Just a game

I was having a stressful afternoon yesterday and wondering if I would make it to the game at all, but my tennis coach got me half priced tickets to the Aces game last night, and I made it to Jeffrey's in time despite a stomachache and three forced detours. We walked over and found our seats- the best we've ever had- and shared a pretty good (and messy) burger. We caught up on each other's lives, laughed with the people sitting around us,  and cheered on the Aces and occasionally the other team when we weren't paying enough attention or when a member of the Baby Cakes had a particularly nice butt.
After playing a month of kickball, we were both newly impressed with the athletic skill on display. There were a couple home runs, but the throws! Oh, the throws. One guy threw this perfect low arc from the far outfield to home plate. The crowd roared, because how the hell...

"Why can't I throw like that, Jeffrey?"
"Because you aren't semi-pro."

Ah. Fair enough.

Even the foul balls were crazy good. I'd be super proud if I hit a foul ball 1/5 of that distance. In other words, they played baseball, but we enjoyed it more, imagining how much closer our bases are to each other and marveling that their hits to the back wall only result in a double. Sometimes ours do too, according to some rule the ump called out at our last game.

We lost that one too, but we are not nearly as bad as we all thought we'd be. We practice weekly, and I think we may win one by skill at least once this season. Jeffrey asked me last night if I was going to play softball. As much as I like the idea of it, the anxiety it gives me outweighs any fun. I played one whole season, so I'm good. I may play kickball again. Jeffrey felt the same way, so we may just be the resident peanut gallery of support for our favorite softball team. Start up a Wiffle ball game though, and I'm there.

As is May in Reno (or potentially anytime here, really), it got cold and windy when the sun went down. Colder than expected or planned for. We shivered through it, because neither of us was willing to leave. We stayed through the end of the game for the fireworks set off to a Katy Perry medley, then shivered over to Harrah's for hot chocolate (Jeffrey) and a London Fog hot tea for me. Somewhat warmed, we headed back to Jeffrey's, where he put some peanut butter on the most delicious bread, and after we talked a while, he played guitar and sang some songs he'd written and some he hadn't and a couple we both knew.

It was a really lovely night, and we agreed that while we'll remember that it was cold, we'll remember the fireworks more. It was a feast last night with the grilled onions and cheesy mustard of the burger, the green, brown and white on the field against the blue sky, chair dancing while being huddled together, craning up at the bangs and cracks of the orange, smoky, and curling fireworks, chewing on an open faced peanut butter sandwich and sipping what truly felt like London fog while absorbing the tones of an acoustic guitar- that is a sound that truly can't be replicated recorded. That night that was sewn into my memory.

At least one

I just got home from a date. It went very well- he was nice and carried on a good conversation, had a sense of humor and a very cute smile. It went on too long, but that's a good sign. I was thinking about about looking for love as a middle aged kook and my mind immediately rushed back to high school and reading Cynthia Rylant's A Couple of Kooks.

At 16, I only understood love as the Romeo and Juliet kind, but Cynthia Rylant wrote about quiet love that surprises more like a plant sprouting in the garden overnight than anything desperate and chaotic like earthquake shocks. Her characters knew they were too old or too young or too plain for love but it showed up anyway, somewhere in the everyday like at the drugstore, and she told their stories as if she was waiting in line that day and was just observant enough to notice it happening.

I remember reading these stories and thinking this was the only kind of love I ever wanted- warm and earnest and unexpected and imperfect, but as real and odd as shower caps or canned peas. I don't know if this guy is the right kind of kook for me, and there really isn't anything to do but to find out, but for the first time since I started dating, I feel like I'm finally starting to find some kooks.

Short update

I hate turning on my air conditioning because an indoor smoker lives downstairs. Any time I turn it on, it immediately reeks in here and gives me a headache. It makes me so mad. Even when I have moments of weakness, I smoke outside. Arrrgghh.

I am getting a new pump! Apparently I need the new one so I can get in line for the new new one, which will be able to incorporate the information from the sensor and if you go too high or too low, THE PUMP WILL AUTOMATICALLY ADJUST. It'll really be like an external, bionic pancreas! When the doctor asked the nurse to get me set up, she turned to me and asked, "Do you want the purple one again?" YES. Love this woman.

I hate the reading for my class. You would be amazed at how many white guys there are postulating about leadership. It's all basically saying the same thing, and I am frustrated by the content, how boring it is, and the fact that we're only assigned a few chapters from each, so I can't even count these towards my Goodreads challenge, which I am behind on.

I spent the weekend running around with friends, but kickball practice and a random trip to Tahoe and hosting dinner all got canceled today, so I dragged my ass up and cleaned and purged and organized. I got rid of a couple big items and one has already disappeared from the mailbox area. I still have to vacuum and read another two chapters of a hated book, but I'm hoping to also finish The Metamorphosis, which has the benefits of being interesting and short.

Tomorrow's kickball game is at 9:45. PM. Yes. Yeah.

Productive Sundays are much better than the usual.

Today was a nice day. I had a massage this morning, then I went to kickball practice. I stole this picture from a friend because I clearly had to.

I haven't been to tennis in a few weeks due to my coach's schedule, my schedule, and my crazy health problems. I got really sick right after Vancouver, and I was struggling just to be at work. I've been really tired and my kickball skills have been sad and gimpy, thanks to my nonstop hip pain. Maybe it was the massage or maybe I'm just finally feeling better, but I started playing like I did at our first practice when I felt like this was going to be fun.

Our pitcher was out today, so I got to step in for part of the practice. I haven't had a steady position yet because we all swapped out during the first game. For the second game, the other team didn't have enough players so they has to forfeit. We lent them a couple of our players and played for fun, and I ended up being catcher with horrible stomach pain and very hurty hips. Our last game got canceled due to work being done on the fields, and I'm kind of looking forward to playing tomorrow night. I hope I feel as good then as I did today. I caught a good handful of balls today, and that hasn't happened for me in a game yet.

For the rest of the day, I did laundry, cleaned, and picked up after myself. I am amazed at how rarely I put things away. It feels like I'm always running somewhere, so that's a good excuse for being messy, but it's overwhelming in a bad way. I spent today trying to prepare for the week and making my future self happy. I took a nice movie break in the middle, but I made myself keep busy until 8, then started watching the BFG, as recommended by Ant.

I won't make it through the movie tonight- I'm already half asleep- but it's nice that so many things are already done and I won't have to do much tonight or tomorrow morning.

I got to spend a few hours with Ant on Wednesday, and we had a nice evening. I made his favorite dinner, but he jumped in to help during the crucial mixing time. He loves his spaghetti carbonara, and his general policy is that we need more cheese.

After dinner, he helped me carry down the recycle and thrift store donations. We dropped those off and headed to Baked Bear, where he got an ice cream sandwich with a brownie on one side and an m&m cookie on the other, with cookie dough ice cream and crushed Reese's Peanut Butter Cups on the outside. Thankfully, I was low and got to sample it heavily.

We had a really nice conversation over those several hours, and while some parts were aggravating in the way that talking to a knucklehead teenager can be, it was overall really interesting and warm. He is a good kid and I always feel lucky to spend time with him. We talked a lot about his dad's current Jerry Springer level drama, and Ant told me that he thinks if he hadn't seen how his dad treated me, he would probably behave in the same way and never think a thing of it. He is also aware of my influences on him, but I tell him and everyone else who tries to give me too much credit that I might have been instrumental, but it's his heart that's always been open. He is a kind and loving person, and I am very proud of him.

I know I have letters to write and projects to start or finish, and I am trying to figure out how to manage my time a little better. I'm starting to feel overwhelmed by stuff and I'm trying to do some purging and organizing. I'm halfway through my class, and the one I'm reaching is almost over! There are career options I'm looking into and I'm trying to become a better friend, a fit athlete, a healthy eater, an effective organizer, and a confident single with a dating life. I've also been thinking about dogs, because I never feel like there's enough on my plate.

I love that I'm busy, and I think a lot about how untethered I am right now. I do not feel like tethering at the moment, but I can get whims. Like this blog, which has no direction, but can be fun anyway.

Alright, that's enough. I just wanted to share this. I know I have Vancouver stuff to post. So many things to do...

Lotiony hair, don't care

I made it! The work week is over.

This was illness and self-misdiagnosis week. It was also hell week, which is when all three leadership programs happen. It was also the week immediately following the Vancouver vacation. (I had a great time and will pester A for pictures so I can share that fun with you.)

We got back Sunday evening, and immediately went to celebrate N's birthday. I left by 8 and was happy to come home. Monday I went to work and felt exhausted, of course, but around noon I started having stomach and back pain. I took a couple ibuprofen and felt better. After work I went home and napped, then woke to find an angrier stomach. I went to kickball, but between my stomach, my exhaustion, and my nonstop hip pain since early March, I limped and lurched sadly around as catcher. We actually won that game, since the other team didn't have enough players show up in the freezing cold, so we donated a couple of ours and played for fun. Only girls are allowed to bunt, so every girl on their team bunted, because I couldn't move very well. Well, all except Sarah. Sarah's not a bunting kind of girl.

After the game, I was in worse pain and I was sore and tired and whiny. I took another couple ibuprofen, but it was clear by 1am that those were doing nothing, so I started doing research.

Oh jeez, the diagnosis adventure I have been on this week. The list of possibilities laid out by me and several nurses, a doctor, and coworkers covers a wide, entertaining to alarming range. Let's just summarize this one by telling you I still have pain in my belly and back, but the symptoms have improved greatly. I've got an appointment with my doctor next week and we'll just deal then. And yes, I will go back in if things get all crazy again. It's been miserable. I stayed home on Tuesday after my early morning ER visit and (don't be alarmed- that's kind of like urgent care) and again on Wednesday when I was still in awful pain and couldn't wear pants. My boss said she knew it was bad when I didn't come in to teach my class. My coworker was prepared to cover it, thankfully. Thursday I went in and was doing pretty well- did my writing presentation in an oxycodone cloud, then made the dire mistake of eating actual food for lunch, and had to run home to get rid of it. I went out and stocked up on Gatorade, diet ginger ale, saltines, tea, and bread for dry toast.

But today... today was the class I'm taking- the one I can't miss. If I miss a class, I'll have to make it up next year and graduate with that group. To hell with that.

Oh god, I wish I could tell you about the last 24 hours, but it's WTMI. It was so awful, and I was up sick all night. I dragged myself into class, though, and it wasn't looking good through the first half of the day. People were checking on me, and the nurse in class told me she was worried. My boss and a classmate brought me crackers and tea, which was the kindest thing ever, and I paced in a small circle in the corner. It got better as the afternoon wore on, and by the end of class, the nurse informed me that my color had returned. I got called a trouper, which always feels nice.

I'm feeling like a trouper lately- for being afraid and checking out the crazy heights on my trip anyway, for keeping myself calm in a prop plane landing in Reno on a very gusty day, for doing my 45 minute presentation while hurty, and for dealing with today. I had a scary, panicked moment last night when my symptoms seemed to align with appendicitis (they really don't, but it was late and I was stressed) and I was convinced that I had screwed up royally and was going to rupture that thing. I found the weirdest solution ever, which was to allow my brain to follow that through and say ok, if that did happen, what would happen next?

It's odd- I don't seem any good at stopping the anxiety, and maybe the key for me is to just not. I love this saying that the only way out is through, and I read recently that that's a big component to PTSD. People get stuck in the trauma when they don't get a chance to work through it.

I have things on file that I keep in my brain for bad times. I saw a funny video compilation on YouTube years ago, and one clip was a truck that overturned, sending a bunch of cows rolling out onto the road. It horrified me, not only because I felt terrible for the cows, but also because who the hell thought that was funny? Maybe you just did. Sorry. It's not meant to make you feel bad, and maybe you're of the mindset that it already happened and it was funny surprising more than funny ha-ha. It just made me feel really bad, long after the cows ever did. When I feel awful about the world, I add whatever self-flogging I'm currently doing into a file called Things That Make Me Feel Awful and review everything in it while I'm there. The cows are imprinted because I keep accessing that memory.

On the other hand, perhaps you remember me writing about the rat that I watched get run over. That made me feel really bad, and you know how bad that felt, because you read about it here. The rat is not in the Awful file, though, because I processed it. I wonder if (and hope that) the cows leave the file now that I have actually taken that thought out of my head and written it down.

So I have always loved drama and trauma stories, and what pulls me is not morbid fascination, but that one desperate, human moment where everything either works out or doesn't. I love the details of that moment- slowing it down and looking at it from every direction, and weighing the decisions made- the whys and the what ifs. Following through on my appendix fear and creating a mental screenplay allowed me to imagine a dramatic moment where I could be heroically stoic. It took me away from panic and into a game plan. If it really had been my appendix, the plan would have immediately veered off in another direction as plans do (definitely one that involved me crying), but thinking about any game plan is better than panic.

In my class today, we were doing a listening exercise that involved sharing a problem and receiving suggestions. Someone told me to make a pros and cons list about mine, which might seem obvious, but it was an interesting challenge to have to quantify my concerns. Are there really that many reasons not to go after this thing that I want, or am I just conflating a bunch of fears? Instead of trying to stop all anxiety or allowing it to stew, maybe the thing to do is give it a voice. It seems the worst that could happen is that I end up with writing fodder. Maybe I can write fiction after all.

Look at me processing and learning and growing and doing hard things. Last night was truly awful, and I knew I'd be exhausted today, but I was going to class anyway. I finally got to sleep around 5:15 and got up when my alarm went off at 6. I took a shower and thought about not washing my hair because I'd just washed it yesterday, but decided to be as put together as possible while being a disassembled mess internally. I was all impressed with myself for functioning on no sleep and making it out of the house, but just at the point when I started feeling like a smart and capable adult in control of her body and mind this afternoon, I reached up and ran my hand through my hair and realized with horror that I never washed the conditioner out. At least I looked as bad as I felt.

Soothe your boobs... in a new bra from TJ Maxx

It just occurred to me that this trip is feeling a little different than I'd hoped because I'm once again celebrating Singles Awareness Day. This should not be how I measure things, but I haven't been out of the country in 15 years and I am looking forward to it and I do feel like I've been juggling too much lately to have done as much research as I normally would. What feels sad to me right now is that it's not feeling like much of a collaborative effort. They've traveled together and I guess there's not much need to discuss logistics with me. I get the sense when I ask a question that I'm being coddled by these weary world travelers, but that might be me being sensitive, which I seem to be a lot lately. But seriously- the last trip was to Sweden with Rachel and while I didn't have any idea what or where anything was, it was her and me talking about it together. I'm feeling like a third wheel, which is admittedly their pet name for me. Amanda and I will be spending two days together while Nataliia is at her conference, and she has definitely tried to discuss what we can go do. I am more worried about the logistics, and that feels like an appropriate thing to consider, especially since it's been so long since I've traveled, and I have to think about insulin and the pump. I won't be able to wear the sensor, since it can't go through certain machines and would make security even more of a PITA, and you can't take it off temporarily. That means I'll have to track my blood sugar myself and guess where it's headed while I'm off my normal food and schedule and walking a lot more than normal. That means bringing extra supplies and being extra vigilant and arrrgghhh it's a lot, and I'm just not a wing it kind of person in this situation.

I know it will be fine once I get there, but I'm probably going to become increasingly anxious until then. What's not at all helpful is that friends' really well-meaning response to that will be "Relax, it'll be fine." So, next on my to do list is the first kickball game, then international travel with an insulin pump and a married couple, followed immediately by another kickball game, delivering a 45 minute presentation, and turning in a bunch of homework for my class. At least I found a lovely journal to take with me on my trip- I'm sure to have a lot to write about.

I know I'm going to have a great time. I know it'll be a lot of fun with good friends, and I will be posting lots of pictures and enjoying good food and silliness. Miss Solo will be in good hands, and yesterday at work I deleted or sorted 1200 emails that have been piling up in my inbox. That felt good. Last night I found an awesome jacket to take on the trip, and I found some shirts and bought a nice new pair of jeans. Today I got new shoes and replaced some crappy old bras. I've been exercising almost daily and I feel better and look better. I'm wearing contacts again and am working on buying a new pair of glasses. Things are pretty good. I just needed to air that out. And drink a beer. I need a beer.

No, you may not come bake a cake in my microwave.

I played well at tennis tonight, which felt nice. My hips are screaming as they always are these days, but I'm gonna finish my burger (and veggies- I have been resisting the fries), feed the cat, go sit in an Epsom salt bath, then do the calm lady half of my yoga DVD instead the half with Rodney "Arm Killer" Yee. Then it will be homework time and- probably five minutes after that- bedtime.

I'm in one of those get shit done phases, so I'm trying to take advantage of it. Today I sent the request for a new insurance agent and interrogated my financial institution about their external transfer system. I got a lot of paper off my desk today, but that's not saying much. Both here and at work, there are many piles. I'm trying to decide what to do with 5 pieces of paper a day. Please ask me how that's going so that I'm embarrassed into keeping that up.

Last night I had 3 friends over for dinner after kickball practice, a picnic lunch, a long walk, and frozen yogurt with them. I made pork tenderloin with roasted butternut squash fries, and Nataliia sautéed some yellow squash, zucchini and onions. For the tenderloin, I tried mustard as the moisture and crushed potato chips as the breading, Ma. It was pretty good, and I astonished myself by eating mustard. I also have some horseradish mustard that I bought when I was crazy, and tomorrow I will try to dig out a hot dog from my freezer to try that.

I went to a Tupperware party on Saturday night and of course bought something or two. One is a mold to make granola bars. I realize that buying Tupperware is just like buying office supplies- it's an expensive illusion that you're going to get healthy and organized. I'm fine with that, though, and I do want to try making my own bars. My favorite part of the evening was when the hostess was asked as a (totally non-leading) party game question which three guests were most likely to throw their own Tupperware party, she started by saying, "Not Jenny, because she's too busy." Hahaha. Yeah, so back off, Tupperware lady.

Onward to another full day.