Saturday

I did the long walk again today. It was better than last week, probably because of the weather, cold and windy.

It was also the day of the Pad Test. I wore a sanitary pad because I have an old and fussy bladder. I try to empty it but there are secret pockets somewhere in my bladder that appear and act up at the most inconvenient places. This is probably more than anyone needs (or wants) to know but it’s a fact of getting older and pain in the butt. I can find a spot along the trail where I can do my business but today that didn’t happen. There were more runners than usual out today, ironically the running club was on the same path as me. I couldn’t pull over because I’d be exposed and nobody wants that. So I tested the stamina of the pad. It held up but alas it had its limits and I found them. Found and exceeded them. It was not pleasant.

I also learned the value of black or dark colored pants, they camouflage a lot of shame. Polyester and lycra are your friends, they dry faster. Not necessarily the lessons I wanted to learn but sometimes knowledge is not pretty.

The walk was good. I took a few pictures. After I went home, showered and felt presentable I had a wonderful plate of bliss, wild onions, then went to Sally Ann. Everything was half price for St Patrick’s day.

By this time I got my phone out they’were flying

Wild onions

Sheet set

Resting. My feet are sore.

Receipt. Two bucks, half off

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A very long walk

I did this yesterday. My intention was to do, to try walking 10 miles. The running club had a training run of 10 miles for the half marathon runners, 20 for the full marathon. I couldn’t make their scheduled run so did my own. I did the 10, did more and surprised the heck out of myself. This is the longest walk I’ve done, outside of the actual half marathon. I’m not bragging, but admit impressed by my short stubby legs.

I am very slow, this took me 3 hours and 34 minutes. I want to transition from walking to running but right now distance is more important than speed. The race I’m training for is next month and I just want to be able to do it without feeling like I’m going to die. The way I felt the first time I did it. My entire body hurt and my legs ached. I’m glad to say only my feet hurt this time around. My legs complained but we’re still friends.

I know there are people who will finish the complete marathon before I can finish the half. I’m trying to not feel badly, I remind myself I’m a non-athletic person who hated PE and never played sports in school because I was chubby and awkward. I’m also going to be 53 years old when I do the race and there are lots of people my age who wish they could do the same but can’t. I’m going to be one of the few brown people out there. So I try to remember all this when I don’t feel like walking or that it doesn’t matter.

 

 

Book Sale

The library booksale is the last weekend in February. I’ve gone nearly every year for the past 20 years. Jerry called it my Superbowl.

In the past I’ve gone a little nuts, filling several bags and suitcases with stuff. This year was a little different. I still bought but only those things I felt I wouldn’t find again, or not easily find. Those that I really, really wanted, needed. I picked up a lot but put most of it back. I tried to imagine where I’d put it and that’s why I left the 2 volume set of the shorter Oxford dictionary,priced at six bucks, behind. I’m sure it will find a good home.

I even bought a few things for Bear. My son is a discerning reader and it relieves me that he likes to read. My family valued education, at least they told me they did but I never saw anyone read for pleasure. My mom took me to the library but never showed interest in books. When, if they read it was magazines or the newspaper. They didn’t discourage my reading habit but didn’t really encourage it much. Going to bookstores wasn’t something we did. I was odd and shy, bookish and they weren’t sure why, what was wrong with me. Why I’d rather read than go play. My mom said once at one of my birthday parties the other kids were playing and I was in a corner reading a book. She felt this wasn’t right. But even now I’d rather be reading than interacting with people, most of the time.

Booksale is my happy place. I am glad to be surrounded by so many fellow readers, fellow misfits. But it isn’t all bliss. Some people have bad hygiene, BO. Occasionally someone passes gas. Hopefully it’s a toddler but usually an adult. Talking to oneself, singing, behaviors that keep people at a distance don’t work here. There are too many people crowded in a room, around tables searching. Most are polite and apologize for bumping you or trying to get past. It’s not for the easily discouraged, but it’s worth powering through. When you find that book, record or whatever thrills you, it is worth it.

Lunar New Year

Or Tet, year of the dog. Not a major holiday here, but a few people turned out and we were very lucky and cold.

Creepy looking playhouse in the gardens

She was almost finished when I got there

Watched her flip her husband twice

We could hear the drums before they entered

Mongolian fan dancers. Most people left after the lion dance and missed this

I left after their performance, missed the rest.

The advantages of being alone

This was tonight’s dinner

With Valentines Day coming up there are ads, pictures, and stories about how glorious it is to be part of a couple. There are also the rebuttals, defending the right to be single and the glories of singleness. This isn’t exactly rebuttal, if you are with someone, good for you. I was married myself for years so being alone and single is something I’m still getting used to after 3 years.

Being single in your 20’s and 30’s is different from being single when you are 50. Most examples of older women are sad: about a lonely widow, a sad childless single woman, women struggling on limited incomes and the stereotypical cat lady. There is the rare happy older woman, usually eccentric but still pitied and looked at with condescension.

So as an old broad who is alone, single, without a partner I’ve made a list of the good things about my status.

1. Less laundry. I do my laundry once a week, one load. No last minute surprises, no extra work. Sorting and folding take a few minutes.

2. Toilet paper lasts longer. Also the bathroom, especially the floor, stays cleaner longer. This should probably be #1.

3. I can change plans without having to check with someone else, or worry that he will be inconvenienced or it will cause any conflicts.

4. I don’t have to go to events I don’t want to attend either, to appease a partner.

5. I can have the TV on late at night and read in bed late if I want to, without guilt. Also I can turn off the TV and have quiet if I want.

6. Freedom to watch what TV shows I want and if I get netflix again, to binge watch if I want when I want.

7. I can buy groceries early in the morning, run errands on my own schedule. Don’t have to wait on another person.

8. Since it’s just me I don’t have to cook every day or make complete meals. Tonight I had a bowl of cereal for dinner. All I have to clean up is a bowl and spoon. Brilliant.

9. I do live with a cat, do not need to worry about another person’s possible allergies, dislike of cats, whether their pet gets along with mine or other problems.

10. No drama. I don’t worry if my partner is faithful, about his ex-wife, ex-girlfriend, gambling debts, drug addiction or anything unexpected. My husband was a no drama guy, so I was very fortunate but know some women aren’t.

11. I can keep the thermostat on 70 degrees if I want. No complaints that it’s too hot.

12. I can spend money without consulting another person. As long as the bills are paid, there is food in the fridge and gas in the car I can buy a concert ticket, pair of shoes or go on a thrift store shopping spree with no worry and a clear conscience.

Not a thrift store score but close

My best friend and I are going to the ballet this Sunday. She got the tickets as a Christmas present from her sister, but unfortunately her husband can’t go so I get to go. He’s not really broken up about it.

But I need something to wear. So after work I hit a consignment store near my house. Although thrift stores are my usual choice they were having a half price sale so I went and this is what I bought.

Total

Red dots were half off so this was $8

Not my usual style but for $3, okay.

Will wear this tomorrow on my walk

Dress and bag, will wear with knee high boots because it’s going to be cold

My day

This was an epic day, in that it was full of extraordinary stuff, journeys and purpose.

It started early this morning. Cho Chang woke me up and I got dressed to do the Saturday training run.Today was 10 miles for full marathon and 5 miles for the half people.

It wasn’t fecking cold like last week but still cold. I followed the instructions from Facebook but still missed the turn, like last week. What was supposed to be 5 miles was a little more. I also lost my car in the huge but empty parking lot, like every time.

Then I went to get a croissant and felt bloated after. I had about an hour to kill til the Womens March. NPR had the best headline I saw,” Still Pretty Damn Mad.” There were more non white women, more kids, dogs and some anxious looking men. I was glad to see lots of other old broads out there too. Before the march kicked off they asked for indigenous women and Dreamers to lead, so I headed up front. I found a friend of mine from an Internet group and asked her to come up too but she has back and pain issues so I went ahead while she waited.

The actual march was short, about 3 blocks with cops escorting us. There were speeches after, t-shirts for sale and lots of groups with sign up sheets. We hung out awhile but the crowd started to thin out. I left, said bye to my friend and her husband and went to get an Indian taco.

I changed my mind about the taco and opted for pashofa and grape dumplings. After the croissant I didn’t feel like much like bread. I inhaled the pashofa and dumplings.

Then I finally conked out, took a nap with Cho and took a shower and washed my hair at last. It’s been a good day to be indigenous.