You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January 2015.

and ah-I would walk 8,000 more just to be the girl who walked 8,000 steps in grown up shoes …

So while everyone was figuring out how to synch their Jawbone / Fitbit to their phone I went and got a digital pedometer because I like to rock it like 1996 (I’m thinking about getting a pager too).

For a week now I pretty consistently hit about 8,000 steps a day which roughly translates to 3 miles-ish.  I got 10,000 steps on Tuesday and went to bed early with a smug sense of accomplishment.

So far I have learned that I need to level up my professional shoes.  I’ve been aiming for comfort over sexy for awhile but as I look around in my workplace I notice that (for now) almost none of the women are wearing heels.

I have also learned that I walk about half of my steps before 11am, the nature of my work right now is that I am doing a lot of tours for people and those happen in the morning most of the time – but it is also when the prep for my day happens and I spend a lot of time zooming around.

Finally, the last 2,000 are not enticing enough to really go after for me.  I know about how long it would take, but I don’t care nearly as much as I thought I would.

So, I’m going to head out tomorrow in the hopes of finding a flat shoe with good support and decent heel padding that I can clip my pedometer to.  Because that is how I roll.


“… after he beat the ultimate bad guy with his bey they started FIRE EXTINGUISHER”

“I know we talked about getting pizza for dinner but what if we FIRE EXTINGUISHER”

It started at Ruby Falls in May of 2012, it turns out that being nearly four and walking through cave looking at rocks that almost look like things you’ve never seen isn’t as fascinating as your mom thought it would be. But it was a break out of the car and walking around at the start of long long vacation. But he knew fire extinguishers and there was one about every 20 yards so it became what we looked at instead of stones that sort of looked like things.

That was almost three years ago now and the one time it is universally ok to interrupt each other. Sometimes we keep score but most of the time it is just a race to see who finds it first. I’ve learned that most work trucks have one visible, most gas stations have one by the front door, and it doesn’t hurt to check around public bathrooms because you’ll go about 50/50 there.

As he has learned to read we have agreed that seeing the signage counts because if you see the sign you know where it is.

I have learned that when he is nervous, or bored, or feels unseen by me that he’ll ramp the game up again. When he needs an anchor he doesn’t want to hold my hand, but instead chooses to know that part of my mind is always engaged in a game that we made together. It is the most tangible proof that I am always thinking about him.

When I am away, I send pictures of fire extinguishers.

I wonder sometimes what he’ll remember, and what he’ll only “remember” through stories. I wonder if I’ll ever walk past one and not think “FIRE EXTINGUISHER”

Step One:  Assessment:

Self:  Aware of a lot of responsibility, slightly ill, feeling a bit uncertain in a vague way.

Son: Middling sick for a couple of weeks, ailments of un-understood origin, tired, a bit lonely looking.

Pop Tarts: Cinnamon sugar, Special Edition Chocolate Strawberry, Cherry, Special Edition Wild Berry.

Step Two:  Preparation:

IMG_7044 IMG_7043

Cube the yummy parts of three pop tarts and warm in pan with 2 Tbs of melted butter.  Place in ramekin (thanks Catie – best garage sale purchase ever).


Cover with two triangles of dough from the Pillsbury Tube of Terror for Crescent  Rolls.  Alas, I know this only because I tried to do a top and bottom and that didn’t work … so maybe just one will.  Bake according to package instructions, except it didn’t quite work so I cooked it longer and it isn’t like this is about to become a holiday tradition or anything so … cook it.



Spread with cream cheese and sprinkle with holiday sugar of undeterminable age.  The pop tart chunks finish about the way barely cooked cookie or brownie dough taste / feel.  So that part was kind of awesome for how stale the pop tarts were.

The best part?  Trying to entertain the kiddo by making pop tart casserole, then sitting down to a 7 hour mythbusters marathon.

Pop Tart Casserole.  I have one idea, but I’m open to ideas about how to construct one because kiddo needs a family breakfast and he thinks that sounds hysterical.

Cake Day.  When my mom tried retirement a decade ago the “Reception honoring Heather’s Mom, the Librarian Here” got renamed CAKE DAY!  Because, you know, cake.  More fun than a reception any day.

Cool Kids.  My band of lady friends who used to be physically close to each other all the time, but we are less so now.  We are however, a not-so-secret-club and that binds us together.

Mythbusters Marathon Day.  Tomorrow.  Cuz I need a day on the couch watching TV and we all groove on Mythbusters.  I’m going to work hard today so that all I need to do tomorrow is watch TV until I’m good and done with it.

Do you remember Golden Birthdays? The idea that when you reach the year equivalent of your birthday….blah blah unicorns and super special wishes. Great if your birthday was the 7th or the 12th but mine is August 22 and my 22nd birthday I wasn’t about to pout about not getting a super special wish.

So, I don’t think Golden Death Days is a thing, but if it was today would be super special wish day for those who knew my first husband John.

Thirteen years today.

My super special wish… If I could I would hug each and every person who walked with us shoulder to shoulder that day. Strangers and best friends alike.

I am who I am because you kept me afloat that day. Thank you.

Like the step with a rise the wrong size, I jolt in these days. Still.

He called and said, “get in the car”
I said, “don’t fuck with me”
He said, “get in the car”

So I did. Thirteen years ago in about four hours.

Drove for three hours.

Hurry up and waited for two hours.

Kissed him and smiled about the wait being over.

Never had another conversation or heard another word from him again.

Asked to use the shower before they turned the room.

Slept under the sofa table in the waiting room.

Every one of us did the best we could.

From Welcome to Nightvale’s Twitter account: death is only the end if you think the story is about you.