26.2 stickers

Paul and I were out doing who-knows-what the other day when I saw a car with one of those "26.2" stickers.

"Hey, look -- that person ran a marathon," I said.

"Is that what that means?" he said.

"Yes, a marathon's 26.2 miles. That's what that means."

"You should get one," he said.

"Uh -- no. Are you even serious?"

"Of course, I'm serious. Why shouldn't you?"

"I'll think about it when I run one in under, uh, let's say five hours."

Funny compliment

A young neighbor I didn't know stopped me while I walking around the complex this morning. I had just rolled out of bed, which meant no makeup and no brushed hair. I was clearly feeling happy for unknown reasons, though. (I am -- please don't hate me too much -- quite a morning person.)

She says, "Look at you! I love your stroll."

How funny!

Being weird

I just went to a bar/restaurant with about a dozen women I had never met before.

I drank bottled water instead of a drink, and I didn't order food. I wasn't the only one who didn't eat. Nor the only one who didn't drink. I was the only one who did neither.

And it was fine.

Side effect of being thinner and less of a @#%^*

There's a somewhat unpleasant side effect of being thinner and less of a b-word, and -- yes -- it's related to one of my prevailing themes.

I've done a pretty good job over the years at being pretty intimidating -- scary, even -- to men, even though I've always had many male friends in my life. Men definitely liked me -- partially because I was good with a well-placed zinger -- but I had an Untouchable quality. So, I made a conscious effort to cultivate my feminine side when I finally decided I wanted a man in my life who wasn't one of my many buddies.

Motherhood, however, has softened me even more -- there's no question. I'm much less reserved and self-conscious. And so much less mean. My guy friends from college lament my new "niceness." But, I'd almost always been pretty overweight since I'd been a mother. And being overweight is its own kind of shield.

Now, for the first time in my life, I'm both "normal"-size and softer.

Which translates into much less scary.

So, I have more violations of my Bubble, my preference for very limited physical contact with men other than Paul. Oh, I'm OK (now!) with a quick-and-harmless hug from a man I like and trust, but I don't generally like space invasions. I had one goofball actually kissing me the other night. Of course, it was Hollywood-style and innocent, but I used to be so much better at discouraging that sort of thing.


Of course, I also am much less uptight and more open than I used to be, and that's probably a good thing.

High school bad boy update: OK, I figured since this guy from high school was raving about how happy he was about our newfound friendship publicly via Facebook, he'd be open to meeting up when I was in ABQ. I wanted to talk with him. The surreality of the situation was amusing me. This is a guy who terrified me in high school, and he's now a Friend of Bill and a Born-Again Christian. I had to see it.

So, I emailed him, and he gave me his number and told me when he was free. I called when I got into town, and I heard ... Nothing.

It was probably a good thing, as Paul was adamantly opposed to the idea, which I hadn't anticipated when I contacted the guy. Paul does a great job at indulging my wackiness, but this was pushing it too far in his book.

Reverting to sluggishness

Why does human nature resist doing things? I'm talking about my running. I love it (for the most part) while I'm doing it. I particularly love it after I've done it.

Getting out the door, however, remains a challenge.

Sugar-free family

Paul and I had a date at a coffeeshop last night.

I'm rubbing off on him, and he got my drink: Unsweetened iced green tea.

It came, incorrectly, with sweetener, though, so I -- in my newly Princessified self -- asked for a new one. Since he's not a Princess, he didn't, and then he couldn't drink the sweetened ones. One of them apparently had double sweetener, which made it particularly nasty.

We took them home to the kids to do a little taste-test experiment: None of the kids could drink the sweetened teas either.

It all shows it's what you get used to.

New nicknames: A couple of months ago, I was walking around in 5-inch heels and Paul was shoeless. I thought it was funny to be nearly eye-to-eye with him (he's about 8 inches taller than me), so I called him "Shorty," which he found so ludicrous that he has now adopted that as my nickname.

In retribution, he is now "Old Man."

ITunes weirdness: I made a folder on my iTunes, "Mom's current playlist," with all the recent songs of the day. One (or more) of my goofy children got a hold of it. It's now full of Miley Cyrus and Camp Rock soundtrack songs. They think they're so funny as well.