VOLUNTARILY SHALLOW

For the past few months, I have had a half formed, wordless life philosophy rattling around in my head. A crude mishmash of transcendentalism, zen teachings, and quotes from VH1's best week ever, my pseudo-philosophy has been guiding me in my decisions and plans week to week. I just don't have a name for it.

Until today. Whilst I was sweating away on the elliptical this morning, reading an old issue of Shape magazine, there before my eyes in black and white was my own life philosophy, neatly spelled out and aptly named.

Now, I have heard of different cultures having simultaneously occurring discoveries thousands of miles apart. I have no reason to believe that the same could not happen on a personal level; two people who have never met have the same life epiphany! But I choose to believe that it cannot happen, anyway.

Some chippy with connections in the magazine publishing world snuck into my room when I was sleeping and stole my ideas right out of my head! Then she typed them up as her own and submitted them to Shape magazine for money! I was thinking of consulting my brother, the attorney, on how to deal with this until I realized that she was significantly more eloquent than I. Years could go by and I would never have coined the descriptive and succinct phrase "Voluntarily Shallow" as my life philosophy!

Yes, I know. "Voluntarily Shallow" does not sound like the ideal way to live your life. But hear me out: voluntarily shallow is not the easy way out that it sounds like. It's frickin' genius, if I do say so myself.

The basics of Voluntarily Shallow are as thus:

Shallow does not inherently mean dumb, materialistic, or obsessed with outward appearances. It simply means "not deep". I certainly have the intellectual capacity to sit around the house and read Nietche, watch foreign films, and have political discussions with my deep friends if I so chose. But what fun would that be? I'd much rather read chick-lit on the beach and watch the Dodgeball/ Zoolander double feature on TBS. I'll save my brain power for things that require brain power (like trying to figure out how to get my stupid printer to cooperate). In all other instances, fun trumps deep every time.

When looking back on past mistakes, it would be very easy to get stuck in an endless loop of guessing. If I had only done one thing different, would the outcome have been different? And if that outcome had been different, how would the future events have been altered? How would my life now be? What lessons can I learn from those past events and how can I apply those lessons to my life in the future? I COULD ponder all this OR -- I could just go for a run. Maybe I'm not learning anything about my past behaviors. Maybe I'm destined to repeat the same mistakes. Maybe I'm exceedingly un-self-aware. But I like running better. In all instances, physical trumps deep every time.

When looking at the state of the world, the country, the economy, etc, it would be very easy to become cynical. Cynicism pervades the deep crowd like mullets at a monster truck rally. However, I am voluntarily shallow, not deep. I can wholeheartedly declare that I am NOT cynical, but happy and hopeful. Maybe its a naive way to go through life, but its sure more fun.

To sum up: fun, physical, and happy, are the way to go, not deep. If there's ever any question in your mind, just search for the lowest common denominator. Or Ben Stiller.

joining the linkfest

Surfing around today, I found a link on Mrs. D's blog that looked like it was super fun. Leave it to a teacher to give out assignments! And leave it to a perpetual student like myself to respond (next continuing ed class in 3 weeks!)

Its a bit serendipitous, the whole school and assignment thing showing up today, as I have been feeling like I am in junior high school lately. Do we ever really shake the pre teen girls we once were?

I wish I could be on summer vacation forever
I wish I could have more control over my work schedule
I wish I could get by on 4 hours of sleep so I could work out more
I wish I could get over my diet coke addiction
I wish I could bitch slap all the medical insurance case managers of the world simultaneously in a "wake up" moment
I wish I could camp and hike for a month
I wish I could go to soccer tryouts like in high school
I wish I could figure out what is going on in Nerd's head

Maybe I should write a note and fold it elaborately and drop it in his locker!

WE'VE COME TO SNUFF THE ROOSTER

AH SUMMER, WHAT POWER YOU HAVE TO MAKE US SUFFER AND LIKE IT. --Russel Baker

The crickets and frogs, harbingers of summer's end, have been going in full swing for the past week or so. I have been leaving my windows wide open, to enjoy a little late summer concert to lull me off to sleep. Unfortunately, the wide open windows also allow me to to hear another late summer noise in the early morning hours: the neighbor's rooster.

First, let me explain that there is absolutely no reason for the neighbors to even have a rooster. They don't live on a farm. They are not high school biology teachers. They don't run a local 4H chapter. I don't even think they gather the eggs from the hens! They just sit in their house with central air conditoning on and the windows closed, oblivious to the fact that their rooster is waking me up every day at 4:30 am. (I often have dreams that a giant with emphysema is clearing his throat over my bed)

Despite their lack of reason for having chickens, they are quite protective of them. They have a combination lock on the chicken coop. (The chicken coop that sits behind a 6 foot tall chain link fence) The guy next door explained to me why a combination lock was needed: "Racoons can pick regular padlocks with their claws." Now, I've never heard of a racoon picking a lock. I googled it. I found only one reference to a guy who swears his pet racoon can pick locks. But its just hearsay. Nobody knows who this guy is, and nobody has seen his racoon pick a padlock. It's pretty much a suburban myth.

I have however, heard of a racoon putting his claws through the chicken wire and stretching it out enough to pull a chicken through. I have seen evidence of it with my own eyes. So the combination lock, like the act of owning chickens itself, is a bit misguided. No combination lock will stop a racoon from stretching the chicken wire out and pulling a chicken through. Especially if a rooster-sized hole mysteriously appears in the chicken wire one day when 4:30am comes way too early...

SIMPLIFY

SIMPLIFY, SIMPLIFY, SIMPLIFY. Henry David Thoreau

This weekend, my friends and I revived a yearly tradition that has been dormant for the past few years: the Saco River camping trip. Of course, in the past, we packed and canoed down river, but this year we decided to just camp by the river at a campground, because K and J were bringing a 17 month old, K jr (or K2, as we call him)

Its a good thing we weren't trying to canoe, too. In the past few years, our group has collectively decided that there are far too many conveniences we cannot do without. The vast quantity of STUFF that 9 adults and one toddler took for a weekend camping trip was staggering. Our campsite sported 6 tents (even though one couple actually slept on an air mattress in the back of a Tahoe, they still set up a 5 person tent for changing in), 2 hammocks, 7 chairs, 5 full sized coolers, 2 picnic tables with tarps overhead, a pack-n- play, a full sized gas grill, and a pile of firewood that could last people a little more thrifty than us through the winter. It was nauseating.

When did this happen to us? Camping used to mean CAMPING. Now it means bringing as much stuff from home as possible to --what-- try to forget that we are in the wilderness? 2 of our group actually brought a portable DVD player and watched Goodfella's in the tent while the most spectacular lightening display I have ever seen unfolded outside.

Don't get me wrong. It was a really fun time. I'm so glad I went and got to hang out with these guys this weekend. But it did get me thinking about how much stuff I have and never use.

When I got home, after unpacking and showering, I went through a little purge session and got a good sized salvation army pile sitting by my door. And I have renewed vigor at getting back to CAMPING camping as much as I can this fall.

A GREAT AUGUST WEEKEND

Things to do for a memorable August weekend:

1) Try a new drink. I'm a beer girl at heart and I like 'em well made and flavorful. Plus, I have a wicked sweet tooth. So a beer concoction called a raspberry truffle was right up my alley. Raspberry ale with about an inch of Guiness on top. SMOOTH!

2) Watch a scary movie with somebody to snuggle with. A good Stephen King is always an excellent choice.

3) Fall asleep in somebody's arms for the first time.

4) Wake up in somebody's arms for the first time.

5) Ride with the top down. (Man do I love my Jeep! Plus, I love telling people that I went topless! Great reaction faces.)

6) Jump in a river. Swim around for a while. Repeat often.

7) Fall asleep in the sun.

8) Wear your cool bucket hat with pigtails.

9) Talk around the bonfire late into the night.

10) Laugh until you cry.

11) Camp on the beach.

12) Eat Oreos for breakfast. (just not EVERY weekend in August.)

13) Decide what your tatoo will be, if you ever decide to get one.

14) Defend your decision to your friends in the great tatoo debate.

15) Turn your cell phone off all weekend.

16) Throw away something you no longer need.

17) Sit in a hot tub as the sun sets.

18) Take a long, hot shower.

19) Put on a brand new pair of jammies.

20) Re-live the entire weekend in your dreams.

THE PERFECT SUMMER DAY

FOR MEMORY HAS PAINTED THIS PERFECT DAY WITH COLORS THAT NEVER FADE. AND WE FIND AT THE END OF A PERFECT DAY THE SOUL OF A FRIEND WE'VE MADE -----Carrie Jacobs Bond

Yesterday was the perfect summer day. The weather had that late August touch of cool, that lingers in the morning and gives way to the heat in the afternoon. The kind of weather that is still summer, but lets you know that fall is just around the corner. The kind of weather that still allows for comfortable swimming, but at the same time makes you think of shopping for back-to-school pencils and new shoes, of hiking and biking and soccer try-outs, of cozy sweaters of be worn at football games.

I went kayaking yesterday with my friend, Charlie, and a bunch of his buddies. We all met on the side of the Assabet River in Hudson ("Just remember --'you bet your ass' River") in a small parking area on the side of the road. There were seven of us in all, paddling down the river, eating lunch in a shady spot under some trees, and sharing stories of the things that ignite our passions.

I can't imagine a better way to spend a summer day. There is something that is magical about being near water -- on the water, in the water, next to the water. Maybe its a primordial instinct that make us feel so comfortable floating. Or maybe its just that the water is so refreshing when its warm out. I'm sure there are some who would argue that another type of environment can be just as soothing (Georgia OKeefe and Edward Abbey come to mind) but for me, the most peaceful place to be is on the water.

Yesterday to me is a collage of delicious sensations mingling together. The coolness of the water, the warmth of the sun, the gentle hint of a breeze that broke through the trees every so often, just enough to keep it from becoming hot. The sight of the impossibly blue sky with white, puffy clouds, a blue heron that followed us along the river, soaring and calling out. We didn't know what he was saying. The water smelled so clean and fresh, the way it smells on a spring morning after the rain. Even the mud was great, squishing through my toes and making wet sucking sounds when I pulled my feet back out.

At one point yesterday, I was floating along next to Charlie and he said "I could just bottle all of this up and save it to uncork one day in January".

"Charlie," I said, "If you could figure out how to do that, you would be a very rich man."

He looked around and gestured with his arm in a great, sweeping motion. "I already am a rich man."

I know what he means.

waiting on vacation

Wednesday of what my friend, Isa, called my "staycation" and I finally am feeling a bit more rested. I guess that's what I really needed. The weather has taken a turn for the colder, and it felt more like fall today than summer. We did go for a walk on the beach in the afternoon, but overall, a bit to brisk for a beach day.

I am getting some good workouts in. I am getting some cleaning and straightening out done. I am reading and relaxing. I don't feel like its a great vacation, though.

I have felt so under apprecited this past week. Which, I know, sounds selfish, but it feels that way. Lots of assumptions that I will just be free to do stuff for everyone else without checking with me first. Lots of last minute "I need you to babysit" without asking if I was busy. And lots of keeping me hanging about plans.

Maybe I'm being paranoid. But it has felt like I've been kept waiting by more than one person to see if they can get some other plans solidified first.

Again, could be paranoia. I just don't like thinking back to M and missing always having somebody to do something with.

Oh, I'm sure tomorrow I'll snap out of it.

check in

August continues to slip on by and I stand, helpless to do anything to slow it down. My 10 year old neice said to me today that she couldn't wait for school to start, because she was getting sick of summer. Silly girl. Someday, she'll be looking at the calender in disbelief that its August 18 and it seems like summer just started.

Having this week off helps, though. I have a bit of time to slow down and actually get stuff accomplished.

I babysat for 8 hours yesterday and it was pure bliss. Watching the girls and their friends from the neighborhood run through the sprinkler and then joining in. Making them lunch. Sitting them down to paint. Helping the 6 year old to come up with a system of keeping her room clean. I even did 2 loads of their laundry and washed and put away the dishes. Best of all, I didn't have my day chopped up into half hour blocks to accomplish 45 minute tasks with a pager going off 2 or 3 times each half hour to give me some stupid message. I didn't have to log every second of my day and write up exactly what I did to justify those 8 hours of babysitting.

Yeah, the girls whined a little and the younger one tried to pass off cleaning her room as MY responsibility. But they are 6 and 10. Not 46 and 50, whining about their life and yelling at me because I haven't fixed it. Kids are a bit easier that way.

My goals are a lot easier to accomplish, too, with 10 plus extra hours each day.

1) Still plugging away with the meditation. I must admit, its a bit hard, when I feel like I should have every second of my day filled with some sort of task (beeper going off to remind me of the next task). Maybe that's a sign I need this even more. I keep it up, hoping at some point, I'll be able to sit for 20 minutes without feeling like I need to jump up and clean something.

2) Haven't rock climbed yet.

3) Outdoor concerts have been a little hard. Its been raining a lot.

4) Got Simple Abundance and I love love love it.

5) That bike buying expedition failed last Wed and I'm still trying to reschedule.

6) Gave away 9 things. ANd then some. Taught my neices to do the same.

7) Went and spent my gift card on a super cute little dress. I'm not going back to school, I need to figure out where to go in it. (It's not "active". But I do think Serena Williams would approve)

5 More days of vacation!! Can't wait to not do anything.

TRI, MY LOVE

Today I again spent some quality time with my summer boyfriend, Triathlon. We met early in the morning in the town of Sharon for a nice 1/2 mile swim, 13 mile bike ride and 4.4 mile run. We hung out with lots of other people (most of whom were faster than me) and exchanged stories of how we each discovered our summer love. That's the thing about Triathlon; he is great for socializing, he pushes you to become a better version of yourself, and he makes you feel so alive!

But there is another side to Triathlon. He's a bit of a sponge. First he reels you in, and before you know it, you are shelling out money left and right for all of his needs. He needs new shoes. And a better suit. He needs some money to go to the races. Then a bike. If you don't set limits, his list would be endless! He also has a bit of an addictive personality. One is never enough for ol' Tri. He's constantly searching for his next fix. And he always wants the next one to be a little better than the last.

It's hard not to get caught up in all of Triathlon's hype. I have found myself scanning the REI and EMS fliers to find goodies for him. I'll surf the web looking for opportunities to meet up again. And I must confess, the last two times I was with Triathlon, I came close to throwing up. And I liked it!

So now as I am looking toward the fall calender, I find myself at a crossroad. Do I make a clean break and take my life back from Tri? Or do I spend the fall and winter working out and slimming down in preparation for when we meet again in the spring? I still have a bit of time before I need to make a decision. And in the meantime, I think I'll go pick out a new bike.

insomnia, it appears, is over. Exhaustion has set in.

insomnia again

It's starting again. The sleeplessness. The racing mind. The late night/early morning pacing, pacing, pacing. Its exactly 11 steps from one end of my studio/loft apartment to the other. I'm hoping that its just a small glitch in my system...the weather turned autumn-y a couple days ago and sometimes I go through a few days of sleeplessness when the weather changes. I hope it's not the start of another bout of what I had last year.

Always, late at night when I can't sleep, I think of M. Its 12:52 here. It'd be 9:52 where he is. Eight minutes until the end of his shift. If he's still working the same shift, that is. His last (kind of mean) email all those months ago indicated that his shift had changed somewhat.

No matter what time it was, I could always call M if I was up. I always knew he'd answer. He was a night owl that way. Though sometimes it would drive me batty how late he'd sleep in the morning ("Come ON! You said you wanted to go out to breakfast today and we won't make it there before lunch!") it was somewhat comforting to know I always had somebody to talk to at night.

Of course, last year, I could not have talked to him about what was keeping me awake at night. It was him. Or the absence of him. And the presence of his ghost. The ghost of what could have been, or what should have been, or what I had always thought would be. But now was never going to be. I paced for hours over that.

This year, it's more complicated, the reason for my insomnia. (Assuming of course that the weather isn't the culprit. Please, please, please be the weather. I'll be back to a normal circadean rhythm in a few days!) I have a sort of free floating anxiety. I want to be here, but I don't want to be here. I love my family and friends but I don't fit in. I know they have the best intentions, but they are not helping. I don't need to be convinced that marriage is great and parenthood is rewarding. I understand that. But I'm not married, and I don't have kids. I didn't plan it. That's just the way it happened. It's not like I did't get the "babies are cute" memo and I need a rundown on its contents to get me back on track.

So again, here I am, pacing. Unable to talk to somebody about what keeps me up at night. Thinking of M, and wondering where I fit into the picture. And what am I going to do next?

I'm still holding out for the weather thing. 'Cause otherwise I may have to take up ultra-marathons to get back to sleep again.

REBOUND BLUES

Today, you should all breathe a collective sigh of relief that you are not a patient of mine.

I have a young patient (early 20's) with whom we are working on balance and lateral ankle stability. As one of his exercises, he stands on one leg on some balance foam while throwing and catching a weighted ball. He throws the ball against a device called the rebounder, which is essentially a mini trampoline whose angle can be adjusted.

He has been doing this particular exercise for quite some time, so I was kind of on autopilot setting him up. I didn't double check the angle of the rebounder. He threw the four pound ball fairly forcefully and it came back rather quickly at a strange angle...right into his crotch.

That pretty much ended the therapy session.

I don't think he's coming back.

more dilemmas

So the other day I decided to forego the Olympic distance tri in favor of a few more sprint tri's and a marathon. Today it just dawned on me that the marathon in question falls at the end of October. Which means that the long training runs would fall late September, early October. And that is prime hiking weather! I can't run a marathon in the middle of hiking season! I mean, I love tri's and I love running, but this is FRICKIN' HIKING, for God's sake!

Hiking is the holy grail of my existance.

And the marathon is officially shelved.

check in

Could it be that the first week in August has passed already? August always makes me a little sad, thinking that summer is slipping away.

In terms of goals, things slip away, too.

1) I've been putting aside a little time each day to be silent and reflect and focus on breath. I'd like to say that extraordinary and profound thoughts bust into my head. But the only thing I seem to be acutely aware of, other than the fact that I have a hard time not thinking, is that physical pursuits run through my head. I have always been a very physical being. More a kinesthetic learner than anything else. Could it be that I've been trying way too hard for way too long to be a thinker when I should be focusing on the physical?

2) Haven't rock climbed yet.

3) Looking for an outdoor concert. Will probably do it the week I have off.

4) Still finishing up my Picasso book. Gotta get Simple Abundance next weekend.

5) Buying the bike Wed.

6) Have 3 things to give away. 6 more to go.

7) Havent even thought about it.

Slipping away. Slipping away. Slipping away.

Olympic-mania

Ah, the Olympics. Love, love, love, love, LOVE the Olympics. if for no other reason that they motivate me to move my own ass more. I have pretty much accepted the fact that at 38 years old, my childhood dream of being on the olympic gymnastics team is not going to happen. But I did see some race-walkers who were in their 40's! Maybe if I google my brains out and figure out what-the-hell-is-up-with-speedwalking and then put myself on a rigorous training regieme, I will be ready to walk in that opening ceremony in 2012???

dilemma

Here's a dilemma I never thought I would find myself in: my party schedule is interfering with my racing schedule. I've been doing a bunch of sprint tri's this summer with the goal of doing an olympic distance tri over labor day weekend. Only...some of my friends have planned a big end of the summer bash for the day before the olympic tri. And they invited Nerd. And he said yes.

So of course, I need to go because I am still trying to figure out what the hell is going on. (I suppose I could simply ask him. But somehow, I prefer the "I'll write him a note and fold it elaborately and give it to my best friend to give to his best friend to slip into his locker between 5th and 6th periods" approach. Only without the note or the locker)

So, my tentative solution is to run 3 to 4 more sprint tri's and the Cape Cod Marathon. I think that might make up for it.

And maybe I'll actually lose more than the 3 pounds I've taken off total this year.

Or maybe not.

THE PROPER WAY TO SQUEEZE TOOTHPASTE

The morning after our summer bash, I went into my bathroom to see that Nerd had not only re-arranged my medicine cabinet ("Your contact solution is two months expired. I threw it away and opened a new bottle for you") but also that he had consolidated all the toothpaste at the front of the tube, flattening and curling the end. ("Oh, you are one of THOSE who squeeze from the middle of the tube. This is the correct way. From the bottom of the tube.")

Nerd is absolutely wrong about the toothpaste tube. I'll tell you why:

1) When squeezing from the bottom, you give up control of the velocity of toothpaste expulsion. I had Tom's of Maine shooting across my sink and then I had a mess to clean up. When you squeeze closer to the opening, you have significantly more control.

2) When the tube becomes less than 1/2 full, you can then start squeezing from the bottom. It won't make a difference.

3) When squeezing from the middle, you get a gloriously satisfying squishy feeling in your fingers that you DON'T get when squeezing from the bottom.

4) When squeeezing from the bottom, you roll the end of the tube in one direction. This throws off the tube's center of gravity and you can no longer stand the toothpaste tube on its head in the medicine cabinet. If you try, it will tip over and make yet another mess to clean up.

5) Nobody will think you are crazy if you squeeze from the middle. None of your co-workers will deliberately squeeze the tube differently just to tick you off. (This is clearly free advice to him on proper laboratory edicate. I don't bring my toothpaste to work for my co-workers to squeeze)

So there.

Although I guess I am compelled to add that J agrees 100% with Nerd and wants to know if he'll be her next husband when she finally offs K for leaving his towel in the middle of the bathroom floor one too many times.

But I still think I'm right.

SUMMER PALOOZA

Last weekend, we had our annual summer bash here at the Rand-ch. Which means that last weekend we had burgers, drinks, M&Ms, bonfires, hot tubs, AND an appearance by Drunk Heather. For those of you who have not met her, Drunk Heather is alot like regular Heather, only drunker. My friend Isa says she's quite a bit more fun than regular Heather, as well.

Drunk Heather says "I love you" alot. Not only to people she has known for years, but also to people she has just met. Many years ago, in Savannah, Drunk Heather became instant best friends with a girl named Melissa who was wearing the exact same outfit as her. ( Overall shorts over a tye-died peace sign shirt and Tevas: "Oh my God! You have the same outfit as me. I love you!") As you can see, Drunk Heather is a snazzy dresser, as well. The I love you's are not limited to people, either. There are many dogs, cats, trees, bats flying through the air, stars, clouds, and various moon phases that have been the recipients of a deftly uttered "I love you" , as well.

Drunk Heather is also what was so eloquantly described last weekend as: a hug whore. Its true. I admit that when I turn into Drunk Heather, I have an inexlicable urge to hug everyone and everything. (trees, dogs, pillows, and musical instruments as well as people) I believe at one point I went around the bonfire and not only hugged everyone, but announced the winner of the best hugger award. (Jen J, for her firm yet snuggly hug technique) Drunk Heather was ineligable for the award, for obvious reasons.

Generally, I awake the morning after Drunk Heather's visit groaning and making a mental list of apologies I have to make for DH's antics. Not so this time. I have taken the opposite approach. I should be apologizing for NOT acting like DH all the time. Just think what a wonderful place this world would be if we all lived every moment like Drunk Heather:

We'd wake up in the morning thinking "Good morning! I love you sun, for making the day so bright. I love you pillow, for supporting my head and neck so comfortably while I sleep. I love you toothpaste, for keeping my teeth and gums so healthy. I love you car, for transporting me safely to work every day. I love you cranky co-worker, for putting it all out there!" There's nothing wrong with an air of gratitude in life. Though I would probably suggest you keep all these statements INSIDE your head and just let the air of gratitue shine through in other ways. Wow, what a world of shiny happy people it would be!

Now, as far as the hugging thing goes, I fully understand that many people are tactily defensive and would not appreciate an uninvited hug from a ridiculously shiny happy person. I suggest figurative hugs. The jerk that cut you off on the highway probably needs a hug. The lady in Dunkin Donuts who gave you your coffe coolatta (hug). Your cranky co-worker (hug). Your drooly, drooly dog. (He gets a real hug. Pets don't appreciate the figurative) One of my friends at work has a sign over her desk that reads: "Be more gentle than you think is necessary, because everyone is fighting a battle of some sort that you may not see." That's just a more eloquent way of saying: "everyone needs a hug." Drunk Heather a frickin' genius!

So as you go through life this week, tell everyone and everything that you love them privately inside your head. Give everyone and everything a figurative hug. Become a shiny happy person with a positive outlook. And if anyone asks "What's with you?", just answer truthfully: "I'm doing this thing where I try to live my life like a complete drunk."

What'd I tell you? Frickin' genius!

August Goals

And here we are in August. July flew so quickly. And me with no internet access or phone for half the month. Unfortunately, as far a s goals go. I failed miserably in all ways. But I guess that's ok, too. Sometimes unstructured is the way to go.
1) I did get outside and exercise more. I completed another sprint triathlon. I roller bladed more. But not every day. It rained a lot in July.
2) Ok, on the day I had planned to take a surf lesson, I instead participated in a disabled surf clinic. Not learning, but assisting. ANd I'm gonna count that as a victory. Cause it just may be the coolest, most fulfilling day I had all summer.
3) Read Jen Lancaster's book. Loved it.
4) Still haven't bought that bike. Gotta pin down Potential P. (just can't shake that name)
5) Got drinks left and right. Not on a beach bar. But in a bar nontheless. In Virginia or in Massachusetts, I look quite fetching in that active dress.
6) Dusted off the guitar. that's about it. just dusting.

Alright, I didn't fail as badly as I had thought. I was just in a cranky mood the last few days.
I keep forgetting that the whole purpose of these goals is to STOP beating myself up so much.

AUGUST:

1) For 30 days (or 27) I will meditate. I was really good with reflection and spiritual practice once upon a time. That fell along the wayside somewhere along the way. Time to claim that back.

2) This month, I will go rock climbing.

3) I will go to an outdoor concert.

4) I will read: Simple Abundance. and be grateful.

5) I'll buy that bike.

6)I'll go thru the wardrobe and give away 9 things. Why 9? Why not.

7) I'll buy a "back to school" outfit. With that unspent Macy's gift card.

Theme for August is CALM.
(and sorting out the P and Nerd situation)