The Hubsters: In lieu of a sappy facebook update.

Today is my husbands birthday, and the first one we get to celebrate as husband and wife, pretty exciting stuff! I'm still trying to get in the habit of calling him my husband, since he's been my boyfriend longer than a husband. Since it's his 35th birfday I thought I'd list out a few reasons why I think he's the bee's knees.


1) He's a weirdo, which is funny because when I first saw him, he hid his weird very very well. It works out great because we're both weird together. He knows my crazy and accepts it. I know his weirdo-ness and accept it.

2) He values my opinion and asks for my input. I can really value a man (my husband is a manly dude) who does not feel any less when asking his wife's thoughts and insights. I like that he's secure enough in his masculinity that he wants to ask my opinion.

3 He can admit when I'm right (which is often :) )

4) His passion for what he does (software development) extends beyond his 9-5 job. He does it on the weekends and weekdays after work until he's figured out whatever personal projects he's working on. I admire this immensely in him, because I don't have the discipline to engage in my own personal projects. I just want to be home watching Grey's Anatomy re-runs on Netflix.

5) He is incredibly introspective and willing to question himself. He's first going to say "Is it me?" rather than "It's THAT person!"

6) He respects my faith and opinions even though he doesn't agree with me. This is something I could definitely learn from him, as I tend yell when you don't agree with me.

7) The last one, even though there are so many. He's a man who's life could have gone in a completely different direction, but his determination  to constantly better himself has landed him in the place he is today.

M.I.A.

Woah, it's April, screw that, it's actually May, this day is half way over. Let's just call today May already. Its been many months, 6 to be exact, since I last typed. I've had so many thoughts as to what direction to take this blog that I am so neglectful of. I was thinking of starting another one called "Paws and Pens" focusing on this new marital adventure I'm embarking, but then that would just be a 3rd blog I have started and would potentially fail to follow up on. So why flake out on a third when I can sporadically flake out on this one. Let's catch up with what I've been up to these past 6 months:

1) The Dude and The Lady get married: We had decided to stop living in sin and got hitched in December. It was a beautiful day! Let me tell you, I look back at the pictures and relive the excitement and utter stress that was planning this day. I have never been so happy to see my groom than when I saw him at the end of that aisle because it meant that the insanity of a year of half of planning was drawing to an end. We still haven't taken our honeymoon because my job sucks like that, so we'll see what the summer brings us.

Kitty Favors that we gave our Guests (Left: Dr. Unagi Righ: Disco)

2) I ran the LA marathon again: And I PR'd that shit! I shaved 30 minutes of my time. With everything that happened in Boston, I wish I could qualify so I could run next year in solidarity, but alas, I'm supah slow.

3) I passed one of two state exams: I'm trying to get licensed in California to remove the I from the MFTI I constantly have to sign. Last year I failed this test by 1 point. 1 POINT!!! Needless to say I drowned my sorrows in tears and fried macaroni balls from Cheesecake factory. When I passed I went back to the Cheesecake and ate those macaroni balls with the taste of victory in my mouth. TAKE THAT BBS! I can't get too cocky though, I have to pass my next exam.

4) Dr. Unagi gets asthma: When I heard her awful coughs The Hubs (i.e. The Dude) and I thougt the worse. We thought for sure this big fat tuxedo cat would have some congenital heart disease. We took her to the vet and turns out she and I have something else in common other than our love for belly rubs and catnip. Dr. Unagi has allergies which triggers asthma attacks and some pretty bad dandruff. We now have to give her this disgusting medicine that makes her puke, but will keep the asthma and dermititis at bay.

What are my plans for 2013, well I'm not promising anything, except reflections on running (like I was doing before) and incorporating more musings regarding therapy and mental health issues.  Oh, and cats, more blogging about cats, because cats are great!

Dre-Dog out!

Are you a MexiCan or a MexiCan’t: Dia de los Muertos

I haven’t written in a while, forgive me. Today is the first day of Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead).  Today I am filled with Mexican memories. Puebla at times has similar weather to Ontario, although I swear they actually get their fall more pronounced than what we are currently experiencing, but I digress. Dia de Los Muertos is a day when all the dead come back to say “sup.” Day of the dead spans the first two days of November, with many families setting up altars to their loved ones who have passed away. Altars are usually brimming with color! Pinks, purples, orange, reds! Gorgeous!

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 They line the altars with cempasúchil, which is a yellow/orange marigold. A lot of altars have a trail of cempasúchil (Flower of  the Dead) so that the dead know how to get back to their homes. The altars have ‘pan de muerto’  , tequila, or other favorite foods of the deceased. Calaveras are seen grinning from ear to ear! I’m bringing it up today, because I am always flooded with memories of my aunt, my Tia Cheny.

My mother exposed me to Mexican culture at a very young age, often taking me to visit my aunt and cousins when I was 6-7 years old. My first memories of Mexico was that of my aunt handing my sugared calavera, which I swear got bigger and bigger every year. One year she got me one with my name on it. I was reminded of the cold breeze in Puebla in the evening during this time of the year and eating Churros con chocolate in ‘El Porton’ (Like a Mexican Denny’s). Most of the warmest memories I have of Mexico relate to my aunt and my cousins and this time of the year. Maybe that’s why I associate November/Decemnber with my family. I remember going one year during Dia de los Muertos and we went to this town that lied about 40 min out of Puebla.  The town opened their doors to visitors to see their altars. We went from house to house, we were offered hot chocolate, tamales, mole, and bread. 

La Catrina

Dia de los Muertos is about celebrating life, laughing at death (as seen through the Catrina). Outsiders may see this as morbid, but it is a beautiful tradition. I hope some day Scott and our kids can visit the altars, maybe visit the cemeteries (which have been filled with mariachis serenading the departed), smell the burnt incense, and treat our kids to some churros con chocolate afte they have eaten their queso fundido. 

My muffin top is all that. Whole-grain, low-fat.

Fuck self-control

That sneaky son of a bitch. My weight has a tendency of sneaking up on me. Next thing I know I'm up a size in pants, and I think nothing of it, until I realize that going up a size means having slowly gained 10lbs over two years. I was at weight watchers over two years ago, and I lost 20 lbs WOOHOO, good for me right? well that 20lbs window lasted abooooooooooout a week, then slowly I've been gaining it back. Part of the blame lands in marathon training. I was really ok with gaining 5 lbs because I was a ravenous beast. I mean it's like impossible to log 25+ miles a week and train without completely loosing your self-control around bread.

The problem is, my marathon ended March 17. Uh, 6 months ago. Everyone tells me "oh you can eat like that, you're a runner." Well the running gets defeated when you're making sweet sweet love to a big mac (GODDAMN THOSE THINGS ARE GOOD!).

GET IN MUH MOUTH!

 So here I am : 151.4 lbs and I'm posting it online because today I went back to weight watchers, started a work fitness competition, and 2 months away from my wedding.

I can't loose too much weight this month because I'm getting my dress, and frankly I can't afford to get my dress super altered. So we'll call this an 4 week journey to see how much I can lose, and sustain.

Wish me luck!

Women should run? What the what?

I ran across this article on my facebook feed and my head nearly exploded. EXPLODED!!!! I just can't....I just can't. Why (most) women shouldn't run.

I mean honestly, c'mon, women shoudn't run. Like ever? What if wild beast was chasing me? May my massive hips just screw me? Running can be hard on your knees, don't get me wrong, but that goes for men and women. Loosing a few pounds helped me reduce my knee pain, and now I don't have any problems.  But according to the article by Michael Boyle we can't because: titties

There was a time when women straight up couldn't run, and by 'there was a time' I'm talking about recent. Like before 1970's recent. The olympic marathon did not allow women, because they thought it was too strenous for us, and we couldn't hang.

Here's a gem quote for you " Women with larger breasts and wider hips don’t make good runners"

Well, after they found out our uterus' wouldn't fall out if we ran a few miles, it was all good!  We have had women like Katherine Switzer sneak into the Boston Marathon because back in the good ol days we were seen unfit.


C'mon man

The blogger didn't write this article, but what gets me is that, as a female athlete, why would she even offer this as advice to other females who run. I mean, most women I know that run don't do it to look like elite runners, they do it because it can help cope with the insanity of life. As a women, let's not encourage this way of thinking that tries to limit women to 'more safe' activities.

Anywho, for all you non-elite runners out there (which is most of us), I hope you ignore this drivel, strap those double D's in to your moving comfort bra (which are the shit), and get running, because women could and SHOULD run.


around this time 5 years ago

It was around this time 5 years ago where I found myself at a very difficult impasse in my life. I was recently graduated from the MFT program at ULV, engaged, and supposedly packing to move to Mexico by Sept 22 (or around that time) to be with the guy I was supposed to marry. The last year of that relationship had be incredibly tumultuous. If you ask my mother she would tell you she heard too many nights me crying on the phone.  I had also been going through a 2 year long transformation back into the person my 18 year old self wanted to be: heading into a career of helping others, surrounded by family, and on my own. This was in stark contrast to who I was expecting to be: wife and future Mrs.

 

In May of that same year (5 years ago) I sat with my black robe and hood with ULV’s colors waiting for my name to be called. I would walk up, grab my diploma, and smile. However this moment of my life was fill with such bittersweet emotions. I kept thinking in my head that this moment, was the end. The end of my childhood. The end of my home. The end of my family. It was time for me to grow up and get married, because that’s what you do. I remember walking out of that stadium to “Somewhere over the Rainbow” and almost crying at this loss of innocence. I wasn’t ready to grow up and do the grown up things I had thrusted myself into doing.

Fast forward 4 months, everyday inching closer to my departure date. I had left a couple of years prior to Mexico and let me tell you that the pain I felt when I packed my bags was the equivalent of feeling my soul being ripped out of me. It didn’t even feel like I was growing, it felt like I was tearing at the stitches that held me together, tearing at the stitches of my family that had always loved me and surrounded me. There I was, with clothes I needed to pack, boxes I needed to label, and a wedding dress hanging in the closet. The invitations sent. The venue booked. “It’s just cold feet” I told myself. 

 

So what happened, you probably ask, since I’m sitting in So.Cal and not in Mexico. Scott. Scott happened. Completely unexpected, completely unplanned, and completely needed. He wasn’t what changed my mind to call everything off, he was the match that lit a very very volatile powder keg. I remember sitting across from him and thinking: his ambition is like my ambition, he is passionate about what he does (like how I’m passionate about what I do). Scott made me feel congruent with who I was all within the span of a couple of hours of having met him. And he hadn’t even kissed me yet or made any passes (so put those thoughts away). What he made me feel shook me to my core so much that reevaluated what I thought I had wanted. I didn’t want to leave my family. My family is my blood life. I didn’t want to leave California. It had taken me 24 years to learn to appreciate it’s beautiful sunsets, it’s Diet Spring (our winter and fall), and hell, even it’s traffic. It isn’t’ until you’re about lose all that you’ve known that you everything you’ve every loved comes into focus.  

 

I stayed for my family.

I stayed for my friends.

I stayed for my career.

And Ultimately, I stayed for Scott.

 

So here we are 5 years later, 3 months away from getting married (holy moly 3 months). We don’t have an anniversary, because that September 5 years ago was such a cluster of emotions that I couldn’t pick out a date if my life depended on it. I don’t have those fears of needing to grow up and buckle down, because I’m going to share my life with a man who keeps me in touch with still being a kid with his humor. I don’t fear losing my family because they are at least 10 min away driving. As for friends, well if I hadn’t stayed I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to have the amazing girlfriends I have in my life now.

 

Bring on being married, bring on being a Mrs. I don’t mind it one bit. We’ve spent the last 5 years building a home for 2 (4 if you count the fur babies), and I look forward to building the next 85 (more if we are cryogenically frozen) years together.  I no longer fear being tethered to someone, as long as that person I’m tethered to is Scott.

Book Review: Wild- From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed

 

 

I’ve been trying to read more female authors as I get more in touch with this whole Feminist thing. I’m not talking about Feminist books per se, just books by chicks (that isn’t Chick-lit). I stumbled across Wild through some lady websites and I thought it looked mighty interesting. I went ahead and bought in on Amazon (along with 2 other books because hey, you just can’t buy ONE book).

 

Well, over my vacation I was able to start and finish Cheryl Strayed’s book Wild, which is about a 26 year old woman’s lone journey on the Pacific Crest Trail, which starts in the Mojave Desert and ends in Canada. Cheryl starts in the Mojave and tracks through California all the way to Oregon. Throughout the book she describes her adventures as a very green backpacker and the people she encounters along the way. There were moments in the book where I wish I could have been on that trail relishing in the beautiful loneliness of the woods and arid desert.

 

I’m not gonna lie, I actually am looking at doing something like this, maybe not hardcore like Cheryl, but hiking some place and setting up camp. As I’ve been running more and more outside, I’ve come to appreciate the peace and tranquility nature brings. Wild does a great job at exploring that, and also appreciating the beauty of solitude. With so many of us being constantly connected via Facebook, twitter, tumblr, instagram, etc the idea of completely void of ALL of that chatter sounds incredibly refreshing. Loneliness has become synonymous with so many negative connotations that we forget that to be still with ourselves can really allow us to explore those thoughts we often push aside, deal with our own nagging voices, and maybe find some deep realization about ourselves.

 

If you want to feel like you’re on the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail) or you want to read about someone’s journey of self-discovery read Wild. I cant express how much I enjoyed it.

http://www.cherylstrayed.com/wild_108676.htm