toss, turn, worry, and repeat.

PROBLEMS!

the old hard-of-hearing guy shouted. I jumped at the unexpected volume.

the instructor of this Sleep Better class nodded in agreement.
YES, PROBLEMS ARE SOME THINGS WE THINK ABOUT WHEN WE TRY TO SLEEP.
she pleasantly laughed her open-mouth big-teeth Julia Louis-Drefus laugh.

25 supposed insomniacs - me included - sat in a circle staring across the room in to each other's sunken eyes, fidgeting at any discomfort, shaking our stress out in feet and finger tapping. the meditation practice helps my butt realize just how crappy this chair is, and instead of concentrating on my "ocean breath" I am staring at the velvet kitty-printed turtleneck the woman across from me is modeling.

I don't belong here. but I do.

the 70-year-old Bilbo Baggins in the room interrupts our "Negative Sleep Thoughts" brainstorming to ask WHAT CAN I DO TO FALL ASLEEP AFTER A VERY EXCITING NIGHT WITH MY WIFE?

sigh.
at least the class is free.

in other news...
...dog beaches that are also nudist beaches result in naked people having lengthy (and close) conversations with me about how cute my dog is. thanks. and also, no thanks.
...my 7 aunts recently discussed the definition of 'teabagging'. loudly. while they were drunk. at a busy winery. (I will not be returning)
...#1 reason for Rome to learn how to use the toilet?

acHOO!

from this place I sit, I hear laughing crows and hummingbird wings.

I scream-sneeze, and Romeo rushes to the door to ensure I am still alive.

it is not a horrible day.

last week, we visited the beach together. it humbles me to see Romeo excited to simply get in my car, regardless of the destination. in a lot of ways, I feel that same lost joy.
it does not matter where I go, because in being there, I will be happy.

sometimes I suggest an adventure to someone other than my dog, and in return I hear...
Is it supposed to be fun?
Will it be good?
Have you been there before?
Does it have decent reviews?

DOES IT REALLY MATTER? "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times" are both nothing without times. just go, and decide for yourself.

in other news...
...in a recent gym competition, I ranked 3rd (out of 12) for my 3 minutes and 10 seconds plank. I felt proud.. until the trainer told me the winner recorded a time of 5:30. NO ONE TOLD ME WE COULD TAKE STEROIDS.
...QUOTE OF THE DAY goes to my father, who exclaimed over the phone: I KNOW I HAVE TOO MANY HOBBIES AND AM DISCOMBOBULATED. BUT THAT'S SUPERFLUOUS BULLSHIT.

it was a run-by pooping

my purse, gym bag, pair of heels, laptop bag, and a set of keys juggled to the ground as I unstuck a note taped to my front door.
after blaming the note for everything wrong in my life (I was hangry), I read the bubbly-written letter aloud to Romeo.

even HE rolled his eyes at the number of "OMG"s in this thing.

in summary, a fellow tenant threw a bag of dog poop in to my patio and broke something.

I cannot say Romeo's poop has ever broken anything. (EVER). I mentally applaud her rock-digesting pup while racing to my patio to see the damage.

a decorative light was smashed... glass pieces lay beside the guilty poop-bag defendant.

over the next 24 hours, I marvel at the fact that a stranger's bag of dog poop was
a) hurled in to the air
b) hurled in to MY PATIO and
c) broke something.

I was (and still am) pretty amused.

since she offered to fix it, I told her it was simply from Target and not a big deal.

the next day, I returned home to a gift on my door step. she not only purchased the replacement bulbs, but wrapped them in tissue, placed them in a bag, and included a card.

BEST POOP-HURLING DAY EVER!!

in other news...
...2 pink Peeps is what I had for breakfast. I am pretty sure Easter candy exists because someone said HOW WILL WE GET FAT BEFORE NEXT CHRISTMAS??
...I spent 10 minutes earlier watching cat videos. on CNN. so, you know... it was NEWS.

blue and bluER

on Thursday, Romeo was 6.
on Friday, Romeo was 7.

weird how birthdays work that way.

since he can not speak English, I told everyone we saw IT'S HIS BIRTHDAY TODAY!! (after about the 5th time, I felt crazy. not a BIT crazy. rather, full crazy)

everyone reacted in the same happy manner though, saying something like OHH IT IS?? HAPPY BIRTHDAY CUTIE! (which was weird coming from the dusty and decrepit "zombie" man in my complex) then I would walk away proudly as Rome made a birthday-doo.

truthfully speaking though, I strongly dislike pets' birthdays. it reminds me that Rome is not forever - he has an expiration date.
I hate that.

as a kid, I would spend maybe... one day a month mourning my at-that-time-alive cat's future passing. we would lay on my day-bed together buried in stuffed animals and frilly pillows. she would purr, I would cry.

what a waste of a perfectly good ball-throwing, roller-skating, cat-playing, dirt-throwing, mom-yelling day.

so rather than curling up in bed with Rome (sans stuffed animals since I am old now), we went for a long walk together.

happy birthday to my favorite pooper!

in other news...
...you know those moments in shows and movies where brave (or stupid) people (or blondes) open doors in dark places?.. goosebumps and chills wave through your body? within a matter of a few seconds, these people have determined going in this room, turning this corner in search of a murderer or alien (or whatever Dr. Who is looking for) is a necessary thing.
it takes me 10 minutes to kill a spider.
in bright light.
after mapping out a detailed plan AND backup plan.
with NO scary music.
...I made cheesecake for the first time. also? I ate HALF OF A CHEESECAKE for the first time.
...Rome's birthday walk led to 1 mile's worth of blue and bluer trees.

5'8, 210lbs, male with short hair, dark plaid long-sleeved button shirt

EXCUSE ME MISS?

a feeling of dread rushed through me and I quickly made sure nothing fell out of my pockets. the mysterious guy that had just passed by me during my late night walk with Romeo had decided to turn around, walk back toward me, and get my attention.

after facing him, I scan his features, height, and clothes - I am going to be able to accurately describe this man if need-be.

WHAT BREED IS YOUR DOG?

Romeo gets this a lot and normally it is not a question that causes alarm. but in this case, it is dark. really dark. too dark for him to have any interest in the breed of my mutt that would require him to change direction and catch up to me.

How did you even see my dog? I asked him.
he did not answer.
He is Beagle Pug Chihuahua.

OH, BEAGLE CHIHUAHUA while watching Romeo pee on something.

No, Beagle PUG Chihuahua.

OOH, BEAGLE CHIHUAHUA. (again)

clearly he was not listening to me and this convinced me further that he did not care about what he was asking.

IS HE A PUP?

Actually he is almost 7.

OH REALLY. He bends down to let Rome smell him and I imagine myself punching him in the throat if he hurts him. Rome obliges, sniffs his hand, and looks at me for direction: bite? no bite?

Ok well, have a good one! I say. sweat has soaked through my clothes during that short exchange and I zip my jacket down a bit as I walk away from him and closer to street lights. turning my back to him was uncomfortable but moon-walking to the corner was a bit far.
glancing back to ensure I was not being followed I see he is still standing there. staring.

JUST WATCHING he shouted. I walked faster.

TIGHT LITTLE ASS! I walked much faster.

upon arriving home, every lock was locked, every blind was blinded, and I stared out my peep-hole for 20 minutes.

needless to say, I have changed my walking route.

in other news...
...Olympics start tonight! I am happy to have Polina Edmunds (figure skater) to root for... she is a sophomore at my high school, Archbishop Mitty. proud!!
...does anyone ELSE find it ironic to cast Robert de Niro in a role that calls for paralysis to half of the face?

how does that make you feel?

"my office moved" my doctor said as she escorted me through the halls.

upon entering it, I realize it looks exactly the same and that I might possibly be having an Inception moment.

"the windows are slightly bigger" she added. oh ok. (very slight)

her uncomfortably sanitary couch is my 'safe' place.

safe to say what I want; how I feel (no matter how stupid); that dumb thing I did last night that I do not understand. she does not judge or gasp; compare or look at me in a way that makes me feel wrong. instead she listens, prompts me to find answers to my own questions, remembers the names of people in my life, and laughs when I say something funny.

(I bet she has a lot of friends)

coincidentally, her waiting room could not be more opposite (I exaggerate. it could be more opposite).

it is a room shared with other doctors and is typically decorated with someone that is sobbing, someone that is talking too loud about personal stuff with a stranger (who is trying to get away), someone still in their pajamas, someone complaining loudly about the water cups being cone-shaped, someone deciding this is the best place to dump everything out of her purse and clean it. on the ground.

sigh. those stupid cups.

in other news...

...the big spider I smashed in my bedroom last week was more impressive than this year's Super Bowl. at least I did not dirty my shoe for it.

...being stressed, worried, not sleeping, and not eating is resulting in me doing dumb things to my boyfriend. or is it the other way around?

...how do you stop a Ruferee from throwing flags on the play?

putting out fires

"for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so"
Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2

the mind is a powerful (evil and wonderful) tool.

it can turn a prospective birthday party in to a mental breakdown.
it can make a catastrophic hospital visit, calm.

in 3 months, I turn 33 (I think). my mind writes my 'birthday party' story as such... I am turning old, living alone, with a sad dog, no kids, behind on everything that is 'normal', without any real quality to entice people to celebrate, anyone that does come does it out of sympathy.
I will cancel it the day before.

2 years ago I visited my uncle at the hospital. instructed to say my final goodbye, I stood next to him... with tears threatening, my mind took a photo of myself there - in that room at that very moment - and put it in a 'box'. I imagined that box getting smaller. further away. like zooming out in Google maps. that frantic emotion was contained and I was able to talk to him.
he improved and is still with us today.

both of those examples may make you question my sanity... but Mr. Shakespeare was right. thinking is what makes something good or bad.

consider me in training for the good side. I hope you join me... if you are not already there.

in other news...
...today smelled like rain. just smelled. (drought still happening)
..."your feelings result from the messages you give yourself. In fact, your thoughts often have much more to do with how you feel than what is actually happening in your life" - David D. Burns, M.D.
...I was slightly disappointed Romeo sold-out.

5 second rule

WELL, SOUP ISN'T HARD TO MAKE - said my uncle after I proudly remarked on my excellent first attempt at Chicken Tortilla Soup.

no offense taken. after all, this is the guy that cooks bacon-wrapped mango-and-jalapeno-stuffed duck breast for the NFC championship game (imagine what he would cook for the Super Bowl).
he is my 'family chef' idol.

besides, the soup was for my sick boyfriend who dislikes the typical chicken-soup-for-sick-people remedy... so, if learning something new (albeit 'easy') will make him sound like he is not dying then I am all for it.

in other news...
...Richard Sherman's nickname should be: No Human's Hero.
...yesterday I spent an hour making my parents' kitchen QUIETER. seems like an odd way to spend a vacation hour now that I think about it.
...so, I asked my boyfriend to feed my dog...

dog magnet

my car was hit by a dog.

you read it right.

my Romeo was in a fit of excitement over an unexpected visit from his buddy Bolt (you know, the dog who is constantly being chased by his owner around the apartment complex). Romeo and Bolt danced together in a tight annoying circle, sniffing butts and faces until I told Rome ENOUGH. GET IN THE CAR.

well, remember those game shows where a contestant gets to pick 1 of 2 doors - one has a convertible behind it and the other has a year's supply of oatmeal?
Rome picked the oatmeal.

the car door that had been open 2 minutes ago was now shut and his attempt to show-off his jumping skills by getting in the car without looking led to him propelling his little body straight in to my Xterra's steel.

sigh.

Bolt and his owner shyly withdrew.

luckily Rome was okay. his heart raced while I held him and inspected his head, nose, teeth, gums, chest, and paws. my dad observed him for the remainder of the day and assured me via text ROMEO LOVES BARKING AT THE ROOFERS. good boy!

my steel now shows tiny scratches from tiny paws. a badge that proudly states THIS CAR IS OWNED BY A TRIATHLETE AND HER SMALL AND RARELY STUPID DOG.

in other news...
...time to start peeing on your plants (or fires). we are officially having a drought!
...is facebook really that important that we are inventing cars to drive on their own?
...I know I am watching too much Dr. Who when I start trying to recreate the Tardis sound several times a day.

who threw up in the kitchen???

twoTHOUSANDtenPLUSfour

we are 14 days in and the stupidest thing I have done thus far is step in dog poop.
and then gum.
in new running shoes.
not bad actually.

oh wait - I did write a check to sixty eight dollars instead of Maria Lindenmuth.
(sshhh)

a friend this year emailed me his 2014 resolutions - all cycling related. I admired the strategy of making it public to friends who would hold him to it. fortunate (or unfortunate) for him, I am no where near his speed and / or strength to even KNOW how he does with them. but do not fret friend! I will STILL SUPPORT YOU (from several miles back, or possibly even from bed).

I picked a resolution out of a jar (really, I did) and got WRITE A PRISONER A LETTER (www.writeaprisoner.com).
it is not a BAD idea I suppose. so long as I do not have to include my measurements and / or address.
(or a shiv)

do you have a resolution?

in other news...
...I love it when my router is broken because it was accidentally unplugged (whew! major meltdown averted)
...a brown candle looks a lot like the chocolate milk I just poured myself. however it does NOT, taste the same.
...why do dogs always vomit at 4am?

action items -by Romeo Lindenmuth

my mailman 

- not OK. must bark with high pitch at the slightest scent.

anyone's mailman 
- not OK. same as above.

any mailman's car, in any city, any where 
- not OK. but not as evil if unoccupied.

any person with a leaf blower, lawn mower, vacuum, or motorcycle (even those 3-wheeled ones) 
- not OK. nibble wheels or boots if possible.

anyone behind my front door 
- not OK.

anyone at my front door with the door open 
- OK. smell crotch and / or punch penis.

cat that runs away 
- not OK. deserves to be run after.

cat that does not run away 
- OK. but awkward. makes me throw up in my mouth and swallow it.

dark large pipes on the side of the road at night from the car 
- not OK. growling sufficient.

person walking towards me from 2 blocks away wearing baggy pants and a hat 
- not OK. bark but also wag tail just in case.

something that lady drops on the kitchen counter that resembles the sound of a burglar breaking in 
- not OK. prepare to get sprayed with water bottle.

real squirrel 
- not OK. must destroy.

stuffed squirrel 
- depends on if I just saw a real squirrel.

groceries 
- OK. open bags with face as this is my duty.

children talking outside 
- OK.

adults talking outside 
- not OK. clearly they are plotting against us. must sound bigger in my barks.

something I did not hear 
- not OK. but this will get me attention. prepare for possible water bottle spray.

anything that could be made smaller 
- not OK. make it smaller. barking / growling not necessary.

Mt. Weekend

what month is it again?

this morning, whilst yawning and farting in bed (yes, simultaneously) I remembered I had promised a friend I would accompany him on providing a tour to a visitor at our work establishment.

in an hour.

Romeo was not too pleased with his rushed short walk but you know what? I am the bread-winner. and the bacon-bringer-homer. so he can shove it (while I pray he doesn't poop on my pillow - at least not until I return home).

the brevity of the tour made me realize just how sad my work site is, but also how much of an advocate I am for it. it is small, unspectacular, without fountains, void of free items (except crappy coffee that is always cold), and cubicles smaller than most hotel restrooms. but the parking is covered, the gym EXISTS, and I can walk in the park during lunch if I so choose.
that seems like a pretty simple recipe for happy if you ask me.

being able to find more post-its somewhere would be nice but, first-world problems you know?

...

if you have not noticed, biking entries have dwindled. two major bike rides are right around the corner yet time has held me ransom to only gym running and lifting, daytime parties, and squats in my kitchen. I have done some hills during the week after work but, at this point? anything less than 50 miles does not count.
therefore I am amping myself up for an unachievable upcoming weekend goal.
Friday? Mt. Diablo
Saturday? Mt. Tam
Sunday? Mt. Hamilton

in other news...
...my butt quivers simply thinking of the total elevation climb coming its way
...pull-ups are my new gym-enemy. gynemy. gymemy. engymemy.
...suppositories are not as bad as they sound
...at the dog park today, I made Romeo give me a high-5 every time he ran to me. good game Rome
...what is your favorite congratulatory food? I will combine them all Sunday night for dinner before I pass out on my plate.