Riding the Bike with One Pedal.

Category: life (Page 11 of 12)

What "IN" Can You Throw Out?

I’ve had a burgeoning thought the past day or so, and it really clicked together last night before I went to sleep. We (peeps in general) spend an inordinate amount of energy on things – things that aren’t worth the energy. Some of this behavior is inevitable. Part of it is simply human nature. Another part of it is our past learning that trains us to respond, react, fret, worry, get angry. I started thinking about the words that I associate with fruitlessly expending time and energy: Insecurity, Intolerance, Indignant, Inferiority, Indecisive, Inconsiderate. There are also a bunch of “In” words that are positive, inspirational, as it were: Insightful, Interesting, Independence, Integrity, Intellectual.

Insecurity is a huge one, and it’s not something I think is realistic to say, “Today? I throw away Insecurity.” Obviously it can be managed, and that’s what I’m talking about – recognizing when some energy-sucking behavior rears its ugly head, and instead of letting it drive the bus, we put it back in its cage. For me, it’s Indignant. I spend a :lot: of time being indignant. Hell, half my blog entries about other drivers are derived from righteous indignation. But that’s exactly what made it click for me – I had a guy weaving in and out of traffic, cutting me & other drivers off, in general endangering himself and everyone in his path, and instead of screaming at him, I thought, “Wow. I hope he gets a ticket before he kills himself.” Now. Lest you think the aliens came to Kansas City and replaced half my brain with oatmeal, don’t think I’m going to stop screeching at idiots. Sometimes it’s simply therapeutic!

I’ve had some work situations, where I feel something isn’t my job or responsibility to shepherd or be the leader, and I feel indignant. Why should I have to do that? And then the whole debacle with a couple people I thought were my friends – they accused me of doing something, betraying their confidences, and the naked truth is that I simply didn’t do it. Fucking scorched earth indignation there. And frankly, I don’t take that back. I own my mistakes, I take responsibility for myself completely, and if you accuse me wrongly and say I’m lying and end our friendship over it? Fuck. I feel the indignation surging back through me as I type it out. And that’s what I’m talking about. That situation, specifically, no longer deserves any energy. I cannot change it, I will not run around and beg people who show no consideration for my feelings to be my friend and undo the damage they wrought on not only me, but many of my close friends. But when I think about it, it flares. And it’s an utter waste of time & energy. So I want to throw it away. When I feel the surge of anger, or defensiveness, or righteousness – all pieces of how I feel indignation, I want to hold up my hand & have it freeze in place. Go no further. Occupy no more time. I can’t prevent it from rising, but I can stop myself from letting it wash over me & allowing it minutes on the clock of my life.

It’s difficult to do. It’s taken me a long time to even see how indignation works against me. I know it’s part of my personality, and it’s even part of just being human and feeling defensive and coming from a place where you don’t feel you deserve a bad driver running you off the road or friends spitting in your face or having to do someone else’s job because they are hampered by their own limitations. But being angry, or indulging in the indignation doesn’t get you any closer to happiness. People confuse righteousness with happiness a LOT.

There are a ton of other words for emotions & reactions that hold us back and they don’t start with “IN”. Perhaps the best way to put it is this: What INhibitor to your happiness can you give up, set aside, control better, and instead put that energy towards positive thinking & action?

Simply SMASHING, My Dear!

Let’s see…
1. Forget coffee on the counter, check.
2. Forget to run dishwasher before leaving, check.
3. Use identically-shaped eye pencil in place of lip pencil and MARVEL the entire time that it doesn’t look like it normally does (pale lavender instead of burgundy.)Check!
4. Forget to She Laq eyebrows, have them disappear by lunch. Check.

So I’d say today’s been a bit rocky. At least (and my co-workers breathe collectively in relief) I got dressed and wore shoes. We must celebrate these things, because as evidenced by the above list, I could literally show up one day disheveled, un-caffeinated, no eyebrows, purple lips, and dirty dishes waiting at home. Without a shirt. Or worse, pants.

Off to my client meeting! No eyebrows, but have resumed the caffeine intake & my lips don’t look like I’m freezing/drowning. Carry on!

From the Front Lines of Life

This is a little different than your standard “Random Orts”, because it includes lessons? And I only have two of them. Welcome to a new segment here at Passion Knit.

1. When eating couscous that has been re-heated, and seems to be rather hot? It is not a good idea to BLOW ON IT. Unless your couscous is drenched in a sauce of some sort, you will send countless micro-orbs of pasta flying, like pollen on the wind, only in those nature shows, there’s a point to it all. In your house with the couscous, it’s just a mess.

2. Consider the two-cent stamp and when you, and everyone else in the United States of America is going to need one or twelve. Going to the post office the day after a postage increase – no matter WHAT you tell yourself – is not a good idea. I told myself, “Self! We are going after the lunch crowd, it’s late and therefore it will not be crowded!” and I told myself, “Self! We will use the machine to buy stamps, so there will be no waiting in line!” And I did not count on the fact that fourteen other people had the same brainiac idea about going late, and I did not count on the fact that the post office – despite having stamps for sale at the counter – would choose not to refill the stamp machine with the two-cent stamps, and instead spend time taping a sign over the slot that said “SOLD OUT”. Lovely. So into the line I went, and let me just interject that every post office I go to in this town has a certain – how do you say? Je ne sais quois. Let me invoke the French when I cannot find my own language to express myself. The Westport location is exceptionally colorful. I had braced myself for the panhandling homeless, but once inside found myself sandwiched between a woman who wanted to talk (and touch) the man in front of her (they did not know each other) and an older Asian alcoholic man. You ask how I would know he was an alcoholic? Well, let me just say that when most of the people I know drink, you can smell it on their breath. People who drink heavily and daily exude it from their pores, and his pores were on High Exhaust. So as I braced myself (and my nose) against the Southern Winds of Dispomania, I watched & listened to these two hippy-dippy wannabes talk trees, vegetable stamps and her fawning attempts to touch his extremely dangly earring. I finally got my stamps and fled. ZOIKS! I can really only conclude one lesson: Plan Ahead.

Quite A Lot To Show For Ourselves…..

Four years ago today, the Wo and I stood out by the ocean in a gazebo and exchanged rings while the wind whipped around us and a Jamaican minister pronounced us husband and wife. He wore a tie I knit him out of Koigu, and I wore a long openwork duster knit out of “Wild Stuff” (how appropriate!) Barry White crooned on the boombox, which seems kind of funny, and as fast as it all went, I still remember standing by my now-husband and being so happy to see that ring on my finger, the ring that is identical to his, titanium for strength and platinum for purity, engraved on the inside with a line from a children’s book. Simple and true, “To the moon…and back.”

Coupla nutbrown hares, we are. We’re going out to dinner on Friday, just so there’s no school-night factor and we can go clubbing if we want to. We’re so into clubbing. SO into it! Nntz! nntz! Nntz nntz nntz!

It’s a little daunting if I start listing everything we’ve done, gone through & learned over the past four years. With buying our house, adding a dog to the family, losing my father, me changing jobs – there have been a number of things considered “major life stressors”. However, we’re mellowing, and learning (never stop learning!) and we’ve evolved in our communication skills, and yeah, we still fight and aggravate the snot out of each other at times, because if there’s one thing nobody puts on a Hallmark card when you get married, it’s: “This will be one of the most challenging things you do in your life.” I’ve said it a million times, too, that in saying that, it’s not BAD, it’s not all some arduous work, it’s just that far too often you think, “OK! Got married! Check that off on the list, wouldja?” And it doesn’t work like that. You have to care for your marriage, and adjust within it, and have difficult battles sometimes, and then you get rewarded with crazy things that only make the two of you laugh, and references to oddball things and minds that think the same and start singing the same song when someone on tv makes a reference, because you are SYMPATICO. This is the first year I finally understood a longer-view on gardening, that some things can wait until next year to do. It was a strange, foreign feeling. Yet I would never have felt that, without the Wo. I’m always, “Git it and go! Right now! Now! Now! Now! Must accomplish all and everything at once and did I mention NOW?! Must do it now!” And usually I get so tired with all the “NOW!” and “Everything!” parts that I flop down in exhaustion and watch 6 hours of Law & Order. So I’m glad I’m still learning a few things, despite all the other things I seem to be forgetting at a rapid pace these days.

Last night as James described his day at Worlds of Fun with the three students he chaperoned, I listened to him describe his kindness and practicality with a girl, who kept pretending she had ridden the rides and just didn’t want to, when the truth of the matter was that she was terrified and scared, and didn’t want to admit it because she thought the other kids would make fun of her. He told her not to lie, to just be honest about what she felt, that it was all ok. I watched him and I thought of how much I love him, how every time I think I’ve reached, you know, “maximum capacity” for how much I could love another human being, I’m surprised to see, and feel, that I love him even more. So so much. Now now now.

Happy four year anniversary, my dear. Eight years to the day we met, outside of Broadway Cafe. I was late. You were early. Of all the things in our lives that :have: changed, those qualities in each of us still have not. :) I love you!

This Day Is No More!

OMG, I declared today dead at 5:15 today. I am so tired. I worked through lunch, went to a meeting that went an hour longer than anticipated, didn’t get the dogs to the vet, sent James to meet me at the vet (I was still in the meeting and could not tell him I was not AT the vet), drove on I-35 from Olathe (lots of traffic), called CVS to inquire as to whether they had my new prescription or not, they said “No”, my eyes shot laser beams, but it was 5:05 and my doctor’s office was closed, two minutes later JWo called (no longer at the vet) to say CVS just called and that they were filling my prescription right now.
Whew.
Until I got to CVS. I could see through the bank-teller-bulletproof glass that pandelerium had broken out. Baskets were being emptied (multiple baskets), paper bags being pawed through, and I continued to sit there while my helper person disappeared from my line of sight. Finally he reappeared with a “Sorry ’bout that” and I ascertained that they had just filled my prescription while I sat there burning gas at $2.89/gallon. I ascertained this from the “NU WAITING” at the top of my bag. And from the wait. Then, crazy beyotch from probably Olathe came up behind me, HONKED, and then backed up from the drop off lane to pull into the full service lane, and I could see she was on her cell phone the entire time and frankly, I was so tired and spent from the day I actually yelled, “HANG UP YOUR GODDAMN BARBIE PHONE AND PAY ATTENTION!” and of course she had no clue because we both had our windows up but I could see her magenta moto taser phone and she was an idiot and I needed to label someone at that point.

I came home and had triscuits and potato salad for dinner. Oh yes. TOGETHER. Like a dip. And a pot pie. And pink lemonade. Because even if you’re staring a dead day right in the face, pink lemonade makes it a little bitty-bit better. And then I shredded things. Destruction with the shredder is therapeutic. However I jammed a check card somehow and had enough sense to just STOP because I had the shredder apart with a letter opener jammed into it (all while the thing’s still plugged in) and some gnome woke up from his pink-lemonade-and-carbs stupor and finally shouted, “HEY! Bad idea! You’ve shredded enough for one night!” Now I’m waiting for the Shield to come on so I can watch Vic Mackey shred it up and then I’m collapsing in bed.

17:15, I had to call it. This day? Dead. Natural and unnatural causes. We shall try again tomorrow.

I’m Bringin’ Scratchy Back…..

Those other dust mites don’t know how to act….
Cats & Dogs give me attacks….

OK, enough lyric spoofing. I went to the allergist! I got results! AND! Who knew I was allergic to dogs? Not me! I’d say whatever my allergic reaction to dogs is, it’s nothing compared to cats. Cat pelt, to be specific. If I’m in a room with a cat, it’s a matter of time before my eyes start to puff and burn, my skin feels like a rash is starting & I get itchy and the sneezing begins; not so with a dog, or at least any dogs I’ve met – including Polly & Suzy. But the truth is – if you inject Essence de Dog under my skin, I do react. And despite being OFF my allergy medication for three days, I didn’t notice any major reactions in the house – sneezing or otherwise – just a runny nose. And my cough. Oh yes. My cough. The whole reason for going. The doc took one look at my prescriptions and immediately pronounced my water pill/blood pressure med as the culprit. The very prescription I started less than six months ago. Had a fella in last week with the same thing. 8-10% of people who take an ACE inhibitor-based medicine have this cough. No big deal to switch to something else, and I’ve already sent an email to my doctor about it. Let’s keep our fingers crossed! He was extremely confident, which was lacking in my ENT’s diagnosis.

However, allergy testing is not the most fun a gal can have on a Thursday afternoon. After the first set of 20 scratch tests on my back, they did an additional 9 on my arm. They tested cats & dust mites again, and I was exercising all the restraint I had not to claw my arm off. As a distraction, I took a couple of photos, you know, because I like to share the excitement of daily life:

The Final Nine

Not Happy

I’m glad that’s over! And I’m back on Allegra, and getting my prescriptions changed, and hopefully returning to MY definition of “normal” tout de suite.

T-Minus-60

So, I’m off to the allergist shortly. This should be fun. You know, the way being stung by bees and bitten by mosquitoes is fun. There’s a reason I never took up rattler wranglin’ for fun.

I have mixed feelings, and am a little nervous – who knows what-all I’m allergic to now, and if my cough is or isn’t related to allergies, and if they’ll have horse pills for me and oh yeah, do they at least put something on my back to stop the maddening itch from all their scratch tests? The woman on the phone informed me they do this every day to children, so that might’ve been my cue to GROW UP about it, I suppose, or perhaps she was just hinting that if I start to wail, they might give me a Saf-T-Pop.

I feel kind of queasy, but that could be directly related to my extremely apathetic lunch, which consisted of smokehouse almonds & a V-8. And Diet Coke. Which does not ordinarily make me a might nervous when I drink it, mmmmhm. We’ll see! Won’t I feel stupid if I’m allergic to nuts!

That’s MY Mall.

I almost went to Ward Parkway Mall yesterday afternoon. I needed to get a birthday & Mother’s Day gifts. I would have been gone before the gunman got there, but all the same, it was an eerie feeling.

James was reading one of his bulletin boards, and said, “Three people killed at a Kansas City mall.” I didn’t quite believe him. “Bannister?” I said. Showing my profiling of the area, but still. I won’t go to Bannister mall anymore. There aren’t any shops left, and as surrounding stores continue to leave, it’s a pretty rough area.
He started searching for the news story.

Goddamn.
Right up the street. Six minutes from our house. Two miles. I drive by the mall on my way to work every day. My beloved Chick-Fil-A sits across the Target parking lot. Target, the one I go to sometimes on my way to work. Starbucks. PierOne. McAlister’s. PetSmart It’s MY mall, goddamn it. OUR mall. Kristin & Justin’s gym is there. I scoffed at the first Reuters report that called it “upscale”. It’s not. It used to be headed for the same fate as Bannister, and then Target came. And the others came, too. And it turned everything around. I was pissed last night. My first reaction was fear, clinging to solitude, isolation, hide from the crazy people with guns. My next reaction came quicker, anger, and it’s still there. I won’t let fear run my life, I can’t. None of us should.

I had a conversation over lunch with an old friend of mine last week, and we talked about the Virginia Tech shootings. I said that our parents, the Boomers, they watched a societal change in their lifetime – hell, they went from no tv to black and white and three stations to plasma color and 1,000 channels. My dad told me about the ice truck that came through their neighborhood, and in the hot summer days, the iceman would give the kids a little chip of ice from the giant blocks, a cool break in the hot Chicago summer. Our parents watched the transformation from 1950’s conservatism to a scantily-clad, gyrating MTV miasma. They had many notable shifts from an age of innocence and arguably, simplicity. I believe for my generation – because MTV arrived in our pubescent years, and we eagerly embraced it – our societal change is unexpected violence. Our parents are experiencing it, too, but we were raised with the tube, and everything it brought. We expect violence, but of the calculated cinematic variety. Rambo gets the bad guys. Drive-bys happen in those OTHER neighborhoods. We listen to the music for the cues, that the hero will still exact justice, and protect the American Way. Then 9-11 happened. And Columbine, and then all the other crazy “Let’s go wacko and take as many people with us as we can” incidents happened. Yes, they happened before, but they tended to be more family-based. Kill everyone in the house, then take yourself out. Now, public-place multiple-killings have become a new road to fame, a way to tell the world you’re really pissed off, that The Man or The Bullies at School are keepin’ you down. It’s shocking. It doesn’t happen in the movies. There’s no clear explanation for it. There’s no music to warn you. There’s no predictor, no way to dodge it.

For three people – and their families – yesterday (the first person was killed at her home & her car was what the gunman drove to the mall), it was an unfair, unexpected fucked-up twist in the fabric of life. The gunman probably got what he wanted, suicide by cop. I’m glad the police were able to get there as quickly as they did, to keep more people from getting hurt and killed. I’ll go back to Ward Parkway Mall, and I’m sure I’ll feel a little more cautious, be a little more aware of my surroundings. I’ll probably feel that way shopping anywhere, at least for a while. Our brave new idyllic world is eroding around us, one gunman at a time.

Liquor -N- Plants

I started out my morning by, well, getting up. That’s always a good way to start, as opposed to waking up dead, or say, just falling out of bed and crawling around on the floor. AFTER that part, I went to Sutherlands, because they had annuals for $0.69 a four-pack. And hostas in 1# pots for $1.99. Dudes and dudettes, that is Super Cheap! (Oh, maybe I should point out real quicklike that I took today off. I’m going to surprise the Wo with my industrious mad gardenin’ skeelz! Hopefully.) So I got a bunch of cheap petunias and three hostas and it was like, $15, and it almost offset the fact that I truly despise shopping at Sutherlands! Talk about a place in need of a makeover.

Then it was on to the KC Gardener’s Society annual plant sale. Where I was accosted by every single person working the sale, and I brought the median age down by a good thirty years. It was like fresh blood in the water, and everyone wanted to help me. I ended up buying :cough: a lot of plants. It was sort of the reverse of what I once read about child pickpockets in Other Countries, how they swarm you and distract you and they practice in a warehouse under the tutelage of a Master Evil Pickpocket with a long stick pointing out techniques on a mannequin rigged with bells. So when I say the reverse of that, I mean: Old people piling me up with plants. “Have you heard about Pineapple Sage?” (Ah, yes!) “Did you see we marked the begonias down from $5 to $3.50?” (Um, yes, I was standing next to you when you told her to do it?) And an ongoing list of inquisitive questions about what other plants I wanted, and did I have a list, and what sort of clematis did I have back at my house, and always with each new pot going into my cardboard flat, “You are sure gonna be busy this weekend!” in an excited, chirpy, “we got another one, Vern, and if she buys three more plants we get upgraded to VIP at the Waid’s cafeteria!” sort of way. The priceless moment for me was, at the end of ringing all these plants up, the Head Lady asked me if I was a member, and I said, “My husband is,” and she asked his name, and I told her, and WITHOUT LOOKING she sternly said, “HE hasn’t paid his dues!” It was like meeting the Wizard of Gomer’s Parking Lot Plant Sale, she was that all-knowing. So then I paid his dues, in addition to the plants, got my membership discount, and as I balanced two of the three flats in my arms, her cohort bellered, “CARRY OUT!!!!” and I wanted to perhaps have some peace and quiet and a little less attention at that point. And in my haste to pull myself away from the OPPP (Old People Piling Plants), I jumped in my car and started to drive away. Whoops! I needed to also go to Gomer’s, and there’s just something slightly naughty about buying liquor at 9:15 in the morning, I think. For some unfortunate souls, I suppose it’s a ritual, but I had my heart set on getting some of that Patron Coffee Tequila (it’s not just for breakfast anymore), and then I picked up a birthday gift and had a very nice chat with the fellow working behind the counter. He upsold me to also buy a small bottle of Patron Orange Liqueur, in case I want to make top-shelf margaritas, and I think I just have a weakness for the bottle design. Oh, and I found the bottle of tequila that we sampled at that dinner and really liked, and it’s $52 a bottle. So. That stayed at Gomer’s.

But in the end? I spent more money on plants than I did on booze! Maybe I should try to find me one of those agave plants and combine the hobbies…..

We’re Gen-U-Wine! Bona-Fide!

Last night, the Wo and I became certified Kansas City Barbecue Society judges. We’ll be receiving our BADGES and certification in a few weeks; the class was truly a unique experience! We learned about the KCBS rules (and yes, oh yes, there are RULES), and we were instructed on the qualities to look for when judging the four meat categories. (Chicken, Pork, Ribs & Brisket.) I think I was starting to take it really seriously, as I felt myself morphing into Juror Mode, and we all know how I feel about truth, justice, and the law & order way of life. Now I can add barbecue to that list!

I think the biggest challenge is that you have to set aside (to some extent) your personal preferences, and since I abhor fat on meat, I still took a bite of the chicken skin to get the flavor; same with cuts of meat – just because you don’t like dark meat, you can’t score it “Awful”. So I’m looking forward to a real judging experience one of these days, and you can be sure, I’ll take it seriously. Sadly, you cannot drink beer while judging, and that’s of course for the cooks’ benefit – all your work and Sloshy McSlosherson declares your chicken “road kill!” and taints the entire table!

The big goal, of course, is to get ourselves into the Grandaddy of ’em all – the American Royal. Maybe I’ll work my way up to Meat Judge by starting with Side Dishes. Or Desserts! :)

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