The One About Push-ups in the Ghetto

It was a baroque setting this morning as the lone street light shone down on the asphalt parking lot. My current running gear happens to be a dark grey hoodie with black running pants. My face and the dimly lit snow were barely brighter than the shadows. I'm jamming to Ingrid Michaelson's Starting Now on the i-pod, and I had just finished my run. To be fair there isn't a ghetto in Rochester. There are a few neighborhoods you don't want to be in around 2 am on week-ends, but at 5 am on a Friday morning, it's pretty safe anywhere you go. I was doing push-ups as part of my cool down, walk a lap around the parking lot, stop at the street light and push out 10, then walk another lap. I was high, I just ran a mile in way below freezing weather, this song has a great bass line and the lyrics are empowering. The contrast of the yellow light against the dark parking lot and my dark clothes reminded me of a dozen paintings. I was jamming out in my head and I just popped up from my second set of push-ups and I had to move my arms anyway and I was caught up in the music and I couldn't see anything outside of my street light, so I started flailing my arms in what my body considers dance. It didn't last long, a couple of measures of the song, then I was focused on my next set of push-ups when I hear a faint voice, "Hey!" I look around, my eyes struggling to focus on anything more than 10 feet away and I hear "Hey, can I have some?" I focus on a car sitting on the street next to the parking lot with a couple of guys smoking in their car. I pulled a headphone off and looked at them sideways, "Have some of what?" The guy in the passenger seat moved his arms up and down like a very bad air drummer, sort of did a head banger motion with his eyes shut tightly. I thought to myself, "this guy looks like an idiot, what is he doing?" and I started walking the other way. It took me about that long to realize that he was mocking me. Runner's high was immediately replaced with embarrassment as I walked away. I put my headphone back in, did another set of pushups just as the chorus was picking up steam and as I walked away from the final lap in the parking lot I was back in the moment, arms pumping, eyes tightly shut, head bobbing to the beat. I might have even hopped up and down a couple of times.

The One About Baby's Second Ultrasound

The One About It Possibly Being a Fad

I ran a mile and a half this morning. I'm beginning to think that me running may just be a passing fad that I go through every few months. I'll run a couple of times, hit about 4 or 5 miles (total) then not run again for 8 or 9 months. This time I was motivated by watching the Biggest Loser. The guy who got kicked off was really motivated while he was there, he always finished the challenges, even if it meant complete exhaustion. I guess I'll take whatever motivation I can get.

Rachel reminded me that we have a membership to the gym and that I didn't need to run outside, but I honestly think it was better outside this morning. I opened the garage door just as my neighbor was pulling out of his drive way. I started running out of the garage just as he started driving down the street. He must have thought I was running after him because he started to slow down and eventually stopped as I started to overtake the vehicle. I kept running and didn't look back. I could just imagine him thinking "What the hell does this guy want?"

I had all the right gear to run in the cold, a huge wool hoodie that keeps the wind out and my old Army jogging pants. I was surprised that my Nike+ system that hooks up to the ipod no longer works. I checked online and read some reports of a non-replaceable battery in the part that goes in your shoe wearing out after about 1,000 miles. I got about 36 miles out of it, but it was over the course of 3 years. I don't want to buy another one until I run 36 miles in one month. If I can run 36 miles for 2 months in a row I'll invest in some running gear. If I run all year I'll invest in some better winter running gear. Until then I'll stick with the wool hoodie that weighs about 10 pounds by the end of the run. 

The One About the News

I'm going to stop following the news for a while. It's depressing hearing about poor billionaires whose companies are going out of business without a loan from the workers, I'm sick of hearing about psychopath mothers who bury their children in shallow graves a block away from their house, and the inept police force investigating the crimes. I don't care how the local sports teams are doing and could care less about what my tax dollars are doing in down town Rochester. I don't care anymore about who Obama puts in what position and I really don't care about the uproar from either side of the aisle. I don't even care who Minnesota's next senator will be. I don't care about the little old lady who has Parkinson's and voted for three candidates, nor do I care about her intent.

I rant, therefore I am.

On a lighter note, my pregnant wife is STILL sick. She throws up more than she eats, it's kind of scary. Most recently she has taken up puking into a bowl. Not such a bad idea, puke where you are, clean it up, forget about it. No need to run to a receptacle, let the receptacle come to you. No problem until you realize who has to empty the receptacle. I do my best to not add to the concoction, keeping my nose as far away as possible. I remember the good old days when her throwing up meant I had the disturbance of listening to it, until I turned the volume up on the TV. Now I have become an active participant. I will be singing the praises of the second trimester. I will rejoice and sing praise. I will dance through the streets. People will lock their doors and bring their kids out from the streets. Police will swarm, and I will be detained. But it will all be worthwhile, for the second trimester will have arrived.

Merry Christmas and God Bless!

The One About Gift Giving

For the first time in my life I'm going to send out Christmas cards with a letter. Rachel picked out the stationary and I got to use some creativity in writing it. I'll try to put the girls to work stuffing envelopes and sticking on the stamps. Remember when you used to have to lick stamps?

I'm not quite done with my Christmas shopping yet. I always have a problem with getting the perfect gift. I always feel like the gift is somehow beneath the recipient. I think about getting flowers for Rachel and I imagine her getting them and thinking, "Gee, roses? They're for guys who cheat on their wives." or "Yellow flowers? I don't want yellow flowers in my house. What am I going to do with yellow flowers? If only he had gotten me blue flowers. There's something I could work with." So I start picking out blue flowers, and it hits me again, "Blue flowers? Doesn't he love me? If he loved me he'd get me daisies and lilies and wild flowers." So I start looking for wild flowers and it hits me, She wouldn't say anything like that. She would be so grateful for me even thinking of her that I'm afraid she would faint. Yes, she would faint if I bought her flowers. That would hurt the baby. I'd better not do it. Besides, she's more practical, she'd want me to use the money to pay down the debt from the wedding. (Do you see the next trend coming?) In fact, she'd probably get mad at me for spending money at all. She'd say "Flowers? Delivered? What did you spend on these, $50?" I'd stammer for a few seconds, then come out with it, "Yes, $55." and she'd say "$55 for flowers? They're going to die in a 3 days. That's $18 per day for flowers to be in the house. We can't afford $18 per day!" Again, she'd never said those things. In fact, she's never said anything like that before. There's no reason to think that she'd be mad at me for buying her flowers, or for spending an average of $18 per day on anything, if I really wanted to get it. So the flowers go unpurchased, the extra gift stays on the rack, and I put the money in my wallet and it ends up going to purchase overpriced soda in the vending machine at work.

So this Christmas, I'm going to focus on giving gifts for the feeling I get in giving them. I'm not going to worry about what color someone likes or if a certain style might not be their taste. I'll give a gift receipt, and when mom opens her camaflauged wading boots she'll at least have some good conversation for her co-workers.

The One About Baby's First Ultrasound

It's official, there's a bun in the oven. We saw the little guy/gal wiggling around, saw a heart beat, got to hear a heart beat through the ultrasound machine, got some measurements. We found out that we're only 9 weeks in, so we're a little earlier than we thought.

The one about ASL class last night

In our ASL class last night Rachel's assignment was to do a family structure. She talked about her sister and brother and how we're married and I have two daughters. Then she signed that she was pregnant with our first child. The teacher was overjoyed, it was so funny. She has taken such an iterest in us because it's the first married couple she's ever had in her class.

Rachel's been sick a lot over the past few days. To be honest, I'm pretty sure she's actually happy about it. It's been the first tangable symptom of being pregnant since the positive test. Our first ultrasound is Friday. We won't be able to determine gender for a few more weeks, but we should be able to get some pictures.