Megan, Mirabelle, Meter and I (oooooo, you could say the four lady M's!) went to Ikea today for lunch, because Ikea is just where you go for lunch with a 2 year old and a 2 month old. It's true. You knew that, right?

Mirabelle surprised me several times on the trip by asking me full questions complete with the proper intonations. Imagine a fifty year old woman projecting the question, "How are you, Kitt?" through a two year old girl's vocal cords, and you might get a hint of how wigged out I was at her questions.

It's neat watching her, though, seeing her develop a personality, much like watching Liza go from a toddler to this amazing little person. Not that I'd call her little to her face - she's practically to my shoulder already! Don't I feel short.

At one point during our Ikea adventure, Mirabelle and I decided to "run this way!" and off we went. Megan called after me a few moments later, "Hey, Kitt, do you have one of my kids?" I'm not sure how sheepishly I had to answer, "Yes, but she started it!"

I just received an email with the subject, "Register by Tomorrow and Get Reduced Admission to Content Delivery Economics (Apr. 22, NYC)."

The first paragraph read:

As worldwide media providers build out new digital services targeted
at the global entertainment marketplace, they are increasingly coming
to grips with the cost of digital media distribution. Are you in touch
with all the trends and important technology developments? Do you know
what's coming next?

My first thought about what's coming next was, "I'll stop being shocked that there's a conference for this," as I think there may be a conference for EVERYTHING if you look hard enough.

Okay, so, this obsessive, nearly OCD, urge to keep my tires rolling has gotten the better of me. I admit it. I finally admit it. Fine, I'm dumb.

On the way home from Santa Cruz, I was slowed and stopped by an accident on 17. Traffic wasn't exactly progressing at Kitt speeds to begin with, so when it slowed to five miles an hour at the summit coming over 17, I wasn't exactly a happy camper.

Not that I was upset. Not at all. I was too busy working on "relaxing" and "enjoying the drive" and "not stressing" to be upset with the drive. The stop and go traffic for two miles, however, did a number on my right hamstring, though, so my patience. I fired up the navigation system, entered Home as my destination, and told the route calculator to "avoid route from here for 2 miles... go!"

It found me a route at the next exit, Black Creek Road, up the mountain, along 35 and down into Los Gatos. Eh, how bad could that trip be? I wasn't sure where the accident was, however. At the rate I was going, I wouldn't be home until 5:13 PM, surely the other route would be faster, right?

So, just before the Black Creek Road exit, I bullied my way from the left lane to the exit lane, and exited. Unfortunately, I had turned off my navigation system during the intermediate stop and go traffic. By the time I had exited the road, I was unable to use the "avoid route from here" feature, and every route I took told me to turn around and get back on 17.

So, I went by memory.

I drove up Black Creek Road, zoom zoom zoom. A black Honda was following me remarkably closely, so I drove a little faster than I wanted to go to lose the car.

Until I caught up to the BMW in front of me slowed by the Cadillac in front of it. How the heck did that happen? When the Caddy pulled over for the three of us, and we all took off, I started looking for another place to pull over for the Honda. If I'm going miles out of my way to avoid a traffic accident, I'm going to enjoy the ride.

Which I did, until I turned onto 35 off Black Creek Road.

Have you driven along 35 off Black Creek Road? It's a windy one lane road that doesn't deserve the State Road designation. Sure, it's had lovely scenery alongside the road, but, goodness, there are a lot of scary blind turns on that road.

Along I went for a couple miles, not quite relaxing on the drive, not quite nerverous but not quite enjoying the drive. Somewhere along the drive, I heard on the talk radio traffic every eight minutes, that the accident had been cleared. Yay! Except I was on the wrong road at this point.

I continued along 35, stopping at a sign at Gist Road, wondering if this was the right hand turn I recalled from my view of the route. It didn't look like it, so I kept going straight.

The turn at the next stop sign looked promising. S.R. 35 turned into a two lane road in front of me, with a sign that read San Francisco ahead, Los Gatos to the right. I recalled the map said turn right to head into Los Gatos, to I turned right, and started heading down the mountain.

Right back to Black Creek Road.

Turns out, there are TWO Black Creek Roads, if you don't realize that one is Bear Creek Road and one is Black Road, and you've just mixed up the two, combining them in your mind. Tragically, they form the two legs of a triangle with 35 forming the third leg of the triangle, a very scary, windy third leg of the triangle. I had just driven 45 minutes, hopping out of the car to pee along the side of the road because the drive was taking too long, to end up getting back on 17 at the same place I had exited 15 miles before.

Sure, traffic was moving now. I should have stayed on 17 and not exited in the first place.

My arrival time back home after my little adventure? 5:12PM.

On my way home from the train station yesterday, I walked my usual route down Evelyn, but turned left at Charles. Not always the way I go, but eh, it worked. I noticed as I was walking, a man walking a ways in front of me. He was walking his dog, which appeared to be a chihuahua, or some other equally pocket sized dog. I was impressed with how well the tiny little dog kept up with man, though he wasn't walking particularly fast.

A few minutes later, I had caught up to where I saw the man and his dog, with his dog still there. As I approached, I realized the dog wasn't a chihuahua, it was a tiny puppy, about the size of my hand. As I stepped closer, it came bounding up to me. I was its new best friend.

The dog itself wasn't particularly cute as far as dogs go. It was, however, tiny. And therefore tiny-cute. And, of course, I had forgotten my camera.

The guy I saw with the dog, however, wasn't anywhere around. There was a bike standing in the middle of the sidewalk, looking like someone had dropped the kickstand and stepped away, intending on returning in a minute or so, but no actual person around.

Since this tiny little doggie was just as likely to go bounding into the street as it was to follow me, I stopped to pet it for a while, sitting on the sidewalk with this little bundle of love trying to climb up. The whole time I had three thoughts running through my head: "I wonder where her owner is," and "I shouldn't be playing with this dog, because I'm sure not to like the owner," and "Dog, don't pee on me."

Eventually, I realized I needed to get moving, since I had a client call in less than an hour and a forty-five minute walk that would be an hour walk if I didn't start moving now, and stood up. I knocked at the door of the house where I had just met the puppy, careful not to tread on the Harley Davidson door mat on the porch, only to be greated by the loud barking of a Doberman.

Great. This puppy is actually escaped dog food. Ugh.

The dog's person came to the door, opening it puzzled. "Yes?"

"Is this your puppy?" I asked, pointing down to the puppy trying to climb the porch step that was twice as tall as she was.

"What? No. I don't know whose it is," he answered. Before I could ask him if he had a suggestion for which direction I should start walking to knock on doors, another guy called out from the back room, "Is she asking about the puppy?"

The voice's owner came into the living room, over to the door, and explained the door belonged to the neighbors to the east of them, don't know how the dog got out. I had to wonder myself, as the first guy bent over and scooped up the puppy. What kind of life was this tiny creature in for, who had so innocently approached me looking for love, affection, maybe a few scratches behind the ears right there, no, over, over, ooooohhhhhhhhver, ah, yeah, right there. Her owner clearly couldn't keep a puppy inside, letting it wander. Was that good or bad? Was letting it go into the house with the Doberman growling at me from the couch going to be better than letting it wander into the street?

Too late to take it back and "accidently" walk home with it.

I left. I couldn't help but consider the parallels between that dog, and the woman I saw on Monday in the parking lot during lunch. I had gone to Fresh Choice for lunch (surprisingly, choosing to use my own dressing instead of the high-fructose-corn-syrup-flavored dressings normally there) and was walking into the restaurant when I saw a woman walking out to her car, carrying bags from the local crap store.

I had gone into the crap store a year or so ago once to see what it was, as it appeared to be a small chain of stores. I lasted all of maybe five minutes in there, realizing that the only merchandise they had was crap discounted from crap some other discount, left-overs store couldn't sell. I wish I were exaggerating when I say that, but some of the crap had sale stickers from other stores on them.

So, this woman was carrying bags full of crap from this crap store. Yeah, I was probably projecting, but I couldn't help but think, "Gah, I should help this woman. She's clearly down on her luck. Does she really think that stuff is any good?" I nearly said something, but didn't, choosing to stick my hands in my pockets and look away. I remembered the time when I went to Target to buy silverware after Guy and I had broken up, and I was moving back out on my own. I think that was one of the last times I've been bone deep lonely. I'm usually just fine by myself. I wasn't then. I projected that sense of loneliness onto this woman, deserved or not, from the purchases from the crap store and the beatup car she loaded her new crap into.

I could have gone up to her and said hello.

I chose to turn and walk away.

Walking away from the puppy felt much the same as doing nothing. This being approaching me, intentionally or not, looking for acceptance, comfort, love. How easy would it be to reach out to everyone and everything who needed help? How easy would it be to be lost in that sea of need, not being able to say no? Too easy. Way too easy.

I walked away.

Let it never be said that I don't pick up words and phrases from the people around me. Hi, Andy! /me waves!

I have to admit, I had a bit of stage fright as of late. Something about, oh, not being able to see, realizing the world is right outside my door, holy crap, Alex has me on his blog roll, all of that sort of nonsense stuff. When I realized (and, yes, even I need reminding sometimes) that this is for me, consistency is the key, blah, blah, blah, just write already, well, then, yeah, the words just came spooging out, sorta like this. Yeah, like that.

Went to Velocity this morning. Ooooo, boy was that a good thing to do. No, no, not because I exercised, not because I spent time with Kris, no, no, no. Because of the HUMOUR value.

Read: new guy today.

So, the morning workouts are led by Breanne. People come to the morning workouts not because they fit into their schedules, but rather because they're hard. As in HARD. These workouts break people. I've lost count of the number of new people who come to the morning classes, break, and switch back to the noon, afternoon or evening classes. Yeah, yeah, how would I know about that? I've caught up with some of those people in the evening classes when I've missed the morning workout and still needed a workout to do.

You know, when I'm bored.

Today was my first day back in about six weeks. I had been gone so long that my name had been removed from the roll call. A new guy was also there, standing tall, chatting up all the regulars I recognized: the employee, the older grey-haired guy, the macho younger guy who puts on too much bravado, the well-balanced thirty-something guy who works hard and Kris. New Guy was talking to everyone, quite jovial. I leaned over and asked Kris, "Is Breanne going to break him today?"

"Probably," he whispered back.

We started out with the jump rope: warming up by jump jump jumping. I don't know why anyone even bothers to try to keep up with Kris and his jump roping. Do I need to tell you people he can jump 240 steps in a minute? How about his record is over 11000 jump in a row? That it took him about an hour to do? Yeah, the man can jump rope without stopping and without faltering for an HOUR. Just don't try it, okay?

Some people tried to keep up with him. I just tried to jump.

Tried, because some bug kept buzzing around my head as I was jumping. It was incredibly annoying, especially since it started biting me after a few moments.

After a few moments, Kris saw it, too. He stopped jumping and took a step towards me, just as Breanne stopped jumping and started reaching to me.

And I realized that the jump rope was smacking in the top of the head.

I had selected a rope so short that, even though it was clearing my head, it was only barely doing so. The "bug bites" were the rope catching in my hair, and yanking them out.

A lovely welcome back.

So, off to the track we went to continue the warmups. We run down, back, down at a 50% effort level, back with toe-touches and scales. Shuffle down with side shuffles, back with more side shuffles, run down, back, down at 75% effort. Back with more leg stretches, some hand walks to stretch the hamstrings (I swear, all of my instructors know that my hamstrings are killing me, so they work extra hard to help me stretch them!). Along the wall, side stretches, leg swings, back on the floor for stretch twists and mountain climbers, back up, line it up again.

We're all warmed up, so time to run down at 100% effort level. This is where the new guys ALWAYS shine, and New Guy was no exception. This is when the chest thumping starts: a 100% warmup becomes a race. EVERY guy here has done it (except, maybe Kris and the Old Guy, and that's only a maybe), and probably most of the women (including yours truly).

[switch to present tense, it works better]

So, we line up, Breanne makes the calls, "set... go!"

And we're off.

I always work on those first 5 steps. Those are most critical in ultimate, so those are the ones I worry about, I train hardest for, I concentrate on form with. I'd rather be quick than fast in ultimate, so those first five steps, oh, THOSE are the ones where I exert the most effort. THOSE are the ones I care about. THOSE are the ones you'll lose me on if you're not looking.

Oh, poor New Guy. He doesn't realize this.

All he knows is some chick is next to him for those first five yards. How dare she? And the scrawny guy next to him is as fast as he is, if not faster. Oh, he can't stand this.

He starts tensing up and running faster. To his credit, his form does not suffer. He leans from the hips to go faster. He leans forward. Faster. Faster! FASTER!

Until he leans too far forward, and face plants.

I run by, not quite sure what to do.

I want to ask him if he's okay.

I want to tell him not to be a putz, to run within himself, it's a WARMUP not a race.

I want to burst out laughing.

Instead, I do none of this. I let up on my sprint, run by him, give Kris a "whoops" look, like I did something wrong, and finish my sprint. I say nothing as I look back, realizing the guy has fallen and jumped back up immediately to finish the warm up run. Kris looks at me. "Man down!" he hisses. I struggle not to giggle.

Most of us say nothing, but Breanne asks if he's okay. He is. We're all impressed that he popped back up after his spectacular splat. I make some comment about the track jumping up to bite him. We have two more runs to do, we line back up.

New Guy isn't as fast as he was before. I'm ahead of him after my first five steps, and never look back.

[back to past tense]

Today's workout was 4 rounds of:

Sled pull
20 Bradford press
20 box jumps
20 situps
100 rope jumps

Note: Bradford was an asshole.

The sled pull was down 40m and back, dragging the sled with weight. I started with the sled and 45kg, but couldn't lift my knees high enough with the weight, and my knees started hurting. I dropped back down to 25kg, which was light in effort, but good for the knees.

Bradford presses are done with a barbell resting on the shoulders, on the top of the chest. The bar is lifted over the head and back down behind the head to pause on the shoulders. It's lifted up again, back in front of the head, and down to pause on the shoulders at the top of the chest. That's one.

The box jumps were done as an explosive move. One foot on at box (12" or so), other on the ground. Explode up, driving with the top foot up hard and jumping up. Switch feet in the air, landing with the other (previously grounded) foot on the box, and placing the first (previously on the box) foot on the ground. That's one.

The situps were normal.

The jump ropes were normal, preferably with a rope long enough not to pull your hair out on each round.

Instead of progressing through the workout at my own pace, which is admittedly a plod, I went through at Kris' pace. instead of completing 20 of an exercise (or 100), I'd complete as many as I could as Kris did the full number. Keeping up with Kris (at least TRYING to keep up with Kris) is motivating. I'm sure my heart rate never dropped below 120 the entire hour. May not have dropped below 140 for most of it.

Continuing the go-go-go idea of changing things up to fix things, I'm working at the Starbucks over by Kris' work today, seeing if working from a different location will help me be productive. If this post is any indication of productivity, I think this new location is working.

For today anyway.