Last day of my practicum

Today is the final day of my 3 years of practicum. To celebrate, I will do a WAIS-III, WMS-III and an MMPI-II. Then I will come home and go to a new years eve party.

Tonight is totally my kind of party: three families, all with kids around the same ages who have known each other their whole lives... literally. I met the two other women at a so-called playgroup nine years ago when our oldest children couldn't even sit up yet. Those should be called get-desparate-new-moms-out-of-the-house groups. But anyway, one of the couples recently had the opportunity to buy a super-cool, historic Colorado Springs house for a relative song, and that is where we are going to be.

On the menu: Turducken. A turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken, with the remaining cavities stuffed with some sort of saugsage type thing. I looked that shit up online and it is like, 1700 calories per serveing, with 110 grams of fat. A few different sites agree on this. Yipes.

Tomorrow, no more excuses. My weight still is too high and, even though I am feeling better about myself since joining the Y and lifting more, I still need those numbers on the scale to come down. Please do not mistake this as a new years resolution. It is not. Rather, it is a return to the healthier eating that I seem to have at least somewhat abandoned.

Five minutes to Samadhi

Started up my meditation practice again. Five minutes first thing in the morning. I understand that I have little chance of entering a state of samadhi in five minutes, but that is all I can muster up enthusiasm for at this point.

About a year ago I meditated for five minutes a day, then brought it up to ten, then eleven. I never got higher than 11. In fact, I stopped altogether.

Two summers ago when I went to Baron Baptiste's teacher training level 1 bootcamp he had us meditate daily for 30 minutes. Frankly, it was excruciating. I know that meditation is about stillness. And I knew that he was going to spend the rest of the day working our assess off, and that I should enjoy the time of stillness. We would sit in virasana. First my legs would go numb. Then I'd have to think about that for a while, until I would allow myself to shift into simple crosslegged pose. Then I'd be okay for a while. Then I would have to start to move. I mollified myself by telling myself that I was doing yoga, because I did a kind of Kundalini-inspired grind from the waist. In both directions, of course. Plus, I figured that everyone had their eyes closed, and whoever was looking around and could see me was "cheating," too. Then I could usually be still for a while more until Baron would come in and start yapping away, which he basically did for the rest of the day.

I know that all of that restlessness is the first step to stillness. I do. But at this point in my life, with grad school to be finished and kids to be raised and dissertations to be written and stairs to be climbed and weights to be lifted and marathons to be run and yoga to be practiced and lunches to be made and carpools to be driven and homework that needs help and dinner to be cooked all in time for bedtime, I just can't do it right now. That stillness isn't within me. And yes, I know that fidgety busy people like me are supposed to do restorative yoga and calming postures to balance our doshas. Oh well. Not going to happen anytime soon. So in the meantime, I'm bucking for samadhi in 5.

Honor thy Father and Mother

My parents have been visiting from NJ since December 19th. Today is December 29th. That is too long. If they stayed at a hotel, it would be better. If they had their own car and took off and did various things on their own, that would be better. If they didn't open a bottle of wine every night with dinner that I subsequently drink too much of, that would be better. If they didn't get my kids all riled up so that they can't go to sleep until 10 pm every night, despite my requests to the contrary, it would be better. Instead they stay at my house, hang out with us nonstop, work my kids up and I end up getting so tense that I think I am retaining about 5 pounds of extra water. Well, I'm retaining water anyway. Not sure what is to blame for that, but it's not helping matters that all my clothes are too tight. But seriously, I know you release cortisol when you are stressed and that cortisol makes you gain weight. How else to explain my (literally) overnight 3 pound weight gain. And I am very short-- 4'9"-- so 3 pounds is enough to make my clothes tight enough to be uncomfortable.But I love my parents, and I feel bad that I am not better able to enjoy their visits. I'm not sure why this is.

We were at the Denver Art Museum the other day and I was looking at a work of art that consisted of column upon column of the artist's random thoughts over a few years. At one point he talks about how much he misses his dad, who died a year earlier. He notes that he had never been able to really have a good relationship with his dad, and said that despite having a great dad, he had been "a bit of a snot son."

That resonated with me a lot regarding my relationship with my mom. I think I am a bit of a snot daughter. I would like to have an adult relationship with my mom, yet the part of me that was endlessly criticized as a child and made to feel that nothing I did was ever good enough resists it. I think it is fear of letting her in. I have made a life here in Colorado that make me happy. But if I let her in, I risk their comments about how it is not the life they had in mind for me--although the impending PsyD is certainly helping smooth that one over. Yet all of this leaves me stuck in limbo, in that place where I regress to acting like an adolescent around her. And a snotty one, at that. And not liking myself. And drinking too much.

But I have been climbing lots of stairs in preparation for the Run the Republic stair climb on Feb 24th. And that has been fun, and a change from running, on which I am temporarily burned out. I doubt that will last long. Pretty much every winter I lose my running focus for a while and do indoor things-- until I remember how much I love the sunlight and start running again. But in the meantime I have a noble indoor goal, which is making me happy.

Michael Jackson's new plastic surgery

I know nothing about Michael Jackson's new plastic surgery, if in fact he has had one. But, see, I thought I'd mention it because I want to get people to read this blog, and maybe people who are putting that into a search engine will find this.
Okay. So mabye I'm using poor MJ. But I'm sure he's had it worse.

Handed in my disseratation proposal today and met with the yoga teacher who is going to run the class. Got a scholarship to attend the Symposium on Yoga Therapy and Research conference in March. Lots is going on and lots is good.

Up, up and... more up

I signed up yesterday to Run The Republicon Feb 24th This 53 story stair climb in Denver to benefit the American Lung Association has climbers tackling the tallest building in the Rocky Mountain west. Which isn't saying all that much, because I think the competition for tallest building in that region comes from, like, Sheridan Wyoming. The tallest building in Colorado Springs has 14 floors. I read that you don't go anaerobic until about floor 30, so I may just have to try to approximate that on the stairmill at the Y or doing sprints or something. But I am planning on hitting that staircase in the near future.

Want to sponsor me? Go to http://www.mrsnv.com/evt/e01/part.jsp?rid=728420&id=1761&acct=0503206973

I invented the hot toddy

I wanted a drink this afternoon when I came home from leading a training in the intelligence assessments WAIS-IV and WMS-IV, for which I am part of the norming sample administration. It was a lot of fun (dork-alert). I wanted a drink when I came home, but it's 17 dark and windy degrees here, so the usual martini wasn't very appealing. I boiled some water thinking I'd make a cup of fruity tea and add in something. Opened the liquor cabinet and saw the high-end made-in-Jamaica rum my parents brought me from Puerto Rico and decided to splash some of that into my cup of hot water. Added a little bit of stevia. Yummy. Out of curiousity I decided to look up what went into a hot toddy. And lo and behold... that is what I had made. Of course, normal people use sugar, not stevia. But don't get so nitpicky.

Joke's on Me

I woke up this morning feeling bloaty and, lo and behold, I weight 1.5 lbs more than I did yesterday morning. I am VERY short, so a pound and a half is a big difference. Pants may not fit so well today. And I feel yuckky.
So this is what you get for rejoicing in others' misery.
I know, I know, it's not real weight gain, it's just the wine or the saltier-than-usual dinner or that final brownie that was supposed to go in the pretty tin as a thank you for my kids' teachers. But still.

Cat woman?

Maybe I look like Jocelyn Wildenstein in this photo. Yes? No?

Happy happy joy joy

I just came back from my children's school musical presenation, which was basically a Christmas extravaganza with a small tip of the hat to diversity in the name of one Chanukkah song. But what do I expect, living in Colorado Springs, land of James Dobson, New Life Church and all that comes with it. In all fairness, this is really a pretty cool town.
I have fallen back in love with the White Stripes Get Behind Me Satan. And not just because it's that time of year.
Someone in my grad program told me that the average woman in the program gains 25 pounds, with a few gaining as much as 50. OUCH. I have been kinda sorta on a diet lately and kinda sorta starting to feel better about myself. I'm not sure whether hearing a statistic like that makes me feel better or worse. I feel better in the sense that I haven't gained as much as everyone else (schadenfreude, perhaps?). But worse that I'm just one of the many. But then again, it is one more reason to grant myself some grace in this area. And keep on working.
Since I've started working out with weights at the Y I am actually starting to feel better. My yoga practice is suffering, because there are only so many hours in the day, and only so many of them that I can spend working out. But I love it, and feel stronger and more toned. Then someone like hot Steph walks in and it all comes crashing down. And I have to start all over again.
I've been thinking about the doorbell.

Rock Canyon Blows

Actually, Rock Canyon rocks. But the wind was blowing at 34 miles per hour for today's 1/2 marathon in Pueblo, CO, which definitely added to the challenge. Not quite as challenging as last year, when there were 6 inches of ice and snow pack on the trail and there was a race day blizzard. Finished today in 2:03, which is far off my PR (1:47) and not even a good average time for me these days. But what the heck. Another 13.1 miles under my belt. Good fun.