full disclosure: the hottest place i've ever been.

i am quite embarrassed to write this but i figure i should argue for the importance of teenagers working, no matter what the work (um, within reason. no slave labor, please. or child soldiers. i'm talking the food industry or retail). IF i ever have children, they will be working at driving age. i would argue that's the best thing that ever happened to my work ethic, among many other things like learning responsibility, customer service, etc.

so. the hottest place i've ever been was in a chuck e. cheese outfit. yep, i was chuck e. at least once. maybe more than once, i can't remember. and that was, hands down, THE hottest place i've ever been. especially in the middle of a one hundred and five degree visalia summer. 

give me a break, it was my FIRST job and i was ACTUALLY the birthday party hostess. and a damn good one at that. it was just when the regularly scheduled chuck e. called in sick i would have to occasionally suit up.

so here's to teenagers working. oh the memories. 

let's save some money.

i've decided i need to capitalize on my student-who-is-working-for-pennies fund and share with you my wealth (haha, get it?) of knowledge regarding saving money. THAT'S A LIE: i'm a horrible spender and budgeter and all i can do is try to get better. so, this is me trying. in this economic crisis, that oddly enough is effecting me, i'm going to be more intentional with my funds. and i thought i'd share with you (or mostly, putting it here makes it feel like i have to stick to it more cause it's in writing) all of the corners i'm cutting. yesssss. get ready.

today's cut corner: shaving with water. NOT EVEN KIDDING. i've been doing it for the last seven years, and if my calculations are correct, i've saved: $168. don't you want to save $168?!?

i'm not sure i recommend it for the boys, but all the ladies: try it! you MIGHT get razor burn after the first time but after that, it's all downhill. or flat. it's all flat, cause downhill hurts my knees.

let's prepare. now.

during training on friday, patrick asked us what's the most unexpected thing we've learned with our clients-- it wasn't that long ago that we started in august and we didn't know a thing about the aging population. right when he asked, i knew my answer.

"patrick, i need to prepare. i've learned that i need to prepare now and create my own preventative care plan. [the group laughed a little at me; i'm the youngest in the room] i know i'm only twentyfour, but if i don't do something now, it will be my own fault. i will end up just like my clients. they are hurting. lonely. depressed. demented. scared. alone. i need to plan for my future. i need to be ready. i need to prepare. that's the most unexpected thing i've learned. i never thought i'd think about some of these things at twentyfour. maybe fiftyfour? but definitely not now. i never expected to think about my own death and aging, just my clients'. and even though i didn't expect it, i think this will be one of the healthiest things i face this year."

now, i'm not talking about wills and estate plans. i'm talking about physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health. what can i do now, on sunday november ninth to prepare for my life at age sixtyeight? and what about eightyone? this is hard to grasp as we live in a society that fears death. a society that is ageist. a place where the worst thing to be is old. and we deny death. we never talk about dying. we don't want to look ahead that far. we're scared.

as i see my clients weekly, they are declining; it's all getting worse. the dementia is slowly increasing, the pain is hurting more and the family and friends that didn't surround them before still aren't there. i don't want to be them. thinking about them before i go to bed makes it hard to sleep. leaving sessions with them is sometimes unbearable; i am the only human contact they might get that week.

and so i ask myself: what could they have done differently? and what can i do differently now? asking these questions isn't for them- it's purely selfish: because i'm the only one that can control what my life looks like at eightyeight.

losing my yoga virginity.

i attended a yoga-for-runners workshop today. thank you for your helpful commentary; i went to a studio instead of a gym, told the instructor it was my first time, had a great mat, worked my it-band and even said namasté. except, anna! i forgot to wear a tight shirt and that was, indeed, a problem. oh well.

anyway. that might have been some of the most challenging three hours of physical activity i have ever encountered. going from downward dog to the plank to this that and the other thing is some tough stuff. AND THE BREATHING. i knew it. i knew i would struggle with the breathing. and that's supposed to be the most important thing. again, oh well. it will come with practice. right?

what i learned:
child's pose is my favorite.
i should take a basics class next time.
a tight shirt is a must.
the word yogi makes me smile.
yoga makes me sweat more than running.

friendship crush: tim wise.

he also likes the running metaphor! we were meant to be friends.

"For we who are white it means going back into our white spaces and challenging our brothers and sisters, parents, neighbors, colleagues and friends--and ourselves--on the racial biases that still too often permeate their and our lives, and making sure they know that the success of one man of color does not equate to the eradication of systemic racial inequity.

So are we ready for the heavy lifting? This was, after all, merely the warmup exercise, somewhat akin to stretching before a really long run. Or perhaps it was the first lap, but either way, now the baton has been handed to you, to us. We must not, cannot, afford to drop it. There is too much at stake.

The worst thing that could happen now would be for us to go back to sleep; to allow the cool poise of Obama's prose to lull us into slumber like the cool on the underside of the pillow. For in the light of day, when fully awake, it becomes impossible not to see the incompleteness of the task so far.

So let us begin."

read the whole article here.

haiku: calm.

i am calm today.
perceptive. present. aware.
consistent is best.

smells like intolerance.

all this talk post prop eight has stirred up interesting conversations for me-- different view points, different ideas. one consistent thing, however, is that i keep hearing people say some of the following:

"it's not that i don't like gay people, it's just that.."

"i am completely tolerant, but.."

"..and please, i have a gay aunt.. i am very tolerant!"

"being tolerant of others' sin is not what we are called to do. we are called to love."

"i have plenty of gay friends, but.."*

i am no expert: that's for sure. however, a thought for the wise (that's us!): perhaps we want to adjust our language choice a bit? find a new way. reframe what we are communicating. take these words and sentences out of our conversation. it might, just might, actually seem like we are tolerant. which in turn, might lead to tolerance. self-fulfilling prophecy, anyone? and, just out of curiosity, what is the problem with admitting our intolerance? fear? embarrassment? or are we blind to it? i have a feeling i am blind to it.

*by the way, if any of you got your underwear (because i don't use the P word) all bunched (or twisted) up when you read this: i AM NOT grouping together or exclusively referring to people who voted yes on eight-- these conversations included even people who voted no. what i am talking about, however, is language choice. okay, moving on.

relief. excited. hopeful.

those are some of the words i keep hearing people say regarding obama's win.

i feel none of that. in fact, i feel pretty normal. you'd think i'd be bouncing off the walls or writing some ridiculous post saying "i told you so" or "i liked him first." please.

for me, this journey is most comparable to training for the half marathon. when i finished, i was glad to be done. overjoyed with the outcome. but it wasn't about that one day, that one morning. it wasn't about those two hours and twenty two minutes. it was about everything that came before. it was the countless hours and rearranging of my schedule to get a run in. the extra loads of laundry washed because of my lack of running gear and the way running sweat makes the rest of your laundry reek. it was two hundred miles logged. it was learning that i don't need music to run, instead, i could have countless vulnerable conversations with julie and make it to the end. and it was the spiritual encounters i had with God; learning more about creation and the way i was created.

and i believe it might be something similar for mr. obama. perhaps that's my narcissism kicking in, to think that barack and i have something in common, but really. i don't believe that yesterday was about the win for him. it was so much more, and all that came before. [cute rhyme, emily]

so. relieved, excited and hopeful are not something i feel. perhaps content and exhausted are better descriptors. 

i love socialists.

for the first time in my life, i feel i am a human being.

thanks to michele for passing this on.