How times have changed....

Le Snoog and I made the Monday Pilgrimage across the bridge today to eat lunch with Le Hubs. Lately, each time we make that drive, I'm struck by the number of panhandlers standing at the intersections. It used to be that you'd maybe see one or two here or there at major corners, nothing like in larger cities. Now it seems like there is someone on every corner, all four sides of the intersection, at every large intersection and more often than not, a couple of people at the smaller corners as well.

We saw a woman today holding down the fort at one side of a large intersection. The sign she was holding, written with black marker on cardboard, said "I Have Not Ate In 31 Hours" (and yes, that is a direct quote). My first thought about that embarrasses me. Back in the day, 31 hours without eating was no big deal to me. It was a goal I took a lot of pride in achieving, and then some. Frankly, I thought I was better than anyone who couldn't, by choice, make it at least that long. Eating represented the ultimate weakness, a giving in to something I should be able to overcome by sheer force of will. Maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise to me, after living 20-some-odd years working at disappearing, that the first thought that came to mind when I read that sign was "Well, THAT'S no big deal." I'm not saying I'm discounting her hunger, or that I think it's a sad commentary when people are standing at street corners telling you in writing how long it's been since they've eaten...what I'm saying is that I'm now at a point where I can see it as a sad commentary.

I chose those 31 hours. If she truly hasn't had anything to swallow other than pride for the past 31 hours, I suspect it's not by choice. It makes me wish there were more I could do for her...but it also makes me realize how times have changed. I have eaten by choice today. I will eat by choice again today. I no longer see the fact that someone else has not as something that makes me the weaker person, or something to be happy about.

Sometimes it's the things you wish you hadn't seen that remind you to be grateful for them.

Silent Sunday

I get it. Most people do Wordless Wednesday. I've been posting from the laptop downstairs, and that's not where my good pictures are. So, Silent Sunday it is.

What I Ran To Today

I'm running a half-marathon in October.
The New Orleans Jazz Half-Marathon.
Then I'm running another here 3 weeks later.

Note I didn't say "I'm training for a half-marathon." I think that gives me the option to back out later. So while I certainly AM training for it (otherwise there's no point), I'm not allowing myself the opportunity of the negative thought.

During the week, given the time of day I'd have to run, most of my runs are treadmill runs. Not a bad situation, really, because I have water/fan/TV/insert convenience here to occupy me and make me more comfortable. Every mile I run on weekends is run outside, though. Believe me when I tell you there are days I regret picking a race date that insists I sweat my sorry ass off all summer in the Florida heat to get the job done. Then I remember EVERY run outside involves Florida heat. Meh. It's a nice scenic run, honestly it is, and it's crowded with people running, biking, pushing their kids in strollers, and walking their dogs. But it's not exactly comfortable. My lingering body image issues prevent me from wearing shorts to run, which means my running garb automatically puts me at a disadvantage in terms of enjoyment. This is something I've just learned to accept. There aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done that has to be done and take extra time to work on body image. I'd rather the feeling of accomplishment at the end of the run than the stress of trying to make that change and being utterly miserable doing it.

All in all, and despite the fact that I seem stuck at a miles-per-run plateau - at least outside - right now, this morning's run was a good one. 4 miles of peace and quiet. Run, Mommy, run.

I'm running a half-marathon in October.

No Wine Before Its Time

This has been quite a day, to say the least. Consider it an understatement to say I was in serious need of the fruit of the vine this evening. Despite the fantastic spin class I was lucky enough to curse the instructor through this morning (and thank you, Angela!), my happy Friday-ness was stomped on by a stomping, non-napping, grumpy potty-learning toddler who wanted only to put on his new underwear and watch Laurie Berkner. Again.

Which, for the record, was nothing a trip to Whole Foods - from whence the vegan chocolate-chip and oatmeal raisin cookies, and free stinky cheese samples (my God, he's his mother's son) come - couldn't remedy. Mostly, anyway.

In July of 2007, the hubs and I had the good fortune of taking a week-long trip to San Francisco, Napa, and Sonoma. As we were driving back to our hotel in Healdsburg one hot afternoon, we stumbled upon Peterson, a small boutique winery. It was closing time and there was only one person in the tasting room, but she was kind enough to stick around and pour - overpour, maybe? - and talk about the wine with us until we needed to head back. We left with hearts full of good cheer and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc for the Independence Day concert in the park...and a wine club membership. Fortunately for us, every 3 months we get a lovely package from Peterson Winery, and tonight we broke out the Father's Day gifts (a Sharper Image wine chiller and Vinturi aerator) and enjoyed a 2007 Peterson Zinfandel/Petit Syrah. NICE. I've missed my reds. It's too hot here to drink them right now unless they're at cellar temperature, so the chiller may make me happier than it does the man. Ahhh.

At any rate, for the moment Turkis Jones is lost in dreamland and I am firmly rooted on my sofa watching ESPN news and enjoying some really, really tasty vino. I should enjoy this while I can, considering that 6:30 will come early tomorrow and I will have miles to run, despite the heat.

Happy weekend, everyone.

He Sleeps.

Geez, child. Finally.
My turkey lurkey loo (or as he would say it, Tur-tey Woooooooo) had "school" this morning. It's always a challenge to get him down for a nap on school days. Today was particularly interesting, since i was treated to the following:

Counting 1-20, on repeat.
"Twinkle Twinkle", on repeat.
"No Dia-poos Meeeeeee", on repeat. (this is a sentence from his book about going to the potty)
A near-complete emptying of all the crib's current occupants, minus the child and - i'm assuming - his sleepysheepy and Goat.
All that, and I think he ran a half-marathon on his own going from corner to corner.

He sleeps, at least for now. My funny boy.

You Don't Know Meeeeeee.....

But you will, if you don't mind reading some babble.

Stick around and you'll hear about my adventures with my toddler, my husband's snarky sense of humor, my never-ending mission to find the best wine possible under $15 a bottle, and the nonsense that runs through my head on my journey to 13.1.