Upside Down

I did hike last week.  Butte Creek, after another thwarted attempt at Thumb Butte.  Why they don't let you hike it in the dark is beyond me.

It wasn't that dark!!

It's not been a good week.  A lot of time cooling my jets, looking to my catapult officer for directions and finally-clearance.

One of my last blurred iPhone 5s selfies...

Takeoff was smooth, but immediately I experienced unexpected turbulence.

Apparently I wasn't flying the plane?

Plain and simple, things have not gone as I've hoped.

Hopefully MSU will know the feeling Saturday, and OSU next month...

You see, life is just completely upside down, and I've no idea how to right it again...or if I should right it at all.

Does art heal the heart?  I can only hope.

So I'm searching.  I've thrown three irons in the fire, hoping against hope one of them is the right fit.

As you can see, I'm full blown stressed.  Yes, that's buttermilk.

Tonight, fitness of my body is furthest from my mind.  I'm homesick, and I just want to go home.  

Instead...

I'll make this work.

No Regrets

It's a crazy life right now.

I ate beef stew and liked it.

I hate beef stew. Or so I thought.

Crazy.

Work is fine, although I wish I had more to do (am I the only person to wish this?)

Hopefully my new phone camera will capture these images better.

It's been awhile since I hiked, but I have hopes that will change a lot shortly.

Itching to use these poles.  The hand is definitely on the mend.

This quest was begun to find fitness; instead I found injury.  As my body finally heals I think only of hiking and getting back to the canyon; that's ok.

So not fair.

This guy controls jets.  Far more fun, if you ask me.

I discover NaNoWriMo yesterday, and intend to write a novel next month.

Because if I don't write it, I'll always regret it.

Regrets-the fear of them is driving me as of late, and that doesn't seem right.  I am hoping as I go back to what I know, more and more things will start turning around for the better.

And as you can see, I felt right at home at an AU event.

Right this minute, I've got plans to pursue.  As I walk out the door, my sole hope is that someone pursues me.

Conquests

We are gearing up for some changes, and that tends to put people on edge.

Unless you're me, and you see it as an excuse to wear Minnie Mouse sequined ears.

I love change, and tend to excel at doing it quickly.  Of course, that was before I had a broken hand for twenty-two weeks.

Look!  I'm wearing a ring and two bracelets!  Approved to five pounds!!

I've been tasked with NOT doing as much as I'd like, and that's been difficult at times.

Especially when you can't find a paint stir.

Or proper grouting tools.

Let's just say plans I thought were good weren't (*cough*hussey*) and things I needed quickly came from surprising sources (Ian is my hero.). Regardless, in the end everything will get done, and I'll be happy.

Maybe.

Unless I'm forced to eat this awful stuff.

This week has been actually really good.  Stuff is getting done, and I got to see grandkitten Thor.

He's getting big!!

I had two crazy late nights-

One rather stressful...

And one absolutely stress-busting.  This is grandkitten Thor's other grandma!!

It was a good week at work, too.

Really, this WAS a great week, despite the stresses.

I met a former fighter pilot who did Mach 2 and wrote bar notes like this...

And I had this awesome sign...

So by Saturday I felt like this:

Feeling as wide-eyed as Luke Skywalker as he headed towards his future.

At the end of the day...

:)

The Need to Compare

So there was a blood moon last night.

To someone, it looked like this.

In Dallas, it looked like this.

My sister even saw stars with hers.

Mine?  Mine looked like this:

Yep.  A fuzzy non-red light in the sky.

So, in my "misery loves company" mood (my eye is screaming.  Is it an ulcer?  Can I ignore it?) I posted this:

Turns out a lot of people had similar experiences-and we all laughed about it.

Why do we feel the need to compare?

Body weight, body types, health, diets and general fitness are hot topics of debate.

Let's not EVEN start with politics...!

We all choose our own path, and do what we believe is right for us.

I still vote, however.

But WHY, why the constant need to compare?

Some compare "to keep up with the Joneses" while others compare as a quality check for themselves.  Some compare to look for new ideas (me) and others compare out of envy or greed.  Yet still some compare to only find fault in themselves, and others to find fault with others.

My fitness quest began as a comparison-comparing one type of exercise to another, to find what was best suited to me.  As one with exercise issues, my comparisons were (and are) snarky at best.  As I prepare to re-enter the world of fitness, I must ask:  is it wise to compare?  Is it making me cynical, or is it scientific research?

Love.  THIS.

As I research time travel, major life tripping points and regrets from the standpoint as a historian, and not a psychologist, I am made more and more aware of the comparisons we make every day, and how they impact our lives.  We are bombarded with comparisons that make us question what we believe and why we believe, leaving some confused, some adamant and others wanting.  Is it our nature to compare, or has society made us into this?

Granted, not all comparisons are bad.  

Green or yellow?

But some comparisons are evil:

I hate even reposting this, it so makes my skin crawl.

How can one identify the when a comparison is good or bad in their life?  Especially when it comes to long held beliefs or perspectives?

That is the question.

Fitness Quest:  getting more real all the time.

Third Time's a Charm

This is it:  the wrap is off.

Yep, it's still buddy taped.  I'm keeping that as my safety net for a few more weeks.

For those of you who are convinced my right hand is permanently messed up (to put it mildly) I'm excited to say it's week EIGHT since the third break (and twenty-two since the first break, but hey, whose counting, right?) and I've been cleared to start "using" it.

Which means I'm still using my left hand for nearly everything.

The middle metacarpal of the right hand is NOT extremely hard.  I can vouch for that.

Quite honestly, the hand is in need of some help.  

 My fingers don't bend any further; they should touch my palm.

So I'm going to start using them, finally!

One of the unexpected side effects of this last break is the new skin sensitivity on my right palm.  Feeling things in my hand, or on my skin is a new sensation...and I'm very aware of it.  It's not a bad thing, and I'm wondering if this is how a baby feels newly out of the womb when it comes to touch.

My favorite type of touch.

So I'm thinking I need to start thinking about exercise in addition to hiking, and I need to figure out how to make the last quarter of the year better than the first three-quarters (lol-it's not hard compared to the last 22 weeks...!)

In reviewing the Quest blogs and videos, it's pretty apparent classical Pilates with Lucille is the logical choice.  The day I broke my hand I did a video earlier about it; and I'd love to regain that confidence.

I've picked myself up and I've dusted myself off.  Now just where did I leave that horse??

OK, maybe I haven't gotten up just YET... :)

Mental Fitness

So I'm not exercising except for a once a week hike, and adding handwriting to my broken right-hand therapy.

....and braiding.  I've tried braiding and having Lagertha hair.  No real success as of yet.

It's seven weeks since my third break; smacking my hand on a door handle last week had me in pain for 48 hrs as the hand cramped up.  Thankfully it got better in time for Fall Gathering.

Bad hair day.  Bad, bad hair day.  Also a rare appearance of that Arizona bad boy:  turquoise.

Today the cold I've had all week flared evilly, knowing it was my day off.  I worked on the time machine, with this immediate result:

Which was apparently no surprise to my hiking partner and co-conspirator in time travel.

While working on a section about life stumbling blocks I began to examine my personal stumbling block, as identified in my time machine.  Whenever I perceived personal rejection, I have an unreasonable desire to tell everyone about the rejection with the objective of being vindicated by them.  It's gotten me into trouble before, and today I realized its at the very heart of many problems I currently face.

Thankfully, coffee is NOT a problem I face.

Rejection.  It goes back to kindergarten, and "not playing well in groups."  Well, how can one learn to play in a group WHEN THE GROUP REFUSES TO PLAY WITH YOU?

My elementary school and birthplace of my lifelong struggle with rejection.

Indeed, ALL of my kindergarten memories are of the rejection of my peers with just one exception; the mid-year arrival of Hugh Tyler Ross, most likely because I saw him receive some rejection, too.  Every school yard pick'em ended the same:  I was chosen last.  Granted I wasn't gifted athletically (which I now believe to be the result of going right handed as a left-eye dominant ambidextrous youth, thank you broken right hand for that insight!) and I was set apart as "gifted" (but so were the popular kids, apparently I was the only nerd) but the rejection of my peers started early, and it never stopped.  Over time I developed different ways of handling it; being a voracious reader, I claimed to have travelled to many places I'd only read about; in middle school I was able to stretch these exaggerations into fanciful tales.  By high school I simply decided I was superior to these fools, and buried my face behind the latest Star Trek novel, all the while longing to belong.  In college I was starting to fit in (mostly because so many other misfits attended my college, right David?) but rejection still haunted me in early adulthood, and sadly, to this very day.

Unfortunately, it was The Knight of Physical Therapy's prolonged illness and eventual death when I picked up the habit of needing affirmation after rejection.  The last six weeks of his life were an endless battle to protect his rights, which I solely held as his medical power of attorney.  He had decided six months prior he wanted every possible treatment to prolong his life-we had a baby on the way, and he was determined to fight.  When he slipped into a coma, I was his voice...and everyone around me wanted to pull the plug.  Despite his written personal wishes and the fact he was in no pain, the doctors, his family and friends fought with me to change that decision.  I was only 24 years old at the time, and resolutely stood my ground to honor his wishes.  It was hell.

The rejection of me in those days was so complete, even my very life was threatened.  Family I thought loved me told me they hated me for following the written wishes of my husband on a notarized medical power of attorney document.  While I prayed for a miracle and spent every waking moment by his side, I was attacked the moment I was alone, told to face reality and let him go.  After every attack, I'd seek reassurance from those on "my side," thus beginning the life long stumbling block.  The doctors, who wholey assured me my husband was in no pain, with few exceptions still tended to agree that pulling the plug was sensible.  He wasn't going to recover (he had an inoperable brain tumor), so why prolong his death?

Because of what if.

What if he did recover?  What if he was accepted in the gamma knife trials?  What if they found a cure?

In the last year, 20 years too late for the Knight, they have.  The polio virus kills glioblastoma multiforme brain tumors.

The Knight knew of my time traveling prowess long ago.  His final gift to me was eliminating all the what if's; I have not a single regret concerning his final wishes.  It was love shown in its purest form, by a young 29 year old husband and new daddy.  "Do everything so you have no regrets when I'm gone," he had said, while spooned up behind me, his hands on my very pregnant belly.  The peace it gave me in the following months and years was truly a gift; despite the rejection of others at the time, I still have no regrets.

Gary Joseph Kreuz, aka My Beloved Frog (Kermit or Kermie.) I was his Piggy.

But the habit of needing immediate reassurance after rejection (real or perceived) was now securely a part of my psyche.  Looking back, I can also see I began to equate real love as the absence of rejection.  So when The King came around...

Let's just say that today has been a Very Deep Thoughts kind of day.

My fitness quest was started as a way to get my body in shape.  A broken hand has forced the quest in other directions.  Apparently, my mental fitness is getting a workout during the physical healing time.

Who knew time travel could change the future?