Pages

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Self-Fulfilling Prophecies

When I was in college (I think), in a psychology class (I think), I learned about something called self-fulfilling prophecy. I don't remember all of the ins and outs of it, and I'm not really willing to look it up, but we can safely say that the gist of it is, if you think something is going to happen a certain way, it generally will.

Basically, your attitude determines your results. In everything.

If, for example, you think/say that every time you travel your flights are delayed or your bags are lost or something bad happens; the chances are good that when you travel one of those things will happen.

I will admit to being guilty of this. I have said, "that will never work for me." And it didn't.

"He'll never go for a girl like me." And he didn't.

"They won't hire me." And they didn't.

It's not that I didn't try for those things I wanted, but I mentally sabotaged myself. Even if I didn't realize it at the time.

I recently told someone, "I have a hard time feeling bad for people who create the situation they are in, which I am expected to feel bad for."

The time is now to think positive. To say, "I can do that."

"I will do that."

"This is going to be amazing!"

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Sin Pesar

I really try to live my life without regret. Unfortunately, today that is impossible.

I don't think that I mentioned before that I am currently vacationing in Europe. I flew from Phoenix to Frankfurt, stayed there for a couple of days, then flew to Madrid (where I am now) for five days. Tomorrow I will fly back to Frankfurt, spend two more nights and then head home.

As part of the trip, today we took the fast train to Segovia from Madrid. For this entire trip, we have been looking for cute men for me. Why? Why not?

So today, an American man got on the train and sat across the aisle from Tela. He was with two older couples - I couldn't tell if they were family or friends or what. From what I gathered, he is living in Madrid and they were out to visit.

He was VERY good looking. But I was by the window and Tela was sleeping so I didn't talk to him. Then we got off the train and they ended up behind us in line for the bus. I almost asked where they were from when chaos ensued and I missed my chance. He went to see what was happening on the other bus while Tela spoke to the driver of the bus we were in line for. Turns out we wanted the other bus and they wanted the current bus.

Foiled again.

At the end of the day we end up back at the train station and in the cafe who do we see? The American. There was really no way to talk to him, based on the seating arrangement, so I was hoping he would sit next to us on the train home.

No such luck.

They were in a different car.

Then we ended up heading down to the Metro at the same time, but my type A personality had me walking at an extreme rate of speed and he and his group missed the Metro by like 45 seconds. He looked as upset as I felt.

All I can think about now is why I didn't initiate a conversation when I had the chance.

Friday, May 16, 2014

Let's Get Physical...Therapy

As you know, I CrossFit.

You know this because: 


So, way back in 2005 or something, I was in a golf cart accident with BFL in which we flipped a golf cart over on its side and my right ankle ended up under the bar. 

It was an altogether bad situation in which my foot/ankle looked like this at the end of the night. 


It actually got worse than that, but I quit taking pictures. I had a number of x-rays done, but there were no breaks or features and it eventually healed. (Though you can still kind of see the scar from where the bar burnt me.)

So, since then I've had a few problems with my ankle. Nothing serious, just knew it was there if you know what I mean.

There are certain movements in CrossFit that are worse than others and my pistols are pretty bad because of a lack of flexibility of that ankle.

Additionally, in the last three months or so, I've kind of had a nagging pain in my right hip/lower back area. 

So, I decided to break down and see someone about it.

That someone happened to be the hot coach at the gym. Who also happens to be a doctor of physical therapy.

I didn't think anything was seriously wrong, but I was hoping he could recommend a few stretches and we could work out a program that will get me back in top form. 

So flash forward to last week. I show up at the gym for my session and meet up with the coach. (Did I mention he's hot?!?!)

I know him well enough that I'm not uncomfortable talking to him, but I also don't mind it when he takes his shirt off.

He's also like 8 years younger than me, but that is neither here nor there.

We get the session started with a short assessment. I explain to him the issues, he has me do a couple of exercises. He asks me to walk away from him and then walk back towards him.

I do that. When I get back to him he says, "How are you with running?" I ask, "Like as far as pain?" He says, "Yes. I know you're a very good runner." I melt into a puddle on the floor. (I just love it when people compliment my semi-athletic abilities.)

(In other news one of the guys at the gym told me this morning that I'm very impressive with power and agility movements. I open-mouth kissed him. Just kidding. But I did blush.)

So, then we go back to his "office" where he asks me to lay on the table, face up. I follow his instructions, and as is customary for me when I lay down, I close my eyes. He messes with my ankles, stretches out my legs, moves around a little, no big deal.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, he moves up to basically push on the edges of my pelvis.

Now I want you to stop right here and take a minute to familiarize yourself with where exactly that is on your own body. 

Now I want you to think about the last time someone touched you there without warning.

Now I want you to imagine he looks like this:


So, I made it through that. He had me get off of the table and do a couple more exercises. Then he told me to get back on the table, laying on my stomach, with my toes hanging off the edge of the table.

Fine. I can manage this.

He starts again stretching out my ankles. Then he is feeling my calf muscles. Things are going great.

Then he moves up to my spine and kind of massages up to the middle of my back and then pops my back. Nice.

Then...he touched the butt.

Seriously, all I could think about was that line on Nemo when he touches the boat and the little baby octopus says, "He touched the butt, he touched the butt."

At this point, I don't even know what is happening. He kind of rolls the top of my pants down and I assume he is going to massage my lower back/hip area. 

Then he asks, "Are you on any medication? Blood thinners or clotting meds?"

Uh, no.

"How's your blood pressure?"

Normally? Or right now after you touched my butt?

Then we moved into a dry-needling session, which was mostly awesome, and then there was a soft tissue massage on my calf muscles.

I told one of the girls that goes to 5 am with me that I almost felt like I needed to pay extra.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

From the Mouths of Babes

Last week I spent a lot of time over at Amachi and Haytachi's house with PapaBear. 

Behind their house is where my Haytachi did all of his work. He has tools, scrap wood, nails, screws, locks, furniture, just about anything you could imagine. 

Most of the stuff, we have no idea where it came from.

One day Tiny said to Sissy, "Mom, I thought of an idea."

Now, when Tiny says something like that, you really never know what is going to come next. It could be anything from dinosaurs to tractors to aliens.

So, with a little hesitation she said, "Yes, Tiny?"

He said, "We could just get a whole bunch of ladders and tape them all together and then maybe we could reach all the way up to Heaven to see Haytachi."

And you know, I bet Haytachi smiled down and said, "That's my boy."

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Vaya Con Dios


Part of the grieving process includes sitting around and telling stories. 

And there are more than enough stories to be told about my Haytachi.

When asked for my favorite, I can't choose just one.

Today, I was at Amachi's house with PapaBear and some others and we were looking at pictures I had found. In the pictures were Sissy, PapaBear, Haytachi, and me at Disneyland. Sissy and I couldn't have been more than 4 and 3 years old, respectively. 

PapaBear asked me if I remembered the trip, and I'm not sure I remember that trip specifically, but I do remember a trip to the San Diego Zoo when he was feeding cigarettes to the monkeys.

PapaBear laughed and said that he was horrible at a zoo. He was always trying to get you to feed the animals whatever you had. If you were holding an ice cream cone he'd say, "Give the gorilla that ice cream cone, see if he'll eat it."

I can remember him taking Sissy and I to the local western store to let us pick out our first pairs of cowgirl boots. According to Papa, we earned them by helping to gather some wild cows at our desert ranch. I don't remember that day as much, but I remember walking through the store and looking at the boots.

I got an email from a friend today and she said, Some men are not cut out for a "long goodbye," it goes against everything that made them the great men we loved them for being. I consider it an amazing testament to the men they were and the life they lived for God to show them such mercy, allowing them to leave this earth with their dignity.

I honestly couldn't have said it better myself. 

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Beware of the Danger


My grandfather passed away last night.

It was unexpected.

It happened quickly and with no pain.

I know that I should take comfort in knowing that he is in Heaven, probably fixing fences and bossing crews around, but it hurts.

For me, mourning is like a title fight that I am unprepared for. And just when I think its over and I'm back on my feet, it deals another left hook that takes me to my knees.

And it's crazy things - things like pulling into the gas station at the local grocery store and realizing that I'll never again run into him in the parking lot or the coffee shop inside.

Or knowing that I'll never drive past their house again and see him out there tinkering with some old equipment he found.

Just looking at that picture above knocks the wind out of me.

There is no doubt that my siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews and I have been abundantly blessed to have so many great years with him. 

To know that yesterday he worked all day. Spent the day outside doing the things that he loved to do. Went inside and ate a delicious dinner, then went peacefully to be with the Lord as he was drifting off to sleep.

The memories that we all have of him, that were shared today among family and friends, will always be ours.

He will always live in our hearts and spirits.

He taught every one of us the joy of living. Of putting in a hard day's work. He has left a legacy that will reach into generations that I will never meet.

But right now my heart is cracked and the healing process my be excruciating.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?

Tiny is a master at charm. Seriously, that kid can make a face that will melt your heart in a second. Render you unable to tell him "no."

He also happens to be a wizard with an iPad. Months ago he learned how to FaceTime the family.

A couple of weeks ago, he FaceTimed Match because his mom left him at home when she went to pick up Biggie and he was upset and wanted Match to call Sissy and lecture her.

So Match did it. I'm telling you, this kid is an expert at getting what he wants.

Recently, he has picked up the art of iMessaging. So from his mom's iPad he can send messages - to SuperFan, to me, to anyone in her address book with iMessaging capabilities.

He can only spell a handful of words, but he does know how to capture himself on video and send it.

While I was in DC for work last week, he tried to FaceTime me, but I was in a meeting. When I got back to my room and called him back he was crying when he answered. Like real, big tears crying.

I asked him what was wrong and he responded, "My mama cracked my heart."

It was all over - had I not been a five hour flight away, I would have been on my way to save him. It broke - I mean cracked - my heart.