Holy Shit Thursday

I have a gym membership. I go, treadmill it out for an hour and then swim it out for an hour- wash up and I'm done. Since cat was at the groomers for 4 hours I was gonna shake my touchas at the gym til he was done. Right.

I increased my speed and incline today- feelin' good. My purple love iPod cranked out my workout mix (which I will add at the end here). The first 30 minutes had me happily sweating and breathing deeply- the norm. Well, I figured I would step it up and jog for 5 minutes. It was tough during the last minute but I pushed through and felt good...for about 1 second. Then I pretty much tried not to die.

I thought the sinking into oblivion feeling would dissipate once I slowed down- nay. I've had this happen twice before- once with food poisoning and once with being overheated. Let me break it down for you.

The muscles in my neck tighten, as do the muscles in the back of my head. My hearing starts to fade- like someone is slowly placing a fish bowl over my face; with a far off electric humming sound joining in. Next, my eyesight sucks in to tunnel vision and then I pass out or puke or both.

Once I realized my hearing was not recovering and my eyesight was being sucked through a straw I peaced out of that machine and tried to walk it off. I started to lose control of my breathing and my eyes were still going black. Well, the only thing to do at that crossroads is say shit over and over again until you can breath properly; it seemed to help. Once I could semi-breathe in a rhythm, I made myself get down the stairs to the main floor, if I was going to pass out in spite of myself; all the while quietly chanting my four letter mantra. I couldn't let myself be that kid- the kid that passes out at the gym- all sweaty and gross...I refuse!

I made it back to the women's locker room with my eyes finally pulling back around. I paced the tile floors with my arms over my head- the breathing thing was still eluding me. I finally doused my face in cold water for awhile and got a hold of myself. WTF; I can't believe I almost passed out in a public place over a 5-minute jog at 4mph on a 1.5 incline on an f'ing treadmill. How embarrassing. Who does that? (my lame ass)(hahaha!)

Well, I gave unconsciousness the finger and spent the next hour on my abs and arms- with plenty of breathing breaks. Gumption-1: Embarrassment and Death- 0.

(I'm a crazy person)


For those of you who love exercise without all the death, here's my workout mix:
-Set it on shuffle and you have deliciousness-
(Don't judge, just embrace)

Billionaire by Eartha Kit
Can't Turn Away by The Plain White T's
Can't Get Enough of Your Love, Baby by Barry White
Freakum Dress by Beyonce
Move Yo Body by Eiffel 65
World Wide Woman by Beyonce
Young Hearts Run Free by Kym Mazelle
Sha-la-la-la-la by Dreamhouse
Take Your Time (Do It Right) by The S.O.S. Band
Damn Girl by Justin Timberlake
Don't Stop Me Now by Queen
Pressure Drop by Toots & The Maytals
Angel by Gavin Friday
Faded by soulDecision
Green Light by Beyonce
La, La, La by Jon Secada
Local God by Everclear
Pa' Bailar- Siempre Quiero Mas by Bajofondo
Don't Stop the Music by Rihanna
Summer Love by Justin Timberlake
Under Pressure by Boyz II Men
Track 16 from Dance Power, Vol. 6 II
Track 13 from Dance Power, Vol. 6 II
Tell Me Why by Prezioso
Shoot To Thrill by AC/DC
Sandstorm by Darude
You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi
Paradise City by GunsnRoses
Keep Your Hands to Yourself by Georgia Satellites

Wednesday, but I thought it was Tuesday

Yesterday, I decided my beast of a vehicle needed a wash. 5 bucks buys you 5 minutes of magic. I put it into neutral and let the siren song of sloshing machines carry me away. There's nothing like watching glints of sunlight through frothy suds as they slather over you; all while soaking up the musical bliss that is Journey. (sigh of deep satisfaction). I love the car wash. L-O-V-E, LOVE IT. (sigh numero dos de felizidades de mi corazon). :^]

I just finished reading the Twilight saga, for the second time. I just want to hug it and never let go! (I'm listening to the soundtrack as I type- on my brand spankin new iPod nano purple baby- Freakin' Freak Ya!!!). I'm disappointed in the Nike Flow headphones I purchased- I'll be trading those in for something more conducive to not-man-ears. Geez.

Guess what? I am 80% likely to be an egg donor- what the what! I know! I was a tad enthusiastic about the good news and sent about 20 pictures (they asked for around 6). I don't know what kind of shots are needed when looking for someone whose eggs you want. Haha- the only picture of me as a little kid had me with my leotard stuffed with boob-balloons, posing like Dolly Parton. Baha, hopefully potential parents think it's funny and not "whoa..ok.." Haha.

If I wasn't going to be accepted by this group, I was seriously considering piercing my nose or getting a lil' tattoo for myself. (You can't have been recently pierced or inked to be a donor). So, we'll see- there is still potential for a no. I am leaning towards the tattoo idea. I envision something in Greek or Aramaic behind my ear. Oooo, maybe in a pale metallic gold...hmmm. Something to think about.

Tomorrow I take the kitten to get shaved, bathed, and manicured- life is so good when that's taken care of. I'll be rocking my iPod at the gym awhile kitty gets a spa day. Of Course I'll have to trek over to the Mac place and fix the headphone situation afterword. (ps I am in like with Paramore right now).

Other mundane facts... I'll get my night guard next Monday, hot. I'll meet the egg donor people Tuesday, if it's all still a go. I really want a plate of deviled eggs, right now. Lately I've been able to smell my shampoo with deep clarity- so many flowers in the scent that I had missed before- mmmm good. Chamomile tea rocks.

I think that's it for news of the day.

I can't wait to get out of here; out.

Monday

I woke up this morning to my cat licking himself..ya. 6am and time to take out the trash before kids walk to the bus stop (don't want any screams at my Medusa morning mojo). There was a lovely icy sheet veiling the world under the still out stars. Back to bed until my cat, again, decided I needed to snap out of it and let him run around the house like a greyhound. Once the little guy kicks it- that's it for my cat experiences (he's my husband's best friend; not so much mine).

My plume never ceases to amuse my overseas husband during our video calls. That's what he gets, it takes time for this girl to get her hair under wraps. (Thus my obsession with fabulous bonnets). It was an especially good call during the final ten minutes. We shared what we needed most from each other at this point in our marriage; I, my need for verbal affirmation and praise, he, his need for my happiness and sanity. The duration consisted of watching my husband smile adoringly at me from my computer screen as I told him of the peace he has given me. All I want from this season of life is quiet, peace, and simplicity. He worried that I was going out of my marbles stuck at home while he is gone. (Baha! Right.) My husband has given me alone time that I may never have again. I get to sleep as much as I need, eat when and what I please, travel where and when I please. I've started painting and have seen a delicious plethora of films; deliciously solo. I am blissfully content in my heart with the life my husband gives me. I am the frickin' happiest stay-at-home wife on the planet! The only thing that would improve my happiness- his effervescent presence. I adore him and will have him here with me again soon. We of course continued to converse in honey dripping declarations of love that you don't need to hear. Yay marriage ;^]


Today was a lemon-pie sky. I didn't even need a jacket- cha ching. Pick up cat food (adult stuff now- here's hopin'), schedule kitty's shave (oh ya, I do)/bath/claw caps appointment, and then off to the dentist to book my life away to grating steel mouth... Lucky me! I didn't brush my teeth this morning and they have an opening right now! Awesome. Turns out I have "beautiful teeth" according to my hygienist of the day, Brenda. Whew! Tomorrow- pasty mcpaste mouth appointment in the am. H-O-T. Blinkin' teeth grinding.


Homeward bound to bland Chinese food roommate leftovers I went; nothing a little soy sauce and sesame seeds couldn't fluff. Fiddled around with e-mail, myspace, facebook, blah blah blah. And for dessert? Honey Toasted O's straight from the big ol' cheap bag with an ice cold rice milk chaser. Heavenly. Nothing tops that mix but a little Desperate Housewives. I sniffled. I have become a sap on a graduated scale since the last Spring for some reason. For example, while sitting in the lobby of the dental office (resignedly waiting for my receipt- which takes about 20 minutes to print for some reason...) a male name was called from the hall by a sweet faced 20-something girl in scrubs. That set off the waterworks of one very worked up 8-year old. Even with the smile from his mother, holding his shaking hand- my eyes brimmed and I wanted to get out of there. I can't listen to kids cry! I start crying! I try to stop, telling myself there is nothing I can do to soothe the creature(s)- and that starts me bawling all over again. What a mess. Don't even get me started on that stupid Prego commercial with that blasted violin music...gaaah!


So, now I am listening to my iTunes. My "Gooda" playlist is on shuffle as I pluck out pumped tunes proper for plunking along on the treadmill and/ or stair machine. I am finally going to go and buy an ipod (I know, I know). Tomorrow night I will be one with the mob. Oh ya. (And I'm gonna like it).


Today is the day the nation of the United States of America remembers one of my great and triumphant heroes, Martin Luther King, Jr. Someday we will have peace- either by God's hand ending our existence, or by slow and steady compassion among our species. Someday, we will have Second Eden. Dr. King showed us a portal and now holds it open with his martyrdom along with all who have died in the name of love. He knew the embracing blindness of true brotherhood, sisterhood; true love. I want to be like him.

Sunday

Today I got up and drove to downtown Vancouver. I looked (fruitlessly) for Nameless Church. I gave up at 1130 since it started at 11. It was a nice, unnaturally warm, day. I walked down Main street again to see if it would magically appear.

I was about to sit my ass down on the curb and cry when I saw a banner in a store window. No wonder I couldn't find it- it was so frickin' damn hard to see the damn sign inside the damn window of the damn building for crying out loud! (It feels good to get that out). Well, I was already this far, so I went across the street and walked up to the door. Of course, with my mad inability skills, I couldn't get it open. I made eye contact with one of the guys in there and he seemed confused that I would want to come in. I finally got him to come to the door. He opened it and told me where the department store which used to fill this particular building had moved. (Someone somewhere did not want me to go to church'style today- WTF). I just kind of looked at him and laughed quietly in incredulity and eased his worries- "I'm here for church'. He let me in with a bewildered look on his face.

I sat in the back of the small gathering and enjoyed scampering children and words about Jesus / Jesus-living. It was good. Near the end it was a time of walking up to a folding table and dipping squared chunks of bread into white-grape juice with your remembrance of Jesus and lighting bulk votive sized candles with your prayers. I enjoyed watching the most avid of scamperers awkwardly yet enthusiastically light a candle by himself and blow out the flame-stick candle in his hand with satisfied gusto.

I said my own prayers, lit my candle and took my communion. I refrained from crossing myself in this crowd, though it does posses significance to my personal worship of God and Jesus. It just seemed out of place at that moment.

After that it was about time to go. A lady named Karen, I believe, shook my hand and said hello. I am not one for immediate socializing and quickly deterred her into handing me a complimentary book (though I would rather just borrow it). I went and said thank you to the bewildered fellow for letting me in (more for my amusement but still in true thanks- he could have ignored me or told me to go away). Then I gathered my things and headed out.

One of their number, a man on (an apparently relieving) cigarette break- whose name I cannot recall because I was to anxious to avoid conversation and be on my contemplative way, called to me and asked if he could ask me a question. I of course said yes because I was not far enough away to feign deafness and not rude enough to say 'actually, sir, I am waxing anti-social this morning, good day'. He was unobtrusive, pleasantly, and merely wanted to know if they had my information if I had wanted to give it, etc. I told him I knew of their website and would be back to return the book I had been given. This made him laugh and I chose that as my exit. All in all a good experience.

I meandered up the street to a crepe and coffee shop I remembered passing during my moment of despair and went in to read the book from Nameless Church.

It was a cozy, whirring little place with plenty of nooks to bunker down with my pastry brunch and Jesus book. I ordered their special of the day- the Orange Butter Crepe for 3'50 and a glass of water. It seemed like the 3 girls behind the counter were going to be busy for a bit before my meal came up, so I sat on a lovely old bench against the wall and cracked open the book. "They're Gentiles for Christ's Sake," by Ken Loyd was my goal for the next few hours. As patrons came and went I nestled into a table and chair arrangement. After I finished my delightful and large crepe I meandered over to the 70's pea-green lounge sofa by the storefront window to continue my book. I read and read until I heard a cash drawer being counted out in the now quiet background. I walked out into the sunny cold and made it the 2 blocks to my vehicle. I hopped in, reclined the driver's seat, popped off my shoes and continued to read in luxurious solitude.

I finished around 3pm.

There was a number and a website to contact the author and/ or church (The Bridge). I headed home intending to do just that. I wanted to cry. I desperately wanted to cry. Instead I found my head wanting to burst in pain. A soul searching induced migraine; churches and Christians have me all cried out. Damn. I had a flicker of hope within me again. A hope that maybe I had found somewhere I could go and shatter into pieces in relative safety. I hoped in the knowledge of a church, a people group, where showing up and going into the fetal position was embraced and rejoiced in. Somewhere in Portland there might be people who would love me- no strings, no questions, no requirements, no agendas, no nothing. The migraine increased in ferocity. Hoping is contrary to my inner existence; at least, hoping in a genuine, safe place in any way affiliated with the word church.

I made it home and turned on my computer. The website was not working. I looked up Ken Loyd with few useful resources. I went to my book to look again. I found a phone number and dialed. Well, Ken answered. I asked if he and his work still existed. He assured me he did exist and that the BridgeChurch still met, however he was in another work now with those without homes. I said thank you and goodbye. I was able to briefly cry then.

I do not know whether this is good news or bad news for me. My inner person holds that this place is not the place from Mr. Loyd's book- as he is no longer there. I could be wrong though. Perhaps, perhaps not.

In any case, I am grateful for the book and will be accepting the offer to keep it, as well as retrieving a few copies for those I know who are in need of it's pages.

Damn.