Crunchy ‘Nanas

Blog? I have a blog? What?

It’s been a bit busy lately. But since Crunchy husband is out for the night at Blur, I figure it is the perfect time to blog. Except really, I lack any creative impetus to do it.  Instead I eat my chicken pie Crunchy husband so nicely purchased for me this morning before he went to London because we were far too irresponsible last night to grocery shop. (It had been too long since we took advantage of 2 for 1 Orange Wednesday and “The Hangover” turned out to be pretty funny.)

So here I eat my chicken pie and think. There have been a few “I should blog this” moments lately. Now, if only I could think of them.

Andrew Bird once said in an NPR interview/chat that he never writes anything down, if it’s good enough and worth it, he’ll remember it. I’m not so sure that’s how I operate. In fact, I am pretty sure it’s not, but we’ll just assume for these purposes you are not missing anything worth missing.

Honey - I washed your pants!

Icy pants!

Happy Obama Day!

I’ve been feeling pretty good today, so happy, but my neighbors, man, they are so sweet. I had just gone for a run (a run? I know - amazing!), stretched and was almost in the shower when I heard a knock at the door. It was my neighbor from next door. “As it’s inauguration day, your special day, we thought we’d bring you these.” She handed me a bouquet of flowers. How sweet is that?

I feel as if a great big blanket of doom is being lifted. I can’t even hear the words “President,” “Obama,” “American,” without welling up. I’ve cried today, I admit it. I wish I could have been in London to party, but we’re having our own shindig here tonight.

When we celebrate in this house, it usually means busting out the burritos. Today, I even bought some Corona for the honey. And a lime. I know, we go all out.

I’m so excited, so optimistic, so hopeful! Once again, proud to be an American.

And, happy birthday, mom! Yahoo!!

In September 2007, I had this feeling, this all encompassing, deeply permeating idea that 2008 was going to be the year, my year, where everything was going to come together. (It sounds incredibly naive and silly now, but I really was filled with intense hope and positive expectations.) Yet, with a death of a loved one at the beginning and another at the very end and my dad’s illness in the middle, it didn’t feel like I thought it was going to be. It is not to say good things didn’t happen - they did, and for those I am immensely thankful, but I would be lying if I said my intuition was right about 2008.

Coming into 2009, I don’t feel any of that. I don’t have too many expectations, one way or the other. Instead, I simply have this huge urge to clean, to get rid of all the junk in my life, most of it mental and emotional, though we did take down the Christmas tree and all the decorations last night, so now my house fits together properly again. (I think it was a bit soon for Crunchy husband, Twelfth Night and all that, but I was done having furniture thrown around willy-nilly, chairs facing walls and blocking bookcases. It was not very harmonious in our little room and I felt it.)

My brain cleaning - because that’s where there seems to be the most junk, besides our garage and the kitchen utility drawer - is centered around one thing: my anxiety. I’ve recognized it is what controls how I feel as a person, my confidence, my creativity, my drive, my outlook. Back in November, I started this giant spreadsheet, my big plan of action to get my groove back on, the BPOATGMGBO for short, with things I need to do to take back control and get my game on. Each thing on the list, either on its own or in tandem with other items, will help me deal with my anxiety by resolving its causes or teaching me to accept (and be content with) the things that are beyond my control. It’s a different list than I am used to because most things aren’t one-offs that I can cross off as I go (and I get so much satisfaction out of that!), but I believe it has the power to focus me where I need to go.

If there ever was a year that contained an open door for unhappiness and despair, it might have been 2008. But, I think I gave it a run for its money, for the most part anyway. It wasn’t always sunny, but then again, it could have been a lot gloomier too.

I will get to where I want to be, one day at a time, sometimes a step back and other days a stride forward. But first things first. The time has come to replace old socks with much brighter, colorful ones the Californian Santas sent me from their trip to the Southwest. I must spark some life into this mid-winter grayness.

2009? Bring it, baby. I’m ready.

On Saturday, we took a trip into the city to meet with some people Crunchy husband used to work with for lunch. Like many trips before it, we drove to the North Greenwich tube station so that we could leave the car and take public transportation the rest of the way. (If the trains were faster and cheaper, we wouldn’t need the car at all!) Oyster cards in hand, we dodged rain drops and buses and ran into the station, only to find we were soon to be on one of those buses because of engineering works on the Jubilee line.

First transportation hiccup - not a problem. We’ve been there before. It took us much longer to get into central London, but we had plenty of time to get to the restaurant. What we didn’t realize was that our true transportation adventure would happen on the way back out.

7:15pm. We get back to the car. I look at my watch and think, good we’ll be home by 8:15pm. That’s not too late of a dinner. Then I try to start the engine. Which, you know without me telling you, doesn’t start. We call the AA (automobile association) and they’re going to call us back within the next hour to let us know what’s happening.

8:00pm. The nice lady calls us to let us know that someone should be with us within the next hour. I roll back my chair and prepare myself for a nice little nappy nap.

8:30pm. I’m getting cold. I also have to pee.

8:45pm. I am starting to feel impatient at sitting in a cold, rainy parking lot. Crunchy husband’s tired and not too talkative. I’m bored.

8:50pm. I decide to bite the bullet and do it. I buy the £1 bundle on my phone so that I can access the internet for the next 3 hours ten minutes. Heck, it’s cheaper than at the airport, right? I figure I might be able to learn some football news that will cheer Crunchy husband up.

9:00pm. Crunchy husband calls the AA again to find out where our man is. He’s stuck in traffic and won’t be there for another hour.

9:05pm. I decide to get wet and go search out a bathroom. (The toilets in the station are closed, but luckily there are public restrooms in the Millennium Dome.)

9:45pm. Not much happening on the email or Facebook, and I can’t find a way to access my Google Reader, but look, here’s that funny picture of my friend Andy as a camp director for Halloween! Nice legs, sport!

10:00pm. Our man arrives, but he’s not actually a tow truck driver, only a contractor they’ve sent out to see if he could get the car started.  He couldn’t. Duh. So we call AA again (or again, again) to arrange for a tow home. We also realize after having made the call that we will have to get our car to the parking lot entrance because the tow truck will be too tall to enter under the gate.

10:15pm. We push our car out of its parking spot, and crazy driver number 1 makes herself known. We’re out of the spot, but still in front of it at an angle, and this chick starts to try to park! It would have been really funny if it were not such a stupid example at how impatient and oblivious people are. She’d back in at an angle, almost hit the car in the spot next to it, pull forward, back in a little differently and almost hit our car. I think our disbelieving stares finally got through because she finally stopped and waited for us to push the car away from the spot.

10:18pm. Hazard lights blinking, we’re pushing the car toward the exit and crazy driver number 2 driving towards us squeezes us toward the row of parked cars. We have to stop and wait for him to pass. Some people.

10:30pm. I still can’t find a link to my Google Reader. So, I check email and Facebook again. Nothing’s changed. Duh. But, hey, Ipswich won - hooray!

10:55pm. I have to pee again, but we don’t know when the tow truck will arrive and the rain is torrential. I keep telling an increasingly tired and grumpy husband that we are having an adventure.

11:00pm. I find myself thinking I should sign up for Twitter and go wild. Instead, I diligently plod around until I find I can access my Google Reader - hooray!

11:15pm. Crunchy husband calls AA again. Our tow truck driver is close, but by law has to take a break now. He’ll be there in an hour.

11:35pm. Starting to feel sorry for myself, I change my Facebook status to try to garner some pity. It works a little.

12:10am. Our tow truck arrives. His sat nav voice is Fozzie Bear. Awesome! His radio is playing Wham! Awesome! I try to forget how much I have to pee and just fall asleep to George Michael and cheesy saxophone. A warm car moving in the right direction, at last. Awesome!

2:00am. We arrive home after chucking our car outside the village garage. Crunchy husband voices his astonishment at my constant good attitude throughout the ordeal.

2:01am. I pee.

11:00am. We actually drag ourselves out of bed, and have the dinner we were supposed to have had 15 hours before. (Left over Indian food that I made myself on Friday night. Yum!)

Now, what did I learn from all this? We need to keep a blanket in the car during winter and the price of my patience is £1 per day. Not too shabby.

Yesterday was a hard day. Besides anxious anticipation and a cautious attitude because well, as recent history has taught us, you just never know until the results are tallied, it was hard in a way I didn’t anticipate. I realized pretty early on in the day that I wanted to be there. I wanted to be with people who were as excited and nervous as I was.  Up until yesterday, I’d never felt any sense of loss at casting an absentee ballot - as long as I can vote, I am happy. But, yesterday I was envious of those who had the opportunity to wait in line and physically be a part of something so great.

As the BBC election coverage continued on into the night, I toyed with the idea of staying up to see the results start to roll in, but then I decided it would be best just to go to bed, hope for sleep, and find out early this morning.  As I kissed Crunchy husband goodnight,  I said “just think this may be the last time we go to bed in the world as we know it”. At 4:15am when I turned on the TV to John McCain’s concession speech, I learned I was right.

Everybody likes a fresh start. It feels like this is the United States’ chance at one, or at least as close as it could ever have, all things considered. The slate’s not clean, it’s messy as all hell. The job ahead is tough, and I know not to expect big changes, and certainly not soon. That just how the US political system rolls. I know that. But, I am hopeful. As President-elect Barack Obama said last night:

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America – I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you – we as a people will get there…block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand…

…Out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes We Can.

I am breathing and I am hoping. I believe.

My head is a muddle of thoughts. I kind of don’t know where to focus my attention right now. It’s kind of like waiting for AP exam results in high school. Even if you know you did everything you could, you still can’t relax until you read your result.

I am ready to be proud to be an American again. I can’t bear to think what it will mean if I have to hang my head apologetically and explain to people here in the weeks and years following this election that “yes, I voted but no, I did not vote for him” as I have had to do these past four years.

I am ready to be proud to be an American again. Living overseas, you learn to see your country in a new way. In many ways, you are outside looking in. The media present things differently. Stories aren’t so localized and you begin to see what the British media value, what the rest of the world might value. Sometimes it angers me, puts me on the defensive - it’s too simplified, it doesn’t present the whole story, but other times it seems to hit the nail right on the head and makes me wonder, if the rest of the world sees it, why don’t many Americans?

I am ready to be proud to be an American again. I want to learn tomorrow that, regardless of who wins or loses, this election brought out the masses to vote. If there’s one thing this presidential race has shown, it’s that people are starting to care again. That, in itself, makes me proud.

I am ready to be proud to be an American again. I want to be led by someone who strives for dignity, integrity. I want to be led by someone I can respect.

Don’t get me wrong. My pride has always been here. Even after all the mess I believe that, collectively, Americans are good, hard-working, strong, honorable people - even ones who may not vote the same way as me. But, something’s gone terribly wrong and it’s time to start getting things back on track. Even if Obama wins, it won’t be easy - it’s the nature of the US government after all, but I am hopeful we are on the brink of positive change.

My vote’s been cast. My fingers are crossed. My hopes are strong. It’s time.

Trick, right? Not to belabor the topic or anything, but how about this weather? Holy socks, Batman! Is it January? Did I miss Christmas? I fell asleep to a lightning storm, had my dreamworld invaded by the crack-crack-crack of hail smacking my window all night long, and woke to find little stones accumulating a fifth of the way up our bedroom windows (they’re in the roof - they slant).

I bet I am not the only person wishing I was going to be wearing a few more items of clothing tonight. What I would do for a Santa costume right now.

Ho! Ho! Ho! Happy Halloween!

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Miles traveled for October’s 30-mile Challenge: 30+ miles down - complete!

Some people get the odd DOMS (delayed onset muscle soreness). A day or so after they work out is when they discover just how painful normal walking can really be. It’s becoming increasingly clear with each return trip from California that I get the DOJL - delayed onset jet lag.

Holy cow. Just when I dare to believe I might be safe, it hits. It does not matter how tired I make myself during the day: I can be so exhausted at 10 pm when I adamantly declare I want to watch the news over football results, only to realize the next thing that I’ve missed the whole national and world news bits and it’s onto the BBC South East because I’ve fallen asleep on the couch. We were at an energetically enthused performance of Orchestra Baobab Monday night and at one point, I felt my head nod and then jerk back and I was like, “dude, for real? How can I be falling asleep to this?” But then, I wake at 3 am feeling so awake it feels like I must have over slept.

Last night I crawled downstairs at 4 am for a little past-crunchy banana nurture. I am sad to say it didn’t help much. I am looking forward to getting my circadian rhythms back on local time and sleeping the full 10 (or 11 or 12!) hours that keep me peppy and raring to go.

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Miles traveled for October’s 30-mile Challenge: 21 miles down, 9 to go

It’s almost time for Blog Action Day again. Last year’s topic to blog about was the environment. As you can see, I spent less time blogging and more time eco-running concerning the post, but that seemed fitting.

This year’s Blog Action Day is October 15th and the topic to tackle this time is poverty.

Go sign up!