A Few Things I Need to Get Off My Chest

If you thought I was going to discuss gun laws or the Trump Presidency or whether or not Nutella is the nectar of the gods, you've come to the wrong place. I avoid these type of controversial items like the plague. It's not that I don't have opinions - oh, sisters and brothers I do. It's just that they are my personal opinions and I doubt you come to this here blog to read about them.

Btw, I don't really like Nutella. Go ahead. Send me hate mail. Oh, and almond butter? Not quite my thing either. Go ahead. Punch me in the nuts.

Here's what I need to get off my chest. Confession time.

I am training to do the Nevis to St. Kitts Cross Channel swim on March 25. It is 2.5 miles, which equals exactly 4,400 yards, which is precisely 176 lengths in a 25 yard pool. For the love of GOD. I would rather eat four jars of Nutella while watching curling in the Olympics than swim back and forth one hundred seventy six times! Don't get me wrong. I love swimming. Just not so much in a pool staring at that black line and counting the band aids on the pool bottom.  Today I swam back and forth 88 times. I am a warrior.

I love my library, even if libraries aren't so cool anymore. I've always loved libraries - the peacefulness, the hundreds of books for me to read (although once in high school I signed out Catcher in the Rye and each page was full of bloody boogers. Definitely a down side to the library. You don't get boogers with Kindle books).

Anyway, I was in the library yesterday using the self check out (I also love self checkouts. Something about being in control). I was trying to scan my library card and it wasn't working. I told the lady waiting in line that I was sorry, I couldn't get the machine to work. That's when I realized I was not scanning my library card, I was scanning my PetCo card. What a dumb ass. I am surprised I'm smart enough to read books at all. The library should ban me.

On a serious note. I hate the person in the pick up truck last Friday night barreling down 9th Avenue. I hate him/her because I had pulled over trying to save a dog that kept crossing the road. And, right as I got out of my car, the asshole pick up truck driver hit that dog so hard and just kept going. Just kept going. Who does that? And, no, there was NO way he/she didn't know they hit the dog. You could hear that a block away. I haven't cried that hard in a long time.

Last thing I need to get off my chest - I turned 51 yesterday. Getting older does not suck. Here's why:

• No one heckles me on the street (maybe that's not getting older - maybe that's just my overall look)
• I usually do pretty well in my age group in races (I'm at the young side of the 50 to 59ers!)
• Going to bed early is awesome
• I've realized fulfillment (through relationships, travel, etc), not income or material stuff, is the measure of true success
• I give much less of a shit about how I look or what people think.
• I've been married almost 23 years. I'm proud of that. Ken rocks!
• I can wear underwear with my bathing suit and no one cares (joke)
• Pretty soon I'll be able to crap my pants and no one will bat an eye.

What are you training for?

Ever hit a dog by mistake?? We actually almost hit the dog ourselves, before I pulled over. Ugh.

Libraries - do you go? If not, where do you get your books?

What's the best thing about getting older.?

SUAR