Only Children

We are an odd bunch. I am an only. No brothers. No sisters. And yes there are benefits to being Mommy’s and Daddy’s only little precious offspring. But there are also some downsides:

1. You have the only child complex (constantly wondering if you are acting spoiled, if you are acting like an only, or worse, you don’t even ask these questions),
2. You don’t like being alone (why is it that only children who spend so much time being alone hate being alone when they get older?),
3. Guess who gets to take care of mom and dad when they are old? And all by-themselves too?,
4. You have to rely on your significant other (of maybe super awesome cousins and friends) to have siblings to provide you with nieces and nephews,
5. Growing up, if you broke something you could maybe blame it on a pet, but that excuse only works for so long, and
6. Perhaps it is difficult, or even impossible, for you to understand sibling relationships (making it difficult for you to relate to others).

So for all those non-only children out there, cut us some slack. Sometimes we really are a little socially slow/awkward. But we tend to try hard to not be too self-centered and spoiled. And if you ask, you might find out that we are secretly jealous of all of those with siblings. I myself asked Santa for a baby brother several years in a row. I don’t think he is coming anytime soon.

Do you ever think…

Do you ever think “I look like a insect?”

There have been a few times recently where I am getting dressed or in the shower and look down at my abdominal coelome and think “I look like a big insect!” A beetle to be more specific, but with different proportions. I remember in biology in college talking about coelomates and I guess that is what got me thinking about the similarities between humans and other living things.

I must say that I also sometimes look at my boyfriend’s tummy and think “insect.”

White Girl Fail

As a very very white girl I am aware that my skin is sensitive to the Sun’s UV rays. Most of the time I apply sunscreen, for I respect and have felt the wrath of the sun’s rays. However, today, I had a white girl fail moment. I applied sunscreen to my face (this is a daily ritual, because there is also the possibility that I will burn). I was very excited to go on my long run and the weather was perfect. It was around 10:30 and the sun was shining, slight breeze with temperatures in the low 70s. I started doing my warm-up walk and remembered I hadn’t put sun screen on my back, arms, or chest. But decided I would risk it. It’s May after all and a lot of my run is in the shade. Oh the foolishness! Please examine the evidence below of what happens to a super-white-ass girl with Irish, English, Polish, and Russian hertigage.

Exhibit 1 – My back, aren’t the sports bra and spaghetti strap tan, I mean burn, lines all the rage!

 Exhibit 2 – My chest with some very distinct white lines, who needs tattoos when you can do this for free!

Tomorrow I buy sunscreen! I don’t want to be lobster woman all summer long.

Kiki

Today I went on a run. I was really really enjoying it. It was a speed work-out, so I was doing 30 second intervals of running fast. And then it happened. I ran into Kiki. She was a very fluffy over-weight, what looked to by chow mixed with golden retriever. One thing was very clear: Kiki was lost. Now I am a dog lover. There is no doubt about that, but I am afraid of chows. I have been bit by one, in my butt, and it hurt, a lot. At first I was upset that Kiki had disrupted my run. But then I stopped my only child selfishness and decided to call animal control. I tried to get her to come to me and to catch her but she ran into the street and made me look like an idiot. This one car had to stop twice as Kiki swerved in and out of the street trying to avoid me. And of course everyone thought I was the stupid girl out on a run with her disobedient dog off leash. After contacting animal control, I lost sight of Kiki. But her poor little stubby legs couldn’t go that quickly, so I caught up with her again and corralled her. This man, a PhD student working on his dissertation stopped and helped me. I explained my fear to look carefully at Kiki’s tags (her fur was very very puffy). Finally, we got in touch with her owner and he came and got her and I called animal control (who’s number is now saved in my phone) and Kiki went home safe and sound. I finished my run and also got home safe and sound. And all I can say is “Oh Kiki!”

Addict

I realized this past Sunday that I am an addict. I am addicted to endorphin. I discovered this at about mile 30 on my ride. I realized why I pushed myself so far up the coast. It was to get the high, and also to push my physical limits. It also helped that on my 45 mile ride that the first half was going head on into a head wind, so by the time I turned around not only was I pumped full of endorphin but I was also catching the wind, and therefore, I was flying high. I noticed that as my ride progressed I enjoyed grunting and wooing. After my ride, I was talking to someone (someone who works at a bicycle shop) and he asked, “Who’d you ride with.” Me: “No one.” Him: “That’s boring.”

And I said something to the effect of, “not really, I love to ride by myself, it’s my meditation. And sometimes I ride with other random people for a few miles.” It’s true! A fellow cyclist offered to pull me up the coast for a 5 or so miles. It was awesome! I drafted him for as long as possible and I must say he was a much better cyclist than me. I could not have returned the favor. And now I know I am a cycling dork. I have called myself and others “cyclist.” And have discussed cycling in respects to aerodynamics.

Keeping it real

Dawson’s Creek theme song for season 3 is horrible! Paula Cole’s “I Don’t Want to Wait” was/is way better! I protest! I am only about a decade and a half  late. Also how crazy is it that Joey Potter, aka Katie Holmes, married Tom Cruise! 

Wine!

 

Another reason to enjoy being an adult. These are the first wine glasses I have ever purchased!