I'm Famous (Today Only)!

This morning, I received this E-mail:

Great news!  West Valley Runners is featured on the home page
right now!  Check it out and tell your friends:

http://www.meetup.com/tour/t/hp1_l1

Every day, a handful of the most active Meetup Groups are
chosen to appear on this page. Your Meetup will be appearing on
the home page all day today.

Congrats!

The Team at Meetup HQ


I clicked the link to check it out and celebrate my awesome Meetup group.  Not only is the group featured on the main page, but I am in the picture.  Way in the background, there is a woman in a black tank holding a pink ball.  That's me!  While I do find it funny that the picture advertising our group is of us bowling and not running, I won't complain about getting to be famous for the day.

Friend Jill likes to track her 15 minutes of fame.  I haven't done this yet, but maybe I should start.  I'd need to look up how to calculate such a thing.  For instance, my name has been in several newspapers after a big race (eg Long Island Half Marathon, Big Sur Marathon).  Does that count as fame?  I don't know.

People Watching

Laura has decided to bombard you with blog entries because in (less than!) two weeks, I'll be returning to work and therefore falling off the face of the earth for awhile.  Enjoy me while I'm around.
         



          As I walked back to my chair after a chilly dip in the Atlantic Ocean, I took notice of a boy creating a comical scene. Instead of sticking my nose in a book, I decided to dig my feet into the sand and enjoy the show in front of me. The boy repeatedly threw himself into the ocean waves, purposely allowing each rush of water to toss him around and ram him against the sand.

          As a Long Island child, I experienced many ocean beatings. Rule number one of swimming in the ocean focused on avoiding the wrath of waves at all costs. Jump over them, dive into them, but never let one suck you under. The end result of breaking this rule included a bathing suit full of sand, salt water down the throat, and a momentary panic that the wave would prevent you from getting a breath of fresh air for all eternity. Despite this universal knowledge, the boy seemed to gain pleasure from each wave that tormented him. He ran into the oncoming waves, letting them pummel him under for half a minute at a time. Each time he rose, a grin spread across his face as if he just finished his favorite ride in an amusement park. Sometimes he didn't bother to stand up, allowing several consecutive waves to crash over him and bully him to the ground. As hard as the waves tried, they could not knock this guy down from his euphoria. I envied his youthful enthusiasm and wondered why so many adults cease to have such innocent fun past a certain age. It took a long time, but the boy eventually did tire of his wave-crashing fun. He stepped away from the ocean, glowing with joy and glistening with salt water. He jogged up the beach toward his towel and passed me on his way. I smiled at him and he stopped to smile back. I commented on the fun he was having and asked him his age. “Thirty-two,” he responded. “I don't think children should get to monopolize fun.”

Running Late

While in New York, Craig and I went to see the Mets host the Phillies. I looked forward to seeing Citi Field for the first time, while Craig looked forward to seeing rowdy New York fans. Craig and I planned to walk the 1.5 miles to the train station and ride the rails to the game. I wore jeans because I knew I might get cold. I packed water and some food because I knew we might get hungry. We hustled out the door a few minutes behind schedule, which has been typical behavior for the two of us lately. Aware that we were running late, I walked the best speed-walk that my short legs could carry me. 

I checked the time after we had walked about half a mile. It was just past five and we were hoping to make the 5:13 train. With the realization that speed-walking simply wasn't going to be good enough, we began to run. Craig offered to take my backpack and I handed it off to him as he broke into a near sprint. I trailed behind, jogging in my jeans and hiking sandals. My jeans complained about being used inappropriately, while my heavy sandals slapped loudly with each step. Craig tried to encourage me to run faster, but I didn't feel the urgency that he did. He gave up on me and sprinted ahead in hopes that he could buy our train tickets while I caught up. He flew down the sidewalk, hopped over curbs, and dashed across the street. As he rushed across the road, the contents of my backpack turned on him. A water bottle splatted to the ground and an apple rolled into the street. Pedestrians in my home town are a rare sight to see, but Craig was lucky to have one near enough who picked up the apple and tossed it back to Craig. Craig fumbled the apple due to the pedestrian's throwing error, but this did not prevent Craig from continuing his sprint. He rounded the corner and stayed focused on his goal. By the time I neared the train station, Craig was out of sight. I checked the time once more and saw that it was 5:12. I reached the home stretch and knew I still had a chance. I lunged across the final street that separated me from the train station, while making sure the cars would be kind enough to let me cross. I turned the final bend and took the stairs two at a time up to the tracks. I crossed my fingers that Craig would be waiting there with tickets in hand. 

Instead I found a dozen or so Mets fans among other passengers standing impatiently by the tracks. With a glance to the overhead sign I learned that the train was delayed by fourteen minutes. I walked slowly down the stairs to find Craig. We calmly bought our tickets and headed back upstairs to wait with the others. As sweat poured down our faces and through our clothes on the especially humid July day, we concluded that we could have walked and still made the train. But where's the fun in that?

Giving Credit Where Credit Is Due

As a special education teacher, I embrace the use of many different technologies we have available. In special ed, these technologies allow children to become more independent in a variety of tasks. A wheelchair or walker is a wonderful tool for a child who cannot walk. Picture cards and communication devices allow children to talk. A child who continues to struggle with math facts may use a number line. Each of these technologies, and many more, are implemented with the goal of making children more independent and less reliant on adults to help them. The ultimate goal is that as they develop they can become less reliant on the technologies as they grow physically and cognitively.

However, I have two major issues with how technology is viewed today. The societal view seems to define technology as anything that has a power button. Secondly, the media tends to relay the message that all technology will make life better. These two ideas would be like giving a child an electric wheelchair when he could manipulate a non-electric wheelchair. Worse still, we could give a child a wheelchair who only has minimal difficulties with walking. In both of these cases, the child would receive more than necessary, resulting in a loss of skills and muscle tone. In my opinion, as our access to electronic technologies increase, we are losing many necessary skills in the process. There are positives to things like televisions, cell phones, computers, and calculators. But I believe these items have also led to decrease in creativity, memory, planning skills, and community building. We are not building these skills because we have equipment to do it for us.

That being said, I owe a “thank you” to a device that I continue to insult and consider to be unnecessary. Recently, I went to Pittsburgh to visit some friends. We planned to go to see the Pirates play the Red Sox. I volunteered to hold two of the four tickets since I had a backpack with me. The four of us arrived at the stadium and I went to retrieve the tickets. Within a few seconds I remembered that I had taken the tickets out to find my bus fare which had fallen to the bottom of the backpack. The tickets were sitting on a table in the house several miles away. I panicked, realizing that my friend and I would not be able to enter the stadium. Someone made a suggestion that we use the iPhone. The tickets I left behind were printed tickets, so the tickets were saved in E-mail form. Like magic, we were able to use the iPhone as our tickets and enter the game.

The ticket lady is trying to figure out how to scan the phone

If this tool hadn't been available, I believe we would have made due. We could have found a creative solution, made alternate plans, or bought more tickets. Though the night would have been fine either way, I was appreciative of getting to go to the game. I hadn't seen the Red Sox in person before. I learned that Red Sox must have a really good special effects crew, because they sure don't look that sloppy on tv.

Thank you, iPhone, for allowing me to be careless and forgetful without having to face any long term consequences.

Pie Chart

One of my hobbies is tracking data about myself. My first recollection of this is from high school. I had allergies and sneezed a lot. I tracked my sneezes and had separate columns for each place I sneezed: home, the bagel store I worked at, school, outside, etc. For an entire year, I managed to track all of my sneezes. Though I no longer have the data, I believe my peak sneeze day was 100 sneezes. Those of you who have only known me as an adult can now rest assured that I truly was a huge nerd.

More recently, I have kept charts for flossing my teeth, eating fruits and vegetables, and my running/rehab exercises (further evidence that I am still a huge nerd). For 2010, my New Year's resolution was to keep track of where all my money goes. I kept receipts and looked closely at each month's bank statement so that I could categorize my expenses. I tracked all of this for a full year and finally got around to summarizing everything a few weeks ago. With some assistance, I even made myself a nifty little pie chart.

Overall, I'm pleased with the results. Bills and savings are my top two expenses. My main goal of this tracking was to see where I could cut spending without decreasing my overall quality of life. I believe there is still room for improvement here. I made a chart excluding my savings and bills so I could better compare all my other spending.

In this chart, my top expenses are: my car, grocery store food, fitness, hobbies, and health. Most of these are necessities for me. Buying healthy foods, joining a gym, going to the doctor/dentist and engaging in my hobbies are all things that make my life better and are investments for the future. Someday, I would like my car expenses to go down, but I don't think I can significantly decrease car-related spending at this time. I have started taking the bus, but I have to pay my car insurance regardless. If I were to target one area that has room for improvement, it would be going out to eat. Though it is a mere 4% of my total expenses, I think that I could cut this area in half without reducing quality of life. In fact, cooking at home more and eating out less would probably improve my overall quality of life.

I am glad I took the time to look at where all my money is going. The results were useful and I now have a good baseline to look at for the future. Craig and I regularly talk about our future and some of that includes the possibility of moving to a much smaller city. Leaving the big city of Phoenix could mean a decrease in income. A goal I have for myself is to never feel trapped in a job for fear of losing an income and lifestyle that I have become dependent upon. Becoming more aware of my expenses and where expenses can be cut is a good first step for me to meet that goal.

Work Commute

Last school year, I had a terrible horrible no good very bad work commute. It was twenty miles each way along surface streets with stop lights every half mile. I tried a variety of things to make the commute more pleasant, including getting some Spanish lessons on CD. While I did learn a little bit of Spanish, I did not learn to like my commute.

When looking for a new job for this school year, one of my top priorities was to have a pleasant commute. My ideal commute would have been something under 5 miles and along the canal path (for more information about the canal path, see here: http://www.srpnet.com/water/canals/distances.aspx), but I still ended up with something pretty good. My current job is about 6 miles away and is along a major bus commute. I became a regular bus rider and could leave my car at home for a week at a time. I am happy with my job and with my commute. I don't know many people who can say the same.

Still, I was somewhat disappointed that I wasn't using self-powered transportation. I did run home on three or four occasions, which is satisfactory. At the beginning of the year, I decided to set a goal to ride my bike to work at least one time. There is a nice route that is about 8 miles and avoids most busy traffic. It passes a lot of schools and has a bike lane. As the end of the school year started creeping up, I realized I was in danger of not meeting my goal.

Today, the second-to-last day of school, I rode my bike to and from work. Go, me! I made my goal! I may not have a bike bell, but I do like to toot my own horn.

My teenager

Be warned: this is a post about cats.

I have two cats: Nutmeg and Emerald. Their personalities are quite different. Nutmeg loves laps and the indoors. She is nosy about what other people are doing. She is my homebody.

Emerald, by contrast, avoids human contact as much as possible. Most of the affection she receives is against her will. If people approach her, she'll generally run off to be on her own. When I arrive home from work, she runs out the door to explore the outdoors. She appears to take pleasure is bullying the less attractive cat who lives around the corner.

I first started letting Emerald out on her own about one year ago. Back then, Emerald was nervous about every sound and footstep. She got herself lost on several occasions and came running back indoors for safety. After a few months, she became much more comfortable with the outdoors. She started eating out with friends (lizards and grass, yum!) and would disappear for periods of time. She rarely would tell me where she was going and would run off if I tried to join her. Going out has become her favorite hobby. If I am home, she is begging to leave. I should have taken all these observations as important warning signs, but now it is official. Emerald is a teenager.

Emerald learned how to open the screen door to my second floor balcony. At first I didn't consider this to be much of an issue. She explored the balcony and visited my neighbor. One day, when the front door was closed, Emerald took it upon herself to jump onto my balcony ledge and leap to the ground two stories below her. This feat apparently scared her so badly that she immediately ran back to the door to be let in. As a teacher, I especially love natural consequences, and I thought for sure she had learned her lesson.

A couple of months after this incident, I went away to Houston for an extended weekend. I left the sliding glass door open to allow some fresh air into the apartment. Nutmeg and Emerald were safe indoors with my electronic feeder to keep them well. When I arrived home, late on Sunday, a surprise sat crying at my door. Emerald had decided to run away again and got herself locked out for much longer than she'd bargained for. According to my neighbors, she had been outside for nearly two days. Naughty, naughty Emerald.

A few days later, as I was falling asleep, I heard the light sound of tap-tap-tap-whack-whack-whack-tap-tap-tap-squeak. My darling Emerald was opening up the screen door. She must have known I was awake, because she came back inside. However, when morning came, Emerald was waiting outside my front door. She sulked inside with the squinty-eyed look of a girl who had spent the night partying. She lay down on the couch and covered her face the best she could, repeatedly glaring at us for making too much noise.

As if this wasn't bad enough, I have learned that the troublesome male stray that roams the apartment complex has become an admirer of Emerald. Just the other day I heard a ruckus outside, only to see this guy (who we refer to as "Black and White Cat") waiting down below my balcony. A coworker commented that I should worry about Emerald coming home pregnant one day. Lucky for me, I was proactive and had her reproductive organs removed when she was still a young girl. Don't you parents out there sometimes wish you had that option for your children?