My Week in Instagram (Week #68)

This week was busy. Just busy. Bloody busy. The theme of the week was "busy." And it's brought to you by the word "exhausted."

Sunday:

I was supposed to run 4.5 miles, but a wrong turn made it
5. Go me!

Junior's having a fantastic start to his season. 

Samoas on a polka-dot plate.

My friend Sarah hosted an Oscar's pajama party.

Her Pub Quiz questions were hard.

Kevin Spacey!!

Lots of polka dots.

This is Tilly. 

Monday:

My kids and I are arranging "Stand By Me." 

I rarely go out to the front of campus, but subbing for a
colleague took me out past our big grizzly bear statue.

Tuesday:

Subbing for Lynn's piano lab meant getting some lovely
practice time for myself.

Over my head at Fusion.

Pianos and running shoes. My life.

Wednesday:

Perfect birthday card for my brother.

By Wednesday I was tired (my eyes!!) but damn, it was
a great hair day.

Thursday:

Putting my makeup on at work.

Yes. "It is OK to be fabulous AND flawed." 

Staring at the ceiling (and being bored during piano lessons).

Friday:

My school did a St. Baldrick's event on Friday.

Sunny Friday at a large suburban high school. 

The left door is the band room. The right door is my room.

I've made a lot of changes in here. It's looking good!

Poppies

I ate dinner in my car on Friday. That's just what kind of
week it was.

Sacramento at dusk.

I spy a harp. I love watching our harpist play.

In front of me, behind me.

Saturday:

Found this great old sign in the alley by the parking
garage.

Comic Con was happening next to the theater. I had a
costume, too. I call it Exhausted Diva.

Yep. Comic Con.

My view.

This seems to be a tradition now--the Ugly Dress and Red
Lipstick Selfie.

Tired, tired, tired, but (as my pendant says), Mischief
Managed.

Tomorrow we start Carmina Burana at Sac Choral, and I can't bloody wait.

Diva Moment

Right, so, I'm not proud of the total Diva Moment I pulled in a Subway restaurant last night, but in retrospect, it is the stuff of comedy.

Before I share the story, you have to understand something about the week leading up to this weekend: it was insane. Not bad, not even difficult, just insane in that I spent way too many hours away from the house and I didn't get my optimal amount of "me" time in there, because any time I got at home was spent getting ready for another 12-hour day. My workouts were minimal this week, which I did deliberately because I was busy and because I was long overdue for a few days off from pushing myself. Still, lack of "proper" workouts (read: dripping sweat, breathing hard, feeling like I just slayed the troll in the Hogwart's loo) left me feeling sluggish and cranky.

So by Saturday, when I had one hour to scrounge up some dinner between a Sac Choral rehearsal and the concert, and I was already feeling tired, you can imagine that Cranky Meg was starting to emerge. She was vaguely amused by the Comic Con costumes she saw as she walked a few blocks from the theater to Subway, but she was also hungry, tired, and in a hurry.

The Subway was about to close for the day, but they had about four people behind the counter helping a line of about six people. Despite having all these people, they were slower than molasses ("Do you want this toasted?" "No." A moment later: "Do you want this toasted?" "Um, no.") and I was glancing at the clock on my phone with some dismay.

Finally, I was next to pay. The lady behind the register sloooowly rang up the lady in front of me, dawdled a bit, and then kept talking to her even as she walked away and I opened my mouth to ask for the meal deal.

I managed to get it paid for, and I grabbed my cup, thinking, "Great! A cool drink." Only to turn around and find...they'd turned the drinks machine off for the day.

Okay. I get it, you're closing. But there were still several people behind me, who would, one assumes, want a drink as well. And I was standing there, thinking, "I really need to get back to the theater so I can SIT for five minutes and read my book and hide from other human beings and all I want is a bloody drink. Is that too much to ask?"

And that's when my Diva Moment happened. I sighed--loudly--and walked back to the counter. I set my cup down with a thunk and said, "You know what? Never mind. I have a call time. Can I get out of here?" You see, to prevent other people coming in and getting in line, they had locked the door. And there was no one on hand to open it. A manager rushed to let the crazy lady (*ahem* me...) out, and I flounced out, clutching my choir folder in one hand an a sandwich and chips (but no drink) in the other. I might even have sighed loudly again.

I"m not proud of myself--I wasn't very reasonable and I was a little a lot rude--but this morning, I have to laugh a little. It's really not how I normally behave, and while my exhaustion doesn't excuse it, it does give some explanation.

I relayed the story to another singer and his wife last night, and both laughed uproariously, and allowed that every so often, we're allowed our Diva Moments. 

International Women's Day

It's been a long week. I filled in for Lynn for four days, taking her (nearly empty) band classes and her full piano lab while she took her band kids to New York. I'm happy to help out, but when you add my own class, my piano lessons, and all of the associated ups and downs of my day-to-day life, it's truly exhausting.

You can imagine, then, perhaps, how much I rolled my eyes when one of my choir girls flounced into my office a few days ago, saying, "I cannot room with ____ and ____ anymore on the Anaheim trip! I want to room with _____ instead." I smiled at her, said, "That's fine, I'll move you, but once the list is finalized, no more moving." She understood, and flounced back out smiling, all right in her world. And I sighed, did the eye-roll thing, and flopped down in my chair to make the change on my computer.

Oh, girls.

My girls--and I love them, drama and all--are so very lucky. Sure, some of them have home lives that are difficult, or self-esteem issues that are perpetuated by society, peers, and just being a teenager. But all of them have one basic right that is uncontested: the right to an education. The right to learn.

And these girls attend a fantastic high school. We are one of "those" schools, you know, the suburban, well-funded, high-scoring, "nice" schools. Not without our problems, but definitely a Very Good School. Our staff works hard to keep it that way.

There are girls in this world who do not have this advantage. Hell, there are girls in our country who miss out on the educational advantages my choir girls enjoy. In inner city schools, there are very few choir tours to Anaheim, band trips to New York, etc. Girls sports are underfunded and under-represented (meanwhile, our girl's volleyball won the State Championship in December, and the trophy and team pics are proudly being displayed in our gym. Half the admin team flew to Southern California to be at the game). I worked in Stockton long enough to know that even in the U.S., there are girls who just slip right out of having their educational needs met.

But worldwide, it can get even more dire. We all know the story of Malala Yousafzai, who was shot in the head by Taliban "fighters" (I prefer the word "cowards") because she dared to speak up and demand her right to an education. A grown-up shot a child in the head because he and his cohorts were scared of a child.

Well, it turns out they should be. Cowards ought to be scared of a woman (I refuse to call her a girl because chronologically, she no longer is, and in terms of maturity, Malala is one hell of a mighty woman) who is willing to accept the consequences of speaking up for her rights, and the rights of others. A woman who brought the nearly unflappable comedian/"news anchor" John Stewart to a state of stunned speechlessness when she appeared on his show.

Fighting terror with peace and education. Right on.

Malala brings to light the plight of girls everywhere, and, through her Malala Fund, does something about it. But she doesn't just raise a bunch of money, she acts. She has visited Syrian refugees and helped to set up schools in their camps--this must be a ray of sunlight in the bleakness of being forced from their homes to a new, unfamiliar place, walking across a desert and carrying their worldly possessions on their backs.

All of this is on my mind right now because it is International Women's Day, and because of what I do every day; but also because of this article I saw last night, detailing why a very disturbing photo of a young Syrian girl injured by shrapnel. In the photo, it is hard to determine if she is in shock, or deceased. Happily, she is alive, and survived her wounds, but the photo brings to light the horrific conditions Syrian children are facing, and how, through circumstances they never asked for, they, too, are now facing being a "lost generation" of uneducated children. It's heartbreaking to think that while my girls, every day, have the luxury of being bored in English class or having their petty dramas in choir, there are children who literally get hit by shrapnel in their own neighborhood. Girls who get shot in the head for daring to demand they have a right to an education.

Education is obviously a cause close to my own heart. I spend a lot of time and energy defending it here on the home front, but I also believe that all children, everywhere, deserve a chance to learn. In safety and peace. It doesn't matter what their gender is, all children deserve an education. Now I'm toying with an idea to get my own students involved in an effort to raise money for The Malala Fund. The students at my school are pretty with-it and awesome about these things...so, why not?

Permission

Today, I'm giving myself permission to love my body.

You see, I have way too many days, way too many moments, where I quietly judge myself for the loose skin, the bits of fat here and there, the flaws that only I seem to see. Flaws that make many people roll their eyes because I've lost 90 pounds and I routinely do awesome things at the gym, or out running.

Today, I set out with the intention of running four-and-a-half miles as I steadily increase my mileage towards a 10K race I'm running in April. I mapped out a route on Daily Mile before I left, but I missed a turn at one point and had to improvise. I figured I might come in short of 4.5 miles...but in the end, I added enough to make my whole run five miles.

So I accidentally ran five miles today, without stopping, without walking. My legs are tired, and I was certainly not fast, but I did it, and it feels amazing to smash my former perceptions of what I'm capable of.

When I got home, I immediately jumped in the shower, and as I undressed, I noticed the lose skin, the bits of fat here and there, and the flaws that only I seem to see. And I thought to myself that maybe it's time to just embrace them, because what can really be wrong with a body that can get out there on a Sunday morning and accidentally run five miles? I have a strong, healthy body and I treat it well. Isn't that what beauty is supposed to be?

It's an act of love, in fact, to take care of my body, to run, to go to the gym, to eat the foods I eat (and I eat...a lot. Running makes you hungry).

I'm tired of feeling like my body isn't good enough, just because I don't have six-pack abs (actually, I probably do, they're just under loose skin, a bit of fat here and there, and flaws only I seem to see). So today, I'm giving myself permission to love what I see in the mirror--every stretch mark, every scar, every so-called flaw that decorates the thirty-five year old body of a woman who fought her way from bad health to good. A woman who never ran a mile without stopping in her life before she turned thirty-one, who know routinely gets out there and runs three miles, four miles. Five miles.

What's not to love?

My Week In Pictures (Week #67)

This week was busy, a wee bit stressful at moments, but ultimately quite satisfying.

Wild and, as ever, Absolutely True.

Sunday:

Mom's camellia bush is exploding.

Lazy Sunday

This is our neighbor, Dixie. Dad keeps treats on hand
for her occasional visits. She has an excellent memory,
and she's very good at sitting for her treat. : )

Good doggie!

Monday:

The student government kids are so sweet. 

My kids make me smile. 

Tuesday:

For some reason, I only took one pic on Tuesday. It was
of a pen. Because I seriously considered the Peace
Corps a few years ago and found this pen among my things.

Wednesday:

Green sweater, green sludge. A lot of green in my life
these days.

I had some time at school on Wednesday afternoon, so I
made a mess in my office.

I've been wanting to get rid of the table there and get a
huge bean bag chair to sit in.

Brought this small cabinet from home to keep supplies in.

Rain!!!

Junior High Choir Night games and shenanigans.

Rehearsing with the Junior High choir teacher.

The evening was a great success.

Thursday:

Departing storm. 

Dad saw this cloud when he went out to get the paper,
and thought I'd like to capture it. He was right.

Clouds over a large suburban high school. 

Friday:

Rain at a large suburban high school.

I stayed at school for a while to continue working in my
office. Friday was working on my choral library.

Friday night cuddles.

Saturday:

Colored my hair today. Black Cherry. 

Cheater, Cheater

For the last six weeks, I've been participating in a weight loss challenge at work. I wanted to lose a few pounds (I've lost about four) and basically just kick-start the healthy habits I know are in there. Specifically, I wanted to work on my food journal-writing. All of my trainers made me do this, but it fell by the wayside when I was no longer required to show it to someone else.

I had tried My Fitness Pal before, but find that this time, it's easier to make myself post what I'm eating (there's even an iPhone app!). So I've been plugging along, drinking four 17-ounce bottles of water a day, 2-3 cups of tea, and using the loo a lot.

The best part is not being 5th in the standings (as of last week), as much as it's really learning about what I'm putting into my body. My Fitness Pal shows exactly how many calories, fat grams, protein grams, carbs, sugars, etc. you need each day based on your height, weight, and goals. It modifies them for the day when you input exercise, which I love because I exercise six days a week and need more than the applications' allowed calories for me (1,320 if I want to lose a pound a week) if I want to stay alive. Running makes a lady hungry.

The hardest part of the challenge has been the "no sweets" aspect, and here, I've lost points a time or two because I've allowed myself little indulgences, like a few pieces of Dove chocolate one day, or a cookie another. But last week, it was double points for avoiding sweets, so I put on a brave face and went for it. I figured my one "cheat day" would even things out.

Then I weighed in for the week and found that...I'd maintained my weight to the decimal.

It seems that in weeks when I allow the occasional treat, maybe every 2-3 days, just a small amount of chocolate, I actually lose more weight.

Now, I'm not saying that chocolate is now some magical diet cure-all. It's not. I can't eat six Hershey bars without facing the consequences, but I'm learning that if, 2-3 times a week, I just allow myself that small amount of chocolate amid all the veggies and fruits and lean proteins and crazy workouts, I do a lot better overall, and I'm happy because I don't feel like my diet regime is restrictive...and it's really not, because I eat a lot of flavorful, healthy foods. Still, I want my chocolate sometimes.

This has gotten me thinking about the concept of a "Cheat Day" in dieting. I ran my thoughts by the teacher in charge of the challenge and she agreed that she sometimes overindulges on her "Cheat Day" to make up for all the times in the week she was "good." I do exactly the same thing, and in the long run, it doesn't seem to be successful for me. But when I get my exercise days in, eat a lot of healthy food, and indulge in small treats a few times a week, I'm just fine. But then, eating some Justin's Peanut Butter cups (140 calories for the dark chocolate ones, and better than Reese's!) is a drop in the pan when I have a 4-mile morning run.

It all goes back to a beef I have with the so-called "diet industry" overall--that losing weight is somehow sentencing yourself to never enjoying food again, to always "being good" and never having treats. It's not true! We need to eat to stay alive, but I maintain that food should be enjoyable. Yes, I make mine mostly healthy foods (if you knew how much spinach I consume in any given week, you'd be surprised I'm not green), but there is nothing boring or tasteless about eating a veggie "fajita" of spinach, mushrooms, sweet peppers, onion, garlic and goat cheese, or my daily breakfast of scrambled eggs with veggies and black beans.

The more I learn about my eating habits and how they work for me, the more I realize that I can live a very healthy lifestyle and not feel like I'm cheating of being horrible to myself on those times I indulge in a little bit of something decadent. I hope others can learn that, too, because a healthy lifestyle isn't an all-or-nothing prospect. I don't feel like I've given anything up, except 90 extra pounds...but I've gained so much.

I'm interested in hearing what others have to say about this. Drop a comment!

Awesome!

I got an impromptu workout tonight, watching the last 10 or so laps of the Daytona 500.

First I paced. 

Then I did a simple little ball-change dance with my feet.

Then I started jumping up and down and screaming.

And then my favorite driver, Dale Earnhardt Jr., won the race in commanding fashion. The jumping continued for a few minutes, and the screaming, too. I ran out to the living room to yell, "HE DID IT!!!" to my amused parents (who had gathered that much from the noises coming from my room) while waving my arms in the air and slip-and-sliding on the woods floors in my stockinged feet.

I've been watching Dale since 2001 and I've seen some tremendous highs and some heartbreaking lows. It's been years since he's had a win, though he's had strong finishes, including 2nd place finishes in several Daytona 500s. 

Tonight, he got it, and it was so very, very sweet. 

Congrats, Junebug. Your fans are so proud.