Day 294

I deal in words. But numbers move me. Literally. I run faster on the treadmill or toting my iPhone with an app that allows me to see (or hear via a mechanical-coach voice) that I have a chance to break my personal-best pace. I lost my post-pregnancy pounds after both boys were born by tallying the calories of what I ate - and I sort of saw it as a fun game. Sort. Of. (Now, when my jeans start to get snug, I use an app to do that.) I kind of like budgeting money. 

Last night, Jon presented his case study to me. I didn't understand 86% of his words ... because they were numbers - and Greek symbols - (look up and see!) But the fact that he can speak this language so fluently is quite sexy, I think.

I totally dig the fact that reading on a Kindle allows me to see exactly how far into my book I am.  (Right now, for instance, I'm through 67% of Kristyn Kusek Lewis's new book, How Lucky You Are. Good stuff.) Earlier this week, I learned that my wellness screening results put me at a "health-related age" of 32. I am 36.8. This should have made me happy but instead, here's what I thought: "Next year [when I'm 37.8], I want to have a 'health-related age' of 29. Bet I can get there if I meditate or something..." Ha!

And speaking of being 36.8 years old, I am on Day 294 of the 366 days of my 36th year. (Assuming I haven't messed up the math. I deal in words, remember?) This means that, by definition, this blog is about to end soon. Which sort of makes me sad. What next? 

Day 212

I should be in bed, willing myself to rest, but instead, I sit here ripping out articles and recipes and notes on interesting apps, from set-aside issues dated June and July - even one Vermont Life from last summer. It was stuffed into my marathon goodie bag and reminded me that Dottie P. and the rest of her Algonquin Roundtable spent raucous summer weekends in Vermont - Neshobe Island on Lake Bomoseen to be exact. Now I want to visit. My body is heavy, my brain a fog but I have that ill-feeling focus that compulses me to stay awake, to work through these magazines, read the New Yorker piece on spoiled kids, maybe check Facebook or browse Zillow just 30 more times. Even though I know the best thing to do would be to brush my teeth and go to sleep. #myownworstenemy

Day 119

Psst! Here's a secret formula for (relative) superproductivity = great run + refreshing shower followed by a double latte + darkish coffeehouse surrounded by strangers who talk of things that don't concern me (but do interest me) 

Day 119 latte at New Moon

And here's what doesn't help get it done: 

Semi-warm coffee + semi-sweet chocolate chips + an only semi-tired almost-4-year old who keeps popping up behind me like a little elf. But I get it dude: You want to be sleepy; I want to be super-productive. And we're not having it.

What helps you get the job done? 

Day 101 - 104

Condensed version: Pizza and ice cream with new friends in the 'hood. Walking home in the mist, one kid each. Good night. Good morning. Sneaks on. Three-hour Digs-stroll - with a foggy start - for leeks and bagels. Over the bike path and through the woods. Potato leek soup. Irish soda bread. Corned beef. Boiled cabbage. Fruity rainbow. Lisa's mint-chocolate-ice-cream pie. Shamrock tattoos on little faces. Leprechaun Love!!! Guinness. Sleeping in. Church Street cut short by an earache. Snuggling on the couch. Running in dance clothes to the Postal Service station on Pandora. Characters cruising by on bikes, moseying along in groups. Woman carrying a green umbrella. Strange. Cut to a subway scene, summer of '97: bittersweet mix on my taxi-cab yellow Walkman, supersad to leave Manhattan. I'd be back, then gone again. Memory's such a fascinating thing. First cheeseburgers of the season. Scrubbing off shamrocks. Sunny commute. Sunny cube. Sunny walk. Grateful. Hard to work. It's spring. 

... and I'm still afraid of driving in cities. More than a quarter through my year. Must. Get. Moving. Nothing like numbering your days to make them fly by faster. Damn.

Day 7

Kai-guy-body-slam wake-up. Coffee. More coffee. Balls and scooters at the YMCA. Bagels. Coffee. Sampling 900 men's colognes at Macy's. Headache. Cookies - this recipe, from Real Simple (with toffee bits and pretzels thrown in, per a recommended variation). Mushroom raviolis and meatballs at Ri and Chris's - perfect. THANK YOU. Robert Mondavi. Frosty the Snowman. Stories and snuggling. Back-patting. Procrastination. Procrastination. Procrastination. Neatly stacking story files. Staring....at this...

Ugh. Go away.

So done. But so not close to done. Sigh.