labels

I've always been a labels girl.  Remember Esprit,  Guess? [sweet inverted triangle label], U-knits?  I'm sorry to say, I have always cared about that stupid little label .  Not really sure why.  Here's some proof.  He's me on Christmas day. 

Prior to this photo, I had run in circles around my home yelling, "I got them, I got them!" ..... "Them" being "Guess" shorts.  Seriously, that WAS my Christmas.  One item & it was pure bliss.

I since have figured, I still crave labels. 

But not designer ones.  More like "me" ones.

Let me explain.

From 7-10, I was "Gymnastics Emily".  But then something happened.  I grew.  And long legs don't "flip" as well as cute little legs.  I am sparing you some sweet photos of this one.

Year 10-10.76, my Mom tried [must give her credit] to help me be, "musical Emily".  I mean anything.  Tried Piano. . .  Bad doesn't even begin to cover it.  Saxaphone . . .somehow, even uglier.  And if you've ever heard me sing in the shower, sing at church sing in my car - - - okay, you get it......no bueno.

So from 11-16, I was "Volleyball Emily".  I thought this was going to be "THE EMILY" at least until after my full ride scholarship.  Torn ligaments my Junior year "sidelined" me for months.  Add to that one of the worst experiences/trials in my life [to date] and I decided I was done.  Done with Volleyball.  What?  I felt the ground shake below me.  Or maybe that was my Dad's wallet/401K crying out, "take the full ride - you want the full ride".  ;) No Volleyball?  what will you do?  Who will you BE without Volleyball?

So, from 17-19, I decided "Skinny Emily" would be next.  Worst years to date.  What I can remember of them anyway.

Then from there, 19-21, I gained 35-40 pounds and happily became "workout Emily".  My thoughts . . . [I can only workout at 4am.....no problem.  I need to workout 3 times per day . . . perfect].  Done.  This is when "running Emily" was born.

Other brief stints included:
"Vegetarian Emily"
"work 3 jobs Emily"
"no fat eating Emily"
"I'm never wrong Emily"
"8 minute Abs Emily"
"Cooking Emily"
"rice & teriyaki sauce diet Emily"
"coupon Emily"
"frugal cheap a*s Emily"


At 21 and 10 months ;), I married the Pita.  At which time I thought I should be, "[Perfect]Wife Emily". Get up at 5:30-6am to make breakfast. check.  Do laundry.  Check.  Do ironing.  check.  Be the only one who [literally] can make money.  check. [he didn't have his green card].  Then when he could..... I'd pack lunch for him.  check.  Make cakes and deliver them to work because he forgot his assistants birthday was today.  check.  Did I/do I enjoy this?  99.7% of the time.  check.

Then at the ripe old age of 23, I added, "Mom Emily".  Most rewarding label by far.  I always wanted to have more little Peanuts.  She makes my world happy, happy, happy.

At 25, I found eBay.  Well, it found me and I became, "eBay Emily".  This label pays well [in dollars, anyway].  I love it. 

Lately, some of these labels have been [attempting] to change on me.  And it makes my heart hurt.  It's not that I'm opposed to change.  It's mostly, that I can't do things 1/2 way.  Mostly, that's a good thing.  But, not always.

The last 8 months have been a "challenge" in my life, to say the least.  This is when the sleeping marathoner in me was re-born.  "Marathon runner Emily" has arrived.  So, to celebrate the little [insignificant in comparison to REAL life] things . . . . to date, I have taken  56 minutes off my first marathon time.  Yay!

So, here's my  "thing".  I am running.  But I'm pretty sure I'm running so much because it literally is "cheaper than therapy".  I have pain.  I have sadness.  But please know, there is no pity party here.  I have life.  I have family.  I have a plan.  And, did I mention, I have my 3:20. 

I said that 3:20 was all I ever wanted right?  I lied.  I was told by someone way, way too close to me that, "a 3:20 wasn't worth getting on a shirt but maybe if I could run a 2:59, NOW THAT, THAT would be worthy."  That hurt.  However, I'd like to enjoy life too.  Maybe with a few less labels. 
Hey, what a concept.

So, here comes, wait for it - wait for it - [just] "Emily".  Raw & uncut.  I hope you'll stay [follow] and enjoy the ride as much as I intend to.

w a i t . . .what the . . .

This is my 202nd POST?! 

"How did I miss making way too big of a deal over my 200th?"

 --- that was the thought I had this morning until I realized it [200th post] could not have been better. 

It was this.

I did have something all fun planned for my 200th though.  I guess, I'll just have to save it for 300.

After our Portland fun.  Did I mention, I'd move there in a heartbeat?  We moved onto Washington.  Now Gina, this is for you.  The best photo I have ever captured on my iPhone.  [you must check out her blog.  her photos are taken from her iPhone.  we have the same version - so [very] apparently she knows what she is doing and I do not.]

The bridge connecting Oregon to Washington.  Beautiful.  Need I remind you I live in AZ.  The last time I was on a bridge was when I was in Seattle last year and the time before that probably on a family trip over the Hoover Dam in 1998.

We ended up in a city, town, dot on a map place with a population of 494 497 people - and just in case your grandma lives there [I'm not mentioning where].  A little dodgy.  But we were soon back into areas like this.

Ok, seriously, you Washington & Oregon dwellers . . . I really hope you know how awesome you have it there.

We spent a night in Port Angeles.  I loved that city.  SO did Peanut.  The starfish were freaking huge.  huge. alive ones nonetheless.

We of course made our way to Seattle.  Where I got my fabulous sandwich three days straight [ya, the place at Pike's market with the line out the door... started with a "m".  Sorry, didn't care about the name - I knew where to find it and that's all that mattered.]

Peanut thought this was pretty sweet.

I'd rather have a scorpion on me than a bird in my hand but --- she loved it.

And apparently, you have to have your photo on [or with or rubbing] the pig?!  whatever.  we [they] did it.

And you know how it goes . . . where ever there is a Nordy's I'll surely be close.  But we captured Peanut in front of this sweet recycled penguin thing there instead of a photo of my credit card bill.  I'm one smart chika. ;)

But check out her new kicks.  nice.

We stopped at the aquarium for this horrible and freaky photo.

But we saw this on the walk there.  awesome.

Hey Kovas, you should have bought this instead of the minivan. ;) joke. joke.

But my favorite photo from the whole trip . . .

 .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

Yep, our best Nordstrom [shoe department] photo ever.

T M I

Is there such a thing?

Someone asked me recently why I blog so much about my personal life.


I talk about my "deep" thoughts [for a blonde anyway], personal confessions and other reflections in a pretty TMI manner.  More often than not, I really don't give a flying fart as to what kind of judgment my reader will "bless" me with.  This is me.  Take it or leave it.

I think this blog is more cathartic than anything. I get out all my thoughts in a place where, if someone feels so inclined, they can call me on the cement (or give me a high five, depending on the topic.)

I think it's a bit intriguing too, having just random Jane Doe out there reading things about my life. I guess I kind of like the thought that I've made my ultimate Confession to the world through Blogger. Anyone who stumbles across this blog gets the real me. I've nothing to hide & no secret agenda.
Even if I meet a fun group of people to grab a protein shake with, that would make me blissfully happy.

I also like that having a blog makes me write about my life. Even if I usually only do it 4-5 times per week. Very rarely, do I think I crank out something amusing, soul baring or thought provoking.

I guess for me, having a blog fulfills a greater need than just sitting at my desk all day listing fancy [expensive] clothes for people to buy.

That's why I do it.

I surely don't use this as a venue to write about how wonderful I am as a mom, daughter, wife or runner.  And not how clever, or how needy or how (fill in the blank here) I am.

I write about the good, the bad and the ugly, and I adore every inch [or mile] of it.

I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

I loved this line in the song "pain" [by Three days grace] when I heard it this morning while running.  "I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all"

I am an emotional being.

I cry a lot.

To others I know, I present a picture of contentment. Most people would assume I am happy with the circumstances of my life, [don't get me wrong, I AM] but I attribute my disposition to something else - my awareness of how fragile life is.

Some people hide their feelings - I embrace them.

There is something so real about experiencing pure, unadulterated emotion. Don't get me wrong, I delight in the tingling warmth of joy, but I have to say, more often than not, it's the pain and sadness that remind me most of my humanity.

Sometimes its a realization - a strong sense of love for my family, an appreciation for my life and it's gifts.  Sometimes a memory will flash through my brain, other times, a simple moment of empathy.



Whatever it is, I'll take it.

I'll take that feeling and suck on it like a Werther's Original candy, wanting, hoping to prolong the experience.



I think that's one of the greatest gifts I have been given - the ability to [intensely] feel.



I feel they give me a better take on life - and that's what keeps me going.



Do you ever take the time to consider the emotional path traveled by other individuals?  The guy in front of you at the post office?  The grouchy lady at the grocery store?  Some of us are walking wounded - carrying inside the fear, heartbreak, loneliness, disappointment of diminished dreams.  Others may be full of hate & anger.


I had lunch with a new-ish friend last week.  I'd compare her to a M & M.  Slightly hard, thin, outer candy shell. . . . but once she knew she could trust me . . . she showed me a side of her that could only be described as wonderful, warm & friendly.  Her "story" hit me like a ton of bricks.  .  .  the pain she has experienced in her life.  But it is a part of her.  Who she is today.  She embraces it.

I am an emotional being.

I embrace it.

I'm pretty sure

I'm pretty sure the quote goes like this, "A family that shoots togther stays together."

No?

Oh well.

So, how'd it go?  WE ALL had a freaking blast!

Here's a few photos from Saturday.

The lesson:

My lesson [took about 5 minutes longer than Peanuts]:

Peanuts pose:

Now, in action:

Her "hit":

My in action pose:

My "hit"[take that little glass cleaning lady]:

The best family outing in a while [minus the 20 minute bladder busting 4X4 ride to get there].

I would have included a photo of the Pita in action but his gun . . . well let's just say it looks a little agressive for a family blog post [semi-auto anyone?!].  It [the pita's new "this is what I got for putting up with her running gun"] IS awesome to fire.  Even I gave it a whirl.  Can't turn my head to the left but ehhhh it was soooo worth it.

eleven

[first, must give credit where it is due - thanks Amy, loved this idea]

Is roughly:

• how many loads of laundry I've done this week
• how many minutes I waited on hold this morning to talk to Nation-wide insurance [they are certainly NOT "on my side"]
• how many days it will take to fix my car
• twice as many days as "the other guys" insurance company will pay for my rental car
• how many miles I ran this morning
• how many credit/debit cards are in my wallet
• how many years - I most likely cut off my parents' lives by having to raise me
• number of years that separate Ann & I
• how many minutes it takes to walk from our house to Peanut's school
• how many scorpions are now in my "scorpion jar-vase"
• how many times Peanut told me she was super bummed she wasn't home in time to go see Ashley Tisdale [backstage] with Tiff last night.
• how many serves Peanut got over the net at last Saturday's game [yes, I count as she gets a little reward for each]
• how many more days the Pita has to get through before his assistant returns to work
• how much I spent on breakfast this morning
• how many minutes I can stand to watch rugby
• how many spud nuts I plan on eating on Halloween - [plus any she may try to sneak - no spud nuts for you - you hater!] ;)
• how many items I need to list today
• X 3 - how many jeans I own - - completely aware I have a problem, and I'm fine with it
• how many cards I received [seriously] from ward members from our talks [I'm quite sure my Mom handed out free stamps after sacrament meeting]
• the number of times I wipe my phone off each day [again, completely aware, this is odd - no need to point it out] - h1N1 - enough said.
• the number of years it took the Pita to become a US citizen. big shout out to the people in LA who shredded his paperwork & original marriage certificate - to make us have to start the whole tiring process over again.

• the number of years [exactly] that the Pita has made me the happiest woman ever.

"Good times - more to come". I love this man.

Finally - #2 !

[I probably should have worded that title a little differently?!]

After a 10 year "break". Here I go again . . .

Coming this January - - - marathon #2.

Got the "email OK" from The Pita Friday.

Actually, his reply was this: "Sure, go kill yourself - again."

Which in "Pita Talk" means: "of course Em, go for it, I'll be there at every drink station to cheer you on, your knee will be fine, Peanut & I will make signs . . . ."