I am BACK!

I'll be honest. This insomnia thing had really thrown me off my game. So, off to Dr. B I went, and the conversation went something like this:

Dr. B: I'm going to suggest something. You're not going to like it.

Me: Ok, what? (<- Desperate for a solution)

Dr. B: Exercise.

Me: Oh, I did that in high school.

Evidently, working out is not like an innoculation, where you do it, with some boosters, and you're good until the end of your natural life. (Or a stronger strain. But I digress.) But, Dr. B is a professional, and as his suggestions have proven more than helpful historically, I listened.

I came home, and did a half hour of yoga. Then, I slept for seven hours. I woke up, feeling much more human, and continued my day as normal. Except for the soreness. The one thing that I vividly remember from my yoga sessions with Katie is the insane stiffness and soreness.

Despite the soreness, I felt better. Stronger.

Tonight, I went to the Saratoga Drama Group's production of Man of La Mancha. Walter, the lead, is one of the most commanding baritones that I have had the good fortune to see perform. Attending live performances gives me a high that you can't even imagine. I was practically vibrating afterwards.

When I got home, it was Yoga Time. I outdid last night's agonizing 30 minutes by an extra five, working on the yoga until the soreness stopped. It was like a rubber band snapping. One minute, I was stretching out the sore hamstrings and hoping for a swift, yoga-induced death, and the next,
it felt GOOD.

I stretched harder. I held poses longer. I breathed deeper. I felt ALIVE. And then I almost threw up. (I didn't.)

After I did my cool-down, I had some water, and was being reflective. When did I become this lazy lump of a person? Sitting all the time. Not moving. Indolent. It's disgusting. I used to be so physically active! I did all sorts of physical activities, and I worked out at the gym. Now, just walking the stairs?

I realized, that I could be developing the dreaded office butt. Office butt! Unacceptable.

I told Mike - the work husband - that we will be working out. Every day. No more leisurely, cheese-filled lunches. Lunch at my desk, an hour at the gym.

Look out world. I have returned with a VENGEANCE.

It's a system.

I would like to announce that I am not the only person who shops like I do. Norma, too, can "pull a Jasmin".

I don't need validation, but.

Neener neener. And, suck it, Trebek.

Tika's Hot Brother

On Sunday, we were invited to join Tika, ManCandy, HeteroLifeMate Jordan, and Tika's Hot Brother for brunch and the new Indiana Jones movie (skip it). We arrived on time, and since Ms. Tika was still in bed, we made the all-neccessary coffee run.

Upon our return, I noticed that Tika and I have read loads of the same books. This is really unusual for me. I pointed this out, and she walked me to her "fiction" bookshelf- in the TV room. We were chitchatting about books (I think), when this rockin-hot-stud walks into the room, wearing nothing but a towel. Slightly damp. With spiky hair.

(Spiky hair is a weakness of mine, starting back in the first grade, when I had my first crush on Doug A. As a child I referred to it "sticky-up hair". In high school, Doug A. and I were supposed to go to a winter formal together, but he ended up canceling due to a hockey game which he was playing in. He's now a cop in Oregon with adorable sticky-up hair.)

"Do you want us to get out, so you can get dressed, THB?" Tika asked, getting up to go, "This is my brother, THB."

I managed a "nice to meet you", and wandered out of the room, jealous that random hot men don't randomly appear in my TV room wearing nothing but a towel. It turns out, that other than being really hot, THB is charming.

To thicken the plot, AllyTheSingleFriend, was supposed to join us, to soak up the THBness. Some parental interference kept AllyTSF from joining us, so I texted her:

"Tika's brother is smoking hot."

I know I'm not a nice person. But I'm honest.

Good Friends = Good Advice

Like I've said before, I've gotten an overwhelming amount of support from my friends through this bout of insomnia.

Yesterday, Gretchen suggested a glass of wine, candlelight, and a bath. While I'm not normally a bath kind of girl, when you hit the end of your rope, you're willing to try anything.

So, last night, I drew a bath. I lit some candles, and I poured myself a glass of merlot. I listened to a chapter of Little Women (courtesy of CraftLit), and soaked.

For the first time in ages, I slept - sleeping pill free - for five, blissful, perfect, consecutive hours. This morning, the sun shone brighter, food tasted better, and there was a little extra spring in my step.

It's a good start.

Don't fight the force, Luke.

Sometimes, going with the flow is better.

I’m a planner. I’ve been a planner as long as I can remember- maybe this is why I’ve been dubbed the “Tiny Persian Dictator” of the knitting group. Recently, I’ve been trying to share the planning responsibilities, and take a backseat.

If you know me in the “real world” (as opposed to on the internet), you know that my schedule has been… over committed, at best. I have been trying to plan out a month in advance, but there is that adage about the best laid plans, and the path to hell being paved with good intentions. A mixed metaphor, yes, but go with it.

Last year, I went to the Harmony Classic Sweepstakes in Marin and had a FABULOUS time. This year, I was trying to decide whether I wanted to go alone, or who I would take with me. I also could have SWORN that I went at the end of last May.

Last night I checked online (so that I could get my ticket online, since next weekend is the end of May), and it turns out that I missed it. Totally, utterly , completely missed it. It was on May 3^rd.

I won’t go into the fact that six months ago, when the tickets went on sale, I thought, “I should get my tickets now.” But no. I couldn’t decide whether to get one or two tickets.

With one ticket, I could go, flirt outrageously with all the singing mens, go to afterglow (and partake in the drunken singing), and head home (or crash in a hotel room) at my leisure. Two tickets means two people. Potential blockage. ‘Nuff said.

What have I learned? Go with the OCD. Buy one ticket. Flirt outrageously.

Patience is a virtue- a haiku

Mailman, where are you?
With my boxes of wooly fun.
I am here waiting.

It's love

That's right.

I'm watching a Sci-Fi original that my TiVo thoughtfully picked up for me. Crocodile 2: Death Roll. It has everything that I need in a movie: cheesy dialogue, corny special effects, and people who are unusually attractive when wet.

Didn't see Crocodile? Not a big deal, as there was no exposition at the beginning of the movie to tie them together.

Ah, how I do love a Sci-Fi original.

An Ode to Wikipedia

Not exactly an ode. A haiku:

Wikipedia
User-generated stuff
Unreliable.

Thank you.

Holy Shawl, Batman!

I was just working away on my computer, when I saw that I got a Facebook message from Marie, telling me that she was (fairly certain) that I was in the new TKGA catalog, on page 13.

So, I found page 13:

What?!

I'll be damned! It is me. Now you all can say you knew me when. (Also in the picture, the fabulous Brenda Patipa and Audrey the Amazing Lace Knitter.)

Helping hands

I believe that knitters are generally very helpful people. The post about my recent bout of insomnia drew out a fair amount of empathetic- and helpful - commentary in my inbox.

Heather, of CraftLit notoriety, directed me to this interview on NPR about insomnia on Talk of the Nation. Part of the interview addressed how different people (and the medical industry) deals with insomnia.

There was also a link between people who suffer from migraines and insomnia. Oh, and the hormonal thing. (I hate when anything is linked to hormones. It feels like a second coming of the Hysteria argument. Ugh.)

Dr. B mentioned a while back that he read a study that revealed that type A women tended to have a higher incidence of migraines. While, at the time, it sounded more anecdotal than scientific, there is a "duh" quotient. (Not "Duh, I knew that already. More "Duh, why didn't I think of that?". Does anyone still say "duh"?)

I looked up "type A personality", and came up with this (from Wikipedia):

"Theoretically, people who fall under Type A generally exhibit characteristics such as being time-conscious, highly competitive, direct and more assertive, and less relaxed.^[1] Type A individuals are often high-achievers who multi-task, and are unhappy with delays. ^[2]"

<sup>Of course, if you're competitive and less relaxed, you're more likely to suffer from sleeplessness, and migraines have been linked to sleeplessness. The whole thing is a cyclical disaster.

Complaining ends today, when I start knitting Auntie Desiree's baby sweater.</sup>