Multiple choice:

Yesterday during a barbecue at my aunt and uncle’s home, I a) ate too many Doritos, b) actually understood what my genius cousins (mechanical engineer and some-other-kind of engineer) were saying, c) walked around their huge backyard, reminiscing about my childhood summers spent there and tried not to think about everything I have to do but never seem to find enough time for, or d) all of these.

D, of course, is the correct answer because I like Doritos too much, any day I understand what my cousins are saying is a day worth noting, and I’m trying my hardest not to get completely overwhelmed right now.  I feel behind on everything, or at the very least like I’m half-assing a lot.  It’s not intentional, but I guess that’s just an excuse and probably not a very good one.  I don’t even get to read and comment on every blog I’d like to each day.  That is how we know life is screwed up, when we cannot spend enough time on the Internet.

In fact, just last week after my desperate tractor post, another blogger really helped me out.  Robb took it upon himself to film this tractor instruction video for me the very same day I wrote my plea. How nice is that?  And after I’d just discovered I hadn’t even been propery linking to his blog for weeks because of my slackdom, he still helps me out. 

I told my mom about the video and she did not believe me.  She was all with the “why?” and “how” and “who would do that? how do you know these people?” And I said mom, it’s the Internet, it’s magic. 

Speaking of magic, you are not going to believe this.  Or, maybe you will but I certainly didn’t.  A fellow blogger and runner over at What Can’t Be Looked For emailed me a few weeks ago about this “fabulous bacon product that you must own.”  Then she sent it to me all the way from North Carolina.

Are you ready for this?  I was not.

Mo’s Bacon Bar

Bacon and chocolate.  Um, yeah.  This is where I was all “what?” and “how?” and “oh my gosh, is that even possible?”

And it get’s better.  On the package itself, it is noted that there are “guided tasting notes inside.”  Oh, um, no I just don’t think I can handle this. 

Luckily the person who sent this choclate bacon is very understanding and did not necessarily expect me to taste it, because I don’t think I could have done it and then I might have had to shut all this down and go into the blogger protection program.  My mind is just a little too powerfully connected to my taste buds.  But here’s a fun fact:  It was stocked right near the meat counter.  Strategic?  I THINK SO.

Thanks to you two bloggers for shedding light on things that I would have otherwise never known.  I am amazed, as is my mother. 

________________

By the way, if I am not linking to your blog properly, or if I need to link to your blog, you should tell me.  Chances are I meant to but then someone put Doritos in front of me and I forgot about everything else.

I have a friend trying to make a decision. In fact, she’s already made it. The way I see it, she made it a while ago, but she’s putting off the actual action. It’s one of those difficult things in life, like quitting a job or a club. Except, this is worse. We all know it’s worse. She wants to break up with someone.

Sitting down and talking, she has a lot of reasons to do this. She says they were not a good match from the beginning– different stages of life, different ideas of love or, just… different. Too different, I guess. The thing that gets me, though, is that she hasn’t done it already. I don’t think that’s fair.

While there is a chance he’s doing the same thing, putting it off, it doesn’t seem that’s the case. It seems as though, as is true with the rest of the relationship, they are on different pages. Different chapters, maybe. Because here this person is looking to the future, planning a life, and she’s figuring out how to end it. It’s just she can’t bring herself to say so.

I understand this. Breaking up, breaking hearts, it is no fun. It’s sad and it hurts, and really, it just sucks to disappoint someone. To admit we’re wrong, that we’re not where we need to be, that sometime in our moments with them we stopped feeling the same thing, that’s a heavy load. But I also think it’s selfish. I think when we wait to do something like this, we’re just protecting ourselves. We don’t want to be the bad guy.

And who does? Who wants that? I understand, really I do. But if you care as much as you say you do, you do the breaking up anyway. I know if it were me, I’d say do it. Do it kindly, but hurry up and do it.

An IM conversation between my sister and me.

Me: Did mom tell you about her new phone?

Sister:  No, what is it?

Me:  I don’t know, but she’s very excited about it.

Sister:  Why?  Because it’s not held together with tape and a rubber band.

Me:  Ha!  Well, probably that.  But it has a camera.  Ooooooohhhh!

Sister:  What?!  What is she going to do with that?

Me:  I know.  So we can now have pictures of the sky or the floor, but right on the phone!  She’s all “and now my text messages can have pictures!”

Sister: What?  She doesn’t text!

Me: I know!  I told her that, and she said yes, she does.   SHE DOES NOT!

Sister:  Oh no, we need to take that phone away from her.

Me: Yeah, this will not end well.  

I feel like I have about a billion things to accomplish today. I tossed and turned most of the night thinking about them– who needs sleep when there’s worrying and planning to do, right? So I woke up every thirty minutes or so half annoyed that I couldn’t sleep and half wanting to jump out of bed and start getting things done. At about 4:45 this morning, having decided last night not to get up and run early today, I told myself whatever, I haven’t slept in something like ten years anyway, why start now? So I got out of bed and threw in a load of laundry and then cleaned the bathroom. Insanity breeds productivity, what can I say?

Along with all there is to do today, I also feel like I have so much to talk about here. Like another bacon-like product I received from a fellow blogger (y’all are so thoughtful when it comes to me and bacon), or the emails I received about being 1) “a stupid bike rider,” 2) “a selfish princess,” and 3) “an irresponsible dog owner.” (Sidebar: Seriously, what is the Statute of Limitations on criticism of old blog posts? I’d really like to know because something I did 6 months ago that was more funny than serious should really not be the topic of a five paragraph email now.) But, I don’t feel like there’s time to get into any of that today. Besides, there are serious things to worry about today. I have serious things the Internet must help me with today.

Here’s the deal: In two weeks I have to drive a tractor. Yes, a tractor. For a hay ride.

First, let’s not get into how country that sounds because I can just imagine the emails now (”I always knew you were a redneck”). There are more important things I need to know about this task right now. Like, HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DRIVE A TRACTOR? (Sorry for my language, please send emails to justrunjustlivejustbe [at] gmail [dot] com. Subject line: Your Tasteless Redneck Language.)

A little background on this: My friends are having a huge summer party at their ranch. This is only the second [annual] party so logistics are still being sorted out. Last year, for instance, I showed up and rode horses all afternoon. I dragged about eleventy billion kids on and off a horse and shuffled them around a small pasture for a good portion of the afternoon. It was great fun, and something I was totally comfortable with. It was also around the same time last year, some may remember, that I earned my spurs. Yes, with the horses I’m well and good by now.

But, this year is different. This year in addition to my horsing (what? not a word?) duties I have been asked to drive the tractor for the hay ride and here’s the funny thing, I’ve never been on a tractor in my life. I have stood by them. I have seen them in far off fields. I have admired a farmer or two from afar (what? you know you have too), I think I can even correctly spell John Deere, but never in my life have I wanted to or even dreamed of climbing up on one of those machines.

So, here’s the question: what do I do? How do I do it? My friend insists it is a simple task and says “you’re not going to be plowing fields, Lesley. Chill out.” I’m glad he has so much confidence, but that’s not going to help me. I need to know one, how on earth I’m supposed to do this or two, how to look really graceful and cute flying off a machine I have no business being on without getting killed. I’m totally and completely serious.

Help.

Would it even sound believable if I’d said in the last 48 hours I’ve both worn tall, uncomfortable heels (though I did love the dress) and watched ballroom dancing until very late into the evening and worn jeans, drank beer and watched a baseball game? The weekend did feel very contradictory though.

The mood I ended the week with on Friday was not good. My first instinct, of course, was to find a place to put the blame. After all, there is a cause to unhappiness as much as there is happiness, right? This mood was happening to me, right? It was not my fault.

Well.

That might all be true. But having that attitude for more than a short time feels a little like a cop out. Telling myself that only a change or the presence or absence of something would improve my mood was not getting me anywhere. While I agree that we all need our moments, I don’t seem to be the kind of person who can live in those moments for very long. Not that I was admitting this on Friday. Oh no. I hadn’t gotten that far on my own. Good thing for me, there was help coming.

A friend of mine who I adore more each time I’m around her invited me to watch part of a ballroom dance competition over the weekend. I accepted without hesitation because, as I mentioned, I’d get to be around her and also, I can never pass up exposure to new things. Now, I really can’t get into the whole dancing part of this because a) I move with the grace of a moose, and b) I know nothing about dancing at. all. What I will say, though, is that it was fascinating. The entire time I just could not get over how some people are able to move their bodies so gracefully and with such control. Some people even manage to blink gracefully. My gosh.

After a late performance by a professional pair on Saturday evening, a woman sitting across from me asked me if I wanted to dance after seeing a show for the first time. I told her no, not really, but that I wouldn’t mind watching it forever. I also wanted to add that if we come back in next lives, I’d ask to come back with rhythm.

Sunday afternoon I went to a Triple A baseball game with a group of friends. There are few things better than baseball in the afternoon in the summer. I think I may have mentioned a few times that this scenario is just the kind of thing that would make me fall in love with something. The breeze across the field, the ambiance of happy people, the relaxation induced by sitting and just being. It’s all so good. I also might have mentioned (and posted to Twitter) that I loved summer so much that I’d marry it and have it’s babies. I’d had half a beer at this point, so that’s my excuse.

After being made fun of for half a beer getting to me and for wearing a shirt that said “I Hug Trees” (don’t ask) I found myself realizing that my entire weekend was an attitude adjustment. New experiences, old experiences, friends, I needed every bit of it. I feel like I spent all last week (and probably several weeks before) absorbed in a state of pity all the while not realizing that my mom’s advice was, of course, right on: no one situation ever defines you. I just needed to open my eyes a little and remember that the rest of life doesn’t stop because I have a bad attitude or because I’m depressed over something. There is still life to live and people that want you around, even if you have moments when you can’t bring yourself to answer the phone at night.

I’m not sure of how much confidence I have in this feeling lasting, I am hesitant to make any promises. But it feels so good that I’m going to tell myself that it was more than just the weekend. It was more than just a break. It was the help I didn’t know I was waiting for. I don’t know if I can remind myself of that often enough, but I’m really going to try.

This last week has been rough. And no, not illness or death or tragedy rough, just life rough. The truth is, some parts of life have been tough for a while now and while it didn’t do much to me at first, it’s starting to have an effect on me now.

When I get home at night, I’m exhausted. I know this is common, I know that’s what work does to a lot of us, but what’s different is me. I’m reacting differently, and I don’t like it. I put off returning emails and often I don’t answer the phone. I don’t avoid these things because I’m avoiding people, I am doing it because I’m afraid of what I’m going to be like. To make a long story short, I’m not very much fun to be around lately. And if there’s anything I can be counted on to be, it’s fun. A bad day here and there, sure, but not long stretches of them. I’m not used to this and I’m afraid the people around me aren’t, either.

I know the people that love us will love us even in the hard times. I know that this is temporary and that it will pass. I just don’t like who I am in the mean time. I’m doing everything I can to get past it, and I’m good at that part. I’m just not so good at being in the middle of it.

Earlier this evening while I was walking my dog, I told myself to think hard– really, really hard. I like plans of action, and I need one now. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, probably looking a little crazy, and made myself make a list of five things that I’m doing right, right now. I needed to remind myself that one situation, one disappointment does not completely define me. With all the energy I’ve been spending on what’s bad, I needed to force myself to see the good. So I stood there, made my list, and took a deep breath just as the sun was beginning to go behind the clouds.

Yeah, I know. Silver lining, right? That’s what I thought too.

So right now I’m sitting at the airport and oh, how I wish I could tell you it’s because I’ve finally had enough of it all and I left work this evening and drove straight here and bought a ticket on the next flight to Anywhere.  Sadly, and maybe moreso for everyone else than me, that is not the case.  Rather, I’m here to pick people up and because we no longer live in the land of Air Travel Make-Believe, I’m now a victim of last-minute flight changes and shortages of who knows what.  Obviously I’m very understanding and not bitter, though enough of these expensive airport drinks and, well, you never know where the night could go.

But, in other, similarly bitter but much more important life, I also wanted to address bike commuting.  Specifically, that I’ve began riding my bike to work a few days a week and how, even with all it’s challenges, I’m liking it a lot.  Except, that’s a lie.  Aside from the gas savings (let’s be honest, reason #1) and the fitness benefits (a close second), bike commuting has not made me a better person.  Instead of finding that Zen-like place where those miles to and from work create moments of peace and time for myself, it’s starting to wear on me.

Here are a few reasons why:

1)  People don’t pick up after their dogs.  About 75% of my route is on a local trail (read: paved path), and every day I see piles and piles of you-know-what that someone just left in the middle of the trail.  This bothers me everywhere, of course, but especially at dawn when the light is just beginning to illuminate all of nature’s miracles left over from the summer’s evening walks of the day before.  Needless to say, I’ve come in contact with or very close to these piles more than once which, believe me, is no way to start a ten hour day.  (For those not famililar, if you run over a substance with a spinning tire, that substance goes one way:  UP.  See where this is going?  Not pretty.)

2) If you have road rage in a car, do not take to riding a bike in or around any kind of traffic.  It is nothing like those little video tapes we watched in the fourth grade where cars politely stop at intersections and crosswalks and make sure there is no one coming.  Far from it.   Those videos lied.  For one, no drivers know bicyclists’ (wow, did I just date myself with that word?) hand signals any more.  They think you are waving.  Which, apparently, is an invitation to take you out at the calf with their bumper.  Even in a city with more cyclists (there, that better?) per capita than most, people do not know these things.

3)  You will eat bugs.  If you don’t like to eat bugs, this may also be a bad way to start/end the day.  (Unless you have somehow managed to ride mile after mile with your mouth closed.  Which, if that is the case, teach me.  Apparently I’m a mouth breather.)

4)  Having to “gear up” and hop on your bike at the end of the day is less glamorous than it sounds.  When you’re ready to leave work and you’re not in the best mood, it is far better to go bombing out of the parking garage with your windows rolled down and Aerosmith blasting from your car stereo than it is to pedal through ten blocks of city traffic just to get to the trail only to drop your chain.  I’m sorry, it just is.

And this was all last week.  Did it stop me from riding in a few days this week?  No.  I guess because once in a while, when I’m slogging up that last hill before home after a ten hour day and a three hour meeting –that should have been titled I’m Your New Leader, and I’m a Tool– I’ll pass another commuter.  We’ll nod to each other, and though I don’t know what they’re thinking, it makes me feel better.  Because at least someone knows.