42. NEIL deGRASSE TYSON: The most astounding fact

42. NEIL deGRASSE TYSON: The most astounding fact.

An Old Folks Guide To Surviving LJT, Both Intact And With Your Wits About You.

I’ve been following the LJT tag on Twitter pretty close because it’s Festival week.  These two tweets caught my eye in particular:

Personally, I think it’s a sad day when the illusion of adulthood keeps you from listening to music you love, and some of the funniest people watching on the face of the earth.  Last year I got a high five from the gayest drunk cowboy I’ve ever seen.  EVER.  This guy put the Village People to shame.  I wouldn’t have had that experience if I had let being a big kid stop me from attending the Festival.  And let’s face it, high fives from drunk, gay, cowboys are at the top of all life experiences.  So, how do grownups survive the debauchery that is LJT?

Moderation.

If you drink, hold it to one or two beers.  If for no other reason than the poo-ton of cops all along the road between Melody Mountain Ranch and town.  I head out there after work, and set up at the back of the crowd.  I break out out my cooler full of sweet tea and relax and enjoy the show.  The big screens allow me to see whats going on onstage and there’s always lots to see in the back.  I sleep less during Festival week, but its worth it.  I get to see like 30 concerts in four days, I still get to work on time, and I get cool ideas for next year.

And one final note for the people who think LJT is nothing more than a drunken orgy in the country:

Lots of older folk go out to enjoy the music and a couple cold beers.  There’s no age limit on that.  If you know where to set up, LJT can be an enjoyable experience at any age.

An Open Letter To Mark And Buddy From The Biggest Loser

They named that show right. Y’all are big losers.  To say I’m disappointed would be an understatement.  And you can stop hiding behind your elevated sense of morality.  If you’d have read the contract, you’d have known about the eliminated contestants coming back for a chance into the finale.  What you really did was wussed out.  You quit.  And you’ll never be anything more than quitters.  It’s almost like you got all that training and teaching for free.  Kinda like you stole it.  Because in the end, you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.

At the end of the day, you and you alone are responsible for your performance both in challenges and in weigh ins.  The fact that you quit shows that you don’t trust your ability to perform.  It’s also indicative of the thing that got you there in the first place.  Because I’m pretty sure you’re a lot like me.  When things get hard, I quit.  I give up.  When things I don’t like come around, I just refuse to do them.  Why do you think I don’t work out?  You may have lost most of your weight, but to continue with that attitude won’t keep it off.

I don’t have to have to tell you that I’m among the tens of thousands of people who would’ve given anything to be in your place.  And I sure wouldn’t have quit.  Especially knowing that the reason you quit was disclosed to you via contract before you ever walked on the show.  Mark, you were my favorite. I was cheering for you to win.  I cried when your boy had to go home.  But dude, I’ve lost all respect for you.  Clearly you’ve learned nothing besides working out for 5 hours a day and eating clean will make the pounds fall off.  When the character issues come up though, y’all have a long way to go.

I can’t really even fully express how this makes me feel.  It’s AN EFFING GAME.  It’s not even real.  And you quit.  This isn’t morality showdown, and frankly, I don’t think you won any moral awards for quitting a game and breaking a contract.  You just showed what you’re really made of.  And I’ll pass on that.

I answer to “Momma”

I keep munchkins.  I get accidentally called “momma” a lot.  Many of the kids spend almost as much time with me as they do their real moms.  I’d never try to take their place but it is kind of sweet to hear a little one call you mom.  Chances are, I’ll never experience that for realsies.  And I’m totally cool with that.  But when the kids call me momma, I just answer to it and go on as if they actually called me PJ.  If I had a kid that had to stay in daycare, I would hope that the provider would be someone that would be like a mom to my kid.  Or at least a really cool aunt.  And that’s a position I know well.  I’m good at being the cool aunt.

Easter Weekend

On Friday, we loaded up and headed over to LaMancha Lake Ranch on Lake Leon and spent the weekend with my brother, his 5 kids, and their families, and my sister and her girlfriend.  I haven’t been fishing in forever.  Literally not since I was a little bitty kid.  I had so much dang fun.  We also celebrated my nephew’s 17th birthday and my mom’s 72nd.

It’s made me want to spend more time fishing.  And I’ve spent a couple days thinking about how much I really enjoy my redneck upbringing.  I love backroads, fishing, hunting, listening to the crickets, watching the bug zapper, and eating watermelon in the summer.  I’m glad I had chickens, rabbits, quail, a bull, dogs and cats in the backyard (my dad called our house the Chinese Zoo).  I’ve fought snakes, spiders, and grassburs.  I’ve driven trucks and sports cars.  And even with all that, I can appreciate my cultured side too.  I love art museums, all kinds of music, theater.  I respect the rights of all people and I care about the environment.  I’m a redneck and a nerd and I’m okay with that.

The rest of the pics of our trip are on my Facebook page.

Fear Sucks

I’m not even sure what to call this.  Hopefully, I’ll have a title by the time I finish the post.

I have panic attacks.  Thankfully, they aren’t frequent occurrences but occasionally, I freak out, can’t breathe, and can’t shut my mind off.  More often than not, it happens in my sleep and I wake up with my heart pounding.  And usually it’s over silly, weird things…like last summer I freaked out because I thought the air conditioning had been running too long.  Last night I couldn’t sleep because I was convinced that my mom had died and I couldn’t bring myself to go check on her.

It all started about 9:30 when I went in the other room to get a stool to prop a fan on.  The lights were on but mom was in bed.  She left all the lights on and I panicked.  My mind started racing as to why she would do that.  I did stand inside her room to hear her breathe before going back to my room.  I read a little of Stephen King’s IT and watched a little Doctor G: Medical Examiner.  I started freaking out because it was all death.  I was consumed with it.  I won’t lie: my mom dying is probably my biggest fear. And yet an inevitability that I cannot escape.  Sometimes I think I probably obsess over it.  I did last night.  I couldn’t sleep because I was terrified that she had gone off to her room to die the way a dog wanders off when he knows it’s the end.  (I had to stop myself on that last sentence.  The truth is, I should’ve ended it by saying, like Grandmama did.  She was at the kitchen table before I left for work.  She went to take a nap and had a heart attack and died.  I’m sure she had no idea when she retired to her room.)  But I guess that lingering emotion from that experience is something I still need to work through.

Anyway, I couldn’t sleep.  So I started reading Reddit because I knew the funny stuff posted there would help get my mind off all the death and fear.  There was a post about a guy who had just tried something for the first time and asked what other’s had waited to try that turned out awesome.  Someone mentioned the Taco Bell Doritos Taco.  I’m not a huge fan of Taco Bell.  It’s okay if you’re completely broke…okay, not really.  It’s mostly terrible but slightly okay sometimes.  I love Mexican food.  It’s my favorite thing. Taco Bell is an abomination to good Mexican food.  But I just had to try the Doritos taco.  It was stupid.  It was 11:30.  I should’ve been asleep two hours before but that damn panic attack had me wide awake.  So I gave in and got two of them.

I’ve never considered myself an emotional eater.  I always figured that I just ate too much of the wrong thing.  I don’t usually drown my sorrows in ice cream.  I don’t even eat a whole lot of ice cream.  But I do feel guilt associated with some of my food choices.    I realized this morning that I am an emotional eater.  But recognizing it helps me to be able to combat it.  For me I had to admit it.  Hence this post.  Fear Sucks.  But I can overcome it.

Music Monday On Tuesday

and then I saw this cover and had to post it…

 

Music Monday

My first Music Monday and I almost forgot.  Sorry.  Actually, today was one of the most hectic crap days ever.  Here we go:

 

I cannot stop listening to this.  I love it.  It makes me smile.

This ad has been the cause of quite a debate today on reddit. At first it pissed me off. Especially as a slow runner. I was annoyed by the fast people that suggested that slow folks didn’t deserve to participate, particularly as walkers. 26.2 miles is 26.2 miles regardless of how long it takes to complete the distance. I understand their assertion that it requires discipline and hardcore training to really do it right. I would suggest however that everyone has to define their own hard. Running for me is jogging for you. It’s my desire to get better and some day I will but to insinuate that my slow pace somehow diminishes your accomplishment is asinine and self-important.

The discussion did however get me to thinking about this: there is a huge difference between running to finish and running to win. It’s a completely different mindset and a completely different attitude to carry into training. I have NOT been training to win. I’ve been training to NOT die. A couple weeks ago at group swim, I told one of the coaches that my goals for 2012 are to not die, and that next season I’d make more concrete goals. Tim told me that day that I could never again use the fat old lady excuse. He said there’s a warrior in me. And now I see what that means. Fat old ladies train to not die. Warriors train to win. Realistically, my chances are doubtful of actually making the podium. But that does not excuse me from training to win.