"It's Just Brunch"

Stephan and I were listening to the radio a few weeks ago. The hosts were discussing the Netflix series Orange is the New Black. I love that show. I had to slow down my binge-watching to make sure I wasn't hurrying through the episodes.

Suddenly, Stephan turns off the radio and starts huffing in annoyance:

Him: That is terrible.

Me: What?? That they are romanticizing female incarceration?

Him: No. That people keep thinking they're so oppressed. It's discrediting the actual struggle of African Americans.

Me: Uuhm..... what??

Him: People keep saying they are the new Black like it's no big deal to have been abused and mistreated for centuries. It's disgusting.

Me: That's... uh... not what that phrase means. It's literally the color black. How it used to be reserved for people in mourning but now it's fashionable. The phrase is about fashion. Not race.

Him: No way.

Me: .....

Him: Really?

Me: Yup.

Him: I need to rethink a lot of things.


Which has to do with brunch in the following way... As a family we had accidentally scheduled three things to happen on one day.
1) Volunteering at a race in Milwaukee (70 miles away)
2) Attending a fundraising brunch buffet
3) Sawyer's 6th birthday party

Stephan and I went back and forth over how we were going to divide and conquer the day. At first I was going to send him to the race so I could take the kids to the brunch. But when I thought about the small-talk and group of people that would be attending a fundraising brunch, I freaked out and traded him for the early-morning smile and wave and "here sign this paper to learn more about the Santa Hustle" thing.

When the brunch friend found out that I was bailing on the brunch because I was too nervous to talk to live people (runners don't count as people I guess?) she texted me, "Uhm. It's just brunch."

Noooooooo. It's not "just brunch". It's being polite. It's "what do I say next?" It's "what do I wear? Is my hair ok? What was her name again? Where can I hide to nurse the baby? Am I making enough eye contact? Should I reply with something funny or serious? Have I quoted NPR too much? Will this person be insulted by a political joke? Did I really just make fun of Cuban refugees? OhmyGod I just totally made a refugee joke. That's not funny AT ALL right now. There's no recovering from this. Let's all go hide in the bathroom until this thing is over."

I guess I was just surprised that, with all of the sensitivity to people who have hard times in social situations, and especially given my outspoken terror of strangers, that someone would say that to me. That anyone would be confused about ME not wanting to spend 2 hours at a table with strangers, trying to make new friends. I regularly mess up the friendships I already have. Why would I want to start over with new ones?

It's totally possible I've been living in a Blogess bubble of love and acceptance lately. Her book was fantastic, and I just keep reading websites that are encouraging and supportive. Places on the internet where hurting and fear and wackiness are totally acceptable states of being. I guess this is why that bubble exists in the first place- so I can remember that I'm not the weird(est) one.

That it IS about fashion.

Overheard: lolz

Him: I had a patient today who was Bipolar.

Me: I or II?

Him: Just one guy. Oh, wait, no. Bipolar I.

Me: And?

Him: And it made me glad we're just dealing with the #2. Which reminds me, did you make the appointment?

Me: No.

Him: Why not?

Me: Ok. So, listen to this. I have a reason. I know I've waited tooooooo long to make an appointment with a new therapist, BUT I have a reason. A real one. Because... I mean.... what do they even do anyway?

Him: This is not a real conversation.

Me: No! Really!! Like, I get that, like, medicine can change the serotonin in your brain... and massage can affect your heart rate... but, like, just talking to someone? What does that even do?

Him: It doesn't matter.

Me: Yeah it does.

Him: You still don't know how the microwave works, but you use it every day.

Me: This is different.

Him: I feel SO bad for your old therapist. You are a very difficult patient. Also, remember the time you told him therapy is just 'placebo effect'?

Me: Well....... it kinda is.

Him: It doesn't matter. Make the phone call. You're impossible.

Kitchen Boss

Or Overheard: I think I ruined cookies forever.



Me: These chocolate chip cookies taste funny.

Him: Yeah, they do. What's different?

Me: Nothing at all. But we haven't had any processed sugar, white flour or margarine in, like, three months.

Him: This is your fault. Just like with the "all-natural refrigerated" peanut butter. You get me totally used to this real food, and then the delicious fake food just tastes gross.



So.... I win?? Chalk one up for health? I've been making gigantic strides in the kitchen lately thanks to these people at Thug Kitchen and their amazing cookbook . My most favorite part is the week-long process of putting together vegetable broth. Now all my vegetable scraps get saved until the end of the week and boiled in water before moving down to compost, so I have a seemingly endless supply of fresh, FREE broth whenever I need it!

Broth. Sometimes, it's what's for dinner.

Best. Parenting. Advice. Ever.

"Honey, I was listening to the radio, I don't know what station, I can't tell what the stations are on this radio, just that it was 100-something FM or maybe 89-something AM. But anyway, this man who was talking started talking about the things the president is doing, and isn't doing, and he was proving it with facts, not just words, but facts about what is really going on and how he's ruining our country, and all of those other things, and then he said that all the kids today are fussy and hyper because their parents make them listen to all the terrible music that's on the radio today, instead of the classical music that people used to listen to all the time in the old days, but then I thought, no, not Anna, I bet she makes that baby listen to the good classical music and not all that radio music, and that's why I called you to find that out."

So we're listening to classical music today.

Because... facts.

Overheard: Church Parking Lot

Sawyer: Hey, those tires are cool!

Him: Yeah, you can say that the car is pimped out.

Me: No! You can't teach him that. Especially on the way into church!!

Sawyer: Pimped out? Can we drive that car?

Him: YEAH!! Then we'd be big pimpin'!!!!

Me: NOOOOOO!!!

Sawyer: Big Pimpin'!! Big Pimpin'!! Big Pimpin'!!

Overheard: 10pm

Him: I found your grocery list. And I'm going to go now. What else do we need?

Me: I dunno. Look at the list.

Him: It just says "chicken." I need you to be more specific.

Me: It's for your lunches.

Him: So we need lunch meat?

Me: No. You just need food for lunch. I don't care what it is.

Him: So we don't need chicken?

Me: Well.......... We don't HAVE any chicken.

[And he stared at me for several minutes before I broke down laughing so hard I thought I was going into labor. I wasn't.]

"Moderate Activity"

Or

Overheard: OB/GYN office

So the ruling on the table is... NO bed rest (which, apparently, isn't even a thing anymore unless you're actively going into labor early), but to modify my schedule and activity level down to a "moderate level of activity."

I made the doctor define that....

Me: So I can do regular things like laundry and grocery shopping?

OB/GYN: Well, maybe. Don't carry full laundry baskets up and down the stairs. Is your washing machine in the basement?

Me: Yes. So don't carry full loads? Just half loads?

OB/GYN: No. Don't carry things up and down the stairs on a regular basis. You're starting to worry me. And don't carry all of your groceries in the house in one trip.

Me: So... like only 2 bags at a time?

OB/GYN: NO! Only one bag at a time. One. Light. Bag. Seriously. You're asking me the wrong questions right now.

Me: Well, it's not like I'm going back to running or anything...

OB/GYN: Seriously? Are you being serious? No running. Maybe gentle walking. Around the block. Slowly. With nothing in your hands.

Me: Ok. I'm a massage therapist. I can still work, just no deep tissue massages?

OB/GYN: If you are sweating, or clenching any muscles, don't do that. Look, I'm getting a real feel for what you consider moderate activity here, and I think I should just tell you to stick with "light activity", and hope that you hit some middle ground. I can't have you breaking an ankle, or taking a tumble, or giving yourself heat exhaustion in the next 3 months. Just hold on for a few more months and then I don't care what you do. Or just think about asking anyone else, "Should I do this?" and then imagine that will tell you "No" and then don't do that thing. Also, come back on Monday. Morning. First thing. I want someone to check on you.

Overheard: Festivus

Him (playing a game on his phone): I found 2 out of 3 hidden bunnies.

No bunnies were harmed in the typing
 of this post

Me: In the game?

Him: No (sarcastically). In the house.

Me: Well, we probably do have at least three chocolate bunnies around here. I had one in the bathroom for a long time.

Him: WHAT??! Why?

Me: I dunno. It was in there and I just keep forgetting to put it with the rest of the candy. The kid got a bunch of them and I just haven't consolidated them. This is weird?

Him: YES! You. Blog. Now.

Me: Um (laughing in a slap-happy way), I don't know if this is funny.

Him: We have actual chocolate bunnies stashed in different rooms of our house. That's got to be funny.

Me: It's just lazy to me, but ok.

0.5

Forgive me, Internet, for I have slacked. It has been four weeks since I last hit a goal. Obviously, there have been a myriad of reasons for the lower-mileage weeks. And I'm pretty mellow about it. This week I ran 10.5, and I'm only 18 miles behind where I should be for my yearly goal. Not too bad.

I squeezed in the 3.5 mile run today because of this conversation:

Me: I have a terrible headache. And probably an ear infection because I'm dizzy. I've been bleeding on and off for weeks, but the doctor said I'm fine. The kiddo has been screaming and hitting all day. Yesterday I ate only Doritos. Sigh. Should I go for a run?

Him: Obviously.

{{45 minutes later}}

Me: Ugh! YES!! I feel SO much better!! I forgot how much better I feel after a decent run. Wow. Thank you! I needed that.

Him: And that's why I'm not a "runner." I NEVER feel like that. I just feel an absence of guilt.

Me: Are you sure you're not Catholic?

Roommates and Friends

I'm starting this post with the non-offensive story first. Warning: After this story, things start to get real.

We got a hamster last week. Here is a list of things about hamsters you may not know:

1. Hamster is German for Hoarder. They hoard their food and it's kind of adorable.

2. Sawyer named the hamster Sweetie (which he pronounces Schweedie).

3. I totally love Sweetie. Watching her is more relaxing than anything else in the world.

4. I have never touched Sweetie.

5. I am scared to death of hamsters.


So having Sweetie in the house is a lot like those old episodes of Maury Povich (before paternity tests were so popular) where hypnotists treated people with phobias. I can watch her, but just the thought of her tiny face or claws touching my skin makes me start twitching. I'll keep you guys updated- but so far I love her from afar.

Now, here's where parents, and those under 18, should turn away. It's an Overheard: text message edition.

Me: :d

Me: I don't know what that is.

Clare: Tape mouth?

Me: It's a lower case d. So.... dickface?

Clare: But it looks like a roll of scotch tape. Dickface is more like :<>

Me: That's a vagina.

Clare: :<3 p="">
Me: :8=o

Clare: Yeas!

Me: I just handed the phone to Stephan and said, "We are trying to make a penis face. Help me." and he refused to look at the phone. He said he's glad I have you for a friend.

Clare: I feel like if he meant that HE'D BE HELPFUL!

Clare: Sometimes I also feel like if we posted our text conversations directly to a blog we'd be millionaires. With less friends, because of the smack we talk.

Me: Now he's doubting our collective creativity.

Clare: He's such a poser.

Me: I can post it, but it's a little racy for my running friends.

Clare: No. Don't post it on your blog. It should be its own anonymous nonsense.

Me: :-3=>

Clare: That's a dude with balls for a nose.

Me: I'm laughing so hard I'm snorting.

Clare: DO NOT GOOGLE HOW TO TEXT A DICKFACE!!!!!!!

Overheard: Aspirations

Me: Sawyer, what job do you want to have when you're a big adult person?

SJ: I want to clean up dog poop, feed a hermit crab that I buy, and help sharks not to be mad or sad.

Overheard: More Drama than Truth

Him: Whacha doing?

Me: [paging through Victoria's Secret catalogue] Planning my comeback.

Overheard: Lecture

I was doing my best wife lecture about the dangers of processed food at my husband last night. Specifically, that the Monster beverages he occasionally indulges in are GOING TO KILL HIM!!!! (I wish I could type more emphatically than just capitol letters)

So I said, "Don't even talk. I know what you're going to say. That you needed that cocktail to keep you safe while driving sleepy. But what if you'd said, "Honey, I just need this one sniff of cocaine?" do you think I would be ok with that?"

To which Sawyer (4 years old) began chanting: Sniff of cocaine!! Sniff of cocaine!!

Best. Parenting. Ever.

FAIL

aka... Stephan and Anna do a cleanse



Me: So, Stephan... what should I tell the internet about our 30 hour "juice fast"?

Him: WE SUCK!!!! No. Don't type that.

Me: First of all, this was not a New Year's Resolution. We've been planning this for years. The first "cleansing" book we bought 6 years ago was about giving ourselves colonics. We might still have that book around here somewhere. I'm glad we didn't do that. Instead, we watched the movie Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead, last winter, bought a Vitamix in the spring, and downloaded the 3 day Reboot with Joe during the summer. We've always wanted to increase our vegetable intake, and figured this would be a good way to start.

Him: Tell them that after 30 hours we felt drunk and unsafe to drive our child anywhere, and we figured we needed some complex carbs and protein. Isn't the truth pretty much writing this post for you?

Me: Uh. Sure. It got pretty bad. And I'm glad we chose to break our blending/juicing reboot/fast with whole wheat toast and eggs, bananas and natural peanut butter, a cheese stick.... and Chicago hotdogs and ribs with fries and soda at Portillos Hotdogs.


[There was so much more to this post.... and somehow blogger.com ate it. I'm SO SAD!]

To summarize, I'm glad we had this experience, we learned a lot about our snacking habits, we want to include more vegetable smoothies in our daily diet, and cops don't believe you when you tell them you're not drunk, you're just "on a diet."

Overheard: Epocrates

Him: How are you feeling?

Me: Terrible. I'm still coughing.

Him: Yeah?

Me: My head is pounding. I would do ANYTHING to get rid of this headache.

Him: Did you take Motrin?

Me: No. I took cough medicine and I didn't know if I could take Motrin with it.

Him: You could have read the ingredients.

Me: I didn't do that.

Him: So you'll do ANYTHING to get rid of the headache except read a label?

Me: [singing]... But I won't do that.... no I won't do..... I would do any-thing for love..... But I won't do thaaaaaaaaaat.

Him: Meatloaf?

Me: Yep.

LOL

Every few months or so I check on the stats for the blog. This week something hysterical happened:

Can you see it? Someone actually searched, "prefer soapsuds to fleet enema" and came up with my blog. I know exactly which blog post this points to... and, honestly, it is much more about the daily life of the spouse-of-a-nurse than anything to do with medical advice.

I hope that person found a real answer to their question.

Overheard: Like Smoking

Me: Man, look out there! It's beautiful!!

Friend: It's 33 degrees and snowing slush. 

Me: Yep. Perfect running weather. 

Friend: Um. No. Perfect sleeping weather. This is why I'm not a runner.

Me: Huh. I mean, I guess it's like smoking... the first few times it's really terrible and gross, and painful, but eventually you start to crave it and look forward to it. It feels like an addiction. 

Friend: Uh... ???

Me: Maybe it's an endorphin addiction? Or, like, your body gets used to the rush of...

Friend: [blank stare]

Me:... the rush of....

Friend: [blank stare]

Me: Yeah. So that's what running is about.

In other news, I took the advice of a few blog-friends and registered for a race. It's the Sub-30 Club virtual 5k. Mostly I love the t-shirt and the charity (Wounded Warrior). I'm not even sure I'll be able to run the sub-30 minute 5k that we're so proud of. I've only done it once, and that was after a ton of training. I'm probably looking at 34 minutes. But whatever. Right? 

Overheard: Motivational Speaker-phone

Me: They sent me home early because they didn't have any clients for me.

Him: That's cool. What are you going to do now?

Me: Stress about my career goals.

Him: That's not productive.

Me: You mean that worrying isn't going to make money any faster?

Him: No. Go for a run.

Me: No. I have too many things to do at home. I have a list of things I'm not doing right now.

Him: It's a beautiful day. 70 degrees. Sunny. Breezy. You're going to miss this in February.

Me: Argh.

Him: Shut up and put your shoes on.

Me: ARGH!!!

Him: It's the phrase that got you through a marathon. It's solid. Get out there.

Me: AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!

Him: You know when you tell me to sit down and do my homework and I don't want to, but I know I have to so I sit down and do it? Now I'm telling you what you have to do, so go do it.

Me: AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!

.......................15 minutes later.....................

Text message from Him: You better be running.

.......................35 minutes later.....................

Text message from Me: You were right. I feel great.

Overheard: Over wine

Me: When you were in the Peace Corps, you had, like, the most remote site. Even JB's site...

Him: Yeah. JB's site had like, gente (trans: middle class). You could buy stuff there. Like eggs.

(I just had to publish this one before I forgot that middle class people buy eggs in rural Bolivia. I'll tell the rest of the story one day. I promise.)

Overheard: Night Shift Reality

Me: I was thinking about waking up early to run tomorrow.

Him: I was thinking about coming home and getting drunk.