I wonder if there are any readers left.

 

I have started a new blog-diggity over at Blogger.  After having had a couple of years to measure, I decided I like Gmail better than Hotmail, and accordingly, have begun a blog where I telecommute amongst my contacts.

 

Please join me there.

 

 

I shall contact the goodly folk who, very kindly, contributed words of encouragement throughout the past few years.  I am no longer teaching (*shakes fist at stupid second-home "investment property" owners who voted to lower property taxes to the near-exclusive detriment of the school system.  Asshats!!*), but I'm happy, healthy, and in a new home all our own.  Oh, and we're still not married...but elopement could happen any day now!

I believe we're making arrangements for August.  Two months seems reasonable, to me!  Weeee!

Kevin and I had a lovely day yesterday--we tooled around the area picking up flyers from houses in communities in which we are seeking to buy a home.  It was a gorgeous day.  Kevin drove, I hopped out of the car and ran to the infotubes.  It was a long afternoon, and I suggested we eat dinner on the way home, an established burrito place here in the Central Florida area.  Kevin got a smaller chicken burrito than I ordered, but I ordered mine prepared differently, with light sour cream instead of regular, blackened chicken instead of grilled.

 

Kevin has food-poisoning.  From the restaurant that I suggested.  I feel awful.

From Salon.com:

We'll always hate Paris

The public outrage over Paris Hilton's early release from her L.A. prison cell may be justified -- but why are we expending so much energy protesting the antics of a spoiled media whore?

By Cintra Wilson

I haven't engaged in any physical activity that could be remotely confused with running or jogging since last summer.  I've walked.  I've stood up in a retail store in heels for eight hours.  I've marched across campus and stood for several hours on end at the front of the classroom.  All these activities do not exactly parlay into a running-esque activity, unless you count the briskness of the walk from my burning classroom to the cafeteria.

 

So, I began the quite disgusting task of training last night.  Waiting until the latter part of dusk, I donned an all-white running outfit (um, not the best of fashion decisions, but it's the only workout wear I have at Kevin's place, unfortunately...more on this later) and my Mp3 and marched my booty out of the house.  I walked the mile-and-a-half to the lighthouse and turned towards home.  I felt good--not "Let's kick this up a notch!" good, but I know what needs to be done, so I began to jog home.  Besides being gawked at by a nasty pair of upper 40s-something men returning from the local tourist-trap bar and restaurant on the way (they did kind of frighten me...they drove ahead and then stopped to watch me twice), I felt ok.  Until about two blocks from home, when my body just stopped running.  The conversation in my head:

 

"Yes!   I'm going to make it the mile and a half home!  GO girl!"

 

And then, "...we're walking, we're walking...??"

 

It was bizarre.  I kind of shrugged it off...well, I need to cool down for 5 to 10 minutes before the end of the run, anyway, right?  About a minute later I was fine, and I ran the rest of the way home.

 

So, the first of hundreds of miles begins with a single mile.  Thank goodness I got that one out of the way! 

Progress has been made this morning.  Does that mean I got off my tush and exercised?  Heck, no.  But I did run back and forth to the mailbox and put out the trash.  I've donned my bikini and I'm going to get some sun before it starts to pour today.  But no bonafide exercise as of yet.

 

I did, however, find a running club with a totally doable novice-runner's 12 week schedule, ending in two weekends of 5Ks.  And there are so many 5Ks in the area in between then and now; including several in Key West.  For those of you not in the know, I've been bugging Kevin to take me to Key West for a vacation for ages.  What could be a better excuse? 

 

For my birthday this year, he purchased us both annual National Parks passes.  I want to visit the Dry Tortugas (off Key West) so badly, go visit Fort Jefferson, where Dr. Mudd, one of the convicted conspirators in Lincoln's assassination was held prisoner.  He was the doctor who bandaged Booth's broken leg after he fled the scene at Ford's Theatre, and there are some learned folks who postulate that the phrase "My name is Mud," comes from Dr. Mudd, who maintained his innocence throughout his lifetime. 

 

Back to running, I've also received all of the marathon books I'd ordered last week from Amazon.com, and I think I'm going to make a little list.  Also fortuitous, I received a 3-issue trial to Runner's World.  Let it be said that Disney marathoning, while clearly commercial, is first class all the way.  I also purchased and received my ChampionChip this week!

 

Getting accessorized, on my way.  I'm going to wait to hear from the running club before purchasing shoes, because they get a discount at several vendors in the area; and being a poor teacher, I live for the discounts.  But I am going to hit the pavement after the downpour this evening.  And to celebrate the first day of training?  I'm cooking tenderloin filets on the grill with asparagus.  I love running.  So far.

 

 

It's been a little while, I'd say.  After a year like this, I'm so happy to have a few months (or, um, maybe more) to myself, I could almost cry for joy.  I'll write about this year's challenges at some point, but for the meanwhile, I'm going to keep on the sunny-side. 

 

The school year came to a close about two weeks ago, and I'm disappointed to say that my contract was not reupped; this being said, there were several other new-ish teachers of excellent caliber in my company, and not having tenure, we were really caught off-guard with the news.  In fact, we were told so late, we were unable to register for the district's instructional job fair, but that's another story.  The good news is I'm already enrolled in a Master's program for the fall, and I'm not sweating the small stuff (like, say, health insurance) for the time being.  I have bigger fish to fry:

 

I'm fundraising for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society in memory of my father, once again.  I'll participate in the Light the Night Walk in Orlando this September.

 

ANNDDDD...I'm training to run/walk (oh, let's be serious--walk/run) my first ever Half-Marathon at Disney World this upcoming January.  So, this little bloggy-blog is going to undergo a bit of a metamorphosis in purpose--if there's anything sexier than a woman complaining, I don't know what it is.  And sexy is what I aim for.  I'm not sure if this is a change, but I'm going to keep myself honest about my training progress here, at least.  I may even post pictures!  Because spandex-rash is what every red-blooded male wants to see.

 

Along the way, I'll be hitting up a couple other races at Disney--one during the International Wine and Food Festival at Epcot, the other a 13K commemorating the 13th anniversary of the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror at the Disney-MGM Studios.  I just need people to go with me so I can have fun after I throw my body under the bus. 

 

In the meanwhile, my first step is to find a local running group at my skill level (read:  run-hating novice).  Next, I'm going to drop a good deal of cash on footwear and running clothes.  And then, of course, is the little matter of worrying about health insurance...because I know I'm going to lose my knees if I don't have any.

 

Welcome aboard!

Thanks to everyone who sent me a little birthday greeting on Friday.  I'm sure 32 will be the best year EVER!  The day itself, not so much, but I spent it with people I care about and no one yelled at me, so I cannot complain.  How I spent my day:

1.  Went to my 'real job,' still ill with the deep chest congestion that I can't shake and a low-grade fever.  My physician gave me a heavy prescription dose of pseudophedrine and whatever the active ingredient is in Robitussin, so not only was I antsy, but I was buffered from 'reality' by a happy force field that kept me about two inches removed from the present.  'Taught' two periods, then had to get to destination #2.

2.  Chest X-Ray.  How every girl dreams of spending her birthday--in a backless gown with a lead bib velcroed around her waist, chin pressed up against the wall with a woman who is entirely too smiley saying, "Hold your breath!  Deeper!"  who clucks her tongue when holding said breath produces a productive cough, that, disgustingly, has to be held, as well.  Receive a 'prank' phone call on the way to the radiologist from school--a students says, "You don't sound sick," but doesn't give his name.  (I think I know who it was anyway). 

3.  Return to school.  Pick up eight projects for the next day's Social Studies Fair.  It's 45 minutes since the last bell released students from classes, and most of my colleagues have already left for the weekend.  I finesse the projects as delicately as I can into the backseat of my Jeep and head to the county's newest high school, which is not only massive, but beautifully maintained.  Vince Carter graduated from here, and reportedly donated quite a chunk of cash towards its new building.  I remark to myself, privately, "So, this is what a modern high school without portable classrooms looks like."  I also wonder to myself how long it will be until portable classrooms become a necessity here, too.

4.  Realize that, had I been thinking in advance, my radiologist is just across the street from the high school at which I need to deposit the projects.  I've double-backed my steps.  Also realize, in the flurry of activity during the day--from the 5:00am wake-up until the 4:30pm transport of projects to the County Social Studies Fair, that I have not had one iota of food.  I call my better half and tell him to start getting dolled up--he's taking me out to eat and soon!

5.  Home.  The dress I was so excited about wearing for my birthday, a lovely black linen dress with a tight bodice and halter top, and a 50's style lined skirt, has rubbed the back of my neck raw.  I toss in the idea of a glamorous night out and wear a great, fun, embroidered, sleeveless yellow shirt I ordered from a Parisian boutique, which had come in just that day.  It's made of t-shirt material and isn't exactly form-fitting, but it's definitely provocative.  It's my new favorite shirt.

6.  6:30pm.  La Dolce Vita in New Smyrna Beach.  Sauteed mussels and calamari appetizer (the mussels were especially good).  Lobster ravioli (meh) with mussels (yum) and baby clams (double yum).  The head chef is engaged to a friend of mine, and she'd called ahead to let him know that I would be coming in for my birthday.  The waiter produces the most alcohol-soaked slice of Tiramisu I've ever eaten in my life--it's a wonder the candle didn't ignite the cake's vapors.

7.  10:00pm.  Home.  Bed.  Sleep.

Thanks again, friends.