Tag: random

Nightmare On My Street

So, since I’ve hung up my P90X bands, I’ve started running in the mornings.  My running partner and I have yet to work out a system beyond late night texting to let one another know whether or not it’ll be pairs or singles.  Unfortunately, this particular morning, I missed the text and waited like a weirdo in front of her house for 10 minutes before setting off on my own.  When the newspaper delivery person rode through and chucked the paper at the house, she gave me a wide walk before hustling double time back to her car.  What can I say? I’m a menace in my Nikes and my head scarf.

Of course, I know that a single female running in the dark is a bad idea. I’m by no means invincible, but seriously? It’s 5:50 in the morning. I strongly doubt that any ne’er do wells have set their alarm clocks to leap out of the bushes at me as I trot through a residential neighborhood.  Besides, I’m really stubborn and if I’ve gotten up, gotten dressed, and gone outside, I’m going running.

So, I start my route, sticking to well lit streets and pretty even terrain.  There was a little haze burning off from the streets since the air was warm and the ground was cool from the previous nights rain.    The sky was dark, tinged with pink around the edges and the autumn were leaves sticking to the ground like post-its reminding me that fall is indeed here (you like the image I’m setting up here, don’t you?).  

I like to run in the middle of the street so that I can keep an eye out for people, dogs, and other neighborhood flotsam and jetsam.  Even in daylight hours, I play this game with myself where I mentally call out the make and model of the car I’m approaching so that if, God forbid, someone throws open a car door and makes a grab at me, I’ll at least know what kind of trunk I’m being stuffed into. 

I’m moving right along, not quite race pace, but steady just the same. I don’t have my iPod with me, I’m just listening to my own breath and the throbbing of my blood in my veins.  As I’m going, I keep hearing this “thwup, thwup, thwup,” behind me.  I slow up a bit looking behind me, immediately thinking, “No, dummy! Turning around slows you down. Didn’t you see ‘Scream’?”  I cast a quick, furtive glance over my shoulder.  Nothing.  My heart starts pumping a little faster, my strides become a little quicker, and my brain calls roll for all the whack-a-doos it can name — Michael Meyers, Freddie Kruger, Chuckie. . .

But the thing is, no one was there.

I think all the Halloween paraphernalia placed on neighborhood lawns is getting to me.  I keep moving, but again, I hear, “thwup, thwup, thwup.”  It’s coming at some odd intervals and now, I’m really starting to freak out.   Maybe I should pick up the pace a bit. I could see one of the ROTC units from ODU up a head doing their 5 miles.  If I hurry, I can catch up with the stragglers and use them for cover. Maybe trip one of them, sacrifice the youth for my own survival.  I kick it up a bit.

Thwup, thwup, thwup. 

Short of stopping dead in my tracks and turning in a circle à la Jennifer Love Hewitt in “I Know What You Did Last Summer”, I pump my legs a little harder, mentally recalculate the shortest distance between where I am and the house.  I bee-line it for the front door.

Thwup, thwup thwup.

I’m headed home, all but in a dead sprint when I realize that yes, I’m being followed, but not by someone. It’s something. It’s something far more scary than a man with a hook for a hand or a hockey mask over his face.

It was my own backside.

A sweat-induced booty clapping chasing me down the street.

I’m still having nightmares.









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IN: ON: October 28, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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Don’t Come A’Knockin’. . .

When I’m at home, after having spent the better part of my day running the streets with the girls, I just want to relax.  Usually, I am able to scrape together about 20 to 30 minutes for myself while the girls play quietly. And truly, unless someone is bleeding, bones are showing through skin, or the house is on fire with us all inside,  I don’t want to be disturbed.

Too bad the door-to-door douchebag solicitor didn’t get the memo.

I had seen this guy talking to a neighbor across the street.  He wasn’t someone I recognized from the block. Something about him just screamed “I’ve got something to sell you!”  I hustled the girls inside and locked the door.

I made my way downstairs after tucking in the girls and sure enough, there’s a knock on our door.  Let me re-phrase, there was a vicious pounding on the front door.  You’d have thought the ATF was outside and I was running a meth lab out back.

 I was already coming down the stairs, so I don’t know whether or not he heard me or saw me through the glass panes at the top of the door.  I crouched down and did a half Groucho Marx walk/half commando slither to the front of the house where I could get a look at who it was, but I already knew.

As my fingertips hung onto the windowsill, I raised my head slightly over the top.  I realized, all he had to do was take a few steps to the left and we’d be face to forehead.  I dropped quickly onto the floor, laying supine under the windows, my ears pricked for any movements on the front porch.

Man, I did not want to open the door!  I counted 10 beats.  I counted 20 beats.  Quietly, quietly, quietly,  I came to a squatting position and tip-toed it to the far side of the room where I could get an angle on the front porch.  Gone.

Two days later, it’s Friday morning.  DH and I woke up late, the kids having camped out with my folks.  As DH headed to the bathroom for the three S’s, I made my way downstairs to make him a bite to eat.  I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear:

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Are you kidding me? It’s 7:45 in the morning.  Upon hearing the banging, my body goes into fight or flight.  Seriously, the door sounds like it’s about o bust off its hinges.  I drop to a crouch and cruise over to the windows.  It’s the same freaking guy from before!  What are you doing?! What could you possibly have to sell at 7:45 in the morning? What makes you think that banging on my front door like you’re John Henry is going to make someone open the door?

I already knew I wasn’t going to open it.   So what if he could see me through the windows?  I pulled myself to my full 63 inches and walked through my house, squeaky floorboards and all.

I thought about putting a “No Solicitors” on the front door, but I don’t want to be that family on the street.  Besides, with back-to-school all but here, I’m sure the Girl Scouts will be rolling out their cookie patrol and I surely don’t want to miss that.

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IN: ON: August 9, 2010 TAGS: , BY: Hilary
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Something I’ve Been Thinking About. . .

Yesterday,  as I was uploading 173 of my 434 vacation photos on FaceBook, I was wondering how it is we got here.  By here, I mean, this continual streaming of news and information to friends, family and networks.  Bear with me for a second because what I’m about to type is purely off the top of my head (redundancy may abound).

Do we plan our activities because we truly want to do things? Do we make plans to fulfill a desire to socialize, to interact, to build our knowledge on a social and intellectual level? Or do we do things simply to check them off of a giant list of basic human  “things we should do” because :

1. That’s what I think I should do.
2. That’s what I’m entitled to do.
3. That’s what someone told me to do.
4. That’s what other people in my demographic are doing.
5. If I don’t do it, how will I know I’ve “made it”, I’ve lived my best life, I’ve earned it?

Do we do things just to be able to update our status to reflect it? Do we do things just to twat Tweet about it? Do we do things so we can see ourselves on YouTube (some of those videos are mad funny).

I found myself really thinking about this as we drove around MV, going to various beaches and activities.  Armed with my camera, I took more photos of the girls than I have in a long time.Vacation is a chance to slow down and be on your own schedule, which for those of you who know me, I’m always on a schedule.  To be able to snap away,  to capture memories was great.  In my head, I was concocting all of these projects that I would create with the images.  I would make separate albums for the girls based on the activities we did. Or maybe I would build a collection of albums of only our family vacations to the island. No! I’d make a photo collage of our trips to the beach and then put it in a shadow box with the sand and shells that made it home with us in the bottom of our beach cooler. Ooooh! Oooh! I’ll make a progressive book of the girls in their bathing suits every summer, so that when you flip it real fast, you can watch them grow right before your eyes!

And of course, somewhere in the back of my mind, didn’t I consider which ones I would upload to Shutterfly? Which one I wanted to use as my Facebook profile picture? Which one I would send to DH so he could put it on his wall or tweet about how much fun we were having?

That last thought was the one that made me pump the brakes.  Instead of tweeting about how much fun we’re having, why don’t we have some fun?  Even by blogging about it, am I perpetuating the cycle? Where is the line between simple sharing and constant new feeding? How can we really enjoy what we are doing if we spend our time rushing through it just to tell others about it?

DH gently reminded me that before all this Twittering, FaceBooking, MySpacing and the like, people showed home movies and sent pictures to family and friends about their vacations.  Nothing has changed.  The need to share and include others is still pervasive and prevalent.   The fact is, we are just able to share that much quickly thanks to technology.

 I like leafing through photo albums and hearing stories that will be laughed about for a good long while.  I guess I’m old fashioned that way.  But I’m forward thinking enough to know the best and easiest way to share what’s been going on, how we’ve been getting on and all parts in between is to put it out there.  Isn’t that the whole point of these social networking sites?

I think I’ve just spent the last hour chasing my own tail about this.  Hang on while I upload the picture.

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IN: ON: July 4, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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Post Pending

Seriously, I have started and stopped and started and stopped this post at least half a dozen times tonight.

First, I was going to talk about how I’ve decided I really need to be in a music video (not in a video-vixen) type of way, but, like, learning really serious dance moves, going to a destination other than Norfolk, and having wardrobe and make-up styling that makes everything else look like the cosmetics boat at Walgreens).  I think it’s the dancing that is really making me want to do this.  I peeped out a few minutes of DWTS while I was folding some laundry the other day and Nicole Sche-here-hahe- Pussy Cat Doll chick was killing it.  And I thought, “Pfft! I could do that!”  — yeah, I said that about a nurse taking my blood pressure and look where that got me.

Anywhoodle, thinking about dancing made me start thinking about Mo and Co and the myriad of  the summer plans we have finally hammered out.  In the coming weeks, the girls will be doing the following, which includes, but is not limited to Vacation Bible School, FPC camp, soccer camp, gymnastics camp, a week with the grands, a week at Martha’s Vineyard, and an art camp (relax, relax, each “camp” is really just 5 half days. I haven’t shipped them off to Swiss boarding school — yet).   I realized I needed to finish registering the girls for the aforementioned camps and finding all the requisite uniforms/gear/assorted paraphernalia that goes along with it.  I stopped typing to get on the ‘net to complete the various registrations and shop for shin guards, Sambas (how cute are they going to look!), leotards and so forth.

All this cyber shopping and deposit confirming made me kind of stressed in an end-of-the-day-and-I-still-have-a-billion-things-to-do kind of way, so instead of digging the buy-one-get-one Coldstone coupon out of my wallet and throwing the girls in the car, I opted for a glass of wine.     The girls were already upstairs in their beds, and I had no where to be. What’s a glass of wine or three between me, myself, and I?

Foolishly, I had opened a Pinot Grigio instead of a Riesling and let me tell you my friends, that makes a difference.  The sweeter the wine, the less likely I am to need a snack to go with it.  The Pino activated my sweet receptors, which forced me (really) to head to the pantry. Searching, searching, searching. . .I’m nothing if not well stocked.  I dumped some Trader Joe’s granola-esque trail mix into a dish, pulled up a cushion on the sofa with my wine glass and kicked on the TV.

Netflix has recently gifted me with another set of episodes from my newest addiction, “Lie to Me.”  I want to say I’m loving it, but it’s more like an intense crush.  The premise, a guy who can read micro-expressions in people’s faces in order to determine whether or not they are lying, is pretty unique.  The lead, Tim Roth, is stellar, but the rest of the cast is kind of meh.  Maybe because I’ve been watching one episode right after another, it’s gotten tedious.  I think I need that week in between that comes with watching regular network TV in order to fully appreciate it.

Once I had maxed out that disc, I put in the next P90X work-out disc for the morning and started moving the furniture around so I wouldn’t have to do it at 4:45am.  Yes, I am still grinding it out with Tony in the mornings.  I think I’m hitting a wall.  It’s week 8 and my motivation is going down, down, down, down. I’m at the point where I’m waking up before the alarm, but it’s still a struggle to get upright and down the stairs.  I will admit, I always feel better after I did it, but before and during, P90X can suck it.

So, I started my night-time routine of prepping for the morning, which included throwing in some laundry, taking out some laundry, making lunches, setting out breakfast stuff, setting out gym bags and tennis bags and school bags, putting out the recycling and charging my phone.  I remembered that I was going to upload some songs from iTunes, so I fished out my USB cable to plug into my computer.  When I cleared the screen saver, I saw where I had begun to finish — or was it start —  this post.

Whatever.

Any time I can get some words on a page in a fairly cohesive grouping, I’ll take it.

 

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IN: ON: May 27, 2010 TAGS: BY: Hilary
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Girl, where’ve you been?

Oh, how I wish I had some exotic locale to say that I’d decided to make my new home, but sadly, nope. I’ve just been busy. I mean, really busy, and yet, if you were to ask me what I’ve been doing, I’d be grasping as straws to tell you. Let me see if I can cull together some highlights of what’s been going down.

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Tennis — so you remember how I told you that I had been hitting the courts at least twice a week?  Things have been going really well.  My lessons and my hard work are paying off.  I can actually see improvement!  I’m breaking my bad habits while the new ones are taking hold. I’m not saying I’m ready for the USTA and any tours, but I’m feeling more confident about the regular doubles matches that I play.  I’ve been regularly subbing in this round robin comprised of 8 senior citizen ladies.  Seriously, I’m playing doubles with the Golden Girls.

The woman closest to me in age is 53 and the oldest is 78.  No joke. The first time I played with them, one of the ladies kind of burnt out in the warm up.  My partner, who is 68 says, “Damnit, Patsy! I came here to play, not to watch you huff and puff on the sidelines.  I told you to stay on your oxygen.”

Holy. Crap. Cakes.

The woman with the oxygen was quick to tell me that she’d had a mini stroke during one match, but kept on playing.  Yo! Don’t sleep on these old broads.  They’re playing through strokes, they had me running like windshield wipers all over the court for these drop shots, and they talk more trash than the Waste Management Authority.

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 P90X – What can I say? 30 days are behind me and I’m down 4 pounds and 3 inches from my waist.  Clearly, something is working.  You know, Tony Horton gives a little confessional at the beginning of each workout, going on and on about what this particular work out is going to do for you and how if you want to see results, you better “bring it”.  The ab routine, called Ab Ripper X , has this confessional, too. He’s all, “Oh you do 349 moves.  And you’ll have ripped abs, yadda, yadda, yadda.”  Then he looks into the camera and says, “Ab Ripper X! I hate it. . . .but I love it. “

I’m on week 6 and as far as me and Ab Ripper X go? I hate it. . . .no, I just hate it.

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Glee — My new favorite show!  I can’t remember how I got hooked on this one, but the next thing I know, Netflix couldn’t send them fast enough.  When that got maxed out, Hulu and I became besties.  I was walking around the house, laptop in hand so I could watch episodes. I watch the show even while the DVR is recording it. I know, it’s ridiculous.  Probably because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, I’m living vicariously through this show.  Seriously, I lip sync “Happy Birthday”.  Anyway, I’m a “Gleek“, I’ll admit it.  First of all, I want Emma Pillsbury’s wardobe.  I even found this blog about what she wears and how you can find similar knockoffs.  Click here and thank me later.  If I could sing, I can’t decide if I want Rachel’s voice or Kurt’s. And if Mr. Shue does one more Color Me Badd/Vanilla Ice/Tone Loc cover I am going to die of embarassment for him.

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Reading — I have been looking for a good book for a while now, and I finally got my hands on something halfway decent. Of course, I burned right through it, but that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’ve got a good read.  I was reading two books at once, “Self Made Man” by Norah Vincent and “The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox” by Maggie O’Farrell, but I realized I could really enjoy the latter until I finished the former.  It was like eating my veggies in order to get to dessert.  I mean, I like vegetables, but we all know dessert and I have a very special relationship.  Very special, hence my new relationship with Tony Horton.  When it comes to those 4:45a work outs, I feel like Antoine and Blaine:

But I digress. 
I’m looking for another book to give up my household responsibilities for, so send titles my way.  

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Hanging out with BBC — My brother has been in town twice in the past two weeks, which has been really nice.  He’s come over for dinner and some quality time with the girls.  They’ve tried to con him into reading entire shelves of books, they manage to get from their chair into his lap throughout the course of a meal, and effectively relieve him of his iPhone to play Flickr Fish until someone (Morgan) cries that someone else isn’t sharing (Coever).  Last night, we went out to dinner with a girlfriend of mine and cut up like we had nothing to do tomorrow.

Several margaratini’s, margaritas, and a sangria later, the sweater comes off and the smiles come out!

We are definitely doing this again.
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Pretending to be Annie Liebovtiz — DH and I have been talking about getting a new camera.  I think I’m  ready for an SLR, even though it doesn’t have the sleekness of the compact models, and even though it means I’ll be schlepping more stuff around with me.  I’m just ready to take better pictures.  With that, of course, means learning about all the tips and tricks that go with SLR photography.  I got some books from the library, but I’m wondering if they’ve got a Rosetta Stone for Digital Photography because the vocab alone is enough to make me break out some flash cards to keep it straight.  Sure, I’d be tempted to just learn as I go, but an SLR, especially the Nikon D90 (*drool*) is was too pricey to waste time trying to figure it out.

My friend, Lacey, was kind enough to let me test drive her Canon PowerShotXT.  SO nice.  I had no clue what I was doing when I would increase or decrease the ISO (I’m still not entirely clear on what ISO is anyway), nor did I really see a difference between AV Mode and M, but I did get some nice pictures of the girls.

And DH even turned the camera on me for an impromptu snap session a la Austin Powers. 

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The Usual — I’ve been running errands, chauffeuring girls to school and playdates. I’ve hauled out the sprinkler, grilled burgers, had drinks with a neighbor (thanks, Kim), gone to the library, Target, Trader Joe’s and back again.

We took the girls to Jamestown, we went to see my parents, we went out for sushi with my brother and Morgan proceeded to eat her California rolls, Coever’s California rolls, my dragon roll and my mom’s Umi.  Then she asked for dessert (definitely my child).

I’ve gone to a baby shower, I’ve been to birthday parties, I’ve hung out with my girlfriends more than I have in months and I’m loving it.

I’ve been told I’m “too smokin’ hot” to wear flats all of the time, so I’m working heels into my wardrobe rotation.  Point of Clarification: You know you need to make some changes when you throw a pair of heels on with some jeans and folks start asking you why you’re all dressed up!

 Sadly, I did something to my knee last week, so I’ve been “keeping off of it” but really, that just means, I’ve scaled down from 20mph to about 18mph.

 I’ve been working on this post for two days!  More like eight if you count the six days it took me to organize this in my head.  I haven’t spell checked it either.

I’m just too busy.

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IN: ON: May 13, 2010 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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Take My Picture! Please!

Man, I’ve had this haircut for about 3 months now, and aside from one do-it-myself photo shoot with iPhoto, I’ve got no photographic evidence that anything’s changed.

Hey, remember me? 

Ugh, I need a new wardrobe person. . .

Speaking of which, a few months ago, I bought this fly looking dress from Dillards.  I had been there looking for something to wear to a semi-formal holiday event we had — so this puts us back in early December.  In a matter of minutes, I found just the dress I had in mind, in my size, and on sale.  Signs of the apocalypse, right?  I’m thinking the day couldn’t get any better, when I saw this other little dress on the rack.  And when I put it on, I felt like a million bucks, so I bought that one, too.  Even at full price.

Seriously, the dress didn’t look like much of anything on the hanger, but when I put it on, I literally started jumping up and down in the dressing room.  I mean, really plucking a dress off of the rack, trying it on without having to brace one leg against the door jamb in order to zip it up and having said dress make me feel like I could stop traffic? Things that like never happen to me.

When I came home with the dress, I told DH that he had to, had to, had to see me in this dress.  It was like I had Wonder Woman’s indestructible bracelets on. I felt like “Boom, Boom, Pow!”  I threw on my peep-toed pumps, slid into the dress (and I could still breathe), and was all, “Bring it, snitches!”  Woo, woo! To say that DH was impressed would be an understatement.
Yet, after my little fashion show, the dress went back on the hanger and into the closet, where it has remained, growing smaller and smaller with every passing day.  Don’t you know that your clothes shrink from non-use?  Why else does it take calisthenics and nerves of steel to fit into your summer clothes after a particularly lengthy winter?  Duh.
A few weeks would go by and I would take the dress out of the closet, lay it across my bed and think about how an article of clothing can change your whole mood.  Sometimes, I’d put it on and get a self-esteem boost.  Go ahead and laugh, I know that’s ridiculous.  Don’t forget, though, you’re talking to a girl that used to watch Must-See TV in her wedding gown in order to get the most use out of it. Seriously, sitting on the couch, surrounded by tulle and crinoline, watching NBC, and I was perfectly content (I’d only wear the veil on the week-ends).
But back to the present. Every time I opened the closet, I caught a glimpse of the dress, tags still on it.  And because I save everything, I pulled out the receipt, all set to march the dress back to Dillards where it probably belonged.  DH, however, convinced me to keep it.  I was less successful convincing him to take me out somewhere in it. 
So it sat in the closet, taunting me.  Steadily shrinking.  I thought about putting the dress on and doing the whole self-timer on the camera and snapping a few pics before the dress all but morphed into a hand-towel.  The truth is,  I’ve been pretty slack-tacular on wielding the camera lately.  The weather has been nice and we’ve been out and about doing some pretty cool photo-opportunity inducing things, but I just haven’t been the shutterbug that I used to be.  I think my Shutterfly account was terminated from lack of use.  
My mother-in-law had suggested some time ago that I have the girls Christmas photos re-taken.  Their dresses, while completely stunning, per usual, had been missing the accompanying accessories.  And then, it hit me!  
We’ll get the girls photos done again, but we’ll skip the Picture Peeps and hire a professional photographer.  We’ll make it a family affair.  I’ll get the girls dressed up, have DH put on his tux and I’ll wear the dress! Yay!  I have somewhere to go and I have something to wear — at the same time!  Incredible.  

So, that was two weeks ago and as for the dress. . .well, I’ve hyped it up so much, I hope you aren’t too disappointed.  Click here, but as soon as the photos come back, I’ll definitely share.  Unless of course the dress shrunk again during photo editing.

Hey, it could happen!

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IN: ON: April 2, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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Public Service Announcement

My friend Christy over at A Little Piece of Heaven (a must read for those of you who aren’t in the know), who was recently married has been selected as a finalist in a contest given by her wedding photographer. The photog has put a photo of several couples from previous weddings on her blog and whichever couple gets the most votes will get a FREE canvas print of their wedding photo.

I love pictures and when I look back at my own album, I realize that I should have been more diligent about choosing a photog. I was blinded by being in luuuuuuuurve with DH, I missed that, I guess. Anyway, all you have to do is go to the link below, at the bottom of the post, click on Kenny and Christy and click submit. Theirs is a great photo.


And thanks for your support (mad cool points if you can ID the quote!)

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IN: ON: February 13, 2010 TAGS: BY: Hilary
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