be on the lookout

If you happen to find yourself in and around Modesto come Sunday morning, be on the lookout for these sweet running tights. I will be wearing them while running The Modesto Half Marathon.

Current weather conditions promise it to be a very bright, sunny and WARM race.

I might die!


Still I just might because I am not a hot weather runner. Ignore the the half marathons past…The American River Parkway Half, The Disneyland Half, The San Jose Rock and Roll Half…all ran in the heat. Those were more than 4 years ago and I STILL hated running in the heat then as I do now…perhaps even more now because hot flashes make it even hotter…take your breath away and perhaps suffocate you hotter.

Yes, I just might die.

But at least I know I trained well in spite of the last two runs of my training which absolutely, positively sucked. I have been hydrating well all week. And I have some sweet running tights and equally colorful kicks to run through Mo-town come Sunday morning!

If your in my neck of the woods I do hope that you will come cheer me on. I need lots of cowbell and cheering. I won’t promise a PR time like the inaugural Stockton Half or even negative splits like my very first half marathon race because I am 5 years older and slower and this is a comeback for me. But I do promise for you lots of fun cheering racers on and a beer and wine garden with food trucks galore at the finish line.

But if you aren’t in my neck of the woods and want to be a creeper still want to cheer me on you can sign up for instant updates of me out on the race course where you will receive start time, splits and finish time sent directly to your phone, email or Facebook.

like cellophane


If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

It’s one of the age old philosophical questions…isn’t it?


Does it?…

Does it make a sound?

Then what about the wife, the mother? If she makes a statement to her family as they are gathered around and they all seem to nod in assent does that mean that she has ever made a sound at all?


It’s like no one ever knows you’re there.

Wives and mothers totally get what it feels like to be Mr. Cellophane.

Do they even see you if they don’t hear you?

I mean really?

Am I right?

Of course I am!

Today feeling like cellophane.,

Thank goodness for friends who work along side you, friends, who like you, rarely ever take the time to make it just about them alone, to remind you and them that it sometimes needs to be just that. It needs to be all about you…and them.

And good food and wine…

And karaoke…good, bad, really bad and great karaoke for the win, bitches!

Exactly what is needed to remind you that you are impressive, distinguished, remarkable, valuable you.

All of us.



checking out in Target


How’s your holiday shopping/decorating/wrapping going?

Yes, we have just six (OMG!) more days to go but don’t stress…too much. Unless you haven’t started at all and plan to hit the malls on the last Saturday before Christmas.


Ask anyone in retail.

Just don’t.

Me, I have no plans to be shopping this weekend. Perhaps then I will get the stockings hung by the chimney with care…after the Christmas recital.

Of course this means I need to finish up getting a few gifts more and stocking stuffers now.

Hello Target!

And as I work my up and down practically every aisle, mentally ticking off my list, I pass more than a few people slumped and slouched over their carts. It’s not a good look. It makes my back hurt just looking at them.



I’m slouched and slumped over my cart too.

No wonder my back hurts.

Standing up straight as I push my shiny red cart, I continue to work my way up and down practically every aisle.

The struggle.

The struggle is real.

If you’re still scratching your head over what to gift me, the girl who doesn’t have everything, a massage would be perfect…absolutely perfect.

and now let us pause for a moment of self-indulgent meditation

(almost) Everyone has at least one…one pair of perfect blue jeans. The pair that fits your shape perfectly in every way that you want it to. They are perfectly broken in. Perhaps they have been that way since Day 1 because you paid the extra coin for them in their perfect wearable destruction; or maybe they have been worn to perfection through the days, weeks, months and years that you have worn them. You slip them on and they hug every curve and edge exactly how you want them to. They are your old friend that you can dress up, dress down, grunge around in or just chill in.

Your jeans.

Your favorite pair of jeans.

Your perfect pair of jeans.

Your most favorite, perfect pair of jeans.

Then today you slip them on and lo, they have become distressed and destroyed in such a way that is most certainly not fashionable, or repairable and…


Oh stop judging! I know you get it because I know you too have that pair of jeans and even if you don’t, it’s my blog and I’ll self-indulgently mourn for the jeans that I have worn perfectly for longer than my first grandbaby has been alive if I want to.

By the way, that grandbaby is 6½ years old and she STILL hasn’t lost any baby teeth.

Let us all now pause for a moment of silent meditation for the perfect pair of blue jeans lost.




Thank you.





Sometimes, some days the weight of all that presses down on my heart, my head, my soul is just too much.

Like today. For so many reasons, today was one of those days. The sadness overwhelmed, pressed down and enveloped my very core.

And so I forced myself to run. I didn’t want to; but run I knew that I must do today…especially today. Today I ran because I knew that for at least the 30 minutes and 3.2 miles that I was running all that is right now always weighing down my heart, mind and soul was behind me. It wasn’t gone. Today I feel like none of it will ever be gone in my lifetime. But at least it was behind me for a blessed half hour.

And then reality.

What a bitch reality is.

It wasn’t all bad. No. One problem that in the last month went from bad to worse to clusterfuckedupness when Bill’s car met it’s demise in the Santa Cruz Mountains last month and then when he broke his motorcycle this weekend was solved…with monthly car payments to now worry about. Then again a family with a Bay Area commute to one job and a commute to Stockton with another job and a commute to Modesto for another job and school starting next week there was no way that we could survive with just one reliable vehicle that remains.

I should be thankful. I am. But today was a horrible, rotten, no-good, very bad mental health day and so I let the can-we-really-afford-this-car-payment-when-I-get-cut-from-work-pretty-much-every-scheduled-shift overwhelm me because, I got called off from work. Of course!

Bill handed me the keys telling me to take it for a drive. So I did.

I drove and drove and drove all over the place, past orchards and vineyards and parched fields and into the sunset with the windows rolled down and Iggy Azalea loudly promising that in spite of her 99 problems you won’t be one on the radio.

Therapy, much needed therapy for a pretty emotionally fucked up day.

Tomorrow’s another day. It might be a better day. It might not be. But it will be tomorrow.

One day, one hour, one minute at a time.

It’s therapy.