I've got so much to tell you - several month's worth of things. For now, though, I'll just say that we're two weeks away from opening NYRF '13. I'm glad I'm part of the show, but it has its challenges. Soldiering on...
Did my first obstacle race. Finished, very muddy, having cried after one failed challenge. Also did a half marathon several weeks back. Didn't cry, but it was only because I was dehydrated. Will share all the excruciating details within the next few days.
Not in the best place I want to be for my first half marathon. Over the last two weeks, my training has been utterly derailed. My diet is terrible, I've gained weight, and my digestive system is dark and full of terrors.
On the bright side, I know I can do this. Come Sunday, I'll make it over the finish line. Sure, I will pay dearly, but I can finish. Once this is behind me, I can focus on other things, all of which do not revolve around me running/zombie shuffling for two and a half hours.
That's right. A week from now, it's all kitties, all the time.
She really is crazy adorable.
I'm not sure if it counts as 'being productive' when it's mostly 'doing things I've put off for far too long with no good reason other than forgetfulness.'
Still: kitty meds have been purchased, new ATM card has been activated after having lost the PIN they sent me, new tenor uke case has been bookmarked-with-the-intent-to-order. I also spent an hour skritching humane society kitties instead of going for a run. I know, I know. My race is in less than two weeks, but I've been neglecting socializing time and feeling truly terrible about it. Tomorrow, I run 6-8 miles at a faster than comfortable pace, so that should make up for it. Somewhat.
In 'I'm far more excited than this warrants' news, I now have a music stand. I intend to break it in with my chord cheat sheets at this Saturday's gig. Squid Jigging Ground, why are you so impossible to memorize?
1. I taught three kickboxing classes today.
2. I lost my voice about two thirds of the way through the second one.
3. I decided not to run today, and am feeling like a terrible, undisciplined, and out of shape person who will in no way be able to finish a half marathon.
4. I suspect I'm being a bit hard on myself.
5. Ukulele practice makes everything just a bit happier.
I'm ever so happy to say goodbye to March. It was too cold and blustery and snowy for my liking. Now, I'm normally a fan of serious winter weather, but training outside for nigh on three months has tempered my usual enthusiasm. Done with running in single digit temps, done with snowy headwinds, done with being soaked by sleet, done with not being able to feel my face, done with the crazy amount of layers needed just to step outside the door, done with dodging (or worse, failing to dodge) icy patches and slushy puddles. Done.
Sorry. I promise that not every entry is going to be about running and the awfulness thereof. Well, it might be for the next two weeks, but after that I'll start to whinge about pull-ups and burpees and all 'round training for the Spartan Sprint. Lucky you!
In any case, today was, by turns, quite lovely. The sun was out early on, and while we got hit with afternoon showers and gusting winds, it's sunny and calm once again. My poor, abused willow tree is starting to bud. Yellow crocuses have poked through last autumn's leaves. Snowdrops are gleaming against the slowly greening lawn.* Spring is definitely starting too unfold, and I'm going to make an effort to enjoy the process. It will be a challenge; the next month is decidedly busy. Still. I can find the time to go for a hike, to take out the ol' roller blades, to sit in the sun and read, if only for a little while.
*which is weird, because I never planted snowdrops. I always meant to, but my fervor for gardening tends to be significantly diminished by the time autumn rolls around. I blame it on vegetable yields gone awry, slug invasions, and the realization that I simply do not, and never will, have an aptitude for growing things. Anyway: mysterious snowdrops. Yay?
I am thoroughly heartened that LJ is not dead, merely less wildly active than it had once been.
So. I'll probably touch on some of these things at greater length in the not too distant future, but here's what's going on with me (note: some of these things my be repeats from posts made sporadically in the past eight months; apologies in advance).
~Still teaching kickboxing at CKO, though the location was sold as a franchise so I am NO LONGER MANAGING. Sorry to shout; I'm that delighted. I really, really need to be making more money, but I have A Plan.
~My kitties continue to dominate my life and my heart. Both older girls are stone deaf, and mostly happier because of it. One-eyed kitty (aka Esme, aka Princess Adorable) is every bit as sweet and mischievous and currently making me pay for dosing her with meds twice a day. Handsome Tom? So handsome. Currently curled up on my lap with his head burrowed beneath a fold of my fuzzy bathrobe, purring so very hard.
~We're coming up on the anniversary of my sweetie having lost his job (the day we came back from SoCal! On his Birthday! Hooray!), and while it's still terrifying, there are potentially good things on the horizon.
~In the summer of 2012, I once again joined the cast of the NY Ren Faire. That's a whole thing, tied up with how terrible I was when I last left the place, tied up with me being thoughtless upon my return, tied up with being terrified that I was too old/out of shape/doughy/uncool to do the job. All of those things were true, but still... not a bad summer. Also: stage combat, I missed you!
~I'm still plugging away with the ukulele.* I doubt I'll ever be truly good, but it's so. much. fun.
~Not writing. Haven't in far too long. Maybe this will prime the pump, as it were.
~If you don't recall how much I hate running, let me refresh your memory. I hate it. A LOT. I've done it on and (mostly) off for the past few years, but it wasn't until this winter I put in some serious time. A friend invited me, and several other girlfriends, to run a half-marathon to commemorate her 40th birthday. Now, I'm - by far - the oldest of this group. A half marathon is 13.1 miles. I am a slow runner. That means I'll be running, on race day, for over two hours, and hating every gods-be-damned minute of it. I found, though, that I hate 'I can't do that!' more than I hate running. So. I've been training, running 3-4 times a week, in bitter cold and blowing snow and sleet and ick and gross (the last of which, to be honest, is the default condition any day I have to run. so bad, you guys. so bad). The race is April 14th, through the very NOT flat and even Central Park. Can't wait for this to be over.
~Making an effort to read more. Taking advantage of ebook specials and making excellent use of the local library.
~*Crimson Pirates are still a thing, and I'm playing a whole lot of ukulele with them. It's done wonders to help me learn/find/hold harmonies, so there's that. Aside from the summer at NYRF, we've got gigs booked as far out as October, some of which are at other Ren Faires (SoCal and Bristol and MDRF).
~I'm out. Have a picture of Handsome Tom to tide you over till next time.
Several months past, when Grey Kitty (aka Erasmus, aka Raz) was hanging around, Handsome Tom was a deeply unhappy kitty. This was his territory, after all. He'd worked long and hard to stake his claim (read: he'd flopped down, been excessively adorable, and feigned all manner of bravery against the local fauna) 'till we finally brought him indoors.* He displayed his unrest in the most succinct manner possible: he sprayed. Far more than I want to think about. Numbered among the innocent victims in this 'rage against the cuddly interloper' were our cat carriers, stored in the basement and thus easily missed in the immediate response to HT's distress.
So. Several weeks past (when it was time for kitty checkups) I realized what had happened, and took the carriers outside that I might fully scrub them down.
And then life got in the way.
So. A few weeks after THAT, said carriers continued to grace my back patio.
And then baby raccoons got in the way. Adorably.
Mama showed up with three wee ones (and really - what is it with raccoons and triplets? is it just our neck o' the woods?) and reveled in the playground I'd left them. I know they're pests. I know they are not to be encouraged in any way, and trust me - we are far more careful about how we dispose of our scraps. But still... they're really freaking cute, and I cooed like hell over the, even if it meant scrubbing those blasted carriers with bleach. And enzyme solution. And bleach.
*whereupon we found that while he was still ever so handsome, that bravery thing was utter bollocks.