Today is furlough day, and it’s a rare furlough day when I’m not at the dentist these days. Instead, I went to a Kaiser appointment for a physical, and to check up on why I’d been gasping for breath for the past couple weeks. Of course, by the time I obtained this appointment, the breathing difficulties have been over. My first air-restriction-less day was Monday. I sat there at Ann’s apartment chatting with her and suddenly realized, I was breathing normally! Tuesday wasn’t bad, either, despite walking to lunch and back. I also haven’t gymmed in a few days, maybe that helped. The doctor checked me over and said all four quadrants of my lungs sound great, I don’t appear to be anemic, I’m in great physical shape, oxygen saturation at 100%, blood pressure 104/59, pulse at 62. He was impressed by the decades of gym dedication and said I’ve saved myself from at least 80% of physical ailments due to my exercise regimen. He ordered a blood test to rule out anemia and kidney disease anyway, just in case.
At the lab, I was freaking out remembering my last blood-draw experience at a different Kaiser, and I expected to be pricked 3 times on each arm for nothing before they threaten to draw from my foot. *shudder* Instead, the guy had me squeeze the ball, tied my arm, did a poke-poke inside my elbow with his fingertip, set up his needles and test tubes, did another poke-poke, wiped my arm with a swab and wiped it off with a dry swab, I turned my head, he poked with a needle, I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was rapidly changing test tubes as I filled what I needed to fill, and he pulled the needle out and taped a cotton ball to the prick site. “Okay, you’re all done,” he said, not a hint of stress on his face.
“Wow, you’re SO MUCH BETTER than the last phlebotomist I had!” I said in happy surprise.
He said modestly, “Oh really? Probably just my lucky day.”
So now we wait for blood results to see if the cause for my sucking wind can be uncovered there.
Earlier in the week I received my dental statement for the work Dentist Andy had to do on a molar that had a chunk crack off last month. It was just shy of $1K. Insurance took care of about half, and I paid the other half out-of-pocket. That was the second or third time that a molar fell apart on me; the first one was while eating a Zone bar some years ago, and I had another one that seemed like the filling and part of the tooth fell out, and Andy had repaired both last year, and this one happened while I was eating a panini last month. Andy determined the tooth was so compromised that I needed a crown, so I have a temporary crown in place right now (my first one, and I was hoping that’s the end of crowns for me) and the permanent one will be installed next month. Well, on the same day that I received the dental statement, I was laying in bed when I realized I was so thirsty, that I just HAD to go downstairs for a drink of water. While I was drinking, I realized I hadn’t flossed yet that night, so I went to the bathroom and started flossing. The floss got a little stuck between two teeth (on the opposite side of where I had the temporary crown), so I gave it a little tug. That freed the floss, all right, but it also freed something else that flew out of my mouth and landed with a rattle on the bathroom sink counter. I looked closely, and recognized it immediately. I mean, I’ve had enough practice. It’s a chunk of ANOTHER molar!! Who the hell’s teeth fall apart like this?! I’ve been going to the dentist nearly every furlough day to get work done and just when I was finally done, my teeth start falling apart. I already have a dental appointment for mid-January for the crown, I suppose I’ll just wait till then. I went back to bed and laid there lamenting and regretting my thirst and good oral hygiene (WHY did I have to floss?!) and gave myself acid reflux all night.
On top of teeth problems, I’ve also been having the old breathing difficulty again. It feels kind of like my lungs are unable to expand to take in more air, or the air isn’t filling up as much as it should, even though I can tell air’s coming in. I think it may just be a sensation of not having air since I’m not wheezing or choking or anything. Maybe something’s wrong with my diaphragm. I end up gasping for deep breaths, trying to get all the air in I can, and then get light-headed from hyperventillation. That means I must be getting some oxygen, right? I asked Vicky yesterday whether anemia would cause the sensation of not getting enough air, and she said yes, so maybe that’s it. I’d rather think it’s that (which makes sense cuz this happens when I’m eating little-to-no red meat, such as the summer before my wedding and now), or what she thinks — slight bronchial inflammation from the cold or the bad air quality — than to think it’s something like lung cancer. I had the suffocating feeling fairly often summer of ’08, then periodically earlier in the year, and recently it’s been all the time, all day long, so I finally had to call the doctor for an appointment. The attacks have never lasted this long; usually they’d come and go within minutes, and in the past week it’s all the time. I also think I may be a little short of breath, as at the gym I now have to stop and breathe before moving on to the next exercise. If I’m sitting very still, I don’t have the problem.
All this could only mean one thing — my manufacturer’s warranty must have just expired.
As a general rule, it’s easier to prevent than to repair, right? It’s much more economical in the sense of time, money, stress, etc. to prevent a problem than to have to fix a situation that’s already occurred. Why, then, do we as a species put so little thought into prevention? We could eradicate HIV. We could dramatically reduce car collisions. We could save ourselves years of heartache. I’m more aware of prophylactic measures and make more effort than your average Joe to keep myself from being in a situation I’d regret later, but average Joes roll their eyes at me. I look back at my life, and have I really missed out on anything by being the way I am? I honestly don’t think so. I don’t get a high from dangling from the edge of destruction and being able to come back to tell about it. It makes no sense to me — why gamble with something that has no gratification? It bugs me to watch people close to me take risk after risk just because they’re impatient or can’t see anything beyond a potential miniscule reward. I constantly picture one of those old-fashioned scales in my head like the one that Lady Justice carries: on the left is arriving at the destination 30 seconds sooner; on the right is traffic ticket, traffic school, further delay as the cop issues the citation for the crazy illegal manuever just pulled, or maybe a collision with expensive repair bills and/or injuries. It’s a no-brainer to me, but apparently, only to me. I quit drinking sodas 3 years ago and aside from the occasional splash of lemon-lime in a mixed drink I may order, haven’t looked back and have saved myself 3 years (and counting) of chemicals, dehydration, sugar, empty calories, fat cells.
So I was thinking this morning, why human nature doesn’t just do the easy thing, foresee the plausible outcomes of a decision and make the smarter one. It’s not much more effort than the other thing, and often it’s less effort! A stitch in time saves nine, right? I think our brains are just not designed to be affected enough by negative possibilities. The possibility of a car accident doesn’t spur us to not speed or run yellow lights; the potential of something being messed up that we’d have to repair later doesn’t keep us from NOT messing that thing up. But the panic induced from having to repair something broken drives us to action. It just seems so very backwards and unnecessary, that we have to be goaded by negativity and not encouraged by peace and tranquility.
Oh well…people robbing banks cuz all they see is the next 10 minutes of being in possession of wealth — as opposed to the 10 minutes after THAT of police chase, jail, humiliation and disappointment of their family, etc — is what gives me job security, I suppose.
(All photos and videos courtesy of Claudio’s camera; rest mouse pointer over photos for captions.)
Mr. W and I celebrated the coming of November by enjoying our nice SoCal kayaking weather with Dwaine and Claudio.
I hadn’t seen Claudio in YEARS (10+, I’d say), and only recently reconnected with him through an online networking site. I’d always liked Claudio, but didn’t know him very well. He was just “Dwaine’s buddy Claudio.” The last time we saw each other was over a few games of paintball, so obviously nobody was sitting around having in-depth conversations. Over the years of hearing Dwaine’s me-and-Claudio stories, I felt like I’d somehow kept in vicarious contact with Claudio, so it was really fun to “hang out” with him online, cracking jokes and instigating gym challenges, until we could finally meet up in person. That brings us to Sunday, November 1.
The guys came over to our house, changed into swim gear, and we were off to the Lake. Claudio and I had planned to jog the mile there, and since Dwaine was excluded from the planning process, he didn’t have veto power. I heard he was a good sport and simply packed the proper gear for jogging and swimming. This was Dwaine’s second time kayaking, and he’d improved immensely from his first time.
So confident was he in his new kayaking abilities, that he had to balls to do this:
After arriving home, we sat in the backyard, had a couple of drinks (water for Dwaine and me; Coronas for Mr. W and Claudio), then set off for dinner at Chipotle.
“Did you guys shower before going in there?” Jordan had asked.
“Of course not, then we wouldn’t smell as athletic,” I’d answered. The day was a lot of fun regardless of how we smelled to everyone else.
Yesterday was Mr. W’s first day back at work since mid-February’s heart attack incident. Because we moved so far from work, we carpool to work, so it was nice to have the carpool lane back now that I wasn’t driving on my own anymore. It wasn’t as nice to have to leave the house 90 minutes earlier than I had been, in order to accomodate Mr. W’s different work hours.
Speaking of work hours, mine were all mucked up yesterday because in order to accomodate a juror’s need to leave for a meeting at 2:30p, my judge shortened our lunch by half an hour, and then advanced lunch by another half hour to give more time to the trial in the afternoon before the juror had to leave. That means there wouldn’t be enough time for noontime gymming. I decided I may as well get an oil change, then. So yesterday morning, I dropped Mr. W off at work, dropped my stuff off at work, drove to a popular mechanic that just about everyone in the courthouse uses, dropped the car off, and then jogged the 1+ mile back to work in time to change, put on my makeup, and be in my seat well before trial began. At lunchtime, I couldn’t get a ride since everyone else’s lunch hour doesn’t start until 12 and ours was moved to 11:30, and I didn’t have time to wait since our lunch was shortened, so I took a brisk walk over to the auto shop. I would’ve jogged again, but it was about 95 degrees outside and I didn’t have the time that day to mess around passing out from heat exhaustion. I did find that my quick pace almost exactly doubles my jogging time. I picked up my car and drove back to work in just enough time to change and slide back into my seat before trial began again for the afternoon session. The good AND bad thing about this was that my total caloric intake up to that point was 0.
I got such a great deal on my oil change (<$60 as compared to the dealership price of $200+) that Mr. W wants to get his oil change there, too. So this morning, we drove his Prius in to work, again, he was dropped off, then I dropped my own stuff off, drove to the mechanic, dropped Car #2 off, jogged to work, changed, slid to my desk. And now we're in trial. But we have our normal lunch today, so Mr. W is going to walk with me to pick up his car, and then we'll have a mini lunch date. Ah, the romance of skipping through a gang-infested city to pick up a car, hand-in-hand, singing tra-la-la. (I didn't even use my iPod any of the times I jogged back to work, because I wanted to be able to hear if someone were coming at me, and because I didn't want to get jacked for my Shuffle.)
I did think, as I ran through the cool air and very sunny morning earlier to make it back into work by 8am, that morning runs are pretty nice and I was going to miss not having the excuse to do this jog in-between oil changes.
I had an epiphany in my car on the drive to work today. Relive it with me. Play this below as you read.
Okay. You’re flying low, 90 mph with 306 horses purring underneath the control of your right foot, leather steering wheel of your luxury sports sedan smoothly steady in your hands, this song pumping in Mark Levinson premium surround sound.
As your right hand involuntarily lifts off the wheel to mark each pulsating rhythmic beat, you find your body swaying ever so slightly left and right, and then more defiantly now, until you are dancing in your seat. The music matches your elevating mood, draws it farther upward, triggering your body to release adrenaline and endorphins. “Let it rock, let it rock!” I’m sick of being stressed. I’m sick of feeling immobile. I choose, right now and here, to be AWESOME instead. Thank you, Barney Stinson.
I refuse to be powerless. I will not spend my youth watching things pass by. Screw the walls I keep turning into. I can’t wait to start doing, effective immediately.
The stress has done its thing in the recent past days. The below photo is from Tuesday, when I was so not-feeling-it that I called in sick to work. Some hours went by when I moped in bed for awhile, but then I forced my body into submission (so to speak) by making it trek the 2 hilly miles to the Lake, kayaking for an hour, and then of course returning on foot.
The result was kind of funny. During the hike there and back, I was in a tanktop, which resulted in a deep bronze tan on my arms and outer shoulders. Kayaking was done in the outfit above, and I got sunburned with the reflection off the water, so my upper shoulders are pink. Of course the parts the straps covered, which also re-covered the Dominican Republic’s bikini tan, is soft white. My shoulders now look like Neopolitan ice cream. I am now Awesome Neopolitan Ice Cream.
(I can’t wait for “How I Met Your Mother” to return.)
I haven’t done anything dramatically different in the past couple of weeks, but the needle’s flying up on the weight scale. You know those swimsuit photos taken, what, 2 weeks ago? Add 8 lbs to that. Yeah. Unbelievable. Since those photos, I’ve been running more, and pretty consistently hitting the weights. On the other hand, I’ve also PMSed and fallen victim to the courtroom assistant’s evil implantation of a giant jar of M&Ms in the courtroom. Other than that, I have eaten lightly, though…had a lot of sushi, as you can tell from the previous post. Maybe it’s a combination of an increase of carbs in the forms of chocolate and white sushi rice. Or maybe all the mercury from fish consumption is weighing me down.
Most likely, though, things have aligned to make sure I once again look gross in a swimsuit, since my vacation with Jordan (to be joined halfway through by James) in Orlando, Florida begins next Sunday. Our intinerary doesn’t hit Clearwater Beach until next Thursday, so I have a week and a half to make an extreme attempt at recovery, i.e.
* cutting as much carbs as I can
* doubling up on long runs
* cutting sugar
* chugging water, in case what I’m experiencing is a bloat
I’m really excited about the trip since Jordan is one of my favorite people to run amok with, cuz she’ll match me blow-for-blow in ridiculousness, goofiness, and take photographic evidence of all that, too. James is also usually game for anything. Plus, I miss my big sister. I’m excited about Clearwater Beach after reading all that Flat Coke & Flies has posted and gushed about it; I know it’s a favorite vacation spot for her and her boyfriend Bat. (I wonder if the stuff I write make people want to see specific places/restaurants for themselves, too.)
Mr. W will join me toward the end of the first week in Florida, we’ll hit up the Disney stuff, and then he and I will move on to the Dominican Republic to a resort. Read: more swimsuit time.
Yesterday morning I took leave of my boy…
…and went to work as usual. In the morning, I received an email from college roommie Diana stating she’s now in town on her business trip. We finalized our after-work meeting up plans. I would hit the gym at lunchtime as usual with Gym Trainee, then meet up with Diana afterwards for a run (GREAT weather this week, high 70s F, cool breezes, clear skies) before dinner.
Unfortunately, I went for another long hilly run over the weekend and left my shoes at home. Again! I didn’t even realize this until Gym Trainee and I were almost at the gym. I was so upset coming back to work, thinking my evening running plans were foiled, too. But then I remembered my Courtroom Emergency Shoes. I had Emergency Trunk Shoes (an old pair of running shoes) before, which my mother insisted I turn into Courtroom Emergency Shoes in case the building collapses while I’m at work and I have to pick my way out of debris, gravel, and broken glass in my heels. I decided yesterday that I have more occasion to use Emergency Trunk Shoes for all the times I’ve arrived shoeless to the gym, than to use Emergency Courtroom Shoes, so that’s how that pair of shoes got its old title back.
I met up with Diana at fancy South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa, where she was attempting to buy a dress.
I say “attempting” because I walked in 10 seconds before she discovered the dress she’d been eyeing for weeks and finally decided to buy could not be purchased with an American Express card, which was all she had on her. Haha! I just spotted her the purchase and she paid me back in cash later on. What are college roommates for, right?
We walked to her hotel from there, across the street, changed and got ready for our workout.
We thought we’d hit both cardio and weights, since I missed the noon workout. The hotel’s small gym was fairly decent. We did a 30-minute treadmill run and carried a full conversation the entire time. That made the time fly. Then we did some random resistance training.
I like the above photo for several reasons. One, it’s a fun angle. Two, Diana and I are both in it. Three, I got to secretly include the woman who came in to work out in JUST HER BRA. See her reflection in the mirror on the treadmill.
On the way out from the gym section, we passed by the pretty outdoor pool and patio area. It was beautiful, and we wished we could’ve taken advantage of the conversation areas with more friends — the pool area had lounge chairs set up…
…the outdoors lounging area had large L-shaped outdoor couches, firepits, low tables, high barstools around pedestal tables.
And, cabanas. Ahhhh…
Hey, I just saw that I’m still wearing my workout gloves. Haha, what a geek.
After that shot, Diana and I went back to her room, showered, and went to Irvine for some Korean Soon Tofu. Yum. Of course after that we hit up Mochilato and had a giant Italian-style shaved ice. I was so full driving home that as soon as I went inside, I only had time to hand Mr. W a little gift box of four assorted mochis I’d selected for him, before crashing to bed upstairs.
Some weeks are so bad that all you can find for the lowest common denominator between the week and motivation to not leave heavy-duty stapler dents on a coworker’s corpulence is to learn SOMETHING from the week and hence redeem the waste of life that is what the week felt like. Was that mean? If you could read the list of f-ups I had to deal with and correct just this week alone, you’d be feeling bad for me. I actually found myself wondering if I ought to throw the hole-puncher at the giant tumor sitting at the other desk. What I learned:
* Physics: burp stench travels way across the courtroom
* Sociology: don’t take certain people’s word for anything, especially when certain people have proven rarely to deserve the benefit of the doubt
* Chemistry: combining pizza for 3 consecutive meals, 1 donut, 3-4 pumpkin white chocolate chip cookies, 2 vanilla sandwich cookies, and agitating the mixture at the gym creates massive, MASSIVE acid reflux
* Math: Transitive Property of Equality… new civil trial (a) = loss of lunches this week (b); loss of lunches (b) = loss of gymming (c); therefore new civil trial (a) = loss of gymming (c).
Algebraic Calculation…C X 5d(cookie dough + pizza + cookies) + PMS bloat = +2% body fat and +6lb scale weight. Fuck me!
Mr. W skipped town Friday morning while I was at work to hang with his family, especially his Gamer Bro, in Vegas. He’ll be back sometime Monday. I took the opportunity to go straight to the gym after work on Friday, hit the weights hard. That makes one (weak) cardio session and one strength-training session this week. That is NOT enough. The morning broke brilliantly today, and I geared up with the newly revamped iPod and hit a 5 mile very hilly run. I didn’t expect it to be a great experience, considering it’d been awhile since I hit the actual streets for a real run, and there was already direct sunlight. I normally can not run in direct sunlight, it seems to sap my energy. Turned out the morning was crisp and cold enough to still give my ears windburn (and hence a headache), and the sunrise was filtered by the hilly raise to my east. I am normally anemic around this time of month, so exertion isn’t easy and cardio would soon have me doubled over in severe cramps. This never happened today. The music triggered endorphins and adrenaline, and I powered through long uphills, never running out of breath nor feeling the need to stop. (I mean, aside from the 3 or so red lights at intersections that I *had* to stop at.) Now I know. I can push myself harder next time. Or maybe it’s just that I have decent calories in me for once, built up from my week of eating refined white sugar and carbs. This bloat sucks, though, I’ll not be doing THAT again anytime soon (high-sodium, high-sugar consumption for a week straight).
Lily had invited me to a 5K run in Seal Beach this morning, but obviously I didn’t go. (I also ran farther than that on my own.) They’re doing a barbecue afterwards, but I think it’s weird going — it sounds sort of like a couples thing — without a husband. =P Anny is around the neighborhood running household purchasing errands, and invited me to call or text her if I’m bored. Gym Trainee’s birthday is today (HIPPO BIRDIE, GYM TRAINEE!) and she had been considering inviting people over to her home for lunch, but that fell through and I spoke to her on the drive home last nite, sounds like some individual friends of hers have invited her to other things. My godson has abandoned her (his mother) to go ATVing anyway. But James is coming through! He just texted me that he’s on his way to an eye appointment and is free afterwards. I invited him over to the house since he’s never been here after we moved. I have no idea what we’ll end up doing, but I’m sure it’d involve food, cuz the guy eats ANYTHING and enjoys it!
Speaking of which, here’s where James and I went on Wednesday for an early dinner:
Revolving sushi at Kura Sushi in Costa Mesa! The sushi wasn’t the best, but it was quick eating. The conveyor belts carry various food items around each table in the entire restaurant, and if you see something you want running by, you just grab it. Prices are tracked based on color coding of plates. Food on blue-rimmed plates are $1.75; yellow plates are $2.25, etc. It’s great for fun and variety and quick eatin’. It’s also cheap.
We sat at the bar so we could also order straight from the sushi chefs as with any sushi bar. We special-ordered a spicy tuna handroll each. I was STUFFED afterwards. Check out my plates!
Since we’re talking about James, here’s a video from back when he and Daughter collaborated on one of her songs. (I’m so glad Mr. W finally registered Daughter’s music; now I can share all this stuff.) You see James playing on his “virtual drums” to a pre-recording of Daughter’s singing and guitar. This video shows a work-in-progress where the loudest sound is, unfortunately, the metronome ticking. If you want to hear the finished version, let me know, I’ll email it. It’s TERRIFIC.
I’d written about Avril Lavigne’s “I’m With You” before, here. When I was the most lost and forlorn, and I’m thinking of specific days, weeks, between 2003 and 2006, this song always seemed to be playing. It played in my head, on the radio, or the CD would just randomly land on that track. I never understood the chorus, which goes: Isn’t anyone tryin’ to find me?
Won’t somebody come take me home?
It’s a damn cold night
Trying to figure out this life
Won’t you take me by the hand
Take me somewhere new
I don’t know who you are
But I… I’m with you
I’m with you
The rest of the song sets up the scenario, which is the speaker, alone, standing on a bridge in the rain, saying “I thought that you’d be here by now.” So if she’s alone, who the hell is the “you” she’s talking to? Who’s she asking to take her home? Did some random dude pass by whom she’s now hanging onto, just so she’d have SOMEBODY?
Driving to work this morning, the song came up again. This time, due to more recent experiences and perspectives in my life, I saw the song and lyrics completely differently. I saw “her,” emotionally lost and desperate, mid-air on a cold metal bridge in the rain, telling “the one” she needs him and she’s been waiting and searching her entire life. Where is he? What’s taking him so long? Even though the “you” never appears through the entirety of this song, she’s crying out to him. She wants to be “home,” and that’s not her house necessarily, that’s home with him, in his arms, in his life, where she belongs.
It’s been a joke between myself and my girlfriends from way back when that when I finally find “the one,” I was going to kick him in the shin and say, “What the hell took you so long?! Do you know what I’ve BEEN through waiting for you?!” But for years now, I’ve stopped believing that there is just one “one,” at least not in this existence, who is perfect for you/me in every enduring way from now until the end of this lifetime. I do believe in lots of “the one for now,” though. How dreary of me.
But I do hope that every girl gets to have this conversation at some point in her life…
Her: Where have you BEEN my whole life?
Him: Looking for you. And now you’re found.
I never said I wasn’t a daydreamer.
These two photos are for James. Cuz he’s a nag like that. Click “more” unless you don’t want TMI. (more…)
