together.

it's funny
how one word
can mean so many things
to me
to you
and to that person upstairs listening
to passionate speak
and the drone of their television
that they have on for background noise.

the neighbors that play rockband too loudly
so that banging on the ceiling is all that will
quiet
them down.
suffocating their intoxicated "singing"...at least singing is what they'd like to call it.
i call it a bad attempt at carrying a tune.
you call it annoying --
and together we laughed until it
just
became
too much.
and so, we drummed
on their floor
with a blunt object
yelling at them with our pounding
"shut the hell up."
they did.
we silenced them
until the next time they drink one too many glassed
of red
and think they're just as good as sheryl crow
or ACDC .

but who really knows when that will be.
and maybe, just maybe
next time we should silence our drumming and let
them play
and instead of trying to watch that movie
we could take it as our sign
to be still
together
in a moment of silent hilarity
and oneness.

and then, i dry heaved over the kitchen sink.

yesterday evening, i was just settling down with a glass of chardonnay and american idol on dvr. but kolby wasn't happy. he needed to pee.

so out we went. to this patch of grass where all the dogs eliminate. but kolby wasn't focusing. he was running around. jumping. wiggling. eating things. i finally got sick of it and swiped the last gulp of something out of his mouth with my right pointer finger.

that's when i felt it.
mushy. cold. wet. dog poop.
the nastiness that was once in kolby's mouth was now knuckle deep on my finger.
and at that moment, i wanted to die.
instead, i pretended like there was nothing on my finger by holding it away from my body and out of sight as kolby and i sprinted inside.
i dry-heaved the entire way to the kitchen. that's where i scrubbed. and then sanitized. three times.

so yeah. that's the story of the evening i stuck my finger in a pile of dog poo that resided inside the mouth of my cute little puppy.

california dreaming.

when you walk the streets of san fransisco, you notice two things right away. there are few overweight people, and the population of caucasians seems to be greatly outweighed by more ethnic and culturally diverse groups.

then you noticed some other things. there are ten restaurants on every corner. they're all good. many serve sustainable, organically grown food. in smaller portions. incredibly well prepared.

then, there's the bay. and the ocean. and mountains in the distance. and hills. remarkable hills. and hiking. and warfs. and culture. and haight. and zero humidity. and the bart. and the muni. and sun. and fog. and life and everything in walking distance. vibrant. people. hurried people. the city is alive. and it makes you feel alive, too. more so than you would in sleepy kansas city. and so you breathe it in. the fullness of streets so packed with movement and laughter and determination and frustration and hard work and art. and ah.

it was all gone too soon.

two san fran snaps.

defending organic.

i eat organic. at home. and out when i can.

i've come under some fire for this life change. but let me just say that, two years ago, i got migraine headaches often. sometimes three times a month. my back hurt all the time. my vision never seemed right. i felt "sick" a lot.

that august, i switched to an all-organic diet. and now, i might get one migraine every 6 months. i don't feel achy like i used to. i feel more energized. i need less caffeine. i just feel better. plain and simple.

i believe it's important to eat organic and/or natural meats, dairy grains and produce. this list shows produce pesticide content in order from the one with the highest level (peaches) to those with the lowest (onions.)

i encourage you to check it out. and maybe just make one simple change. start buying organic, pesticide free produce. i bet you'll be surprised how much better you feel.

the delight of melty cheese and salmon stuffed in a mushroom.

i lasted 24 hours. on the juice fast. that's pretty good, right?

i decided i couldn't handle it anymore while walking kolby past le fou frog.

for dinner i made mushrooms stuffed with salmon, cream cheese and cubes of muenster.

it was delish.

juice fast: hour 18.

so, i'm on a juice fast. until wednesday night.

my friend's juicer is now my best friend.

my recipe includes: apples, pears, carrots, ginger, cucumber.

yum.

twice a day. plus water. and coffee. (i couldn't give that up.)

i'm already dizzy. so, no working out for me. thursday, i head to the bay city. and lots of eating will resume. but until then, i'm um, trying to be healthy. my body desperately needs to detox.

but my stomach really would like a cheeseburger.

at the park with the babies.

when i agreed he could get on the bed.

right before i rolled up his sweater to allow room for the pee.

yesterday. rainy. ugly. windy. yesterday. during the evening rush hour, it was time for kolby to go potty. and as i'm becoming ridiculously in-tune with his elimination patterns, i knew he had to pee and poo. and i didn't so much want to clean numbers one and two off of my floor.

but it was windy and rainy and kolby doesn't like to eliminate in the elements.
so, i dressed him in his doggy sweater hoodie. and, omg, he looked f'ing adorable.

but then i realized that even though there is a practical reason for kolby's outfit, to the rest of the world, it would appear that' i'm one of "those" dog people. the kind that have different outfits for each of their dog's moods. the kind that tote their tiny companions around in a purse. the kind that name their dogs things like teacup, minny and daisy-poo. and i am SO not one of "those" dog people.

but that mattered not. kolby had to potty. and i'm a good mommy, so i walked (read: pulled) my dressed dog out into the rain and onto the sidewalk of the busy downtown street. i watched people slow down and look. some pointed. some laughed. some just didnt know what to do. and i believe some people thought, "look at that prissy dog girl. she can't even take her dog on a walk without dressing him like a child."

but we were on a mission.

kolby didn't want to pee in the mulch. so we walked a block farther. kolby didn't want to pee there, either. that's when i noticed the oh-so-practical sweater had a terrible design flaw. it was too long. it covered his little doggy part. so even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to pee like a respectable puppy. it would have just gotten all over his sweater and all up on his skin.

poor puppy.

so, i rolled the sweater up some.
and, miracle upon miracles, he peed. in the rain and the wind.

when we went back inside i kept the sweater on him for about an hour. because i secretly like the way it makes him look cuddly and nautical. (it's blue and white.)

kolby and me.

taken by my new love. my mac. please note the paul flinders in the background.

why i get paid the big bucks.

i don't really get paid the big bucks. but this is a question that was just posed to me.

"Would a hyphen be considered punctuation?"

answer: (all together now) YES.

about macs and other apple types of things.

yesterday, my new macbook came in the mail. hooray for apple is all i have to say. i love it. love, love, love it. it's white and pretty and wide screen and it's an f'ing mac. until yesterday, i was a mac virgin. oh, i'd played around on them at various jobs, but i'd never owned one. now, i do.

did i say i loved it?

right.

and a special virtual hug to a certain person who helped make this excitement possible. you know who you are.

an every day sort of thing.

i went back to hot yoga yesterday. it was miserable. 108 degrees. i know because i was practicing my postures next to the thermostat. it may as well have been 200 degrees because i was sweating more than anyone in the room. this is not an exaggeration. i was so sweaty that i had to wrap a towel around my knee in order to grip it. i didn't know my knees could sweat. and anyway, there i was - a sweaty, wobbly mess. for 90 minutes. staring at myself in the mirror. trying to find my center. which, in my world, just means i was trying like hell to balance on one foot.

see, i'm a klutz. today. yesterday. when i was three. and when i'm 50. i was, am and always will be accident-prone. and i'm okay with that. because i typically choose activities that won't expose my awkwardness. i learned the hard way (the fifth grade basketball experiment.) but i learned. and that's why running is so easy. i just put on shoes and move. in a straight line. it takes no coordination. no bouncing or balancing or classrooms full of students who are better at it than i am.

i went to a step aerobics class once. i tripped over the step. years earlier, i had a failed childhood ballet attempt. and when i was 12, my mom made me take a tumbling class, with the two-year-olds, just to learn to do a cartwheel.

i have an aversion to classes that involve any type of coordinated movements. i don't like sweating in front of people. and i hate the heat.

so why, dear reader, do i continue to torture myself with this fart-inducing, sweat-creating, hot yoga?

because it feels good.

no way, right?

in the last 24-hours, two strangers suggested kolby might be a pit bull puppy. about eight hours before the first stranger broke my heart, i suggested to a friend that kolby looked a tiny bit pit bullish.

i thought i adopted a chihuahua. mixed, maybe, with some sort of terrier. he's supposed to be at least six months old and nearly full grown. but i swear, he's gained five pounds since i adopted him.

anyway, this could be interesting, no?

it's so simple.

so mariah carey is going to be on oprah sharing her diet secrets with the world. i'll tell you the secret though. hire a personal chef and then stand around the kitchen looking like a diva/moron. cool. you losing weight yet?

this really happened.

scene: lunchtime in downtown, kansas city. coat-demanding brisk temperature. sunny. tulips blooming. pensive girl takes her dog, kolby for a jaunt around the neighborhood. as they start up a hill, two working women head toward them. both wear ski coats with pressed slacks. both have changed out of their work shoes into more sensible ones. for walking.

woman 1 (from half a block away): "oh my! chihuahua! look at her.ooooh, oooooh, look!"

pensive girl (thinking): it's a boy. my dog is a BOY.

kolby: starts pulling on his leash to get to loud, adoring woman faster. wags his tail. begins to bounce up the sidewalk.

woman 2: looks slightly annoyed. tries to hurry woman 1 along.

director's notes: the women, now a foot away from pensive girl and pup, stop walking. woman 1 leans down to pet panting kolby.

woman 1:"look at you little doggy. chihuahua. how are you doing. what's going on doggy? i hope you have a good doggy day!"

pensive girl: yanks on kolby's leash to get him to keep walking toward the tulips. away from the women. thinks somewhat audibly, though most definitely out of earshot, "amazing that she had an entire conversation with my dog and didn't say one word to me."

i will never...

own the car of my dreams
have blond hair
not be a dog person
like artificial light
be good at gardening
spend more money on a handbag than on a pair of jeans
think i'm tall enough
have perfect vision
pass a gumball machine without searching for a quarter
stop missing gus
enjoy chopped liver
be graceful
stop believing in god
read as much as i should
learn to dive
stop missing people
understand when people don't step out of their comfort zone
take health for granted
have two good hair days in a row
have good handwriting
like to para sail
stop cooking
give myself a good manicure
drive by my childhood home without aching
stop giving
forget how to love
be a typical housewife
have a perfect outfit for every occasion
regret my private school education
stop suffering from buyer's remorse
be completely satisfied with each poem i write
own a guinea pig

and then, i bought him an article of clothing.

i had to buy kolby a sweater. not because it looks cute. or so that i can pretend he's a doll or a baby. if that were the case, i'd ask you to shoot me now. i recognize my dog for what he is. a dog. a tiny, skinny dog with no meat on his bones. see, kolby needs a sweater because the dog potty area is in the center of a wind tunnel. and i don't know about you, but i don't think i'd be very willing to relax enough to poo if i was being tossed about by the wind.

this sweater, mind you, is adorable. it has a hood, even. but that's so not why i bought it. i swear.

focus.

today, i went to hot yoga. people breathe loudly there. and they fart. a 100-degree room, plus sweaty people, plus farts - equals stink.

i'm also not a quiet person. you have to be quiet for 90-minutes. even if you hear a fart.

bigger.

you don't always know

the right thing to say
or why i cry so easily
at small offenses.

it's not usually clear
at first
what happened to set me off --
spiralling downward
into the pit of depression
that plagues me still - sometimes.

i don't come with a user's manual.
though i'm sure that would make things
easier.
it would have instructions like
smile at her
hold her
dry her tears
and laugh.

it would explain the difference between
being sad due to hormones
and just being sad.

and it would have a chapter
discussing why it's so important
that i have a dog.

but i wouldn't expect you to read it,
because even i don't know all that it contains.

i'm learning still.

but i do know there are a couple of chapters
just about you.
and why it's okay when you don't have the right words
because the gift of you
is so much bigger
than moments.

image by paul flinders.

blame it on the rain.

this morning, kolby pooped in the house. i'm blaming the rain. and not my adorable, perfect, sweet little kolby boy.

i mean, it was pouring. and he's new to this loft living. he didn't really like the walk to the elevator or the time inside it. i had to pull on his leash to get him to walk out of the lobby into the downpour. and the doggy bathroom area was full of puddles. and he's so little and he probably got cold and stuff. he did pee outside. so that's good. i praised him. brought him inside, and locked him in the bathroom with me as i showered. then, i fed him and gave him his very favorite squeaky lamb toy. he ran around with it in his mouth, biting on the noise-maker spot. suddenly, the lamb stopped squeaking. and his collar stopped rattling. and i knew something was up. sure enough, there he was, pooping behind the couch and on the rug. solid poop at least. but seriously. i was mad.

in my best "alpha dog" voice i said, "no! kolby no!" (the exclamation points were most definitely included in the way i enunciated that simple phrase.)

then i remembered what his foster mom told me. "kolby always poops about 20 minutes after eating." duh. i fed him right before i got in the shower.

so, new plan. kolby does not get breakfast. instead, he gets lunch and dinner. thus, i hope to avoid more pooping in the house due to mommy being in a robe and unavailable to take perfect, smart kolby boy to the doggy bathroom.

he's home.

third name change, back to kolby.
i think this is final.

anyway, he's just been laying in my lap all night. so cute. except he has really bad gas.
oh well.

namesake.

speaking of names, i'm not sure if i've ever posted this. this is pensive girl by irving amen. it was my great aunt mariliyn's. and now, it's mine. so this is pensive girl. she's glad to meet you.

so, edgar doesn't work.

the dog's new name is wilco.

or will.
willy.
bill, even.

i get him tonight.


horray.

brew to brew.

brew to brew is a local tradition. a 44-mile relay race that begins at boulevard brewery in kansas city and ends at free state brewery in lawrence. there, runners feast on bread, fruit, beer and jambalaya at liberty hall.

my team had fiver runners, each running two legs. i ran the first leg but missed the starting gun by a few seconds because i was peeing behind a dumpster. true story. this photo was taken after i successfully dumpster-peed, ran and high-fived andy who ran next.

while andy was running, we began to hear thunder and see lightening.


but weather didn't bother nick one bit. he suffered through the elements (and miles) with only a hoodie and his mind set on lawrence.

one of the last hand-off points of the race that took us more than six hours was near (read: on) a train track. andy was up last for the team.

we waited and waited to see his yellow shirt come around the bend. so that team nick crofoot (captained by yours truly) could head to the food, beer and bathroom.


obviously, a good time was had by all. although, in this photo, only the ladies were ready for the shot.
that's better. go team.

eddie.

today, i adopted a dog! i'm excited enough about it to punctuate the last sentence with an exclamation point. i hate exclamation points! (whoa, there's two!)...three, i mean.

i don't have a photo to post because i get him tuesday. i'm running brew to brew tomorrow and didn't want his first full day home to be in a kennel while i'm gone.

he's a chihuahua terrier mix. 6-months-old. brindle. 9 pounds. already house-trained. sweet. awesome. boy.

his current name is kolby. i'm renaming him.
full name: edgar
nickname: eddie

edgar after edgar allen poe, of course. (the first poet i read voraciously.)

yay!

(this is the last post i will ever write containing four exclamation points.)

why i'm pathetic

i might get a dog tomorrow. i'm going to beat the crowds to petsmart to meet him. that's the goal anyway.

but i'm dreading tonight. for reasons that are hard for me to comprehend. and to process. and to figure out. and to come to terms with. i'm being vague, i know. but there's just some internal switch in me that gets pulled to depression mode when it's a beautiful day, and a beautiful night and when i know i'll be spending it solo. you know, there's plenty i "want" to do. but i don't jam so much with hanging out in public by myself on a friday night. so yeah, i guess i'll just give into the temporary depression that plagues me. i hate it. like really, really, really hate it.

i need to get out of this rut. any suggestions? maybe i should eat some bacon.

but, tomorrow i have things to do. like drop a car of in lawrence for a ride back from brew to brew. and i have to dog shop. and clean a little. and then, there's the ku game that i'll watch. but i may silently be routing for north carolina. i'm sorry. it's just in my nature to not route for ku. even when i want to disown mu. at least their basketball team anyway.

a letter to my body.

dear body,

you and i have never really been friends. i guess it's because i've never liked you. i mean, there have been a few good days. days when i can look in the mirror and not focus on the flaws i see. days when my jeans fit a bit looser and when my arms don't feel flabby. but you and i both know, body, that in my mind, those days are few and far between.

i remember the day i learned to hate you. i was 12. it was my annual physical and the doctor was thrilled i had just grown four inches. but then he looked at my mom and told her i should not gain anymore weight. that was the first time i thought that there was something wrong with you.

then there was that gym class freshman year. the one where the gym teacher took our body fat percentage. she told me mine was too high and handed me a list of foods to avoid. from that day on, i was afraid of cheese, butter and my thighs.

i think i had a few good months with you that year, body. but by the time i turned 16, i was being terribly mean to you. i pretty much stopped feeding you. i took your weight from 127 to 90 pounds. you started to fail, body. your electrolyte levels got too low, your bones started to protrude and your heart was at risk of stopping. i did wake up out of that, body. and i know you're thankful. i gained your weight back and then i went to college.

oh, body. i'm sorry for all of the binge drinking i did that year. and the way that you went from 117 pounds to 137 pounds in a semester. i'm sorry that all of the quick gains and losses made you get cellulite and i'm sorry that i didn't really learn how to nourish you right until you had just about had enough.

i started to exercise you, body, when the year 2000 hit. we would ride the bike for an hour a day. soon, i lost your extra fat and got back down to my starting-college weight. people noticed you again. they would tell me that you looked good. and that i should buy new jeans that fit better. it made me proud of you for the first time in a while.

i kept exercising you. becoming a runner. pounding miles and miles on your tired feet. i made you get two stress fractures in one foot. but even then, i didn't really let you rest. i road a bike or walked when i could. and i used the rowing machine. i was so afraid of losing the toned side of you. the side of you i could like - when i had my clothes on.

but body, you and i both know i've never been able to look at you when i'm naked. i've never seen anything good about you. i'm your worst critic. i look at you and see a stranger. i compare you to other bodies and i wonder why your thighs can't be slimmer and why this one part of your back is starting to get flabby.

and now, body, i'm scared. because i have this disease. and i have to put lots of pills into you. one can damage your liver. another can make your hair fall out. then there are two that can cause your metabolism to slow down. and you know what that means, body. it means you might gain weight. and then i might despise you.

but body, i'm trying. i know that i'm stuck with you. and i promise i've had good days. days where i accept you for what you are. days when i realize i will never be as toned as i think i should be, as slim as i think i should be and that skinny jeans will never look good one me. but body, bare with me as i learn to love you when parts of you are failing me. i know i failed you for a long time. but now, the tables have turned. i had accepted you. i was proud of you. and now, i'm not so sure. body, i wish you could just heal yourself. fix your bladder. fix this disease. set me free.

but body, i know that's asking a lot.

in the meantime, i'll do what the doctors tell me to do to help you. i'll try my best to nourish you well and to medicate your properly. and i promise i'll avoid any running-induced injuries. because, body, i know you've suffered a lot. and i want you to be healthy.

love,
me

the truth.

i made bacon for dinner.

i wrapped cream cheese with the bacon.

that's all i had.

it was delicious.

anyone want to buy my car?

seriously.

it's a great little silver bullet. almost brand new.

well, let me know.

blech.

it's tuesday night. it feels like it should be thursday. or saturday. if it was saturday night, however, i'd be scheduled to run 10 miles of this in the morning. and given the way my stomach feels after completing a 5.7 mile training run tonight, i'm thankful it's only tuesday. for that reason alone. otherwise, i'd welcome a mid-weekend evening.

to explain how bad i feel, i'll use bacon. the bacon that sounded so yummy last night. the pound of it that i put in the fridge to defrost. the organic bacon goodness that i took out of the fridge tonight in preparation for frying. um, yeah. i can't even look at it without wanting to vomit. i haven't been able to eat since lunch. i love food. what is wrong with me?