For a while, I was running 3 miles before work every morning. Then I stopped. I'm not sure why or when or how. It was roughly a month ago.
Post-Thanksgiving, I was ready to get back on board, so the immediate week following, I did cardio kickboxing on Monday. Tuesday and Wednesday I did Zumba. Friday I went to a class called "Fierce" that physically made me sick and so sore it hurt to move for three days.
This week, I'm back to a whole lot of sitting around doing nothing. I think I will blame some demon, tempting me to sit at home and vegetate. Let's blame Screwtape's nephew Wormwood, Junior Tempter. If you haven't read The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis, it might be worth your while.
Monday, I knew I had to buy groceries, so I didn't work out. Wormwood and I had a little chat, and we decided that going to the grocery store is time consuming, so I didn't have time to work out. After shopping, I would need to go home, make some dinner, and then relax after the arduous trials of 30 minutes in a grocery store.
Tuesday (yesterday), work was just awful. Wormwood told me I needed to go home and relax, or there's no way I would survive the week. I concurred.
Today, well, Wormwood was kind enough to remind me that I needed to return some books to the library. I forgot to do it on Monday (though they're not due until Sunday), but it takes all of 5 minutes for driving there, parking, and walking inside to return the books. And I have laundry that needed doing (which I am post-poning until Friday for some reason which actually makes no sense when I try to put it in words). There was just too much to do. The gym must be put off.
In summary, I am sitting, vegetating, as usual. I'm off the hook the rest of the week because the Y is closed. How convenient is that? Wormwood can take the rest of the week and the weekend off. He deserves it. He's been successfully keeping me away from the gym for over a month, only sliding the one week.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Hat Crafting
So my hat project of last year never really got very far. Mostly I found myself in a standoff with some curly yarn that was interfering with the attachment of some eyeballs onto a frog. So I chose to ignore the project for almost a year.
I recently resolved that conflict by giving up on the curly yarn and doing all the stitching on of details with white straight yarn. This hat, of all my hats, defintely has what we in the yarn art world like to call "homemade charm." It looks much cooler on, and I am pretty pleased with the spots on the back. I will say, that considering the yarn, this is the hardest hat I have made. I am still tempted to removed the eyes and redo them.
I recently resolved that conflict by giving up on the curly yarn and doing all the stitching on of details with white straight yarn. This hat, of all my hats, defintely has what we in the yarn art world like to call "homemade charm." It looks much cooler on, and I am pretty pleased with the spots on the back. I will say, that considering the yarn, this is the hardest hat I have made. I am still tempted to removed the eyes and redo them.
(Forgive the quality of the photos. My only camera is my defiantly outdated phone.)
I also recently completed this bear hat, with which I am quite pleased. It turned out fairly well.
A blanket is also in progress. Take that worldy demand for productivity!
Monday, November 5, 2012
Cat Frisbee
My cat has made a recent discovery: cat frisbee.
It's unlike other forms of frisbee because cats, as you well know, lack opposable thumbs, making regular frisbee impossible.
Their small size and puny jaws make fetch frisbee of the dog variety all but impossible.
Ahh but cats have an amazing aptitude for turning any flat object on a smooth above ground surface into a frisbee.
Stack of papers or mail on your coffee table? That could be a frisbee.
Notepad on desk? Frisbee.
Book on nightstand? Frisbee.
You get the point. It turns out though, that the ultimate frisbee is a stiff woven placemat. Boy can those things launch off of a kitchen table.
The irony is that the cat generally has no interest in playing frisbee. It's only a side effect of rapid departure...usually because the cat is caught somewhere the cat is not supposed to be, like on the kitchen table playing with the string tied around the neck of the decorative vase.
It's unlike other forms of frisbee because cats, as you well know, lack opposable thumbs, making regular frisbee impossible.
Their small size and puny jaws make fetch frisbee of the dog variety all but impossible.
Ahh but cats have an amazing aptitude for turning any flat object on a smooth above ground surface into a frisbee.
Stack of papers or mail on your coffee table? That could be a frisbee.
Notepad on desk? Frisbee.
Book on nightstand? Frisbee.
You get the point. It turns out though, that the ultimate frisbee is a stiff woven placemat. Boy can those things launch off of a kitchen table.
The irony is that the cat generally has no interest in playing frisbee. It's only a side effect of rapid departure...usually because the cat is caught somewhere the cat is not supposed to be, like on the kitchen table playing with the string tied around the neck of the decorative vase.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Breaking Out of Poverty: An Exercise in Imagination
In the US, we've got a serious problem with poverty. I see it every day--dirty men curled up on bus benches or meandering the sidewalks. I rarely see women, unless they're old. The younger ones may have better access to resources, or perhaps they're in hiding. If I take my bike, the street I go down passes the shelter. There's often a group of guys hanging out in the shade of the building across the street.
I usually try to say hi.
The early morning street meanderers often don't respond. They, quite frankly, often seem a bit off--crazy. If you think they're lazy bums that need to get jobs, I think you should try talking to them. They need help, serious mental help. Judging by their ages (mostly 60-ish), I think there is a good chance they were in the Vietnam War. My patriotism tells me that I have a debt to these men, regardless of my feelings about that or any other war. Our nation sent them abroad, forced them to witness and carry out terrible acts, and then returned them here. PTS might keep them from working. Or maybe it led to a drug addiction as a means of coping. If they were convicted of drug abuse, they lose veteran benefits. Is their homelessness their fault for drug use? I don't think a nation can violate the mind of another human being with war and then abandon them for showing basic symptoms of that violation.
The group I often pass by near the shelter is younger, late 30s through 50. They are cleaner, saner, willing to engage in a hello. They're even jovial at times. Unlike the crazy wanderers, these men form a community. They are not alone. They also look like they get a shower now and again, like they're a little better fed, like given the right opportunity they could get out of their predicament. Are you upset that they hang outside the shelter waiting for a handout? I'm not. The shelter is the primary tool that helps these men to maintain the social presence that makes them seem normal to me, like they are middle class people my parents could be friends with. Perhaps they lost jobs and then homes, but they are temporary. They're not stuck. They're using the resources available to get out.
Sometimes I ask myself what if I lost my job and home and ended up on the street. How would I get out? I would be right there where those men are, taking handouts from those willing to give it so that I could rise out and up. Without such resources, there's no way I could do it otherwise, but I would be hellbent on paying back that debt when I was done.
Those men, quite honestly, seem better off even than those with places to stay near where I live. The men by the shelter are educated. You can tell they have more opportunity awaiting them. There is hope in their eyes. Go a few blocks further north and you'll see others walking or riding bicycles to work, sometimes driving rusty cars. These folks look beaten, tired. They are working hard and gaining nothing--one paycheck away from starvation or homelessness themselves. These are the ones the system fails most. They can't possibly work harder than they're already working, and somehow, we think working harder will pull them out of this mess.
I'd like to see each presidential candidate sit down with these folks and ask them how they got where they are. Those folks to the north won't have a tale about what went wrong that put them where they are. They've always been there, lacking the resources to get out. One would gladly do it. The other might claim that he would not indulge the excuses of those who would not help themselves.
Then I'd like to see each presidential candidate imagine himself in that position and describe what he could do to get out. I know which candidate can realistically anticipate the barriers of ascension. And I know which candidate does not understand that borrowing money to invest in an unsure future is not a reasonable plan of action for some and that borrowing money to invest is not even an option for others. This candidate is not alone in his failure to imagine this reality outside his own. Millions of American are ill-equipped to understand the difficulty of poverty.
I know barriers exist for these unknown neighbors of mine, and yet I cannot fathom my life with such barriers. Even if I become homeless someday, I am educated and have no physical or mental limitations, preventing me from bouncing back. I have the advantage of middle class culture. I can only image myself as one of those men outside the shelter, equipped to get back into the game instead of lost in a hopeless struggle to survive.
We have human beings here in the US, suffering. I see them. They are not bums. They are not drug addicts. They are not lazy. They are human beings. And yet, it takes seeing them every single day to remind me that they're there and that I should do something. Otherwise I might forget.
But what should I do?
I usually try to say hi.
The early morning street meanderers often don't respond. They, quite frankly, often seem a bit off--crazy. If you think they're lazy bums that need to get jobs, I think you should try talking to them. They need help, serious mental help. Judging by their ages (mostly 60-ish), I think there is a good chance they were in the Vietnam War. My patriotism tells me that I have a debt to these men, regardless of my feelings about that or any other war. Our nation sent them abroad, forced them to witness and carry out terrible acts, and then returned them here. PTS might keep them from working. Or maybe it led to a drug addiction as a means of coping. If they were convicted of drug abuse, they lose veteran benefits. Is their homelessness their fault for drug use? I don't think a nation can violate the mind of another human being with war and then abandon them for showing basic symptoms of that violation.
The group I often pass by near the shelter is younger, late 30s through 50. They are cleaner, saner, willing to engage in a hello. They're even jovial at times. Unlike the crazy wanderers, these men form a community. They are not alone. They also look like they get a shower now and again, like they're a little better fed, like given the right opportunity they could get out of their predicament. Are you upset that they hang outside the shelter waiting for a handout? I'm not. The shelter is the primary tool that helps these men to maintain the social presence that makes them seem normal to me, like they are middle class people my parents could be friends with. Perhaps they lost jobs and then homes, but they are temporary. They're not stuck. They're using the resources available to get out.
Sometimes I ask myself what if I lost my job and home and ended up on the street. How would I get out? I would be right there where those men are, taking handouts from those willing to give it so that I could rise out and up. Without such resources, there's no way I could do it otherwise, but I would be hellbent on paying back that debt when I was done.
Those men, quite honestly, seem better off even than those with places to stay near where I live. The men by the shelter are educated. You can tell they have more opportunity awaiting them. There is hope in their eyes. Go a few blocks further north and you'll see others walking or riding bicycles to work, sometimes driving rusty cars. These folks look beaten, tired. They are working hard and gaining nothing--one paycheck away from starvation or homelessness themselves. These are the ones the system fails most. They can't possibly work harder than they're already working, and somehow, we think working harder will pull them out of this mess.
I'd like to see each presidential candidate sit down with these folks and ask them how they got where they are. Those folks to the north won't have a tale about what went wrong that put them where they are. They've always been there, lacking the resources to get out. One would gladly do it. The other might claim that he would not indulge the excuses of those who would not help themselves.
Then I'd like to see each presidential candidate imagine himself in that position and describe what he could do to get out. I know which candidate can realistically anticipate the barriers of ascension. And I know which candidate does not understand that borrowing money to invest in an unsure future is not a reasonable plan of action for some and that borrowing money to invest is not even an option for others. This candidate is not alone in his failure to imagine this reality outside his own. Millions of American are ill-equipped to understand the difficulty of poverty.
I know barriers exist for these unknown neighbors of mine, and yet I cannot fathom my life with such barriers. Even if I become homeless someday, I am educated and have no physical or mental limitations, preventing me from bouncing back. I have the advantage of middle class culture. I can only image myself as one of those men outside the shelter, equipped to get back into the game instead of lost in a hopeless struggle to survive.
We have human beings here in the US, suffering. I see them. They are not bums. They are not drug addicts. They are not lazy. They are human beings. And yet, it takes seeing them every single day to remind me that they're there and that I should do something. Otherwise I might forget.
But what should I do?
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
The Ugly Face of Politics
The ugly face of politics has been my face. I get all fired up and reason fails, and sometimes I say brilliant things, but they are often hanging right there in the air next to dumb things. And sometimes I get mean and ugly. I hate it when other people do this, and I hate it more when I do it, but I just keep doing it, so I'm going to try to be one of those classy folks who never says a thing about politics and discretely does their civic duty and keeps it all to themself (not that the whole world doesn't already know how I feel).
Instead of this ugly face, I'm going back to focusing on food, my cat, books, and on occassion whatever I'm crafting. I shall revel in the glory of my premature old-lady-dom. It shall be glorious.
The other day I made squash while spouting a narrative of being the squash god in the style of genesis. No, I was not alone. I had a friend present. I shall endeavor more to bare such quirks in lieu of the ugly face of politics. Quirky, squash-god Schurl is much preferable.
Instead of this ugly face, I'm going back to focusing on food, my cat, books, and on occassion whatever I'm crafting. I shall revel in the glory of my premature old-lady-dom. It shall be glorious.
The other day I made squash while spouting a narrative of being the squash god in the style of genesis. No, I was not alone. I had a friend present. I shall endeavor more to bare such quirks in lieu of the ugly face of politics. Quirky, squash-god Schurl is much preferable.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Serious Apartment Hunt (sans Ego)
I've been saying I want to move so I can save more money for forever, but I don't move. Not moving is nice. Why should I really move?
My apartment is secure, and clean, and my neighbors aren't too awful, though sometimes I wish they would spontaneously combust (yesterday morning the two lovebirds next door woke me up singing an off-key duet. Note: these are not actually birds, but mid to late 30-something humans). I also have this great shower with a smooth surface that is so easy to clean. It has a nice low-flow showerhead that still offers pressure, too. I have had some plumbing issues, but maintenance here is great--super quick. I have garage space that I pay a small fortune for, but it's already prevented my car from taking a hail beating and now that I have a new bike, I can put that bike in the garage.
In other words, my life is peachy, but my budget is kind of tight to manage. When I selected this place, I was a single person with no obligations. Now I have committed to a tall awkward other that's 5 hours away, which means budgeting gas to visit and eating out (or buying fancy things to cook fancy at home). This has been a strain, but I manage, mostly by paying off the credit card debt accumulated during unemployment much more slowly than planned. Then yesterday, I committed 5% of my income to a 401k because my employers match the most at that rate, and I'm finally eligible to contribute. I kept doing my budget and thinking, 3% is all I can afford and then I input 5% on the enrollment form anyway. I'll make it work, I said to myself.
So my next step after committing myself to serious retirement savings was to cancel the automatic transfer I have scheduled to my pre-existing IRA. I will re-institute it if I find an adequate place with adequate savings. I also kind of hope to increase what I auto-transfer to my regular savings account and to increase monthly transfer to paying of my credit card. The sooner I pay off my credit card, the sooner I can pay extra on my student loans, which I will be paying off forever, so I don't even imagine life without it as a bill, but I do often dream a few years out when my car will be paid off. It's such an exciting thought.
I've had all of these goals all along, but I rented a secure downtown apartment with codes to get in, and cameras in the halls, and a deadbolt on my door. It's hard to give that up. Lately though, I think to myself, what would I do if I made what I did at my last job? I wouldn't have a choice. I would have to live in one of these other less desirable places that are available. A less secure place where I would watch my back as I walk from my car to my door and probably clutch pepper spray in my hand, mostly out of paranoia, but also because it's better to be safe than sorry.
I had those habits during my undergraduate college career, and I've already moved so far beyond that lifestyle into a land of privilege that I turn my nose up at such living and the people who live in those places, but there are plenty of nice people in poorer neighborhoods. In fact, I miss my old neighbors from my last apartment. They were nicer, and friendlier, and quieter--in interaction they behaved more like people and there was a sort of unspoken pact that we watched out for eachother because there were some unsavory types around. Other than a nod in the elevator, my current apartment is full of people who are just too busy and wrapped up in themselves. Of course, they don't have to worry about me, and I don't have to worry about them, so there isn't a whole lot of necessity for such elements of humanity.
So I've reminded myself that I am not too good to live cheap. People do it every day, and if they're smart about it, they're fine. I do kind of wish I could get a dog for an extra sense of security. I remember one summer living alone in a basement apartment with no roommate, and I used to worry someone would come in through a window in the unused room or something, so I kept a frying pan by my bed and counted on my cockatiel to squawk the alarm from the hallway. Maybe a new cockatiel would be more feasible than a dog?
My apartment is secure, and clean, and my neighbors aren't too awful, though sometimes I wish they would spontaneously combust (yesterday morning the two lovebirds next door woke me up singing an off-key duet. Note: these are not actually birds, but mid to late 30-something humans). I also have this great shower with a smooth surface that is so easy to clean. It has a nice low-flow showerhead that still offers pressure, too. I have had some plumbing issues, but maintenance here is great--super quick. I have garage space that I pay a small fortune for, but it's already prevented my car from taking a hail beating and now that I have a new bike, I can put that bike in the garage.
In other words, my life is peachy, but my budget is kind of tight to manage. When I selected this place, I was a single person with no obligations. Now I have committed to a tall awkward other that's 5 hours away, which means budgeting gas to visit and eating out (or buying fancy things to cook fancy at home). This has been a strain, but I manage, mostly by paying off the credit card debt accumulated during unemployment much more slowly than planned. Then yesterday, I committed 5% of my income to a 401k because my employers match the most at that rate, and I'm finally eligible to contribute. I kept doing my budget and thinking, 3% is all I can afford and then I input 5% on the enrollment form anyway. I'll make it work, I said to myself.
So my next step after committing myself to serious retirement savings was to cancel the automatic transfer I have scheduled to my pre-existing IRA. I will re-institute it if I find an adequate place with adequate savings. I also kind of hope to increase what I auto-transfer to my regular savings account and to increase monthly transfer to paying of my credit card. The sooner I pay off my credit card, the sooner I can pay extra on my student loans, which I will be paying off forever, so I don't even imagine life without it as a bill, but I do often dream a few years out when my car will be paid off. It's such an exciting thought.
I've had all of these goals all along, but I rented a secure downtown apartment with codes to get in, and cameras in the halls, and a deadbolt on my door. It's hard to give that up. Lately though, I think to myself, what would I do if I made what I did at my last job? I wouldn't have a choice. I would have to live in one of these other less desirable places that are available. A less secure place where I would watch my back as I walk from my car to my door and probably clutch pepper spray in my hand, mostly out of paranoia, but also because it's better to be safe than sorry.
I had those habits during my undergraduate college career, and I've already moved so far beyond that lifestyle into a land of privilege that I turn my nose up at such living and the people who live in those places, but there are plenty of nice people in poorer neighborhoods. In fact, I miss my old neighbors from my last apartment. They were nicer, and friendlier, and quieter--in interaction they behaved more like people and there was a sort of unspoken pact that we watched out for eachother because there were some unsavory types around. Other than a nod in the elevator, my current apartment is full of people who are just too busy and wrapped up in themselves. Of course, they don't have to worry about me, and I don't have to worry about them, so there isn't a whole lot of necessity for such elements of humanity.
So I've reminded myself that I am not too good to live cheap. People do it every day, and if they're smart about it, they're fine. I do kind of wish I could get a dog for an extra sense of security. I remember one summer living alone in a basement apartment with no roommate, and I used to worry someone would come in through a window in the unused room or something, so I kept a frying pan by my bed and counted on my cockatiel to squawk the alarm from the hallway. Maybe a new cockatiel would be more feasible than a dog?
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Outdoorsy Materialism
Lately, I am experiencing a new surge of materialism, which is a reminder that one purchase does not quell the desire for stuff but enhances it.
Chris and I both have recently become the proud owners of the material possessions known as bikes. I am very, very happy that we have them. I've been riding mine to work and the Y. Chris has been riding his about 10 miles a day (21 yesterday). I'm sooooo pleased about us having bikes and actually using them.
So am I content to go out and use my bike all the time and forget about making any other purchases? Nope. Yesterday, I bought new sneakers. To be fair, I bought my old pair 5 years ago and have worn the soles smooth-ish. My feet and knees have been hurting after zumba. It was time. After hours reviewing sneakers online, I ordered a pair from Dick's Sporting Goods online.
That should have been enough, but while on their website I also looked at a resistance band and earplugs for swimming. I almost bought both, but I found out I was $1 away from getting a reward that would cover most of the resistance band, so I put that on hold. I convinced myself I need it so I could get a better workout with one of my Denise Austin cheesy 90s workout videos. The earplugs I had been planning to get for some time because I do swim and I also tend to get swimmer's ear, so I feel like that's okay--and those are super cheap.
Materialism quelled? Again, no. I went to track my order to see if they were super fast and had already shipped the items yesterday and somehow found myself looking at canoes and then grills. Ridiculous. Both would be nice, except I would never use them with my partner in crime being five hours away. I'm not very good about doing things by myself.
Instead I made myself a list of activity gear, then I made myself some rules for purchases. Big ticket items like the grill and canoe cannot be purchased until my car is paid off. Little items like tennis balls, reflective gear for biking, and new fitness clothes must be earned. I haven't decided just how yet. I'm thinking maybe a short story or five must be written, polished, and posted on my blog in order to earn such things.
I may have to apply this reward system to clothing shopping too.
Chris and I both have recently become the proud owners of the material possessions known as bikes. I am very, very happy that we have them. I've been riding mine to work and the Y. Chris has been riding his about 10 miles a day (21 yesterday). I'm sooooo pleased about us having bikes and actually using them.
So am I content to go out and use my bike all the time and forget about making any other purchases? Nope. Yesterday, I bought new sneakers. To be fair, I bought my old pair 5 years ago and have worn the soles smooth-ish. My feet and knees have been hurting after zumba. It was time. After hours reviewing sneakers online, I ordered a pair from Dick's Sporting Goods online.
That should have been enough, but while on their website I also looked at a resistance band and earplugs for swimming. I almost bought both, but I found out I was $1 away from getting a reward that would cover most of the resistance band, so I put that on hold. I convinced myself I need it so I could get a better workout with one of my Denise Austin cheesy 90s workout videos. The earplugs I had been planning to get for some time because I do swim and I also tend to get swimmer's ear, so I feel like that's okay--and those are super cheap.
Materialism quelled? Again, no. I went to track my order to see if they were super fast and had already shipped the items yesterday and somehow found myself looking at canoes and then grills. Ridiculous. Both would be nice, except I would never use them with my partner in crime being five hours away. I'm not very good about doing things by myself.
Instead I made myself a list of activity gear, then I made myself some rules for purchases. Big ticket items like the grill and canoe cannot be purchased until my car is paid off. Little items like tennis balls, reflective gear for biking, and new fitness clothes must be earned. I haven't decided just how yet. I'm thinking maybe a short story or five must be written, polished, and posted on my blog in order to earn such things.
I may have to apply this reward system to clothing shopping too.
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