that's what I would do. But with two problems on one sock, I'd never be totally happy with them. I definitely can't even think of giving them to somebody as I had planned.

So I frogged the pair. I unravelled a totally finished pair of socks, just because of two stupid little mistakes that probably wouldn't have made me cry on any other day. But drastic moods lead to drastic solutions, and the pair has been frogged.

I'm turning in my Ninja-knitter badge, along with  my sense-and-sensibility patch. I'll be off finishing the open bottle of wine, and looking for secret stashes of chocolate. I'd invite you to the pity-party, but there arent enough tissues to go around.

 * ~ * ~ *

Blanket Update:
172 squares in 200 days
(Status: I'm still behind. But 16 squares in one week is still pretty good.)

Medical term: the heebie-jeebies

I need to learn to meditate.

For the past several weeks I've been driven crazy by a mysterious rash that is covering my body. It gets so itchy that all I can do is scratch until I'm bleeding. We thought bugs, so I've been staying inside. Then we thought allergies, so I've been tracking everything I eat, touch, and smell. We also thought I was nuts, so we blamed it on the fibromyalgia. (Actually, the fibro is partly to blame.)

The itching gets so bad  at times that I'm tempted to take a knife and cut the rash out of my body. I probably would have done it, too, except that I only have cheap kitchen knives with dull blades.

It turns out that it's a stress rash. And I'm not supposed to itch it. Camomile compresses were recommended, except that I react badly to camomile. So it's ice packs to keep from scratching, and meditation to lower the stress.

(I was hoping for chocolate and wine to deal with the stress, but apparently these only make it worse. Which I totally don't understand!)

My card is what?!

The Daily Shoot
Assignment:  feature a plant

I'm having a very bad day, and it will probably end up being a bad week. I say this because I am officially broke. There's money in the bank (so you don't have to feel too sorry for me), it's just that there isn't any in my wallet. Normally I rely on my debit card. Unfortunately, this afternoon as I attempted to pay for lunch I discovered that my card is "invalid." Looking at my card, I realized that the magnetic strip is torn which is the only reason I can figure out for the "invalid" refusal. Naturally the bank was already closed, and since Monday is a holiday it is going to be Tuesday before I can find out for sure what is going on and get it fixed. Sigh.

Thank goodness Becca was carrying cash with her, so she treated to lunch.