Super Power

One of my mom's former co-workers had a shoe fetish. She spent much money and time in support of this passion, and was teased for her extravagant collection of shoes.

During a visit to my mom's office, without looking at our feet she was able to recall exactly what style shoe each of us were wearing. Needless to say, I was impressed with this ability.

My own gift is a unique one: I can tell by looking at a person's hands if they've ever had warts (and only on their hands; my special clairvoyance works above the waist). It's nothing noteworthy like finding a cure for cancer or ending world hunger, but it's my strange little contribution to the world.

I admitted this superpower to a group of friends during a dinner party, and ended up being called out on this unusual ability. Everyone placed their hands on the table and I went around the circle and accurately identified the two people out of the group that had ever gotten a wart.

What's your superpower, Internet?

Race Day Effort

Growing up, I never participated in organized sports. Many of my friends were busy in club sports; playing soccer, basketball, or tennis. I just couldn't work up any enthusiasm over chasing a ball. It wasn't until my mid-20's that I got a gym membership and started exercising regularly. It quickly became a passion.

After I had our second child, the gym was a total bust. Boy had no interest in being in childcare with all those strangers and I finally had to surrender our membership. And it's not like I didn't try, either: we would go to the gym to 'play' in the childcare together, stay for 15 minutes and go home. I would leave him for 10 minutes and come back, thinking I could eventually work up to a regular, more appropriate length of time - but Boy wasn't having it. After being paged with Boy's screams in the background over the PA for all the gym to hear over a dozen visits - it just sort of killed it for me.

We received a baby jogger as a gift when Girl was an infant, and I'd never used it much. One of my neighbors also had a baby, and she encouraged me to go for a run with her. I had never been into running; I couldn't seem to get a rhythm with my breath. It was always miserable.

But necessity is the mother of invention and I was desperate, so I kept with it. I ran for a full year before it felt good and was something that I looked forward to. I have heard you could get 'high' from running, and I'd long since given up getting high in the usual ways - so I thought it would be worth a try. I progressed to running 5k's and then eventually ran my first marathon 5 years ago. If one mile is good - then 26.2 is better, right?

So, this Thursday I leave for New York to run a half marathon with my SIL. Flying 2,400 miles to run 13 miles seems crazy, but somehow the math works. Wish me luck, Internet!

Tastes Like Chicken

There was a thread recently in one of the blogs that I follow, where readers discussed the virtues of keeping a backyard chicken coop.

Three families that we know have them. They all boast the benefits of keeping chickens. The most obvious is fresh eggs, of course, but other benefits include pest management (think insects and lizards), good fertilizer from their droppings, plus the novelty of having a chicken as a pet.

The downside is that they destroy your yard; plants picked down to nubs, all the grass scratched away to bare dirt, and they will eat anything. This was confirmed by our friend who was barbecuing recently. After repeatedly shooing them away, he eventually had to herd their three chickens back into the coop for their own safety because the chickens kept trying to hop on the grill to steal food.

I asked him what he was cooking and he replied, "Chicken. And not even one of ours! Although with the way they were trying to get at the grill, it very well could have been..."

Go For It

A few weekends ago, I ran a 5k race locally. It began with a hill up the walkway along the beach, and then remained a steady incline until the turnaround.

This race in particular was popular with kids. Good for them, right? But I can tell you that there is nothing more humbling than being passed by an 8-year old.

I struggled a little the first mile and had to fight an impulse to walk. By the turnaround, I had worked it out and ran comfortably hard. For the final stretch of the race, I made my move and ran all out. This was also the time that my iPod slipped from my waistband and fell down inside my running capris. I had no choice but to let it go. So, yes - that was me: the girl crossing the finish line with her hand digging around the crotch of her pants.

I ran an 8.30 minute mile and got to third base with myself.

Russell

In October, I came across a big teddy bear at Costco. Measuring 53", it is one of the largest stuffed animals that I've ever seen. And being Costco, they often have items that appear and then are never ordered again. In anticipation of having one of the best and most stellar Christmas gifts ever and a steal for $28, I purchased it for Girl.
What I didn't consider was where I was going to stash such a giant toy without my kids discovering it for two months. I asked my BFF and her hubby if they'd be willing to keep it for me until the holidays, and they agreed.
On Christmas Eve, I made arrangements to pick up the bear from The Kent, who works in an office building over the mall. Walking through the mall with a stuffed animal the length of my own body was a spectacle. One woman remarked, "Oh my goodness! I bet that bear is bigger than the child receiving it..."
What I didn't know is that after two months, the bear had become a fixture in my friend's home: sharing the bed with guests, making friends and commuting to work. Stories were told of conversations and preferences. He was also named. Internet, meet Russell:
http://www.youtube.com/embed/0HXNzA0zm9o

Unfortunate

A few years ago, my friend was celebrating her 40th birthday with a weekend cruise to Mexico. A group of her friends were going, and many of us had never met. I was to room with one of the women, whom I'd met on only two occasions spread over about 20 years.

As the trip approached, I realized I was having some anxiety about going - more specifically, sharing a room with someone I didn't really know. It took some introspection, but it came down to this: I poo first thing in the morning. First thing.

With a thin, airplane-style door and no fan, there is nothing disguise noises or diffuse odors. Perfume? Too noxious. Matches? Too obvious. Multiple flushes? Dead giveaway with potential clogging risks. My plan was to see if there were public restrooms on the same level, but no luck - they were two levels up and too far to risk it.

I considered being direct, "Hi Kim! Great to see you again! By the way, the first thing I do in the morning is poo. You know, drop the kids off at the pool? Lay some cable? Looking forward to sharing a cabin - it's gonna be great!" In the end, it didn't matter - she was up and gone each of the three mornings before I'd even woken up. Thank heavens for small favors.

To my relief, I have since found a solution: http://www.getyougogirl.com/ Give it a try! I'd love to hear how it comes out for you in the end.

Pure Poetry

We were at the recycling center and the man next to me was standing in the bed of his truck, pouring glass bottles down into the weighing containers. The sound was deafening.

On the drive home, Boy commented that it sounded like 'the glass was screaming.'