Am I Nuts?

Red and white striped gloves? Check.
Fleece headband? Check.
Green running shirt? Check.
Running playlist? Check.
One point five mile warm up run? Check.
Ibuprofen? Check!
Fluids? Check!
Carbo loaded? Working on it.
Nuts? Yes, I am!

Who talked me into running in the YMCA 10K Christmas Run, anyway? Oh right, that was me! This race isn't even called a "fun" run. It's just a run. Just over six miles, one and a half miles of which are uphill, it's what everyone wants to be doing the last Saturday before Christmas - right?

I hear there is a costume contest. I'm pretty sure I can't run in a costume. My green shirt and candycane gloves will have to suffice. Too bad I couldn't just enter the costume contest and forget the run!

I'm thinking there is going to be mud. What goes up, must come down, and the reverse of 1.5 miles uphill is a half mile downhill trail. Maybe I can slide.

There are bagels, hot soup, and hot chocolate at the end of the run. Ever tried eating after a six mile run? I suppose I could stash the bagel and eat it later. I may have to pass on the soup! But I'm pretty sure I paid for it with my registration. Yes, I actually paid to get up early to go do something painful and often nauseating on the last Saturday before Christmas! Hey, I'm getting a new T-shirt out of the deal. At least, I am not the only one. There are a few hundred other "nuts" who will be joining me, ages ranging from 13 - 69. Both genders. I guess you could say we're a bunch of mixed nuts.

Wish me luck!

Brrr!

What was I thinking? I heard the forcast. I listened to the counsel. I remembered the last time the pipes froze. It isn't that difficult to leave a faucet dripping!

Alas, I ignored the weatherman and woke up to frozen pipes! Ugh! So now I wait. Space heater pointed at the suspected area of icy blockage, I wait. I also had to fuss with the breaker box! (See previous posts.) My plans have been changed because I failed to follow one simple instruction. "Leave a faucet dripping!" When I heard the anchorman offering his wisdom, I thought, "I remember the last time our pipes froze. Somebody left the garage door open all night. Well, the garage door is shut. I'm not going to mess with a dripping faucet." Turns out six degrees below zero goes right through the garage door!

My husband is out of town. He spent the night in a warm hotel room. I'm sure he had running water this morning. My teenager is at school. One bottle of spring water (Yes, I purchase bottled water. Just because my name is Green doesn't mean I am green.) and he had his teeth brushed and was out the door. Another son is in Brazil. It's 75 degrees there! Me? I'm just waiting. I intended to make a mad dash to town this morning, however, I dare not leave. The space heater could burn down the house. I have every faucet open - there could be a flood!

What does this experience teach me? I don't know. I'm beginning to think I'm not very teachable!

I think I'll go bang on the pipes!

Power Gremlin Strikes Again!

Phone rings ... "So Carol, remember when you were having problems with your power last year?" Boy do I! Only, it wasn't just last year, it was last month as well.



"Well, some of my house has power and some of it doesn't." Sounds familiar.



"None of the breakers have tripped." Neither had mine.



"The part of my house without power is the part with all the major appliances - LIKE THE FURNACE." This through chattering teeth. It's 25 degress outside.



Of course it was the part with the major appliances. That's how this game works!



"You better call the power company," I counseled. "It sounds like my power problem a few weeks ago." (See October 28 Post - Power? No Power?)

Sure enough! The little power man had to climb a pole outside and fix a wire that apparently hadn't been tended to in, oh ... maybe FIFTY YEARS! But hey, he did it for free. After all, it is the power company's responsibility to maintain that line ... and it has been their responsibility for the past FIFTY YEARS!

Turkey Trickery

Well, we survived it! Not without mishap, mind you. I have learned over the years not to put too much weight on the success of the holiday. Too many Thanksgivings have been fraught with personal trials to anticipate perfection, but do you think the turkey could have been done? I thawed the bird early. I used a bag. The oven was hot before the bird entered. I timed it longer than the directions suggested. To no avail! Late for dinner, I stuffed the bird inside another bag, shoved it back in the oven, set the timer to turn the oven off in another 30 minutes, and traveled 20 miles East to dinner - no turkey in hand! After dinner, we traveled 20 miles West in an attempt to salvage our bird. We then made a 48 mile journey East to eat a piece of pie and returned 48 miles West to sleep. I think I'll stay home next year!

Note: The well-done turkey that stayed inside a bag while cooling was undoubtedly the best turkey I have ever roasted! And ... I had it all to myself. Leftovers anyone?

Why I Don't Eat Oysters

My husband took me to dinner for my birthday. For those interested, I'm still in my forties - barely! The waitress greeted us warmly and announced the special of the evening, "Fried Oysters." I looked her in the eye and announced, "I grew up and I don't have to eat those anymore!" I'm still wondering why I ever ate them in the first place.

Fear? Of what was I afraid? Would the precious and expensive oysters go to waste if I didn't eat them? Surely not! My parents loved fried oysters. They would have readily consumed my portion. At my house the parents (that's me and my husband) rejoice when the shrimp, mushrooms, and avocadoes go untouched. More for us! We grieve the day the children develop a taste for such delicacies. Less for us!

Duty? To be a true Nelson must one eat the strangest of foods? Maybe it was duty.

Isolation? Would I have missed out on the party that sprouted around a meal of fried oysters? Probably.

I'm pretty sure that the fried oyster meal was an impending coronary catastrophy! Dipped in egg and cracker crumbs, the oysters were fried in leftover drippings - most likely, bacon grease. They were then dipped in homemade sauce - a Miracle Whip and catsup mixture. It required equal parts sauce and oysters for me to ingest the slimy, greasy, creatures. That's a lot of saturated fat!

So ... I don't have to eat them and here is why.

#1 - I am not afraid!
#2 - I am a Nelson!
#3 - I enjoy my own company!
#4 - I am taking care of my heart!

And most importantly ...

#5 - I DON'T LIKE FRIED OYSTERS!

Puzzled

I am not much of a numbers girl. I prefer words. Words give me control - I know where I am going and where I want the reader to end up. Numbers have a way of controlling me. Numbers on the clock control what time I rise each morning. Numbers in my checkbook control how I shop or don't shop. Numbers on the bathroom scale, well ...

Maybe I was bored, or maybe I wanted a challenge. Whatever the reason, I tackled my first Sudoku puzzle. Pure luck helped me find the first number I could fill in. I soon determined that I had the key to the puzzle figured out and hastily filled in digits from one to nine horizontally and vertically. Things were going good until I viewed the puzzle from another angle. I had duplicated digits in several of the nine 9-square boxes! I didn't feel so smart any longer.

Sudoku is restricting. There is an exact answer to each puzzle. One digit out of place and the whole puzzle is a mess!

Not so with words. One can "write around" a problem. If it doesn't work one way - try another. Freedom of speech, or in this case freedom of the written word, truly is freedom! One is not limited by boundaries set forth by another; she sets her own boundaries and then writes to explain them. So I say to you would be poets, writers, authors, all commanders of the English language, "Write on!"

Please excuse me now, I have a number puzzle to work!

No Wonder!

I’m not a beer drinker. Never have been. Never plan to be. I am, however, trained in the art of intervention. In other words I spent three ours last evening learning how to (a) determine if someone should be “cut off” because they are becoming intoxicated, (b) detect suspicious behavior in the form of alcohol purchases for minors, (c) identify counterfeit identification, and (d) how to effectively address the preceding issues. I did this in the name of volunteerism. My son’s high school choir fundraises by selling concessions at the local hockey arena.

I’m okay with all of this – really, but the "allocation of funds” (fancy school finance term) is a bit confusing. The training is to protect the vendor, the facility, and the volunteer from lawsuit. Hey, wait a minute! I’m a volunteer! I’m not even making any money! I am, however, busy ripping off customers at $7.50 per beer. SEVEN DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS! Two beers is half a pair of jeans. Two beers can buy school lunch for a week. Two beers can put five gallons of gas in my car! No wonder I don’t drink beer!

I'm thinking the training was actually for the customer. It taught me how to (a) cut him off, thus saving him pocketfuls of cash, (b) save him money by preventing him from giving away more beer, and (c) prevent youngsters from spending money on beer in the first place. Like I said - no wonder I don't drink beer!