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Aging not gracefully

When I turned 40, I don't recall feeling older. I was in pretty good shape; I ran semi-regularly (I think!). I was still swimming and doing Zumba. But I was not working full time then, so I could be at the top of my physical game. I gave up my pool membership and Zumba mid-afternoon class once I went back to work, and I run only sporadically now, mostly because I am lazy but partially because my body fights me more often than not when I attempt to.

Ah, that body of mine. As I sit here and type this, I am feeling a slight pain in my left heel. It started over the weekend, and has caused me to limp since then. Today I finally called a podiatrist. But unfortunately they can't see me for 2 weeks. Back in October I had a similar pain in my right foot. By the time my appointment rolled around (actually about 2 weeks prior), the pain went away, so I canceled. Why spend the $40 specialist copay? The hub blames it on running. I don't know. I was never a hard-core runner. At the hei…
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I remember when I used to blog...

A handful of years ago, my attention span was greater. I looked forward to blogging regularly as well as reading blog posts of various people. But then at some point, FB took over that space in my brain, and because I had so many posts to keep up with, blogging and reading others' blogs took a back seat. I eventually started to tweet, but I mostly reserve that for commenting on or about sporting events, which I don't do with any sort of regularity. Mostly because Twitter is so in the moment; I can never keep up.

But my lack of blogging means my writing skills have languished. When you type only a few sentences at a time, you can't expect greatness. And when you realize you don't have much to say beyond 6-10 sentences, but when you know that whatever can be said will take you double or triple the words necessary, well, that, folks is why I hardly blog. That and that my life is pretty boring. (Unless semi-regular Phipps flower and my dog and cat posts on Instagram excite…

My first and hopefully my last biposy (or I would rather be at the beach)

This past Monday afternoon I had my biopsy. Up until Sunday night, I was not worried. In fact, I was never really concerned about having cancer; it was the needle part that bothered me. As it turns out, there is more than a needle; there is an actual incision. So it was not surprising that I only got a few hours of sleep. But on a positive note, I cruised right down the Parkway that morning, being the Monday before the 4th, so there was that.

I got there at the prescribed 30 minutes ahead of time; in fact, it was probably close to 35 minutes! I had to wait about 10 minutes, during which I could feel my seat vibrate (still not sure about that; I was tired but I don't think I was imaging it). Then I went back, changed, and waited in the "gowned waiting area" for no more than 5 minutes. Not even enough time to find out whose twins Jennifer Garner was pregnant with! WARNING: What follows will be detailed, though not too graphic.

Then I went back to a room, where someone as…

I'm not really worried.

I used to blog pretty frequently. I think I stopped when I went back to work FT; it just became too much. I never had a big following, but a handful of people read my posts, and then another handful of people who would stop by on occasion. A few of those I consider(ed) friends.

Now, since I barely write (and because, quite frankly, my topics are not terribly interesting and I am not a gifted writer), hardly anyone comes to visit, but that is fine. Preferable for this post, really. And here I go!

I have heterogeneously dense breasts. And although I can't quite recall what that means, it does seem to make my mammograms show things that may or may not be troublesome. Usually the latter. Something showed up a few years ago, but once I had a follow-up mammogram along with an ultrasound, I was deemed fine. Last year, no issues; I went in one time for both and I was done. This year, however, was a different story.

A few days after I went in, I was told that something showed up in the mam…

In the blink of an eye

My kid graduates from 8th grade on Wednesday. When you have attended a Catholic school for 8 years, this is a pretty big deal. When you will be going on to a high school a few communities over with only a handful of your classmates, none of whom are your close friends (some of whom you don't even talk to), it becomes even more monumental. And scary. And just so very much.

How did we get here? When you are enduring your 13th night in a row of a few hours of sleep because your infant does not sleep more than 2 hours at a time, you can't imagine ever getting past that. You are not thinking about the terrible twos, preschool, kindergarten, or even elementary school. You are just trying to survive. But eventually, your infant sleeps more, she grows into a toddler, and you worry about her getting hurt as she learns to walk, or putting something in her mouth that she should not. And the next thing you know, you are dropping her off at preschool, crying in the car, wondering where the…

Taking action, not inaction

Most years for Lent I have given up sweets. I was successful only once, in 2001, I think; I forget the year, but I had devoted myself to fitness in an almost obsessive way. It was a tough 45ish days without a piece of candy, cake, or bowl of ice cream. But I was doing that more for myself than to bring myself closer to God, which is a big part of doing (or not doing) something for Lent.

I don't have nearly the faith I did then, but I do try most days to be a decent human being. If everyone strove to do that, the world would be a pretty great place, and it likely would not matter so much which religion people were, or if they had a religion. But I digress.

This year for Lent I have decided to do a few things.
Try to lessen my "saying the opposite" of what the hubs says. I do this. A lot. It is not so much that I have to be right. I am pretty sure I AM right most of the time (he would disagree). But I am going to try to let things go more. This one is going to be tough. Rea…

Give a hoot; don't pollute!

Litter is my biggest pet peeve. It bothers me even more than when someone uses a hyphen instead of an em or en dash, and that is really saying something.

I have said many times, in many mediums that there are only two acceptable reasons to litter:
Someone is threatening to kill you if you don't throw your empty McD's bag, water bottle or losing lottery tickets out of the car.Continuing to carry your grocery bag of wing bones, bag of chips, or half-eaten burger will impeded your ability to run away from a would-be assassin. I am tired of people having no regard for their community. But I am even more tired of having to look at it when I walk my dog nearly every day. So most days (not including a couple of winter months) I pick up things along our 1-2 mile neighborhood stroll. Fortunately, because I do this so often, most days I have just a couple of things to pick up. Unfortunately, last year, my perception of litter became more heightened, and I started to become bothered by l…