Monday mornings or should that be Monday mournings.

Why is it that the older we become the faster time seems to fly by?

Thinking back when I was a child – Christmas couldn’t get here soon enough. Going on a car trip – the destination couldn’t get here soon enough. “How many more miles to have to go ?” we would ask our parents over and over and over. I would keep a calendar that would have countdowns to many things that I anticipated.

For instance, in a former relationship, my partner asshole was in the Navy. He would regularly go on these things called “readiness exercises” – They were typically about 21 days long. My calendar would have the start date and end date and I would put big red X’s on every day he was gone and it seemed like it took years for him to come home when it was only a short 21 days. I had a love hate relationship with these things. I would either start a diet, or rearrange the house, or do something different to my hair, but there was always the anticipation factor when he would leave. And God help me when he would leave for long cruises of six months or more- Those were the worst.

I’m not a good person when it comes to waiting. That stupid quote that says good things come to those who wait is just bullshit my book. I hate being on hold, I hate hate hate standing in line, I don’t like waiting in the doctors office, or a dentist office, my thought is I just hate waiting.

It seemed like it took for ever for me to become 10 – that was such an important age to me and I don’t know why. Turning 16 seemed like an eternity as did turning 18 as well as turning 21. I highly anticipated 25 but then once I broached the age of 30 it was like my life hit the fast-forward button.

And now at age 50 I feel like a time traveler who is traveling at work speed and I can’t find the brakes!

Maybe this has to do with the fact that I become proficient at becoming such a time waster. Maybe the Internet feeds my tendency to be ADD. I can surf the web and begin reading the news and end up on some weird ass site for growing moon rocks in your backyard and not realize that three hours has gone by – time that’ll never get back.

Most likely it has to do with the fact that I work a ridiculous workweek- Typically I put in about 65 hours a week. That’s a lot of hours- but I own my own company and I’m all about making sure things are done right, the needs of our patients are met etc…. Any business owner gets this.

Unfortunately my partner is also in an incredibly demanding job and because of that and his work schedule we don’t get to see each other very much during the week. We also have a kid and balancing life, child raising and work is a challenge.

Which brings me to the weekend.

I used to loathe Friday nights – just loathed them. It was the end of a long week, everyone was crabby, I didn’t want to talk to anybody, I used up all my words for the week, all I wanted to do was sit and vegetate and not interact with the world.

However, when you’re married and have a kid that’s a really an unless you’re sick. And even when you’re sick you still kind of have to interact right? At least you do at my house.

I’m not sure when the shift occurred but I began to really look forward to Friday nights. Saturday nights have always been my favorite night of the week for many reasons- But Friday night began to really rate right up there with all good things in my life. And then of course I began to dread Sunday morning because I knew that before I knew it Sunday night would be here and it would be time to switch gears and mentally prepare for Monday morning – To begin the week again.

This weekend for example I began my work day Friday at around 6 AM. I looked up from my desk and it was already noon; the growl in my stomach told me it was time to stop and eat lunch.

So I did.

I had an appointment in Portland so I grabbed my kid and we made the mad dash to Portland and I got home around 3 PM. I had to think about dinner and that lasted about an hour which took me to about 4 o’clock. I’m not sure what happened between 4 PM and 6 PM that’s a blur but my husband whistled in around 6:30 we had dinner almost immediately and the next thing I knew it was 11 o’clock! We all crashed, slept in, got up and started her day around 8 AM.

And I’ll be damned if I didn’t wake up at 6 o’clock this morning realizing it was freaking Monday all ready!!!!

I used to not understand when retired people would say they’re busier now that you’re retired than they were when they were working. Now I get it – I think it’s because the time just speeds bye.

Oh crap – a lame post brought to you by the letter “L”

Old Habits Die Hard Or Something Like That



I feel like a kid who’s already been sent to the principals office and I need to write 100 times:

“I promise I will blog every single morning without fail.”

Ya right.  That is never going to happen.  Not in a million, trillion, gazillion years.

Regardless if my good intentions I will never ever be one of those morning bloggers.  You know the kind I’m talking about — coffee in hand, beds all made, dishes washed, first load of the day in the washer and most likely dried, folded and put away.

Nope not me — I’m lucky if I can navigate my way out of my bedroom most mornings.

I come from a long line of night owls. My great grandmother never went to bed until way after Johnny Carson had signed off.  Then there was my grandmother, she was most nights until at least midnight and then up at O’Dark O’clock to head to work — she did that for years.  Then of course there’s my own mom- for years she too used to stay up late.

So I don’t think I had a snowball’s chance in hell.  I’m a night owl regardless of how early I head to bed to in attempt to get horizontal and sleep.

It never works — I end up thinking about the events of the day, the headlines on the news, the crap I read on Facebook, stuff my kid does, stuff my husband does, stuff I do — and I always have something to say about all of that. And it’s usually at night.

Right now what’s forefront on my mind is that fact that my chair hurts my backside — I have tried like 5 chairs and I can’t find the one that I like.  They are either too tall, too hard, too short, or they don’t feel right. 

I remember when I used to sit on a kitchen chair for hours.  Not anymore — my constitution is too “delicate”  It’s the whole being 50 thing 🙂

Don’t tell anyone but I am also taking a stab making a valiant effort at being sort of vegetarian. Now before you all freak out and think I have instantly developed a conscious about the slaughter of poor defenseless animals in order that I can eat don’t hold your breath.  I am doing this for health reasons.

As much as I love red meat I am realizing it’s not the best source of food for me or my body.  So my diet is 70% fruit, nut,  and vegetables, 20% protein from tofu (gag), and fish, and 10% of my diet from other stuff – olive oil, low fat yogurt and the occasional egg.

No grains.  No pork.  No Beef.  No Poultry.

And guess what – I broke up with cheese.  I KNOW RIGHT!?!?!?!?!?!? Ice Cream and I parted ways as well.  Diet Coke and I got a divorce – in fact I sent all soda packing.

It’s been ten days – and so far so good.  I jumped on the scale and the needle is headed the right way so I can’t complain.  The exhaustion is gone, my mind is clearing as well as my skin.  So that’s all good.

The only weird thing is typically I hate pancakes.  I mean I loathe them.  I wouldn’t eat them if they were the last food source on the planet — they are just too I don’t know, pancakey I guess.  With the whole butter and syrup thing – it’s just gross.

Ask me what I have craved all week?

Pancakes — I kid you not.  I can’t tell you how much I’ve been jonesin for a damn pancake.  I would almost think I were pregnant.

Oh Jesus – slit my wrists now. Pregnant at 50.