Rabbit Prints

This is the running schedule* I’ve been keeping. I...

Mon, 14 May 2012 08:06:00 -0400

This is the running schedule* I’ve been keeping. I haven’t been strict about the days, mostly because the weather has been a bit dodgy so I’ve headed out when the weather is nice. It’s worked out so that I’ve run every other day with two days between my second run and my long “Sunday” run.

Today, I begin week two. The soreness I felt from the first two runs is gone. It’s been replaced by familiar aches in my knees and ankles, but it’s nothing that a brace or two won’t fix!

On a “bummer of a birthmark, Hal” note I will need to overhaul my diet. I’ve been joyously going into carb overload this past week and my scale reading reflects that. If I don’t want my efforts to be hidden under a layer of flub, I’m going to have to say good-bye to things like my beloved Bisquick and other white starches.

Ah, I’ll save the farewells for tomorrow (What? I already made pancakes for my family! I need to make sure they taste okay!)

It Started in Low Then It Started to Grow

Fri, 11 May 2012 11:20:34 -0400

I’d like to take a moment to remind everybody of the importance of having an extra and charged camera battery. Having this might allow you to get a full video of your child’s first onstage performance as opposed to a few seconds hastily snatched with a cell phone camera.

With that out of the way:

Shortly after the audience laughs, there is a single voice that’s drowning out everyone else on stage. It reached through the entire auditorium without a microphone or any other amplification aid. That voice belongs to… (I’m mentally inserting a drum roll) MY SON!

Reticence is obviously not in his genetic composition.

Bug was awesome and his unabashed enthusiasm was hilarious. I was laughing so hard that I was in tears, as well as feeling enormous pride. I’ve always been too self-conscious to perform in front of people, but he feels none of this. It made me really happy. I hope he’s always this bold.

Intentions and Day Four

Thu, 10 May 2012 09:58:50 -0400

I’d fallen and I couldn’t get up.

I’m exaggerating. I was actually in a crouched position with 40+ pounds of child on my back who was exclaiming, “Let’s go, Mommy! Horsey ride! [whinny]”

Off to one side, my husband asked, “Why are you making the horse noises when you’re getting the ride?” Turning to me, he said, “Well, let’s go. Are you going to get up?”

I heard his voice crack a little as he barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Can you get up?”

A sidelong glance revealed that I could punch him in the kneecaps for his insensitivity but I simply replied, “Yeah. Just give me a minute. I want to make sure Bug is holding on tightly.”

The truth was that I had spent the past couple of seconds telling my quads to move and they weren’t obeying. Actually, it felt like they no longer knew what to do.

I don’t remember how I did it, but I did eventually manage to stand, all the while covering up by ordering Bug, “Hold on tighter to my neck. Don’t lean back. Concentrate on not falling off!”

My legs used to be so strong. I can understand why this is no longer true: I haven’t been running regularly, never mind five miles of hills and slopes. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done lunges across the length of a football field (and then back to my starting point). Most of all, I have, in the last few years, really come to accept my body and realize that my rear view isn’t fat, and therefore not in need of a multitude of lower-body repetitions that are geared towards shrinking it.

The current state of things is troubling, though. I started off the month with the intention of turning things around…and then caught whatever bit of nastiness is circulating around my son’s school and didn’t workout at all.

On Monday, I was finally better - or at least the weather was nice enough that I convinced myself that I was. I started training in earnest. On Tuesday, I could barely move but pressed onwards.

I have a weight that I would like to reach (125 pounds), but I learned a long time ago that this is one of those cases where it really is just a number. As it stands, my body is close to the size it was pre-pregnancy, since most of my clothes from that time fit.

Ultimately, my goal is to reduce my body fat to 25% (it’s currently 38%) and be strong again.

Here’s what I’ve done so far:

Day One (Monday):

run one mile
walk three miles
Jillian Michael’s Ripped in 30 (week two)

Day Two (Tuesday):

35 minutes of Pilates

Day Three (Wednesday):

run 1.5 miles
walk three miles

I wanted to do another session of Ripped in 30, but my body was aching in that way that says, “No, seriously. You might do some damage if you keep pushing. Take a day off.”

Today is probably going to be that day off, mostly because I need to make food for a potluck, and yes, it will take me most of the day to do so.

Then again, I’m sure that I can squeeze in 25 minutes somewhere. I’ll figure it out.

Try Crashing This, Technology!

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 13:12:12 -0400

“What lies before us, and what lies behind us, are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

This Is How the World Ends: Not With a Bang, But a -

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 10:51:57 -0400

- gray screen. A horrible gray screen that was preceded by the Rainbow Lollipop of Death.

In less-dramatic terms: my computer died. Tomorrow, I’m taking it to the Mac store to see if they can recover the files. On the bright side, I was unhappy with the way my novel turned out and had planned to rewrite almost everything from scratch.

That starts today, by the way. I’m nervous: even though people other than my mom have said they like my stories, I worry that I’m still not good enough. I’ll work through this. I keep reminding myself of something an old friend once said: “A lot of people aren’t good enough and they still manage to get published.”

My goal for the day is 4,000 words. I can easily write 1,000 words per hour when under pressure, so I think 4,000 pretty much comprises an eight hour work day interspersed with a neurotic amount of, “What am I doing? People are going to laugh at me. Argh! Just keep writing. You’re going to be okay…”

This reminds me of something I heard on CBC yesterday. I wish I’d caught the speaker’s name so I could quote him. He talked about dreams and the things that many of us do to try to avoid taking a risk for them. We try to define ourselves by our relationships - “I was a good mother.” “I was a good wife.” - so that we don’t think about the book we wanted to write, the portrait we wanted to paint or the concert halls we hoped to fill with our voices. He mentioned how we try to suppress our children’s dreams so that we don’t have to be reminded of how we let go of our own.

He concluded - and I’m paraphrasing this - that we should be braver so that when our kids tell us about their dreams, we can say, “You chase that dream! You go after it and catch it…just like I did with mine.”

That’s what I’m doing, but this post doesn’t count towards my word count, so I’m wrapping it up here.

And I'm Not Fooling!

Sun, 01 Apr 2012 22:35:14 -0400

I had a really great birthday. Every time I try to post the details, however, my jerk-face cat starts some new mischief.

Perhaps he’s angry because I have him working overtime to catch that red dot?

Untitled from April on Vimeo.

The Moon (and Jupiter)

Mon, 26 Mar 2012 23:28:00 -0400

One of the last things I did on one of my last visits home was to look at the sky.

I could hear the sound of the wind splitting apart as cars rushed through on the not-too-distant Genesee Avenue. I could hear the cars themselves: dulled rumblings and revving of engines and perhaps the motion of tires on streets that were a medium shade of charcoal. Closer to me, the leaves whispered as the night wind moved gently among them.

I closed my eyes.

I could still hear everything, but time slipped away. I was five and holding onto the waist of my best friend’s older brother as we formed a human chain that roller skated down the slope of our cul-de-sac. I was eight and slipping between fences and shrubbery while somebody else pressed his or her face against the rough wood of a telephone and counted to 20 before shouting, “Ready or not, here I come!” I was 11 and feeding the neighborhood strays, 15 and wandering up the drive after a track meet and completely unaware that my sister had eaten the chips I was looking forward to (she also left a note that ended, “…because I know you’re watching your weight! Hee hee hee!”), 17 and equally unaware that my dad was waiting to yell at me for sneaking out on a date after I’d lied and said I was going to work.

Time still stops for me whenever I focus on the night sky. No matter where I am or what time of year, I can look and feel like I haven’t traveled so far physically or emotionally. I can sense a consistency in the universe, and my heart feels at ease. I can - and do - believe that somehow, things will be alright, as they have always been.

*Big thanks to my friend Kevin for letting me know the bright spot on the right is probably Jupiter.

Purple

Sun, 25 Mar 2012 23:58:00 -0400

On the right is a standard-size guitar pick. On the left is the bruise I acquired when Wednesday’s bus made a sudden stop and I went flying towards the front. It’s growing every day (the bruise, not the bus…unless it’s possible that the bus is actually a Transformer. In that case, we should be afraid. We should be very afraid).

Chocolate Chip Cookies

Sat, 24 Mar 2012 23:42:00 -0400

Original chocolate chip cookies recipe from Martha Stewart Living

The measurements for the dry ingredients have remained the same. In lieu of eggs, I substituted five tablespoons of unsweetened applesauce. One cup of coconut oil replaced the butter. The consistency was runnier as a result, but this was easily fixed by covering the mixing boil with foil and placing it in the freezer for 20 minutes.

Verdict: The cookies were a bit oily. I currently have another batch of dough in the fridge so we’ll see if an overnight session makes things come together differently.

Other than that, the texture of the cookies are just the way I like them: crispy outer edges and a chewy middle.

Hmph. Fickle.

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 23:50:00 -0400

This is part of the five seconds before Bug - who had spent all of the winter asking when he could go outside to ride his scooter - decided he didn’t want to do this anymore.

A Little Simpson's Humor

Sat, 17 Mar 2012 21:54:00 -0400

I have to say: the kiddo is good about self-regulating. Even though he had the whole cookie jar at his disposal, he took only three. Two were for the moment. He asked that I please put away the third (pictured above) so that he could have it the next day.

I Am Truly Blessed

Fri, 16 Mar 2012 15:55:00 -0400

The knock on the door had a confidence and persistence that negated the possibility of it belonging to my neighbor or one of his slack-jawed breathren. Through the peephole, I could make out two figures who were adults and nicely dressed. Still, I put on my mean face as I opened the door just an inch and prepared to scare them off.

It turned out that I knew them!

I was supposed to hang out with J and S last night. I had cancelled after finding out on Wednesday that another friend had committed suicide. I’ve been intermittently crying since then and didn’t want to be that person who bursts into tears and brings down the whole party.

They’d been thinking of me and came by with cupcakes (vegan, nut-free, containing chocolate), homemade Bailey’s (also vegan. Who knew there was a recipe for that?!) and a flash drive containing Sailor Moon S, Sailor Mono SuperS and Sailor Moon S: the Movie. I stood there, in my pajamas and my hair looking like a bird’s nest that had made sweet love to napalm and almost started crying.

I am surrounded by so many wonderful people and so much love. My life is very good.

A less-than-kind mother would blow this image into a...

Fri, 16 Mar 2012 15:41:00 -0400

A less-than-kind mother would blow this image into a 16”x20” print, hang it by her child’s door and say, “Stay in bed or she’ll leap out of the picture and get you!”

Yes, a less-than-kind mother would do that…

Yesterday, we went to the reality show version of “Dante’s Inferno.” Most people...

Thu, 15 Mar 2012 15:32:00 -0400

Yesterday, we went to the reality show version of “Dante’s Inferno.” Most people know it as “the Children’s Museum during March break.”

There was much screaming from the children while many adults stood by with zombie-like eyes that said they had given up on parenting about three days ago.

We stayed for a little over an hour, a.k.a. the point when I thought my head was going to implode from all of the noise. Note to self: never go to this place during a holiday week.

A small side area where the screaming didn’t reach…as much.

Half Asian. Half Good With Numbers.

Thu, 08 Mar 2012 09:29:34 -0500

Me: Your auntie is celebrating a big birthday! Guess how old she’s going to be.
Bug: Seven.
Me: Older.
Bug: Ten!
Me: Older.
Bug: Four.
Me: I said older.
Bug: Six.
Me: She’s going to be 50.
Bug: Just like Mommy!
Me: NOT AT ALL LIKE MOMMY.
Bug: (giggles)

As a child, I loved sending and receiving mail just because it...

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 16:25:00 -0500

As a child, I loved sending and receiving mail just because it was fun. It was more fun as an adult because it’s nice to receive something that isn’t a bill.

I don’t write as regularly as I used to, partly because the instant gratification of email is hard to resist and partly because I sometimes forget to see the joy and excitement of my own life because I’m “too busy” - whatever that means.

Every once in awhile, however, I’ll come across some stationery and think, “I’m going to surprise someone with a letter.”

Today, that’s Rachel: one of my oldest and dearest friends, and the person everyone should rush to interview when I’m famous. She knows all of my secrets.

(A fair reminder to her, however, that I also know all of hers! ♡)

My Overview of Valentine's Day: Past and Present

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 10:28:56 -0500

Valentine’s Day did not get a lot of recognition in my home when I was growing up. By that, I mean it wasn’t a holiday when my mom would stay up all night cooking pancit and rolling lumpia. I would wake up to a nice card and some chocolate, but that was it.

I spent my teenage years pining for a Valentine, mostly because I was inexperienced enough to think that love plays out exactly like my favorite romantic movie (or maybe my second favorite, since it still saddens me that the princess left Gregory Peck behind). Eventually, I learned otherwise.

My first Valentine’s Day as part of a couple was ruined by my then-boyfriend excitedly mentioning a great place we could visit. It sounded fun, until he added, “Yeah, I used to take [his ex’s name] there every Valentine’s Day and she loved it. I figured you would, too.”

The next boyfriend I celebrated with did a fairy tale set up complete with dropping by unannounced with a dozen long-stemmed red roses before whisking me away to a beach side resort. That getaway was ruined by his continuous questions about what did my friends’ boyfriends do for them and he bet that they weren’t as romantic, thoughtful and extravagant as he.

The boyfriend after that… Well, we’d only met a few days prior to February 14th. He was an artist who drew a picture for me and presented it with an ornately carved box infused with amber. He said that he wanted to recognize the day without being overbearing or false. That was very sweet.

Overall, however, I’ve spent my adulthood not observing the day. I’ve spent the last few years doing a little more than I normally would because I have a son and it’s fun for him. Other than that, I’m more excited about February 15th, which is when all the V-Day candy gets marked down.

Somebody has a delightfully twisted sense of humor.

Mon, 06 Feb 2012 20:24:08 -0500

Somebody has a delightfully twisted sense of humor.

I was going to write, “When I was small, I liked to stand...

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 02:04:00 -0500

I was going to write, “When I was small, I liked to stand just outside of the ferris wheel barrier, stare up and imagine that I was about to be crushed.” That, however, would be a lie. There is no past tense about it. I still like doing this (and, yes, I still get freaked out).

Bug: That day when Daddy and Auntie K and me were walking and we...

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 00:59:47 -0500

Bug: That day when Daddy and Auntie K and me were walking and we came home and Portia was in the street? That was a bad day.