Panic Induced Cleaning Frenzy

I have the best husband ever.  Let me just tell you.  


For the last couple of days, we have been finding these little black bug/beetle things in our house.  Not a lot of them, but definitely enough to be ask the question, "where the fuck are they coming from and why the fuck are these little fuck-tards in my house???"  


That very question was asked in the appropriate tone of frustration after I unknowingly stepped on one with a chill inducing, gut wrenching and unbelievably loud crunch.  For like, the fifth time that night for the third day in a row.  These little shit heads are tiny, maybe the size of like, four grains of rice rolled into one, so I don't know how or why they crunch so loud.  I would post a picture but I take way too much pleasure in stomping on them to exercise enough self control to take a picture first.  


My hubby tells me that it's "just monsoon season" and so all the bugs come inside.  I've been living here for almost six years now, and on ground level places before, and I don't remember having these little shits in my house.  So we wiki them.  And we think that they're black carpet beetles.  They actually aren't on the carpet.  They're on the tile so they probably aren't carpet beetles, but they looked like the picture of them online.  

Now, I grew up in middle class suburbia where you get the occasional house fly and spider inside, but bugs only happen to slovenly people.  Even the bugs on the outside are bumblebees and butterflies, it's very Pleasantville.  Seeing one of these in your backyard:

Would cause mass hysteria and panic, a flyer being sent out to the neighbors about the beetle that is coming to steal your children - Public Enemy Number One, and the most expensive exterminator coming out to remove the problem.  Things are different here in the desert.  This Palo Verde beetle can be found in your backyard (and any backyard) usually right before and right after monsoon season.  They live in the ground burrowing in the roots of Palo Verde trees and they come up to the surface to die.  They're inappropriately big, disgusting, and they make the hairs on Sappho's back stand straight up while she growls and barks at their corpses.  The first time I saw one I was so paralyzed by it's size I couldn't do anything except stare at it.  

So here I am, 1030pm, finding out that we have, maybe, carpet beetles in our house and I immediately start to panic about us being dirty people who need to clean the house immediately because now that I knew the problem I was certain that the house would be eaten to the ground and our cats would be hoisted away by these little bugs.  Juan is lovingly trying to tell me that we aren't dirty people (because we aren't), and that it's the desert and that during the hot and wet summers the outdoor residents come indoors for the air conditioning and how would I feel if I had to live on the ground outside when it's 110 out.  But I couldn't hear it.  So instead of yelling at me, he puts his sneakers on and grabs the vacuum and helps me clean.  An hour into this frenzy I notice one of the little bastards crawling from under our door.  And then it dawns on me, are they coming from outside???? (duh, Kat, Juan has been telling you this all along...).  So I stood by our door and watched, and sure enough, these little shits were crawling under our door and into the house.  


We go out there with our little detective flashlights, and yup, there are all sorts of them crawling around in the dead foliage that had been blown around from the previous storm.  So we, by we I mean he, get out our outside broom and sweep away all the debris, I sheepishly say that we can stop cleaning since they're coming in from outside, and I have only seen 2 of them bitches inside in the last 2 days.  


We didn't get to bed until after midnight, we woke up seriously tired the next morning, but instead of being grumpy at me he just said, "you're welcome" when I thanked him for indulging my panic and craziness.  

Mixin' It Up With The Mighty JM

When it comes to fitness, it's always a good thing to mix things up.  It's how we force our body to change.  With any fitness or diet program (I hate calling it a program, it's a lifestyle choice.  I know that's cheesy but it's true.  It's about being active with your choices of physical activity and active about the choices on the food we eat), after doing the same thing over and over our bodies adapt and adjust and they stop responding the way we want them to.  

To avoid that frustrating, soul crushing and all disappointing plateau, we have to change our routine up so that our body is always trying to adapt to something new.  An occasional high calorie day (occasional for those of you who don't know means infrequent or irregular - so not every Tuesday and Thursday) is good for your system because your body has to adapt to the high calorie intake and burn off the extra calories, which boosts your metabolism.  Switching up your exercise routine does the same thing.   

I have a bunch of Jillian Michael DVDs (aka the Mighty JM).  I love the way she works out, I love the way she trains.  She doesn't mess around.  She's all about working as many muscle groups at the same time, so you're not just doing lunges, you're doing pendulum lunges with bicep curls or static lunge with an upright row.  Everything is working, which means maximum calorie burning.  

Every six weeks I switch up which DVDs I do to keep challenging myself.  The last six weeks was her Yoga DVD, this set is her 30 Day Shred DVD.  I love this DVD because it has 3 different workouts on it, each 20minutes long.  Each work out has a beginner, intermediate and advanced version of the exercise which means that I can go back to the Level 1 workout and do the advanced version and still be challenged.  I did this DVD for the first time in several weeks yesterday and I am sore.  I did the Level 2 workout and I was dripping sweat.  DRIPPING.  Not a dainty girl glisten, I mean shirt completely soaked through with sweat.  

So if you're looking for a fast, fun and effective workout that will make you sweat buckets, totally invest in this DVD.  The Might JM never lets you down.  

Back Yard Domesticity

I don't consider myself a very domestic person.  I have no Brie Van De Kamp bone in my body for cleanliness (I feel the need to clarify - we aren't slovenly by any means, but we do have a lot of clutter and I can let the sweeping go for a couple of weeks before it *must* be done), no Susan Mayer bone in my body for craftiness.  I don't know how to get red wine stains out of anything (okay, my knowledge of getting stains out of anything is to a: avoid getting stains on things in the first place and b: try shout if it's unavoidable, and c: retire that piece of clothing if step b fails).  I don't know how to fix a hem on pants, okay fine, I don't know how to sew at all so fixing seams or holes on anything is just beyond my skill.  


I do know some domestic tricks.  I know how to fold a fitted sheet (if you don't know check out this step-by-step process, compliment of my friend Jil), I did crochet my sister a scarf once but it was all different tightness and different widths (so when my future children need their play costumes hand made, I'm sending them to see her because she can do this), I can make a mean fleece tie blanket, I know how to fold a paper crane, I know that nail polish remover will remove sharpie from manila folders, and I know that wine needs to be kept out of the light to prevent any sun damage to the luscious alcohol within.  I also know that a water spray bottle and 20 minutes in the dryer is just as effective as an iron, which is why I don't even own an iron.  I wish I knew more domestic stuff, like how to hem my own pants and knit mittens or something (can you imagine how much you would save on Christmas gifts???), but at this point in time, I wish I knew how to garden.  


Well, I know that seeds go in dirt and that it needs water to grow.  But that's really it.  I have killed bamboo before.  Plants are tricky little bastards.  They need water and sunlight to grow, but too much water or sunlight can kill them, just like too little.  And unlike Simba, they don't stomp around the bed and yowl up and down the hall when they are hungry and need feeding.  They just die.  That whole rule for people in recovery of, buy a plant and if it's alive after one year, get a pet, and if both are alive after two years, then get a date, would never work for me.  My menagerie of healthy, happy and loved animals would have no decorative foliage.  


Our backyard is pretty barren.  I mean, it's Tucson and nothing grows in 110 degree heat (hello, nature?  you were supposed to be this hot in July, not during monsoon season, you're actually supposed to be getting a little cooler now, just in case you forgot...) that's not prickly.  But I look at our barren back yard, and all I can see are perfect spots for those big potted plants, and a little veggie garden.  And based on my friends starting veggie gardens, I do know that the dust and sand that is the dirt here in Tucson, sucks for growing things and so you would have to treat it (with what I don't know.  Kindness?).  


So my first goal was to try and bring back what appears to be what's left of a formerly large tree.  Why spend the man hours on treating my dust and sand dirt with kindness to prepare it for a veggie garden when we know that my green thumb is good enough to kill bamboo, right?  I figured that trying to love a tree that already existed in the yard would be a good place to start practicing my green thumb.  I've been watering this asshole pretty consistently for several months now and it looks like this:

Now I know it's a tree and so it doesn't get fixed over night.  And it has been sprouting promising green mini branches.  Here's a close up:

So I dunno, maybe I'm doing something right and am just impatient.  Maybe this tree is actually dead and I'm watering it for nothing.  My instinct is also telling me that I need to hack all the dead branches off, but in doing so I will probably kill the tree if it is alive, and I don't know if that is even something you do.  Not to mention, we don't own a saw.  Needless to say, there won't be a post about a veggie garden any time soon.  

Are You Pole Fit?

[Last post of the day, I promise.  I just don't feel like doing my homework so I'm getting to a list of things that I have been wanting to blog about]

In addition to my mini library of work out DVDs, I'm a pole fitness instructor.  No, not a stripper and I don't teach stripper classes. I teach and take pole fitness classes.  We take pole dancing and work the hell out of you.  We do sit ups on the pole, climbing using just your arms, upside down hangs, crazy one armed backward spins, not to mention all the plyo work I add to my classes when you're not sitting up top or hanging upside down.  It's a massive work out.  My arms have never been buffer and I haven't been this strong since I was swimming and playing volleyball year round.  

I got into it when my sister took me and my bridal party to a pole dancing party for my bachelorette.  I wasn't sure if it was the champagne or the actual class that was rad, so I took another class just to be sure when I got back from the honeymoon and I haven't looked back since.  I haven't been to a gym since I started going to the studio to work out on the poles.  Nothing is as fun as this.  Or as rewarding.

Pole fitness is so much more than a great work out, it's a way to help me and other women get fit and feel sexy doing it.  Who doesn't want to play around in these bad boys? (my sister got me these 7inch stilettos that with rhinestones down the heel.  For the original story, click here.  I don't wear them often, but when I do, I just feel happy and silly and yeah okay, hot).  

Or learn how to do this on the pole?  (this is called a crescent moon and it's one of my favorites.  It requires both strength and flexibility and I was crazy proud of myself when I was finally able to do it.  And yes that's me)

As an instructor, I love being able to help people get fit, but I also love the transformation of confidence in the women I teach.  At first, they're all afraid to let go and have fun on the pole.  After a class, they're hair swishing fiends thirsty for more.  

I teach mostly boot and aerobics classes because I prefer to sweat and make my students sweat buckets in an hour.  We do lunges and kick boxing and squats and power yoga and all sorts of crazy plyo work in addition to learning all the cool things on the pole.  The dance classes don't have all that ('cuz you can't jump around in seven inch heels without breaking something) but they are equally hard as they focus on grace and execution.  

So if you have been wondering about the new pole fit craze, stop wondering and get involved!  There's nothing like it and I promise you won't be disappointed!

Peanut Butter and Popcorn

No, not together.  I enjoy a weird food combination every now and then, but not that one.  


I love popcorn.  Even more so since I can't have it.  Nuts and kernels are not kind to my GI condition.  But when I was unaware that popcorn could potentially aggravate the tummy problem, it was my favorite mid-day/weekend snack.  I'm not sure why, but I think it has something to do with being reminded of the movies.  You get popcorn when you go to the movies, so when you have a mini bag at 3pm on Tuesday while you sit at your desk, or randomly on a Saturday, it's like a mini escape to the movies, without actually having to go and sign over your first born child for movie tickets.  Juan is very supportive with the tummy troubles.  He graciously accepted our dairy free diet without question, he is always looking for places for us to go eat that I can actually eat at, etc.  But we had a box of microwaveable popcorn and lately he's been eating it as his snack. And lately I've been wanting to dive down his throat to get to the popcorn too.  I miss it.  That buttery goodness, the light and flakey little crunch, the fact that it's the one food that you can shovel into your mouth by the fist-full and it's totally okay, I miss it all.  


But, you shouldn't have to.  So if you want popcorn and don't want to blow your day with the copious amounts of melted (because there really is no other way to eat popcorn), then I strongly suggest the 100calorie Weight Watcher approved popcorn bags.  You can get them at almost any grocery store.  They're tasty, they satisfy that itch and they don't blow your day in terms of calories in.  


The other food note I'm going to make is peanut butter.  Now, I'm a Skippy Extra Chunky fan myself.  It's what we had in the pantry when I was a kid, and it's what I've eaten my whole life.  In fact, I can remember turning my nose up at the creamy stuff because I thought that chunky was so much better.  It wasn't always this way, I remember not liking it that much, and I don't remember why or what changed, but either way, I love Skippy Extra Chunky.  


But again, I can't have nut chunks, and my husband DESPISES all things peanut related, and since my sister couldn't make it to Tucson so she could eat it all, guess who has been getting the good peanut butter?  Sappho.  Sappho loves peanut butter.  Her favorite is bananas with peanut butter.  


There are perks to not being able to eat the PB that I love.  For instance, there's no reduced fat version for the chunky stuff.  There is for the creamy stuff though.  And while eating tablespoons of PB at a time (I cannot confirm or deny this ever happening to me) is not healthy since it is higher in fat, as a whole, PB is actually pretty good for you.  


The reduced fat creamy stuff is 180calories per serving, 12g of fat, no trans fat, 7g of protein and 2g of fiber.  Spread that ish on some whole grain bread and it's not a bad lunch.  Plus, PB sandwiches don't need to be refrigerated, and even if they get smooshed, they're still tasty.  Not to mention a back to school essential.  

Grad School is for Grown Ups

Well, duh.  You can't go to grad school without a four year degree, and while we can certainly debate on how "grown up" you are at the ripe old age of 22 (providing of course that you went the traditional four year route right after high school), you have a whole college experience and education under your belt, more than likely some work experience too, and you are "ready" for the world.  So many discussions we can get into on that "world readiness" but I don't want to start WWIII via my blog.  Anyways...


This blog title is really in reference to something very surface level.  I didn't get much sleep last night, and I woke up tired and groggy.  I don't drink coffee so I made myself my favorite form of caffeinated tea and stared into my closet trying to figure out what to wear.  This indecisiveness was not due to the usual Dress to Impress internal conversation that I have with myself, but really about Comfort or Appropriate.  In my undergrad, I went to school with a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top thrown on over my bikini, a messy hair bun and some flip flops (because if I wasn't in class, I was at the pool exponentially increasing my chances of getting skin cancer at an early age).  In cold weather (all two months of it) I went to school in sweat pants (not the fashionable kind) or some raggety ripped up jeans and a hoodie, with the same messy hair bun and flip flops (I rarely wear close toed shoes).  You can't do this in grad school, because grad school is full of real grown ups.  And real grown ups get dressed.  Every day.  So the younger people in my program are showing up in things that I would wear to dinner with friends, in what appears to me as a way to make sure they "fit in" with the other real adults without realizing that they're over-doing it.  And then the older people in my program are dressed like normal grown ups in regular every day clothes.  Needless to say, had I worn what I felt like wearing today, yoga pants with a sports bra and a t-shirt, while comfortable would not have been necessarily appropriate.  And even then, while my t-shirt and jeans is more than acceptable, I still feel the need to make sure that my hair isn't wild, and to put on eye-liner, mascara and a little foundation to cover up the blemishes.  I feel the need to look put together, and not like I rolled out of bed and threw on some clothes.  


[caution: in rereading my post before I published, I realized that I switched gears here.  So remember how I said this post was in reference to the surface level of me not wearing sweat pants to class, yeah forget it because it's about to get a little deeper and more serious]


I've been trying to figure out why this is, especially since it's just class and I'm not there to impress anyone.  It's not like if I show up dressed in a business suit or my pajamas is going to impact my grade.  My work will.  I'm not hoping or wanting to get hit on.  I don't really care what other people think about me (I mean, we all do in reality, but I don't think about what other people will think of me when I get dressed in the morning), blah blah blah.  On a surface level, I didn't want to feel awkward in my clothing choice, which I guess can actually be related back to me caring about what other people think of me at least a little bit (god I love it when I contradict myself, especially when my contradictory thoughts are both truths.  Hurray for the human condition!!!)  On a deeper level, this might be me having a greater investment in my appearance.  Not in the vain, "oh I'm sooo pretty and I want everyone to think that I'm sooo pretty," kind of way.  Negative.  But there is something to be said for feeling good when we've taken the time to put ourselves together.  You feel good when you look good, and you look good when you feel good.  I said earlier that when I get dressed in the morning, I don't think about what other people will think of me in my clothes, which is true.  I think about how comfortable I feel in what I'm wearing and how I will feel all day in what I'm wearing.  It's as if when I stand in my closet and wonder what to wear, I'm not actually struggling with fashion (how could I?  I'm a jeans and t-shirt kind of a girl and all my clothes are earth tones so they all match each other...), but I'm trying to pick my external self-esteem for the day.  So maybe I'm also more invested in my feelings.  Maybe I have found the true meaning to happiness and will wake up tomorrow morning as the Buddah.  Who knows.  Either way, it was worth noting in my brain.  


All in all it got me thinking about where people are in their lives and how that brings them to grad school.  'Cuz grad school is really different than undergrad.  Not just in terms of course work and expectations etc, but also the demographic and reasons for being there.  From my perspective, undergrad is about the experience first, and the education second.  At least it certainly was for me.  I was there to learn how to live on my own and become independent and self-sufficient first, and get a degree second.  I'm lucky that I have a degree that I love and am using.  I have friends who just stuck with random majors that they knew they wouldn't pursue long term because the major was easy, or they had the most credits for etc.  And for the most part, when people reminisce about the good-old college days, they talk about drunken debauchery or amazing life long friends they made.  Class is rarely talked about.  Grad school, at least from my perspective, is about the calling to pursue that specific form of education.  I'm not in grad school because I didn't want to work anymore so I thought I would go to school, or because I'm a learning junkie.  I'm in grad school because I have a calling to further my education in my field so that I can make a difference in the world.  And so far from what I've heard from my classmates, that's why they're there too.  And what kind of people are grounded enough to not only hear said calling but to answer the call?  People who have experienced and worked through enough shit in their lives to have figured that out.  Grown ups.  

Death Match: car vs human

I had to go to the UA bookstore today to pick up books for my grad classes.  There was a part of me that chuckled to myself as I realized that I was stealthily blending in with the Wildcats around me to buy text books for classes that are held by the Wildcats' most loathed nemesis: the Sundevils.  I should clarify that the UA is my alma mater, and at this years Duel in the Desert I will be vehemently rooting for the Cats to win, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit of a traitor as I am now officially an ASU graduate student.  Shocking and blasphemous, I know.  But trust me when I say, with gusto, that Sparky aint got shit on Wilbur and Wilma.  


So I'm driving around campus, which, if any of you have gone to a big university like the UA, you know driving around campus is really an idealistic concept.  It's more like inch worming and wasting your gas around campus than actually driving.  It's like being on a California freeway during rush hour traffic.  It's not really driving if you can put the car in park even though you're on the road and not in a parking lot.  


This traffic and congestion is not new to me.  I grew up in California, had to commute to school, and then went to college out of state and once I moved off campus and actually had need for a vehicle, I inched my way around campus trying to find parking.  I wasn't even worried about having to maneuver through angry sweaty mobs once I got to the bookstore.  I figured the bob and weave and slinking around people was all muscle memory as I did it for four years and so it would come back to me.  But parking, that shit caused me anxiety.  I am still trying to dry myself off from all the perspiration it caused me (this probably has something to do with it being 97 out but feeling like 102 due to humidity and my AC not working, but whatever).  


I cease to be amazed at how people walk and behave while on campus.  It's like people driving in parking lots: they simply forget how to drive.  It's the same with walking on campus.  I am a firm believer in walking to get you places, or using some other mode of transportation that doesn't leave a carbon foot print like your car.  And while I was a student, I walked or I used my long board (the blue one - the orange one was my roommate's).  

But regardless if I was on foot or wheels, I made an effort to be aware of others around me.  Especially cars.  Apparently this mentality is few and far between, because my experience this morning assured me that these campus pedestrians/cyclists/long boarders seem to believe that in a death match between their 100+lb selves of flesh and bone and my 1ton car of steel and fiber glass, that they would come out on top.  I can't even count how many times I wanted to hold a quick physics lesson to remind people that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time and that 100+lb of flesh and bone is NOT an equal and opposite force to my 1ton car of steel and fiber glass and that my car will win said death match without much force or effort.  I'm not saying that drivers should just plow through the seemingly oblivious campus pedestrians/cyclists/long boarders - drivers should exercise much caution when maneuvering around people because they are bigger and they can cause significant damage with little force or effort.  But people, for your own damn safety, you too should remember that cars are BIGGER THAN YOU, and therefore cannot stop on a dime, cannot turn 180degrees in an inch of space, and that my car (as awesome as she is) does not have feelings.  So when you run into her, she doesn't get hurt, she probably won't even get dented.  And I as the driver, will feel bad, but I won't be hurt either.  But you, you on your bike wearing no helmet, or you on your long board with no effective brake system, or you on your cell phone walking obliviously into on coming traffic, your flesh and bones have these things called nerve endings, and you will hurt if you walk out/ride out in front of my car with no warning and giving me no opportunity to stop.  ::steps off soap box::


So, after inching my way around to find parking for literally 20minutes, you can imagine my stress level when after I purchase my books, I go to use the restroom only to have a 3inch thick book fall out of my recent purchases that says Environmental Organic Chemistry.  Funny, I'm not taking chem classes.  After a quick rummage through the rest of my bag, I realized that one of my books is missing.  And then it dawns on me, when I went to purchase my books, the cashiers were all shoved shoulder to shoulder two to a machine.  Smarty pants next to me and I got to our shared register at the same time and our books were put down behind the counter side by side and so now she has one of my social work books and I had her Environmental O-Chem book.  I couldn't find her (please refer back to my reference of the angry and sweaty mob of people that can be found on the first day of classes at the UA bookstore), so I go back to the bookstore, explain the situation, and am told that I have to go back outside, down the stairs, return the book at the outdoor return book station, come back up the stairs to the bookstore, only to go back down the stairs inside the bookstore to the lower level where the books are held, get the correct book, and then head back up the stairs to the registers (for this please refer to my comment about how it's 97 but feels like 102 due to humidity).  At this point I have sweated about my body weight in fluids because of course I had to park across campus and hike my way in before all those damn stairs.  But now, almost two hours later, I am home, sitting on my tile floor in front of a fan dreaming of the day when we will have a pool in our back yard with a floaty that has my name on it.  


I'm not sure what the point of today's post is.  I live in Tucson, I know it's hot, and being hot is one thing, being completely drenched in your own sweat in your clothes is another, and the latter is completely intolerable even if you're a saint with an abundance of patience.  I guess my lesson learned this morning was two fold: Tucson is hot and don't walk around campus wearing dark jeans and two shirts, and a reminder that if you're in a car and around a heavy foot traffic area, please remember to check and double check in order to avoid the oblivious meandering pedestrians.  And if you're one of those oblivious meandering pedestrians, come back to earth and focus on getting to your destination safely.  Or you know, go out and buy body armor to help protect yourself.  

Gettin' Sweaty

I love fitness.  I love physical activity, I love burning calories, and while I love all forms of fitness, my fave form is rigorous, high intensity plyo training.  Plyometric (plyo) training is a form of training that involves adding jumps into traditional movements.  So those squats turn into jump squats, those lunges turn into jumping lunges.  This gets that old ticker up to burn those calories at an all time high, but it is also strength training using your own body weight when you catch yourself out of those jumps and bring it down into a controlled squat/lunge etc.  Using your own body weight is the best way to burn fat and build lean muscles.  


For all of you who DREAD working out, you are not alone.  There are many a days where I have to literally have the hubby push my butt off the couch so I can do something, even if only for twenty minutes.  Which is why, instead of telling myself that I need to exercise X number of days per week, I tell myself that I need to exercise X number of hours per week.  For me hours seem easier to achieve than days.  I shoot for 5-8hours of exercise per week.  And as I have a rambunctious pooch, walks count as part of those hours (there is so much I could say about how just walking is rad, but that could be a whole extra post).  


And as much as I love my plyo training, there are days where I just don't have the energy to jump around.  So on those days, I have two options out my little library of work out dvds.  


First is Fluidity.  Yup, I have the ballet bar, thanks to a friend of mine.  I really like Fluidity, it makes me sore, it makes me sweat a little bit, but I really only do it when I'm really tired and need to get those hours in.  So I would not have dropped the $300+ to get it new from the internet.  But if you're not into the plyo training like I am, this is totally worth the money.  


Second, and I am in love with this DVD, is Jillian Michaels' Yoga Melt Down.  It's a 40minute hybrid yoga DVD where she takes power moves in yoga like crescent and warrior and adds reps into those movements, and then a static hold for 15 seconds.  For example, instead of holding warrior I pose without moving, you do warrior I lunges to get the cardio, and then hold warrior I for 15 seconds, and then flow into the next sequence.  I did this DVD yesterday and my thighs burn from all those Goddess squats and my abs are sore from all those Boat reps.  It makes me sweat, a lot, and I still feel like I have to push myself even though I'm not jumping around.  And again, it's all manipulating your own body weight which is the best way to burn fat and build lean muscle.  This little gem you can get for usually under $20 at Target, and yeah, you should definitely go buy it.  Like, right now.  

It's so hard being Sappho

I do have two cats that I am in love with, but they aren't camera whores like my dog.

This dog has like, fitty billion beds.  She has her Kong bed, shown above

Her recliner shown here...

and here... not to mention her crate, and occasionally the cat bed that she tries to fit into... life is so hard for poor lil' Sappho

Back to School

Yup, I'm officially a student again.  Before I get into school stuff, there's someone you should meet.  

This is Blue:

  

Yes, he's a backpack.  But not just any backpack.  He's an oversized backpack.  Instead of the standard one zip compartment for your books, he has two equally huge zip compartment for your books and binders, not to mention all sorts of pockets and mini zip compartments for all your school supplies.  There's nothing that won't fit in Blue.  And I mean nothing.  

Why am I introducing you to an oversize backpack you ask?  Because Blue is not just any oversized backpack.  He is my number one school essential.  You might be thinking, well sure everyone needs something to tote their shit in when they're in school.  Blue is so much more than that.  Blue is my school BFF.  He's really my bag BFF as he has been used for so much more than just books.  How could I have such a bond with a backpack?  Simple.  Blue and I have been going to school together since I was in the second grade.  

No you did not misread and I did not mistype.  Blue and I have been together since I was in the second grade.  I don't remember why I picked him out of all the other backpacks to choose from.  I just remember wanting to ditch the Barbie backpack (ugh it was awful, hot pink with the blonde Barbie face in weird plastic wearing sunglasses saying "Ooo la la!" - BARF).  Since then, I have never looked back.  True, Blue was way too big for me when we first started going to school together, and there was no way that I could possibly have filled him up.  But I loved him instantly.  

We have been through four schools (five counting my current graduate program), 14 grades, numerous sleep overs, a trip to Europe, numerous treks between Tucson and the Bay Area - pretty much every where I have been, Blue has been.  He's been sharpied and "tagged" and had patches sewn onto him that were ripped off after I was over that fad.  He's had more keychains on him than I can count.  He served as my pillow for in between class naps during my undergrad.  He's survived Simba thinking he was the litter box at first and being peed on numerous times, not to mention being thrown up on by various pets.  He's even been to Jansport Camp a couple of times for bouts of Zipper Disease (when you zip a compartment closed but the compartment doesn't stay closed and the zipper no longer works).  But he was great while he was away those few weeks and he wrote me a postcard saying that he was getting along with the other backpacks and bags and making friends and couldn't wait to come home (so not joking.  Jansports have a lifetime warranty on them and when they bust, you can send them to "Jansport Camp" to get them fixed and then you get a postcard from your backpack letting you know how they're doing).  So you can imagine my rising panic earlier this week when I was getting my school stuff together and I couldn't find him.  After tearing through three closets and numerous boxes, I found him, covered in Simba and Sazu cat hair, but I found him.  He even had a few surprises for me: a pouch full of pens and highlighters that worked, a MagicRub eraser (the best kind of eraser there is), Tylenol, tampons galore, swim goggle nose piece adjusters (he also doubled as my gym bag through college), anti-aging 30spf sunblock, lotion, chapstick and Dayquil.  Ironically enough, I cleaned all that out, specifically putting the Tylenol and Dayquil in the pantry, only to get to my first day of school yesterday feeling under the weather and wishing I had Tylenol or Dayquil.  I should have listened to Blue.  Anyways, after his millionth or so time through the washer and dryer later, and Blue was ready for school.  

Blue is way too big for school.  I really only need a note book and a pen for my classes and I can easily carry that in my hand and I don't *need* my beloved oversized backpack.  But it's just not school without him.  

How My Colon Hates Me - Let Me Count The Ways

I have "tummy troubles."  And normally, any mention of said troubles sends me into a fit of anxiety and embarrassment and I fantasize about stapling people's mouths shut just so I don't have to talk about it.  But, I have been blessed with an awesome GI (gastroenterologist) doctor and some positive progress and that, more than anything, is what I want to share with any of you out there who have tummy troubles.  I know how alone I felt, and still feel, with this stuff, and how it seems like there is no answer to your problem.  So here are some things that have worked for me that I suggest you give a try.  Not to mention, these tips work well for those of you who only have occasional tummy troubles.  


First, I should explain that I have (more than likely) diverticulitis.  That picture is sick ass, but it's wiki and wiki knows all.  This ish has been plaguing my life for the last three years.  It has kept me home when I really wanted to go out with friends, and it has caused significant anxiety when being in public places for fear of not being able to get to a restroom fast enough.  Hopefully, what has worked for me will work for you and you will be able to give that old ball and chain of worry and doubt the bird and go enjoy a movie. *gasp* 


First things first, get a doctor.  I know it's your poop and we don't talk about it and you only deal with it behind closed doors with the bathroom fan going as to not offend anyone's delicate nostrils or ears.  I get it.  But remember that GI doctors make their living off of your poop.  They want your poop, they need your poop, and there is nothing you can tell them that they haven't heard before.  


Second, read.  A lot.  Anything you can get your hands on about your tummy, read it.  You can't fix or cure any inflamed bowel disorders/diseases (IBD).  But knowing how to keep those bastards in remission is your golden ticket into Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.  So google your shit, literally, and get educated on it.  


Once you've figured out if you do indeed have some sort of IBD, I highly recommend this book: The New Eating Right for a Bad Gut: The Complete Nutritional Guide to Ileitis, Colitis, Crohn's Disease, and Inflammatory Bowel Disease by James Scala, Ph.D.  I love this book.  It's practical, it makes sense, it's very clear in what to do and what not to do.  And it's only $10 at Amazon (but support the book stores and drive to one and purchase it there!)  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the concept of energies and good energy out and good energy in etc.  But doing four sun salutations to the east every morning was not getting my fire problem under control.  Massaging my chicken to give it love so it would love my digestive system back just wasn't cutting it.  Knowing to not eat nuts or seeds or vegetables and fruits with hard skins, that is helpful.  Really helpful.  So buy the book, love the book, live the book.  


Stress is not your friend.  Even if you're like me and you operate better and more efficiently with a little stress in your life, stress is your upset tummy's mortal enemy.  Take the time to figure out how to destress and how to minimize the stress in your life.  If your an exercise-aholic like I am, beware of too much exercise as your stress coping skill.  Exercise is a natural metabolic enhancer.  If your GI tract is like mine and already over active, you don't need anything else speeding it up.  So I make a huge effort to get good sleep every night.  Mint and chamomile teas are very helpful in this area.  Mint tea is also pretty rad on the go for any upset tummy.  


Probiotics.  Probiotics are the good bacteria that live in your gut that make it happy.  I'm a big fan of Xocai Xobiotics.  Not only are you getting awesome tummy bacteria, you get to eat chocolate EVERY DAY.  Money.  


There are tons of specifics that I could give you, but a lot of them are in that book I talked about earlier.  So get your booty in the car, drive to your nearest book store, get the book, and celebrate in being able to run an errand without... incident... Si se puede my friend, si se puede.

Bookmans - An Anxiety Ridden Experience

I am need of books.  Specifically school books as I start school on Thursday.  I don't know when the last time you had to buy textbooks, but them bitches aint cheap.  So instead of having to sell my ovaries on the black market to pay for said books, not to mention the parking fee to get to the bookstore where my brand new text books are being housed, I decided to hit up Bookmans to see if they had them previously owned and a whole lot cheaper.  

For those of you non-Tucsonans, Bookmans is this rad place where you can buy used, well, anything.  But it all started with books.  Now you can get movies and music and gaming systems, fashionable handbags and jewelry etc, for pennies compared to their brand new counterparts.  In addition to being super financially friendly to the up and coming starving student or book enthusiast, Bookmans allow dogs in their stores.  Now, I should explain that I'm not one of those people that insists on bringing my dog with me everywhere as an accessory (there's no purse big enough or shoulder strong enough to hold a 50lb pit as an accessory - especially one that likes to squirm like a salmon).  But, as our only pooch, it's good to get her out and about and meeting new people and smelling new things.  Not to mention it's a great opportunity for her to practice her commands and to remember that I, as her alpha, must be listened to at all times in order to avoid this.  

So here we are, at Bookmans, and Sappho is clearly excited to be in a new place.  That is until we got inside and saw that it was crawling with people.  And that is when the shaking began.  I knew it was just her excitement and her anxiety to run and smell everyone's ass as a way of formal introduction, but us two-legged types don't appreciate that so I put her in a heel and started cruising the shelves.  

If having to dodge the shopping carts, the low swinging bags, and the numerous feet wasn't challenging enough, the teenage boy trying to force my dog to be a lap dog in the blink of an eye, kind of put her over the edge.  No joke, I put her in a sit and a stay, turn my head for a second to glance at some book titles, and the very next second I feel a tug on the leash and turn to find some early-teen boy sitting on the floor and trying to pick my dog up into his lap.  I can't really blame him, since she looks like this:

There were all sorts of things running through my head at that point but my mouth settled on, she doesn't like to be held please put her down.  I should have just walked out at that point because her little eyes were the size of saucers and were practically exploding out of her head.  Not to mention she was vibrating uncontrollably and whimpering as if she were being trodden on.  

But no, I was convinced this trip was salvageable.  After a few minutes in a corner alone, her whimpering subsided and I dared to go find someone to help me figure out the organizational system they used.  On our way to the help desk, she started flipping in circles because every time something would get close to her butt, she'd turn around and walk backwards, until something else got close to her butt and she flipped around and would start to walk forwards.  Again, a clear sign to give up, but no, I was convinced that we could do this.  


After standing at the help desk with my best helpless face on for almost five minutes with all sorts of associates passing me by, my hip popped out and I piped up requesting that someone help me.  I got pseudo-help.  They told me the book I was seeking would *probably* be in the psychology section.  Thank you captain obvious... So we meander, or in Sappho's case flip walk, over to the psychology section, stare amazed at the lack of alphabetized books (pretty sure author names that begin with the letter M should not be in the section labeled C - but you know, it's been a while since I learned my ABCs, maybe this is the new revamped version), take one look at the exploding eyes of my poor pooch who is shaking uncontrollably again, and I finally threw up my hands and we dashed to the car.  


All in all, I like the concept of Bookmans.  And I think it's a great place to go if you have a general thing in mind and not something specific.  For example, if you are in the market for a new diet and nutrition book but don't want to pay top dollar, Bookmans is your place.  But if you are looking for something specific, it is so worth going to a place with a database and paying full price for it.  And definitely don't take your pooch unless they're loaded up on valium.  The lack of alphabetized books, the exploding anxious eyes of my dog, and me leaving bookless, while it was an adventure, it's certainly not an adventure we will be repeating.

Ta Daa!

Alright, I officially cave into the blogging craze.  My dear friend, Jil, and my beloved sister, Audrey (aka Aud), are both bloggers and have inspired me to be one too.  Though, lately, my dear friend Jil has been rummaging around in my brain because every time I have a random thought, you know, one that is worth sharing because it's more exciting than remembering you need to buy toilet paper, she ends up blogging about it before I even say anything.  Case in point, her two most recent blogs about tea and perfume.  But I digress!  


My favorite musical artist is Pink.  I'm not a crazy stalker fan who knows her birthday and favorite color or anything, but my life can basically be summed up in her albums - particularly Raise Your Glass.  I spent much of my childhood, okay fine - my whole life, being the black sheep.  I was the only extrovert in a family of introverts, I was the tallest girl (and... widest...) for most of my elementary and junior high days, in high school I was THAT girl that somehow managed to pull off being both a jock and a goth, not to mention my mouth has a mind of its own that often sets me apart from the rest.  And I have spent a good chunk of my life feeling awkward about being weird and different and just desperately wanting to fit in.  A commitment to "do the work," a couple months of therapy and one therapeutically healing retreat later, and I am finally in a place where I can say, and believe, that my funkiness makes me freaking rad.  


So to all the other black sheep out there, all the under dogs and all those out there who are the right kind of wrong, cheers!