Segmented

I participated in the "Whole Foods Pasadena Triathlon" a couple of weeks ago. It is a cool event and kicks the triathlon season off nicely in my opinion. Definitely a smaller regional event, we run a 5K around the Rosebowl (3.1 miles), bike 3 times around the Rosebowl (10 miles) and then trot off to the pool for a quick 3 laps and then you are done. This is the 3rd year that I have done the event, I was fortunate enough to be a part of the very first year where all of 200 people participated.

Each year the event gets bigger and more elaborate; we even had timing chips this year! I must tell you with great amusement that my time this year is EXACTLY the same as last year AND the year before - 1:20. No land-speed records were broken, but there is something to be said for the consistency in my performance.

New to this year is also some organization in the transition area and the segmenting of the different groups participating. My group is recorded above. I was entertained once I set up to watch how many people didn't see the signs when they first set up (it was pretty dark at 6:15 am!), so as the sun began to shine and people realized they weren't in the "correct" section of the rack, they made quite a production of moving...especially the women who were 38 or 39. We certainly wouldn't want them to get slowed down by those old ladies in the 40-44 rack!

My favorite was the man who was over in our rack. I don't think the age piece was such an issue to him, but the grief that his friends gave him for racking with the women...it was a good bit of comedy to pass the time!

Maybe next year they can try grouping us by awareness level, that will bring a whole new set of entertaining signs to take pictures of!

Springing Forth

It is officially Spring. In some parts of the country, I would suspect that this declaration brings hope to those still looking at snow on the ground and temperatures below freezing. Here in sunny Southern California, it means lots of greenery and blooms!

I understand that today is also Nowruz; the Persian New Year. It is tradition that the precise event is celebrated at the moment the sun crosses the equator. I didn't take note of when that occurred, but am content to acknowledge the event and share in the appreciation of the renewal that Spring always brings.

It's easy to appreciate just how lucky we are when the sun is shining, plants are blooming, birds are chirping and I can get home on a Friday before dark.

Yep, life is good.

Shamrock Shake - Success!!

At last! After 5 days and 2 thwarted attempts...I have a LARGE Shamrock Shake to satisfy a 25-or-so year old craving. Whew.

I opted to walk the 1/2 mile or so to the McDonald's on Wilshire near the office. I saw the signs by the register and the machine was on, but until the minty goodness was in my hands, I did not want to celebrate. I even walked all the way back to the office without cracking the straw into it, so that I could really sit back and enjoy the thing in all it's splendor.

It is good, of that I can assure you. I am, however, questioning the wisdom of my choice to go for the 32-oz size. That is a lot of sugar. A lot of calories. A lot of Shamrock Shake all in one sitting.

Maybe it is just as well that these only come around once a year!

Shamrock Shake - Attempt #2

The Shamrock Shake has officially become an obsession for me, and I am learning that once something gets into my head, it is hard to get it out. (That really isn't a learning, it is more of a confirmation)

After the big disappointment of yesterday, I decided that I would give the morning procurement another shot, this time going to the Thousand Oaks McDonald's - they are super focused on service and do a nice job on my customized, no meat orders. It has been a busy week at work and I have been going in pretty early, but told myself that it was reasonable to want a shake at 5:30 in the morning.

As I drove down Moorpark road, I could see the lights of the double-wide drive-thru glowing. Excellent. I could already taste the cool, minty shake. I pulled in, saw that the LTO signs were still up and decided that as long as I was doing this, I was totally going for the large.

I waited at the talk box, eager to give my order. This location is always on top of things and never has a wait. Silence. I looked around for operating hours...nothing. With a sinking sense of doom, I pulled around to the pay window...no one was there. Next stop, the pick-up window...nope, no one there either. McDonald's was closed...augh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Still no Shamrock shake. I drove all the way to work with a heavy heart (but empty stomach), feeling kind of sorry for myself and STILL craving the darn thing pretty badly.

Tomorrow is another day closer to the end of March, and hopefully THE day that I can make the Shamrock magic happen!

Shamrock Shake - Attempt #1

I LOVED the Shamrock Shake when I was in High School. My friends and I would pile into my dented-but-sturdy '69 Plymouth Valiant at lunch time to get our fill of the minty-green sweetness during the month of March. It was something that was eagerly anticipated every year.

As the years go by and our lives evolve, some practices are relegated to "the goodl ol' days," and after college, the Shamrock Shake fell into that category. I think that McDonald's also discontinued the seasonal shake for some period of time too, reducing this tradition to a thing of the past for me.

I was out with the family last weekend when we noticed signs heralding the Shamrock Shake and it's limited time only status. Instantly, I wanted one, even though it was late and we had just finished a great dinner at Eric's house. I made a mental note to get one before St. Patrick's Day.

Without warning, it was Wednesday and we somehow got on the topic of Shamrock Shakes at work. We were there pretty late, but I was craving one. I decided that it was too late to get one on the way home, so I fell asleep thinking of the minty, frosty goodness. This morning, I woke up thinking about the same thing.

I rationalized to myself that while I wouldn't drink one late at night, I had no problem enjoying a shake first thing in the morning, so I opted to do a little Mickey D's for breakfast. I rolled in, ordered breakfast and then asked if they still had the Shamrock Shake...no. Curses! I missed it by one day. Disappointed, I rolled around the driveway to the pay and pick-up window.

There, large as life, was a Shamrock Shake sign, taunting me with it's decadence. When I got to the window, I told the person working that the sign was still up and I was sad that the Shamrock Shake was gone. He looked at me, handed me my change and then said, "We didn't want to clean the machine." What??? The product was still there but I am denied a serious craving because someone didn't want to clean the machine?? The drive-thru guy looked at me and then let the window slide shut.

Denied.

Lima Beans

A quick observation today inspired by lunch (which was really last night's dinner, but I did not eat it then, opting instead for a leftover sizable enough to do lunch AND dinner tonight...it's going to be a long day). I made cheddar turkey pie, which has neither cheddar or turkey since I have modified the recipe significantly, but we still call it that.

I have had the Schnoogs doing my grocery shopping for the past week or two because she is home, she needs to pick up a few more life skills before going off to college and I have not been home during the hours that Trader Joe's is open. She does a rather nice job of things and naturally enjoys the fact that my list is easy to follow because it is typed and laid out in the order of the store layout...I can't deny that I am very organized like that!

So back to my lunch. I was chewing along when I was suddenly aware of something VERY different in terms of flavor...it was a lima bean. I have been a lifelong hater of the lima bean and have discriminated against it in my diet to such a point that I go out of my way to buy mixed vegetables that do not carry the offensive bean. I do not label mixed vegetables on my grocery list with a "no lima beans!" label, so Holly did not know any better when she was shopping.

It has been at least 25 years since I had a lima bean; I can usually spot them a mile away and pick them out if they make their way onto my plate (slyly, of course, but they get filtered out nonetheless). I must say, they have mellowed over the years, because I really wasn't that bothered by them in my lunch.

I wonder what Holly thought of them...I might imagine that was the first time that she has ever had a lima bean!

New to Us

Some excitement for David in the last week...he purchased a new work truck. I should clarify the meaning of "new" when it comes to an automobile in the Newton household. It is as in "new to us."

We are not big fans of purchasing brand new cars; we are good at waiting for just the right deal to come along with all of the preferences being met. In this case, it took something like 3 months for David to find exactly what he was looking for, and of course it had to be red.

I think that the pups enjoy it too, they get to cruise in style (with the seats covered to cut down on some of that excessive fur and dirt that seems to follow our pack!).


At 8 years old and counting, I continue to drive the oldest car. I'm going for 10 years!!

Just Wear the Crown

I enjoy celebrating birthdays...for other people. It is not that I have an issue with getting older or my age; I have no problem with that! i just feel kind of weird proclaiming that it is a day to celebrate me...it's just not something that I typically do.

The day was early last week and it was nice; not too action-packed and low key because it wasn't widely known at work until late in the day. David, Holly and I went to P.F. Chang's for dinner (YUM) and had a very nice time...no singing, no fuss and no excessive attention, just the way I like it!!

I thought that I had scooted through another year without a big production, and then my young friend Briana (AKA "the Pants") invited me to dinner with her on Friday. We originally intended to go to BJ's, but the wait was ridiculous, so we walked to the other end of the mall and did a little Red Robin action (who are very accommodating when it comes to subbing in a Garden Burger for any of their gourmet burgers, by the way).

When we sat down at the table, Briana asked me if I would do a favor for her. I was suspicious, but begrudgingly agreed. From what seemed like nowhere, she whipped out some mini-crown and ask that I wear it. I tried to negotiate some different terms, but Briana put her foot down and said, "Just wear the crown." I did and of course got plenty of stares and smiles from everyone in the restaurant.

I no sooner finished my dinner when the dreaded thing happened...every server on the floor came over to our table, carrying a sundae, clanging the spoon on the glass, singing and clapping. Oh good grief, PLEASE tell me they aren't stopping at our table! Oh, but they did. I did not make eye contact with any of them and endured the clappity-clap and song routine for what seemed like an eternity. Briana, of course, was very pleased with herself and watched me turn redder by the moment.

I paid a hefty price for it, but the sundae was tasty!

iMac Attack

At last. After fighting our Dell PC for the last 6 months, including a 3-week stint without any Internet connection, the Newton's are now with a real computer...the all-new 24" iMac (cue the angels singing).

Bonus to this most excellent acquisition is the fact that my friend, Pastor Craig is a regular techno geek (he makes me look like an idiot in all things technology), is a huge Mac fan and willingly set my new computer up, including the addition of an external hard drive. Gone are the days of me fretting over the potential of lost photos or music, or even documents for that matter. I have actually been challenged to try and run out of memory space between the two new items...I like the thought of having everything sound and secure!

I have been a Windows/PC user for a long time because that is the standard in the workplace. I actually got my computer start on a Macintosh (I think that is what the little box was called in the mid-80's), so firing up the new machine is like coming home. There are features and functions that I never even dreamed that I ever wanted, let alone needed. I am confident that I will soon be wondering how I ever did without it.

Holly is just going to be glad that she can access her email and burn some CDs!!

Poketless Pants

This may a bit Jerry Seinfeld-esque in style, but what's the deal with women's pants not having any pockets? We carry stuff, or at the very least have a need to occasionally strike a "casual" pose by leaning back and putting our hands in our front pockets...but nothing!!

When I used to wear jeans to work all of the time, not an issue. Now that I am wearing the self-described "fancy pants", I find that I am batting 50% at best to get a pair of pants with any pockets, and of that group only about 1/2 again have a functional or real pocket, rather than a 1" strip of fabric tucked inside.

I have pocket needs, too! I can't believe that I am the only female in the world who shares this frustration. We need to stage some kind of revolt or uprising!

Maybe it will just be easier to petition for jeans in the office...

The Meaning of @#$%

The time change, though a bit tough to maneuver in the morning hours early on, is a good thing for my running habits. During standard time, I have good intentions to run at work before getting on the road, but the thought of being out there amongst the traffic in the dark always kills the mood and I end up running really late on some green belt near the house, or having to skip the workout altogether...none are optimal in my book!

The new schedule seems to allow for me to come in early, do the work thing until 5, then change into some fancy running clothes and hit the local streets for a bit, typically logging 4 or 5 miles. By the time I return (looking a bit less glamorous than when I first started the day), most people have gone home and I can settle in for another hour of wrap-up and follow-up, allowing the traffic to ease up before I head out.

With all of that context, imagine if you will, me trotting along at about mile #2, jamming to the iPod and enjoying the cool air. I suddenly see a brown greyhound making a beeline straight for me and I am not exactly sure what to do...is it friendly, hungry or territorial? Is it glad to see me or would it just as soon rip a chunk out of my arm? These are the questions that are flying through my head as I am simultaneously trying to figure out what to do. The dog was up and on me before I really had a grasp of things and then suddenly, a woman I presume to be his owner shouted out a word that couldn't POSSIBLY be his name, and then yelled at me, "GET HIM!"

The dog with the questionable and offensive name shot off like a bullet, which left me standing in front of the not-too-happy owner. She again spat out that word and took off after him. Basically unfazed, I sped back up to my slow trot and continued down the sidewalk, wondering about the meaning of @#$%.

It is always an adventure, running on the streets in LA!

Spring Hikes

The Newton clan (sans Holly, who enjoys sleeping in on Sundays) trekked out on a new adventure this weekend in the Santa Monica Mountains at Cheeseboro/Palo Comado Canyon . It is a beautiful space, managed by the National Parks with lots of trails and something for everyone, horses, runners, mountain bikers, bird watchers, walkers and of course, the friendly little pooches.

This was the first day with the time change, but that didn't seem to make a difference to the many people outside and enjoying the beautiful day. We meandered through the different trails, just enjoying the scenery and discovering lots of cool paths. Scooby and Daphne were a little disappointed that they couldn't get off leash to chase the squirrels, but I think that a good time was still enjoyed by all.

This will definitely be a repeat location…until the snakes come out. There will be none of those shenanigans as far as I am concerned!!

Denim on Denim

Another fashion faux pas entry, the pictures are cute and have evoked a swarm of different little Holly memories, which crack me up. She may not be as completely enthused, but I am the author here, so I maintain creative control!

A few years ago, I made the horrible mistake of wearing a denim shirt with jeans. I say horrible because the ribbing and teasing that I received for doing it lives on, even a full 3+ years later. I was in NYC at the time, working on a project for work. I attempted to defend myself, citing Jay Leno as someone who routinely wears denim on denim, but that generated even more mocking and somehow earned me the nickname of “Jeanie” for a while (thanks to Eric and Tina).

When I came home and recounted the story, Holly acted as if I should certainly know better and while we were at it, lectured me about my denim short overalls (a completely different fashion disaster and something that I begrudgingly gave up last summer). The end result, according to Holly, is that it is VERY gauche to wear denim on denim and now that I have been appropriately schooled, I must never repeat the offense again.

Little 1-year old Schnoogs sure does look cute in her denim jacket and MATCHING denim pants, doesn't she? I’m telling you, it is a fashion trend that is returning!!

Waist-High

More entertaining Holly pictures from the archives of our kitchen drawer. This one is also of the 7-year old Holly, clearly growing from her little girl size to the full-sized Schnoogie mode. Here we see a beaming Schnoogs at her Grandma & Papa Bug's house, sporting some summer wear.

It might be noted that Holly has inherited her height from two different sources - my long legs and David's long torso. I tend to be a bit more on the short-torsoed side and as such, am somewhat high waisted.

You are given all of this information because until a year or two ago, Holly (and occasionally, David) would give me grief that my pants rode up too high and I needed to wear them lower on my hips. I finally broke down and bought some new jeans that feel like they are going to fall off, but Holly assures me are more acceptable in the fashion world.

Much like the crazy color scheme that I shared a few days ago, this "what was she thinking?" photo seems to be payback to the little fashion maven for giving me a hard time about my natural waistline.

I love that picture drawer, I am going to have to dig through for some more good times!!

Skunked!

The "back 40" as David refers to the extended piece of our backyard, is filled with lots of interesting critters. Rabbits, squirrels, and the occasional possum find their way into the yard, much to the delight of our resident huntress, Scooby. It is not uncommon, then, to have one of the dogs come wake us up in the middle of the night under the guise of an "emergency" visit to the backyard. One never wants to take a chance on the reason for the request, so if a dog barks at 2 am, David is getting up (I mange to sleep a little more thoroughly and figure that I did my middle of the night responses to Holly crying all of those years ago).

The night that Daphne came back from her surgery turned into quite an exciting evening. Sometime around 1:45 am, I heard some barking, dozed back off, heard some shuffling in the room, dozed back off and then snapped awake with a start. What was that smell? I realized that the lights were on in the family room and there was some sort of commotion. I staggered out to see what was happening and see Daphne stranded, feet on the couch, unable to lift herself up. David is in the kitchen, holding onto Scooby's collar, seemingly stuck in place. And it smelled, horribly!

We must have looked like a couple of lunatics, frozen in our spots. I wanted to help Daphne up but didn't want to touch her stitches, Scooby had obviously been sprayed by a skunk and needed to be cleaned up. She apparently had attempted to rub it off on the couch, in our bedroom and in the hallway, but it was still pretty strong. David popped a can of tomato juice out of nowhere (I certainly didn't buy it, the texture of that stuff makes me a little gaggy!) and was rubbing it on Scooby. I managed to give Daphne a boost up on the couch (the one that now smells like skunk thanks to Scooby), took one look at the scene and decided that I was going back to bed.

Let me tell you, it is hard to fall back asleep when the smell of skunk and tomato juice permeates every molecule of air. I managed to do it, though!

The couch however, may never be the same...

Recuperating

It has been a crazy couple of weeks, as evidenced by my absence of postings. Daphne had a big couple of days when she had to go to the vet for some surgery.

Th good news is that Daphne is on the mend now, far more alert and energized than she appears in the picture here. I won't bore (or gross) you with all of the details on what she had done, but she was anesthetized for a couple of hours and no doubt was feeling pretty tough as she came back around. She is pictured here on the couch, nestled in with a couple of blankets by Holly, who apparently felt that because part of Daphne's fur had to be shaved, she might be cold.

It took almost a week for Daphne to get back to her normal self, and she willingly passed on any long walks for several nights before having any desire to venture out. I've noticed that animals listen to their bodies and respond accordingly. They don't push themselves to do something that doesn't feel right. They've got no one to impress, no work deadlines to worry about.

Dogs are smart like that.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

While searching for a photo of the Schnoogs in her car seat when she was young (those pictures are a cluster! I need to go through them and get them all scanned), I came a cross a couple of photos that made me L-A-U-G-H because they are so counter to how Holly is today when it comes to fashion. The shot you see here is a fashion train-wreck Holly circa 1997 (at 7 years old).

The humor for me in this photo is the number of colors and styles that are blended together. We've got the color block Christmas sweater over the Belle princess dress, which is layered over the Cinderella princess pajamas. In Holly's assessment of most of my outfits...HOT.

Even funnier to me is the pose that Holly is rocking. Lean back, hold up the hands to display the fine outfit (never mind the cookie in motion in the right hand), cock the head just enough to say, "Yes. I am way cool." Little did she know that she would grow up to be a bossy little fashion consultant, always ready with a disapproving look or word of criticism for her Mother's colorful wardrobe choices.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I say!

Kank Kue

Doing my piece on "thank you" the other day reminded me of Holly when she was a little Schnoogs. David was driving somewhere in his truck, just the two of them. She was probably barely 2, as she was in her car seat with her feet dangling over the end just enough to occasionally kick the gear shift if David wasn't paying attention.

Holly wasn't particularly verbal in her early days; I used to worry when other parents with 2-year olds talked about the incessant chatter that they endured from their toddlers, while Holly remained a minimalist in her speech. Of course, I now know that she was just mastering her craft because by the time she was 3 or 4, she was speaking like a college student, but I digress...

Back to David and Holly in the truck, running errands around Oxnard. I imagine it was a typical beach day, sunny and comfortable. The windows down, Holly's wispy little hair blowing in the wind while she takes it all in. David, looking to start a little conversation with his daughter says, "So Holly, what do you say?"

Without missing a beat, she pops out in her high, little voice "Kank kue" (her version of thank you at the time). Clearly, we had drilled the importance of saying thank you into her young little mind early on. Missing was the authenticity and understanding of why and when!

Flash forward 16 years...I think that we've got it mastered now!

Thank you

This might be a blinding flash of the obvious, but saying "thank you" is a pretty powerful thing. I had this renewed awareness today in a fairly unlikely place...the orange line bus.

The MTA drivers get a lot of grief in my book. People rushing to make the bus, yelling if they missed their stop, angry if traffic is throwing off the schedule, bickering over the fare; I've seen a lot in the 3 months or so that I have been commuting, so I can only imagine what it looks like over the span of a typical day.

The orange line stops at North Hollywood, where everyone exits and then rush across the street to catch the red line train. As he announced the end of the line, the driver said, "and have a wonderful day," which I found to be very nice. I shouted out "thank you" and gave a little wave as I walked past the driver's door, you might of thought that I just gave him a $100 tip, he lit up and enthusiastically thanked me back.

Our parents taught us well, as please and thank you go a long way, even in our ever-advancing, fast-paced, technology-savvy society.

Think about that the next time you are out on the street and say thank you to someone who is doing something for you, even if they do get paid to do it. You just might make their day.