Odds & Ends #5
I have been in an exceedingly good mood lately. Yes, things are looking up for ol’ Shazzy these days.
NO ZERO DAYS
First, WHO KNEW that if you quit trying so hard to be perfect and just work a little bit each day at getting better, you get better? My new mantras of “No Zero Days” and “Try not to try too hard” has paid off in spades. I cook a little, I eat a little, I exercise a little, and things are slowly settling into habits. That is what January has been, forming little keystone habits (see: Charles Duhigg, author of "The Power of Habit") like making my bed, keeping my kitchen counters clean by loading the damn dishwasher once in a while and walking at least 15 minutes a day. Oh, sure, it’s a lot of puttering, but I love puttering.
I still can’t run worth a damn. I tried the other day, and it was like carrying a sack of potatoes on my back. My legs were tired, my knees hurt, my cankles were sore, so instead I walked. But soon — SOON — I will be back to it.
Novak Djokovic
Second, my sleep has suffered the last two weeks, but in service of a totally worthy goal: seeing my boyfriend Novak Djokovic annihilate all competition on his way to the Australian Open final tomorrow morning. I’ve been getting up at 2:30 am since mid-January to watch him in demolition mode. He’s been carving his way through any and all competition — playing with his food, if you will. It’s been a joy to see. Sunday morning I’ll be up early to watch him hopefully destroy the Small Cat, Stefanos Tsitsipas (“Sissypants,” I call him. Who says you can’t trash talk in tennis?), return to world #1 and win the Australian Open for the tenth time.
Travis Kelce
Speaking of trash talk, apparently the Cincinnati Bengals are callilng Arrowhead “Burrowhead,” which is a totally uncool thing to do, given that they will be guests at our fine establishment tomorrow for the AFC Championship game. Sure, they’ve owned the Kansas City Chiefs in the past, but I blame myself for making that bet with Jeff Broadnax last year. (I hope you enjoyed your steak dinner, sir.) This year my OTHER boyfriend, Travis, and his boys will be loaded for bear. I will be too.
Board-on-board splendor.
Third, my fence continues to hold the pit bull next door at bay. Love me some board-on-board. I neither see nor hear of him, except when my foster dog Buddy senses evil on the other side of the fence and tries to get something started. Buddy’s got his new home all picked out and will be headed there next weekend to go live with his new dad, Jack. I’m pretty sure I will cry when I let him go. I have never had a foster dog I wanted to fail as badly as Buddy, but two dogs is the limit for Chez Shasta.
What’s in Your Wallet?
Next, work is going well, and if you know me, you know that enjoying my work is pretty much the key to enjoying life. Probably not the most healthy way to approach it, but it is what it is. I had my annual performance review this past week, and while those things are excruciating for me, I actually managed to accomplish what I set out to do this past year: not get fired for incompetence. Granted, it was a low bar, but I was pleased.
So we roll on into my birthday month, February. Pete, our local weatherman, is predicting possible ice next week, which pretty much figures. February, while being the shortest month, is the longest winter month of the year. Ice storms, wind chills, long nights, short days — it’s miserable. Fortunately I actually have some plans for this month: birthday dinner/comedy club with Heather, Galentine’s Night with the gals from work, and a Girls’ Weekend with Bonne and my East Texas sisters. Oh, and turning 49. I’m indifferent to that age, other than being in disbelief that I’m actually going to be that old. No wonder running’s hard. I’m an artifact.
