Never Fear, Aqua Kitty Is Here!
/A friend/neighbor turned me on to this video. My cats freak out if a drop of water touches their paws. This would be enough to send them over the edge. Hilarious! (Fast Forward if you want to 1:59 -- best part.)
A friend/neighbor turned me on to this video. My cats freak out if a drop of water touches their paws. This would be enough to send them over the edge. Hilarious! (Fast Forward if you want to 1:59 -- best part.)
Being in our bedroom these days is like being on the open plains of the Serengeti, in that the cats have discovered a new "watering hole," and are both working to claim dominance.
We have electric heat and it causes a lot of dryness in the air. Blair read that placing a small container of water in front of a vent helps add moisture to the air. So we filled a small tupperware dish with water and placed it on the floor in our bedroom in front of the heat vent.
The cats LOVE the water dish. Like the lions of the Serengeti, they take turns at this new watering hole, eyes glittering in the dark as they lap up the warm liquid. We fall asleep each night listening to the constant "schlup-schlup-schlup" sound of cats drinking their body weight in fluid. 
And just like a real watering hole, there is a pecking order. You do not approach the watering hole if there is already an animal present. One cat crouches protectively over the dish while the other sits on its haunches across the room, hoping a crocodile appears to drag the dominant cat underwater in a death spiral.
I expect a pack of zebra's to show up any day.
If you're anything like me (but let's hope you're all a little more well balanced than that), you breath a sigh of relief every time you pull up to your home and affirm that it has not burned to the ground in your absence.
Seriously. Ever since we adopted our two cats, I'm paranoid about a fire breaking out. Away from home, I wonder if I unplugged the toaster, left the dryer on, or accidentally dropped the kitchen towel on the stovetop and even though the stove was off when I left, one of the cats could jump up there and knock the front burner to the "on" position, igniting the towel, and POOF! The whole house will go up in flames.
(For the record, I blame my mother for these neurotic tendencies.)
So I was SUPER excited to learn about personalized fire safety stickers for pets. Want to make sure the fire department knows to look for a gray cat named Simon? Or that you have 3 pets total? It's all on the sticker.
Don't wait. There is a toaster in every home, waiting to do us all in. Order today!
Okay, a little holiday shout-out for all you dog lovers out there.
Author. Humorist. Fitness fanatic. Control freak. Mentor. Klutz. All-around decent human being.
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I want a cat.
There, I’ve said it. Proclaimed my intent to the Universe. Although I’m only willing to accept moderate blame when events transpire to actually bring a cat into my life.
I have no business getting a cat. A few strong reasons off the top of my head include:
And yet.
When I began sharing the news that I had taken a new job near Atlanta and was moving . . . spreading my wings. . . opening myself to new horizons. . . without fail the first comment from almost everyone was, “OMG. You know about the traffic there, right?”
Yes, I am aware of the traffic. Thank you for your loving concern and support.
So how bad is it really? Having lived here now for three months, I can tell you that the 12-mile drive to my office from home can take anywhere between. . .
One of the hardest decisions in moving to Atlanta was knowing I would be leaving behind my 25-year network of friends. These are friends that saw me through job changes (insurance adjuster, librarian, author, marketing maven), life changes (divorce, moves, dating), as well as were there for everything from my first published book to my first marathon to holding my hand when my cat died. A lot of years, a lot tears, much more laughter, and oodles and oodles of love.
In other words—not something easily replaced.
Of course, I’m not “leaving behind” friends but since the five-hour drive between Atlanta and Greensboro isn’t convenient for a quick movie or fro-yo meet-up, the burden is on me to make new friends.
The obvious place to make friends, for me, is the gym. I joined a big-ass Lifetime Fitness...
As most of you know, after 20+ years in NC, I’ve recently relocated to Georgia, about an hour outside of Atlanta. More updates on that later. Right now, I want to share with you the saga of the license plate. It’s a story that more or less sums up my life. What takes other people twenty minutes, takes me 9 weeks, 8 phone calls, 4 DMV visits and a two-week plan to evade the law.
It all started the week I moved to Georgia. I was checking things off my list right and left (pictures hung in new home - check. Food in fridge – check. Wall art for half-bath – check, check, check) and in an effort to be pro-active, toddled off to the DMV to get my GA driver’s license. I showed up prepared for anything – NC driver’s license, passport, pay stub, and invoices from gas, electric and trash removal verifying my new address. I approached the teller window.
Teller: “Social security card.”
Me: “I don’t have that, but here’s my passport.”
Teller: “I can’t issue you a license without a social security card.”
I get a lot of questions about the best ways to train. Which, considering I spent the earlier part of this year on crutches, unable to run for four months due to an overuse injury that could have been avoided, I find somewhat amusing. Then there’s the immediate back-pedalling that takes place, usually in the form of, “But I don’t want to run, or get up at 4 am, or do anything that’s hard.”
Gotcha. I can work with that.
Below are five training tips I try to follow. I say try because let’s be honest—we’re all human and some days will be better than others. But these are the big picture items that have kept me pushing for the last ten years, and they are things anyone can adopt into their lifestyle.
1. Pick Something You Love
I can’t count the number of times people say to me, “Ugh, I know I need to run but I hate it.” Um… why exactly do you need to run? I hate Pure Barre and even though my butt never looked better during the month I took classes, I’m not going back.
When I first signed up for this half Ironman, I knew my swim would be slow and my ride would be average, so the plan was to make-up some time on the run. The Universe had other plans though, and handed me the stress fracture in my hip. It was literally only days before the race when my chiropractor agreed that I could try a walk/run of the course, but only if I swore a blood oath that if it hurt, I would stop. And, in a cruel twist of fate, advised that my best strategy would be to run the uphills and walk the down. That goes against everything I hold dear in life, but okay. I figured I would run a mile/walk a mile throughout the race for as long as I could.
My strategy worked perfectly… for the first quarter mile.
(ICYMI: Part I: THE SWIM)
Let’s call it like it is. I crushed the ride on this race. 18.71 average speed. My normal pace with a group where I’m drafting is closer to 17.5, so I had aspirations of maybe holding a 17 mph average. Crushed. It.
What helped me is my Garmin died before the ride even started, so I had no idea for the entire 56 miles what my pace was. I just rode according to how I felt. The first 3-5 miles were shaky (I kept repeating, “You’re out of the water. You’re alive.”), but then we turned right onto the highway, I settled into my arrow bars and literally said out loud, “Let’s make some time.”
Fun fact: They mark your age in sharpie on your left calf in an Ironman race. Not sure why, but...
On Sunday, June 4, I completed my first (because there will be more) Half Ironman. 1.2 mile swim. 56 mile bike ride. 13.1 mile run.
Being my first IM, there’s a lot to process, especially as I didn’t think I’d be able to complete the race due to my hip injury. I am thrilled beyond all words that I finished and probably most proud of the fact that I have (as of yet) to get the IM tattoo splattered across, you know, my face.
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