Damn, I remember her

A healthy and sane Britney kicking ass in one of the best Superbowl spots ever...although its kinda spooky hearing her sing "The world goes 'round and 'round, but some things never change..."

It's a shame about Ray

7AM. Phone rings. I was still having dreams about.....something.....something probably football-related considering I fell asleep while watching SportsCenter.

"Gooooood Morning!" the voice trumpets.

Ahhh yes. Mr. Way-too-cheery-for-a-Monday himself.

"Morning, Ray," I mumbled.

He wants to talk about work. I want to sleep. Funny how this guy appreciates the fact that I work nights but doesn't quite always get that means that I sleep during the day.

Ray knows I write about him. Why he knows is a story that could fit a few days worth of posts...but lemme just say....he knows.

He said he had some information for me. We talked for a minute and the crux of the conversation was...he was calling me to let me know that he was e-mailing me a bunch of documents. Ummm...and I needed to be woken up for this? Not that I mind talking to Ray, I would just rather do it after I've had a decent amount of sleep.

So...Ray...please, my friend, let me sleep...or I'll....I'll..,I'll blog about you! I swear it!

But, knowing Ray, he'll....blog back.

Thank you, Veterans

I had never heard of Canadian songwriter Terry Kelly before recently. Now I can't wait to hear more from the man.

Here's to all the veterans for giving so much.......and here's to the folks still remember to remember them






Story behind the song from Mr. Kelly's web page

What does a million dollars look like?

"Happy Monday, Carol!" exclaimed the voice that was waaay too chipper for a Monday morning. "Whatcha been doing?

Well, lets see. I've been wrangling with the insurance company because a woman using the breakdown lane as a travel lane side-swiped me. I've been running a fever, and I'm anxiously awaiting the results of some lab tests because I'm afraid my 17 year old cat is dying.

"Haven't been doing much, Ray," I lied. "And you?"

"Well we're finally breaking some ground on the new organization..." he describes, as my guard goes up. I wait till he pauses.

"Ray, I'm not really interested in changing jobs right now," I explained.

"We don't have a job to offer you my friend, I wish we were that far along. But I was wondering if you'd be in to doing some process-improvement consulting?"

Hmm...Demming cycles. It's nothing that competes with my current industry. Nothing that would interfere with my work, or my training, and nothing on weeks when I'm on call...and likely wouldn't be a lot of work at all because Ray still only has three employees even though he's been at this for 6 years.

There was a part of me that said "Why the heck do need me?" but I be quiet.

There was one caveat.

"In order to be an independent contractor in the building where we are located, you must have a million-dollar geneal liability coverage.

Oh great. No its not that expensive, but what a PITA...especially for an individual like me.

"I'll fedex you some stuff," Ray promised.

"I'll believe that when I see it," I mumbled.

I received three Fedex envelopes in the mail a few days later. One was a draft of a statement of work. Another was a kitschy insurance policy, complete with a certificate done in fine green looping lines that said $1,000,000 in the center. The third was a request to join the business consortium that Ray belongs to. I'm guessing its an entrepreneur's group, but I really don't know. Some group of miscellaneous Americans and Canadians that do heaven-knows-what. The membership fee was pricey...but membership just happens to come with a million-dollar liability policy.Ray isn't known for being a shyster but...sheesh...how convenient to have these policies close at hand.

Today, I called Ray back up. "You're putting me on here," I sighed

Ray chuckled, telling me that if he was an insurance salesman, he'd probably be in nicer digs than the co-lo. He's got a point there. He then explained, it wasn't his rules, it was the big parent corporation that owned the space where they have their co-lo.

Ray nodded, and explained the bigger picture. It was a project that Ray had been hoping to land for over a year. "I don't need you to do the project, Carol, I don't even need you to do all of what I'll hand you. If you can't do it you can't do it. But I was hoping you might have some time to help me a little." I grinned. I love working with Ray. In addition to being friendly, he's amazingly intelligent and loves to have people pick his brains.

We agreed to meet at Starbucks. I handed him the boring, black and white paperwork for his consortium. Small type on the last page described the details of the insurance policy...which looked almost like an afterthought.

"So why did you pick me, Ray?" I asked, the curiosity getting to me. He put a hand on my shoulder in a friendly manner.

"You know why I like you, Carol, you know your stuff, you work hard, you get things done, you don't need a babysitter." Ray smiled.

After being in the corporate world for 15 years, isn't that a given? "You could say that about a lot of people you know, Ray. Good, smart, hard-working people."

Ray bent down towards my ear and whispered "Yeah, but you work nights..."

Aha! The truth comes out!

"At least you were honest," I chuckled.

Ray guffawed....and...spit...coffee...out...of...somewhere on his head, and got half of it on me. A couple people stared and...we tried to shuffle out nonchalantly. Ray mentioned something about his wife and dry cleaning, but it was right then that we realized that the consortium paperwork got drowned in coffee.

What does a million dollars look like? Mocha brown stains on white paper with blurred black ink.

A possible part=time gig. A rekindled professional friendship, several good laughs, and a coffee stain as a badge of honor.

I left for my car with a grin on my face, the cool air biting against my wet sleeves.

I roll my sleeves back, turn up the heat, and the iPod, and head for home.

There just aren't enough days with experiences like this.

RIP Alex, aka Lexicon

Today my beloved grey kitty Alex had to be put to his final peace.

He was 17 years old, and unbeknownst to anyone, he spent his last months by my side bravely fighting lung cancer. Today, he suffers no more. I love him, and I miss him. He has been my furry companion since college.

I'll write a better tribute to him soon

Sleep well, sweet kitty, you've earned it.

In a corner of nowhere, surrounded by too many people

If exhaustion had a color, what would it be? Something...empty.

The world passed me by for a bit.

Every so often I get reminded of the cost of my occupation. I love what I do for work. I enjoy my job and the folks I work with. However, I work nights and most other folks...don't.

My sleep schedule is erratic. I tend to get run down a lot more easily than I did when I didn't work nights. So I fight through what I can...with my body occasionally shutting down for all or part of a day. Some people fight through illness to burn out whatever ails 'em. I've tried that before, it tends to make me worse instead of better.

Yesterday was one of those days. Unfortunately it was a training day for me as well. Going to training represents a double challenge: not just the challenge of training but an extremely long drive there and back. Unfortunately I wasn't up for both, which leaves me a little depressed.

I'm back at my pushup routine, however. A set of 7, 90 seconds break. Another set of 7, then 90 seconds break. Then 5, break, then 4, break, then another try for my maximum. This time, I make it to 18 before my arms start shudder and give out. The victory feels diminished by my own frustration over my (lack of) output over the last couple of days, but at least, its another step forward.

And it's root, root, root for the Red Sox...

Caught up with my colleague R today and asked him how he was doing with his challenge. He stammered a bit. Uh oh, my question made him uncomfortable. He quickly changed the subject to the Red Sox.

Haven't been following sports that closely over the last few years...probably because I find getting out and training to be more fun than sitting in front of the tube watching a game. However, I've been to a lot of games...including a lot of terrible games. But...the tickets were usually comped. The companionship was usually good. At the time, was all that mattered.

Fenway Park the way I remember it. Without the Green Monster seating

I left thinking about the goals I set out. I felt foolish. Here I've gone and made grandiose plans and set aggressive goals for myself...partly because I was caught up in a friend's enthusiasm. Now, I think I'm going to be alone in this. I went and drove off to a quiet corner and pondered a bit. Some people talk a good game, I'm going to get in and play a good game.

Then, the idea hit me. I felt so focused on the numbers, I've forgotten that the numbers really weren't the goal at all. It's the training and the fitness that is the real goal. Are the aggressive? Hell yeah. But, as long as I don't do something stupid (like work out so hard that I get injured) they're worth pursuing.

I stepped out of the car, and did light calesthenics, forms practice, self-defense technique practice, and kicking drills for an hour. Aggressive goal? Bring it on. :)

98 practice hours, 98 class hours, and 88 pushups to go.

One...Two....Three...TWELVE?

Now that I've completed my test with my whopping three pushups, I was ready to begin the pushups program. It looked sensible enough, and straightforward enough. The pushups are done in 5 sets, pausing for a minimum of 60 seconds between sets. There was a notation stating that the rest period could be longer if needed.

My level...4 sets of two pushups, then for the last set, do as many as I possibly can, with a minimum of three. I start dreading this. It's embarrassing enough to admit that I can only do three in a row....it will be even more embarrassing if I can't make the three at the end.

But...martial arts is about overcoming fear, right? Or...so I tell myself.

I begin. One set of two. I verbally count off 60 seconds. My cat starts circling around my prone body...as if he is laughing at me. "Hey, what are you doing down here?" he says with his feline eyes. "Its usually me that lies down on the floor."

Second set of two. Count off. The cat retreats to a safer distance. 3rd set of two. I can feel a difference in my arms. Count off. Fourth set of two. My arms are starting to burn. Count off.

Fifth set. Inhale.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...nine.....ten......eleven.......twellllve...flop.

TWELVE? I just went from three to twelve? I stretch out on my back and stare at the ceiling. I start second guessing my form. I know I don't get as low as I can when I do pushups from the knee.

An idea comes to me. I flip back over on my belly and start doing pushups from the knees. I can do fifteen. I do three more sets of 15, each with a minimum 60 second break in between. My fifth set...I get all the way to twenty.

I'm really feeling it now...across my arms, chest, and back. I grab a bokken and run through some Iaido cuts and Ocho-Ocho patterns with each arm. My left arm feels particularly stiff, but by the time my bokken gets put away, both arms feel more invigorated.

99 practice hours, 98 class hours, and a surprising 88 pushups to go.

If only you could see the stunned look on my face......

One...two...three. Three.

First step in the "100 Pushups" routine was to take the test. The test was to see how many pushups I could do at one sitting. This would determine where I would begin. I knew the answer, but tried the test anyway.

"Mr. Owl, how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop?"
"Well...let's see. One...two-hooo...three (crunch)." "Three."

Which was pretty much how it went. I went prone on to the floor, put my hands in the classic pushup position and...one, two, three........three. Three pushups, and my amrs were shaking on the last one.

Three pushups down, 97 to go.
2 class hours down, 98 to go.
0.5 hours practice down, 99.5 to go.

Boy do I have work to do...

A "300" challenge

100 Pushups By Christmas was the headline on the message board. I clicked open the post, and started reading. The fellow posting was a gentleman about my age, who had just begun his martial arts journey. His enthusiasm was infectious. He enclosed a link to a training regimen that was supposed to bring nearly anyone to the level of being able to do 100 pushups a day. The plan looked simple. Others liked the idea and were jumping on board.

"Nice," approved my colleague, R. I grinned. R often spoke openly about his battles with weight loss and fitness. The "100 pushups" idea seem to inspired him.

"Try layering it with something else." he pondered...as if he was saying it to me as well as himself. "One hundred pushups plus a hundred....jumping jacks. A hundred...miles on a bike. A hundred..."

"One hundred hours of instruction..." I wondered. "Yes, before the end of the year. 100 hours of instruction is what I want to reach for."

"Can y'get all that in between now and New Years?" R asked.

"Only one way to find out," I winked.

"And, one hundred hours of practice....or exercise....on my own...outside of class" I stammered, trying to express the racing thoughts flying through my mind. I was thinking of the times my instructor was trying to urge me to practice on my own...and all the times I sheepishly avoided his eyes, knowing I hadn't done as much of it as I should.

"So, 100 pushups, 100 class hours, 100 practice hours, all by the end of the year. One hundred, one hundred, one hundred. That makes...300," I commented dryly.

"Like the movie," R chuckled knowingly.

Ummmm...maybe not quite like the movie...



R described a plan of his own, one that involved getting to the gym more with his wife, and playing more ball with the kids. "And...100 g-ddamn pushups," he finished with a trace of disdain.

"If only I can do that without this job getting in the way," I muttered.

"Only one way to find out," he nudged.

I grinned back and we touched knuckles like boxers.

-------------------------------------------

I made my drive out to my school...and joined my teacher on the mat for an impromptu two-hour class.

2 hours of class time down. 98 hours of class time, 100 hours of practice time....and 100 g-ddamn pushups...to go.