Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Focusing on focusing

I've been up since 4:30am. I slept downstairs on the floor, face down, with my contacts still in. Not the first time I've done this. I laid down to read "A Streetcar Named Desire" for my book club at work. Bought it for $2 from a used book store on Cap Hill 'bout 2.5 weeks ago and finally got around to reading it. I heard from one of my coworkers that it was a quick read since it's a play, so I had no problem putting it off.

I walked into the natatorium at 6:25am. I knew about half a dozen people that would be there, but 6:30am ain't social hour. This is the second time I've been in the pool this month, made it last Wednesday, and the most I've swam since early October. Gotta get back on track, so I throw myself into training. I put in my earplugs and clip on the nose, don the cap and goggles and I'm off. Tunnel vision, baby. The only time I acknowledge someone is when they ask about sharing the lane. I can't hear them, though, assume they want to share the lane, so I just nod and start to circle swim with the other guy in the lane. My workout wasn't that tough, but was a little challenging since I haven't been in the pool on a regular basis. One of the last sets includes pushups on the side of the wall, then I finished the 2400 with easy swim and drills.

I walked out of the natatorium a little after 8am. I could barely lift my arms over my head, had a hard time getting dressed.. putting on my backpack.. and it felt like my hands were dragging on the ground. I couldn't help but think "damn.. that f'in rocked". I like that post-workout fatigue.. feeling totally spent. I walked around with a shit eatin' grin on my face knowing I've been up since the butt crack of dawn, knowing that I put in my time.. no distractions.. and I have the 'raccoon eyes' to prove it. My badge.

No distractions. I gotta get back on track. I need to focus on focusing.

This hit me during one of my sets. I was in the zone.. I felt so alive.. I felt BACK! But I realized how I've not only missed the feeling in the water, but in everyday stuff. For one, I've been taking a SAS class this semester and have really been slacking these last couple of weeks. Going back to school is supposed to be my ticket to a new job. I have a final coming up that I should be focusing on. Work is getting busy and I need to put my nose to the grindstone. I put off reading my book until a few days before the discussion. Granted I wasn't being graded on it, I do get participation points and the points go toward my raise next year. These are small things, but they add up. The little things.

It was the little things that made my swim this morning kick ass - having each 100 faster than the next, lowering my stroke count each 25, rolling smoothly, feeling balanced, and mastering the flip turn.

And it's the little things I need to get back to focusing on so I can walk away from something I did saying "damn.. that f'in rocked"

Keeping Things Whole

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

-Mark Strand

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Would you buy this Tshirt?


My mind was in the gutter, or in another place, when an email came across my inbox. I took the words of one person and came up with this. I guess you have to be 'in the know' to get it.. or hell, maybe you take it literally and like pie! Nonetheless, I thought it was pretty funny... Just toying around.

I think I will later move the design onto underwear. That item might sell well around Valentines Day.

And, no, that's not me modeling the T.. her rack isn't big enough.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Weekend in Review

My parents are still visiting, but I thought I'd jot down some thoughts from this past holiday weekend.

First off, I've totally fallen off the wagon with what I eat. I've been eating like crap and, like most people, will be starting anew on Monday. I've continued my pursuit of an alcoholic beverage each day for the month of November, and I'm proud to say the streak is still intact. I should say thanks to Yuengling, Fat Weasel Ale, and some kind of wine for making it possible. When I start anew, I won't be backing off the booze just yet.

Second, it's been great having my parents here. I'm sure I'd be an absolute wreck if they were staying with us.. mostly because we have no room for them, but they're still my parents and some times I just need to get away. They are slowly, and I mean slowly, making their way around the city and learning the basics of the metro system. They also got to see their first pro hockey game Sunday night and had a good time despite a loss by the Caps. My dad was excited that they were giving away free backpacks and said, "now we have something to put our dirty clothes in when we go home." Gotta love 'em.

I also learned a lot about my relatives and family history. I have to keep asking my mom how we're related to certain people since we never met a lot of them while growing up. Better late than never.

It's been interesting slowing down and seeing the city as a tourist. I didn't see too much, but I realize I take the city and the memorials for granted. I've gotten to the point where I pass the usual buildings on my usual route and I know nothing about them. Maybe others don't feel the same way, but back home I can go down Michigan and State St and remember the old theater.. Grab and Get right across the street.. the old car dealership where Family Video is.. when Qdoba used to be KFC and Borsema's grocery store was next door along with Southland in that same section.. and Perry went as far as the water tower. The history doesn't go as far back as that of DC, but the significance is still there.

I also realized I have a lot of shit to deal with. My mind is cluttered with a lot of random thoughts and concerns and worries and dread and it's keeping me from staying on course. I'm falling into an emotional pit. I've started thinking too much and that gets me in trouble. It's worse around the holidays as I start to do an evaluation on the year - what I've done and where I'm going. I'm not sure if this forum is where I want to deal with it, but I know I have to start putting pen to paper and get it out somehow. I'll probably start pounding the pavement more and throwing around some iron and that adrenaline rush usually helps me focus. I know I'll be less stressed when my class finishes up next week.. and I haven't done much on my final project or to prep for the 'easy' final exam next week.

Off to lift weights at lunch.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

When I have too much time to think..

I think about how it might have been.. it's not that I don't understand you.. it's not that I don't want to be with you.. But you only wanted me.. the way you wanted me.. So, I will head out alone and hope for the best.. we'll skip the goodbyes.. You can tell the world what you want them to hear.. I've got nothing left to lose, my dear.. But you and I know the reason why.. I'm gone. We can pat ourselves on the back and say that we tried. I wish you well and hope you find whatever you're looking for.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

All About my (grand)Mother

.. and other relatives.

Took a drive down to Southern Maryland with the folks to see some relatives. My mom's only living cousin on her mother's side has lived in MD for 20 yrs or so and it has been almost 40 yrs since they last saw each other. Immediately, he recognized his aunt in my mom. As I look back at pictures, I see so much of my mom in my grandmother, so I can understand why she looked so familiar to him even after all these years and even with macular degeneration.

It was interesting to listen to the conversation as it seemed like they were able to pick up where the left off the last time they saw each other. Even at the age of 83, his memory is great and he recalled their first house on Palmer, the next on Wolfram, and the third and final (where my aunt - mom's sister) still lives on Woodward Ave. My grandma was his favorite aunt as she took him to the opera and ballet, which he still enjoys. She was the youngest of 4 children and he was about 17 yrs younger than her, so he was the younger brother she never had. My grandmother also didn't marry until she was about 33 and spent her 20s traveling. She went camping in the Canadian Rockies, visited the Grand Canyon, and loved to travel by rail. I'd like to think of my grandmother as a very liberated woman and I can't think of many women that did this in late 1930s. When she married my lawyer grandfather and had 5 kids (plus 2 miscarriages) in 10 years, I know she still dreamed of traveling. She lived with my mom's older brother and younger sister until she died in 1991 and she loved to watch videos about trips to Ireland, Hawaii, and New Zealand.

My mom's cousin was in the Navy for 30 years and retired as a Master Chief. He traveled all over the world and he told us that one time his ship returned to California for repairs - 3 weeks before Pearl Harbor was attacked. He spent five years in Hawaii, but one of his last, and favorite, stops was in Reykjavik, Iceland. He met his third wife there and has he puts it, "brought home a souvenir". She puttered around the house as my mother and him talked and it wasn't until she brought a cake out to the table that she was preparing food. Skipping to the good stuff, she had Icelandic pancakes (crepes) which were filled with jam and whipped cream, poundcake-like bread with a lemon topping drizzled over top, sliced hard boiled eggs on small pieces of bread topped with a piece of herring (blech!), apple pie, and some layered cake that was phenomenal. Then she brought out this bread cake that was made out of layers of tuna and shrimp. It looked like it was covered in potato salad and had shrimp covering the outside.. topped with chopped red and green peppers. My stomach churned a little bit when she cut into it. I stuck with the pancakes and cake.

Over this meal of sweets, her cousin and his wife talked of their travels. They've been to Europe many times, to the Scandinavian counties, Russia, and took off for 2 months and drove East to West and back. They would head out with no plans, no hotel reservations, and pretty much make things up as they went along. They met a lot of people that helped them along the way, especially on a trip to Greece, and believe the best way to communicate, even with the language barrier, is to be courteous and respectful. Even her thick, Icelandic accent was hard to decipher sometimes, but as the night wore on she became easier to understand.

Their house was full of pictures and trinkets of items she bought/collected on her trips and she spoke openly and casually of her children and siblings, some of which have passed. Her oldest brother had been a truck driver since the age of 16 and was only in the states for a few years before driving an 18 wheeler across Texas, having a heart attack at the wheel at the age of 43, and crashing and burning. Her son stepped on a land mine in Vietnam and was eventually buried back in Michigan, where he had just moved to. She mentioned a time how she went to see his grave and struck up a conversation with a Hungarian gentleman who was taking care of the plots of his own relatives. Her son's birthday was coming up and she asked if he would be able to place flowers there for her. She gave him money and continued to do so over the years to pay for the flowers. He would send pictures every so often of the headstone with flowers.

It's amazing how much I don't know about my family. It was fascinating to sit there and listen to my mom and her cousin talk. I also think of how he and his wife have traveled so much and how I yearn to just get up and go. I was also surprised to learn that I (sort of) have a relative listed on the The Wall. It is one of my favorite memorials and this just makes it more special.. more personal.

Days like this make me thankful to have my health, my mind, my body, my spirit, and such a great family.

History Lesson

At dinner tonight with my folks, I'm not sure how the conversation swayed this way, but we got to talking about my relatives and the war. I don't like to talk about the current war, but I'm always curious about my relatives and who served in WW2 and Vietnam and why.

I always wondered why my grandfathers never served in WWII since most of my friends gpas did. Apparently men who had 3 children weren't asked to serve. In 1944, my mother was just born (3rd child in her family) and my father was on the way (3rd and last in his family). My gpa (mom's side) was in his late 30s, but my dad's dad was only 27 or 28. His best friend, and best man in his wedding, served in the War and they exchanged letters during his service. I think my grandfather later returned the letters.

My uncle (mom's brother) was in the Air Force and spent time in Vietnam. As far as I know, the war really effected him and he still doesn't talk about it. It wasn't until this year at my sister's baby shower that he ate at a Chinese (exchange with a derogatory word for a Chinese person) restaurant.

My father served in the Air Force as well, but never saw time in Vietnam. He started college, but after his first week he went to the post office and enlisted. He served for 4 years, came back to college, worked for my mom at the library, and as he tells the story, married her because female faculty members couldn't date male students/workers (but male faculty could date female students) and his GI Bill was running out and she had money. I'm sure there was a courtship in there, too.

Some of this I knew and some of it was new to me. On my mom's side, my grandfather died when I was 2 and my grandmother died when I was a freshman in highschool. She would be 100 yrs old this year. On my father's side, my grandfather passed away in May of 2000 the week before I was supposed to start my first job. My grandmother, who had severe dementia, passed away a few years later. I never really got to know my mom's mom since she lived in Chicago and we only saw her when we went to visit for Christmas. I knew my dad's parents since the lived in Michigan during the summer and we saw them most weekends. I still read a letter from my grandfather that he wrote to me in March.. a few months before he died.

It got me thinking about how much do I really know about my grandparents.. or any of my relatives. Not only that, but how much do they know about me. Not just my relatives, but my parents and my friends. Do they really know who I am? Do I?? How much of myself am I willing to put out there?

I guess only time will tell..

Friday, November 25, 2005

Black Friday

I don't understand why the after Thanksgiving has been coined "Black Friday". I'm not sure when it started, but I did some research and found 'Black Friday' was first used to describe the collapse of the US gold market September 24, 1869. From, I found "several other days of financial panic have also been occasionally referred to as Black Friday."

Okay, that I can understand.

But what I don't understand why people get up at 4AM to wait in line for a $50 DVD player, or the hottest kids toy, or a half-prices zip pull-over fleece. Is it worth it?

I saw a clip on CNN of a scuffle in Wal-Mart over laptops. Okay.. WAL-MART, people! I'm proud to say I've NEVER been out shopping the day after Thanksgiving and I don't plan on starting anytime soon. I'm not a fan of shopping nor am I a fan of crowds.. and when you mix the two.. *shaking my head*.

From mythology, we are lured to the stores by the Sirens - Wal-Mart, Besty Buy, and Old Navy. I, like Odysseus, tie myself to the mast (in the real world, the TV) so I am not pulled to the rocks by their ads.. the lovely, sing-song ads!!

So what if I end up paying full price for a zip pullover fleece. I don't know of anyone in the market for one, nor am I. I have a dvd player that works just fine and my nephew will be getting a crapload of toys he won't even know what to do with. Like some kids, he'll end up playing with the box they came in.

I'm not worried about missing out on any deals. If this is a big day for you.. meeting the materialistic needs of family/friends/yourself.. then I think you need to do some reevaluating.

I'm off to plop myself in front of the TV..

Wednesday, November 23, 2005


Traditions they are in everyone's lives. They play a very important role in our world; we rely on them to bring us happiness. They also bring the whole family together during the holidays or reunions. When traditions change, some people find it difficult, and some adapt to it very quickly. The book/movie/musical "Fiddler on the Roof" shows the results of changing traditions. Changing traditions sometimes is a good thing and sometimes it's a bad thing. The importance of tradition is in everyone's lives.


I can see the changes going on in my life.. for my family. Since I was a kid, every Thanksgiving was at my dad's cousin's house and my mom was in charge of the veggie platter. As I got older, when my grandparents would join and my grandfather would bring some Hill Brother Cider before returning to his assisted living home with a plate full of desserts. While in DC the past couple of years, I had my parents ship out a couple gallons of the cider. It's just not the same without it. Apparently this year other people have grown to love Hill Bro Cider as my parents weren't able to get any before coming to DC, so we must resort to some other brand... sacrilegious!

Since becoming a vegetarian almost 5 years ago, I have experimented with faux turkey dinners before settling on the Tofurkey, which I fondly refer to as a Roast Beast. If you're fond of eating socks, it's worth a shot when doused in the giblet gravy. Don't knock it 'til you've tried it..

It's also tradition for me and my sister to go out for a 30-50 mile ride or 90 min trail run Tgiving morning. Afterwards, I cook the entire feast (she is in charge of the green bean casserole and pumpkin muffins), we eat and drink, then watch the Lions lose. With meat eaters in the house I have purchased a couple cornish hens and will have to work my magic on them to make the edible.

Traditions are very important to me. I have the memories of years past while I simultaneously try to create new ones. Even though dinner is spent with a different family, in a different city, and/or with new guests, we are all still together - near and far, past and present, and in spirit. I will cherish the day I get to spend with my sister and parents and hold on the memories of this tradition, however long it may last.

Playing Tourist

Today, I will be playing the part of 'tourist' and I hope to have a few pictures of my own similar to these.

I'm glad I never came to DC on vacation as a kid or for a school field trip. I don't think I would have the same appreciation for the architecture of the buildings and of our Country as I do now. I will not comment on the current administration.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Growing up vs. being a grown up

I'm trying to figure out the point at which you make the transition from growing up to being a grown up. I can think of specific times in my life when I knew I was growing up - voting for the first time, getting my first credit card (and the subsequent debt), moving away from home, getting my first job post college, going back to school, and tending to my 401(k). However, even in my late 20s, I know I still have a long way to go. I don't own a car, so I don't have car payments to deal with; I don't own a house, so I don't have a mortgage to pay off. My 10 yr high school reunion is this weekend, which I will not be in attendance, and I can't help but compare myself with my classmates. Where are they now? Who else is still living in a rented townhouse with their sister and taking public transportation?

My parents are flying in today and will be in DC until the 30th. This is the first time they've been to DC to see us since we moved out East - Em in 2000 and me in 2001. I get to play hostess. I get to cook Thanksgiving dinner for them. I get to show off my city.. my temporary 'home'. I get to greet them at the airport and say, "Welcome to DC. Let me get your bags. We'll head to the hotel, but first, we have to wait 10 minutes for the next train." How grown up is that? Maybe my father will appreciate my frugality.

I heard awhile back that you don't truly grow up until your parents die. If that's the case, I want to live this Peter Pan lifestyle for as long as possible. Have I been fooling myself into believing I was mature when still act like a kid? So what if I don't own a car or if I'm throwing my money away by renting or if I have to start over, again, in the relationship department. I can only use each failed relationship.. each new apartment.. each rental car.. each chance encounter with a weirdo on the Metro.. as one step closer to enlightenment. I grow each day and learn from experience - good and bad. I have no idea when I'll finally grow up, but I can only hope to enjoy the journey.. wherever it may lead me.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Long distance dedication

I want to give a shout out to my boy Brent who's over in Baghdad, Iraq until mid April or so. He's living on Camp Victory, which is adjacent to the Baghdad International Airport. The centerpiece of the Camp is the al Fawl Palace. This former palace of Saddam Hussein has been overtaken by the US military and now serves as living quarters for higher ups. Cubicles have been constructed there and important meetings take place there as well.

Even though he screams like a little girl at the sight of itsy, bitsy spiders in porta-johns and might walk to chow sans weapon, he's still on the mind of us tri clubbers and we look forward to his safe return in a few months.

Don't eat too much and you better be ready for a few races as well as the 200 in the summer!

Influencial people

Who was it that said beer and scotch on a Sunday are a good mix.

I'm standing around at Slothman with a beer in one hand and the other hand empty. I'm not with my usual group of bad influences (you know who you are.. Guzzy), so there isn't a cigarette in that hand, so it might as well be occupied with another alcoholic beverage. So i get a ride home after 3 or 4 beers and 2 or 3 glasses of single malt scotch. I've been sleeping all day as is, so I might as well plot my ass on the sofa, grab yet another beer, and put in "Team America: World Police". It's 11pm and I can barely keep my eyes open. I make to at least 11:30pm before passing out on the most comfortable sofa in the world (see previous entry).

I look at my watch and decide that I'll spend the night on the sofa, but remember that my watch is still 1 hour fast, so I have more time than I think. On a rare occassion, I'm able to drag my ass upstairs - contacts out, teeth brushed - and into bed, which is covered with laundry waiting to be washed. There's a lot of stuff "going on" in my room that is now on the "do tomorrow" or "do this week" list.

I'm pounding the water and wonder WTF I do this shit to myself. Unforunately, I remember there were pictures involved and I was crowned Queen of Slothman. I figured Rob would be the Queen and I the King, but it was his party and he made the rules. He cut the vine off a plant which was my crown and I held bottles of beer, wine, and possible the scotch made it into the picture as my bouquet of flowers. No acceptance speech or sashay down an aisle waiving to my people, but I'm sure if I had a little more to drink it would've happened. At least I remember this much.

I know I won't make it to the pool.. hell, when was the last time I was there??.. and I doubt I'll be very productive at work. I blame Andrea.

Time to pass out for a few hours.

Sunday, November 20, 2005


Anywhere, at just about anytime, I can sleep. I sleep as a passenger in a car and when I fly, I'm usually asleep before the flight attendants have finished their spiel and wake up again when we touch down. Just the other day on the Metro, I was slouched in my seat with my eyes closed, chilln to some tunes. I must've been asleep only 15 min or so, but the next thing I know, one of the Metro workers is explaining to me that the train is out of service and I have to get off. It was a bit of a rude awakening, but at least the end of the line IS my stop and the train hadn't pulled back to the graveyard area. I doubt I would've made the news as kids do when they're left on the bus after falling asleep.

When I moved out East, I let my then girlfriend have my bed as she was moving into a new place and needed a bed. I figured I could make due with an air mattress for awhile, which I did, and even got to the point where I didn't bother to pump it up when it lost air most nights. That "awhile" lasted the entire time I lived in Baltimore. The air mattress followed me to DC in Feb 03 until I finally replaced it with a real bed in April of 04. For 2.5 yrs I slept on the floor.. by choice! It was a little tough flopping into bed after a long day and cold in the winters.

My bed of choice of late has been the living room floor or the sofa. I lay down to stretch, feet up on the stability ball, and the next thing I know it's 3:30am.. so I mosey up to bed if I even bother. If my sister has the sofa and I'm scrunched up on the love seat, I might just roll off onto the floor for the night since it's closer than my bed. Dare I admit that it's comfortable, too??

I'm easy to please and easy to snooze. If I quit drinking every night, maybe I wouldn't fall asleep at the drop of a hat.


Friday, November 18, 2005

Fuzzy Math

Happy hour can mean a couple things.. crowded, loud, smoky bars, cheap beer, and no swimming at 6:30am the next morning. So I'm starting to set limits for myself. I like to know ahead of time that I'll only have 3.. but then the 3 turns into 3 drafts and 3 mixed drinks.. or 3 pitchers. It has happened.

So I need to get a little more specific. Last night, I set the limit at $20. Started with My Beloved, My Precious Yuengling at $5 a draft. The bar was freakin crowded so I figured I wouldn't stay there long. Then the $2 drafts of Miller Lite start flowing.. and others buy me drinks.. and..

So I know I had at least 3 Yuengling's and 3 MLs.

I have $10 in singles in my pocket and a dull aching pain behind my eyes.

I think I found my new limit, but I should test it out a couple more times before finalizing it.

Thursday, November 17, 2005


You can't know, oh no
you can't know
how much I think about you, no
It's making my head spin
Looking at you
and you are looking at me
and we both know what we want
hmmm, so close to giving in

Feel so nice oh yeah you feel so nice
wish I could spend the night
but I can't pay the price
oh no, no

But I'm flying so high
high off the ground
when you're around
And I can feel your high
rocking me inside
it's too much to hide

I know, oh yes
I know that we can't be together
but, I just like to dream
It's so strange the way our paths have crossed
how we were brought together
hmmm, it's written in the stars
it seems

And I'm flying so high
high off the ground
when you're around
And I can feel your high
touching me inside
and it's too much to hide

Back to earth
where did you take me to
I know there's no such thing
As painless love
well it'll catch us up
and we can never win
But ohhh
I feel so alive ohhh
Just wanna hold you
hold you so tight
- "Flying High" by Jem

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Can I help you.. sir??

Yeah, I still get it and it still sucks.

Narcissus (nar-SISS-us)

In Greek mythology, Narcissus was a handsome and conceited young man who spurned the advances of the nymphs Echo and Aminias. Aminias, hurt in her pride, cursed the young man, wishing that he would never possess the object of his love. One day, Narcissus bowed to drink from a water fountain. Seeing his own face reflected on the water, he fell in love with it. Narcissus was so attracted to his own image that he frequently returned to the water fountain to contemplate himself. Thus he went on languishing until he died. Another version of the legend tells that, seeing himself on the water, he tried to embrace his own image and drowned in the attempt. In that place, according to the legend, sprouted a new flower that takes the name of its unhappy creator— narcissus.

It was Sigmund Freud who added the term narcissism to the vocabulary of psychology to designate love to the self-image and the stage of development when a child makes his own self the main object of his or her love. These ideas have given rise to many studies that describe and analyze the distinct profile of the narcissistic personality.

According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSMIV) of the American Psychiatric Association, narcissists are arrogant and conceited individuals who have magnificent fantasies about themselves. They overestimate their success, need to be constantly admired, and always expect preferential treatment. Narcissists are convinced that they deserve more than they receive. They are worried about looking good and keeping themselves young. They are insensitive to the needs and problems of other people. With little tolerance for criticism, they often react with fury to real or imaginary slights.They tend to be male rather than female.

To sum up, narcissists focus on themselves, fascinated with their own personality and their body, "with an atrocious individualism that lacks moral and social values and is disinterested about any transcendental matter." What we have is a self sitting on its throne, unconcerned about anything else in life.


I had eshewed blogs in the past because of this 'theory'. As written above, I thought of them as somewhat narcissistic, which I have been accused of being. I hope those people have changed, as I have, and see this as pure entertainment. Check your brain at the door before reading any of this.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Givin' Props

Before going on any further, I want to explain the title of my blog. When I was in high school, I had Ms. Arndt for American History my junior year, and for Psychology and Government my senior year. She was the hardest teacher in the school and gave so much homework I sometimes wonder how I managed to complete it all considering my extracurricular activities. None the less, I looked forward to her class everyday.

I think it started in Psychology class when I walked in from a kick-ass band practice(!) and knew we'd be studying Pavlov or discussing Rorschach's ink blots. I was one of the first students in the room and as I took my place at the front (nerd), I asked Ms. Arndt if we were going to have a fun day. She was in her early 50's or so (looked older) and all of 5'4" or so, donning thick glasses and a Mr. Roger's-esque sweater. She walked from her office in the back to her desk up front and replied, with her own version of "jazz hands", "Every day is a fun day."

When I went on to play softball in college, I carried the Ms. Arndt tradition with me. I have to admit that Ms. Arndt's version of 'fun' was a little different than Becker's, but both were teachers in their own right who pushed me to excel.. and for that I am thankful.

I continue the tradition after 11 yrs and I try to make every day as fun as possible..

New Beginning

We can start all over - In the new beginning
We can learn, we can teach
We can share the myths the dream the prayer
The notion that we can do better
Change our lives and paths
Create a new world and
Start all over..
-Tracy Chapman

This is a new beginning for me.. i hope to learn about myself and share my dreams. I always strive to do better. Change my life, my path? Dunno about that..

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost

I take the road less traveled.. I leave my own footprints.


Helluva way to start this off, eh? I think it's fitting that the ol' gal from small-town Michigan start this on the opening day of rifle season. My father would be honored as he sleeps out in his blind waiting for Bambi after being up last night playing cards and throwing darts.