Cerebrate Good Times

In theory, parents should be the most sympathetic people in the world. But, as Homer Simpson observed, in theory communism works. And it seems like there's a limit to our sympathy, just like there's a limit to how many cheeseburgers you can stuff in your mouth. And like a toenail in you burger can reduce the cheeseburger eating number to zero, certain stimuli can greatly reduce the amount of sympathy we are capable of. Are you still with me? I've found that one thing that reduces my sympathy to near zero is the way Sam cries when he gets hurt. Something about the pitch of his crying, combined with the fact that it happens so often and over such small injuries, makes it really hard for me to care. The problem is that I get desensitized by these little "stub your toe because you're running around when I told you not to anyway" injuries, so even when he's genuinely hurting I have a hard time really showing the concern that I really should. Case in point...

Empathy is a funny thing. And if by “funny” I mean “awful.” I like to think I can appreciate the misfortunes of others without having to experience them directly. No, really, Universe. I’m good. Well, okay. There are some situations I have been less than empathetic about because I don’t have personal perspective. Like whatever brain parasite causes people to wear skinny jeans. I will never empathize with that. Anyway, this post isn’t about those situations, but one I have actually now experienced firsthand. Generally speaking, I’ve been extremely fortunate throughout my life in terms of my health. I mean, I’ve experienced lesser issues like horrible acne, comical near-sightedness, braces, and that nasty bout with Crohn’s disease which has fortunately remained in check for the most part. But I didn’t inherit any kind of “fat” genes (skinny genes don’t demand skinny jeans), and I even still have a decent head of hair (knock on wood). I am used to going throughout my daily life ...

Last week we took a trip to California for the wedding of Katie’s brother. So on the morning of the 26 th we packed up and headed to southern Utah to spend the night with her family (including a bonus 250 miles driving in the snow), and then made the trip to San Diego the next day. We surprised the kids with a day at Disneyland (which was crowded beyond belief, but they still enjoyed it) and, despite a rainy reception, the wedding the next day was nice. Then we made the same trip in reverse, spending the night in Toquerville again, to arrive home exhausted on New Year’s Eve. But it was nice for the kids to see their new toys again, so it was kind of like a second Christmas. 2012 was… a year. I’m not quite sure what to say about it. Our lives remained largely unchanged. Sam started first grade, two of Katie’s siblings got married, and we just sort of went on with whatever it is we do. I did meet my resolution (and bucket-list item) of running a marathon, and I ran a total of 843 ...

Remember that scene from Jurassic Park when the gamekeeper spots the velociraptor and covers Ellie while she runs for the shed, and then the other raptor swoops in from the side and attacks him? That kind of happened to me last week. Except instead of murderous dinosaurs, it was a virus. And instead of me saying something witty like “Clever girl,” I was mostly saying “COUGH COUGH HACK WHEEZE.” I got this weird chest cold, and I thought I was getting better when it decided to storm the castle, the castle being my head. And so I got to enjoy a second wave of irritating illness. I can only hope this story doesn’t end with a tyrannosaurus defeating the raptors, because that would probably be a flesh-eating virus.

Sleep is such a strange thing. And for me, it's two strange things, because sleeping at night and sleeping during the day are completely different prospects. For one thing, I can lie down for a nap on my back and go to sleep that way just fine, but at night I have to turn over onto my stomach to go to sleep. Also, napping during the day seems to count double for me. If I sleep for an hour during the day, for example, it can take me an extra two hours to get to sleep that night. One of these days I should try sleeping for 4 hours during the day and try staying up all night, in the interest of science. Lastly, sleeping at night is unpleasant when I'm sick (which I am right now, so it's on my mind). When I'm sick, I can't wait for the night to be over because I'm uncomfortable, but napping in the day seems to be fine. Um, I guess that's it. The end.

Have you ever accomplished something that you had wanted to for a long time, and it's so unbelievable that you can't really process it? Maybe you finally got rid of the Christmas tree from 1987, or maybe you counted the number of licks to get to the center of a tootsie pop. For me, running a marathon occupied a significant place on my bucket list. Specifically, under the "insanely pointless" heading. But isn't that the best kind of goal? Also, like most pointless things it took far longer than it should have. I had shin splints, a stress fracture, and a bunch of other little injuries over the last five years. Not to mention my stupid brain. The psychological aspect of the running was arguably the hardest part, and a few times I psyched myself out too much. But on Saturday I finally did it. It was harder just doing it myself (it's always easier to run a race with other people), but it was my main resolution I set for this year so I wanted to do it even if I ...

I was going to write a post about how it sucks to run in the dark winter evenings, and how I can choose between being murdered on the creepy dark parkway or hit by a car in our neighborhood. But then I realized I posted something similar last winter. I was set to link back to the other post, when I noticed a spam comment on there. I tried to delete it, but accidentally deleted a real comment from a human being, and I couldn't figure out how to get it back. And it was all downhill from there. So instead, here's a picture of my cat sleeping on a stuffed gorilla. Enjoy!