Having had to deal with myself my entire life, I have learned a few key things. First, Night Time Annie is a saboteur.  She stays up entirely too late, chatting with friends, watching TV, having a ball.  She doesn’t care because Morning Annie will deal.  Usually, Morning Annie deals a bit better when Night Time Annie has prepared a few key elements.  So Night Time Annie had set out the running clothes, the shoes, found the keys, and set aside some band-aids to go where that toenail used to be.

I got my hot self ready and moved on to the most important meal of the day.  Because in the last month I’ve learned that 3 miles sucks on an empty stomach.  So what did this discerning athlete have to fuel her day? A Coke (shut up) poured over ice to eliminate as much carbonation as possible taken on an empty stomach to fast track the caffeine and sugar. A Vitamin Water (shut up) with Chia.  For all you VW haters at least one of the ingredients is not blue unlike all that G-ade they were giving away at the park.  Added Chia because it retains water so I don’t have to.  Also had an egg.  Protein without the bulk.

Headed to the park and arrived at the appointed time, proving once again that Tech Support and I have been together for a LONG time.  Judging by the competition that had arrived I should start now and let them catch up and still finish before me.  Luckily, hundreds of others would soon follow and I could be lost in the crowd, again feeling superior that I had arrived early and was not waiting in the super long chip timer line.

Everyone had their iPods and what not.  I had chosen to leave mine in the car.  Not to focus on split times, distance covered, play lists and what not.  Of course it didn’t take long for me to question that decision, I did not have a buffer which was well outside of my comfort zone.  I attached my timing tag and went to eavesdrop on others’ conversations.

Two guys were discussing whether they should run this 5K at the half marathon pace or 5K pace.  I listened to them discuss their weekly running schedule and what times they expected.  I understood all the words they said.  That made me feel like a runner.  A lady started chatting with me.  She was much cooler, younger and skinnier than me.  She had run a few 5K’s and her goal was to actually run the whole thing.  I assessed that she would probably kick my ass, but took comfort in her obsessing.

When it was time to line up, I took a spot in the middle figuring that the people up front wanted their gun time and chip time to match perfectly.  Spent the next four minutes listening to Barbie talk about how long her legs were and how she was capable of walking at a pace most people run at.  We’ll see.  Also picked out a few people I was not going to let beat me.  Jack Jack for one, he was a ball of energy, but I figured he’d fade fast.

And then there was no more avoiding it.  The race had begun.

I had walked the course the day before and had game planned the best course of action for me based on my TWO runs outside this summer and having done all my training in a climate controlled room on a treadmill.  Almost immediately out of the starting gate is a very long hill.  During my walk I had decided it would be best to walk that hill.  Yes, run 40 seconds then walk for two minutes.   Peer pressure almost got the best of me.  But I was strong in my decision to walk.  By the time I reached the top of the hill and started running all fresh and whatnot, I was passing people left and right.  Tired people.  The rest of the first mile was easy, and having reached the mile marker I realized I had yet to see the front of the back begin to double back yet.  Which was awesome because I figured they were running a 6 minute pace (which they were) meaning even with a walk my first mile was better than a 12.  I even made it past the 2 mile sign (on the opposite side of the course) before I started encountering the first wave.

Without the distraction of my music, splits, time elapsed and whatnot I focused on how I felt.  I just felt like running.  It was a gorgeous morning.  The sun had started coming up over the bay and there was a bit of a breeze.  As people started doubling back I noticed a lot of very tall men, skinny girls and a couple of kids.  I saw my fellow obsessor but had not yet seen Barbie double back.  Then I noticed her about 50 feet in front of me.  I began to wonder if her guestimation in herself of 27 minutes was incorrect or if I was totally kicking ass.  Either way,  it kept me going.  After I turned around I walked for a bit then set my sights on something in the distance and decided that I could run til I got there, which I did and kept going.  Deciding to push through until the hill, which I once again walked.

It was here I encountered the group of walkers.  Hah! I was right,  Jack Jack ended up in a stroller.  When I felt like running, I quickly reminded myself that running the hill was not in the plan and it would wear me out faster than I could run it.  When I got to the top I kicked it into gear, Barbie still right in front of me.  I was convinced that her 27 minute estimation in herself was wrong.  Just hoping my time would be under 40.  As my LASIK enabled eyes got a glimpse of the timer it turned over to 36:00.  Really?  That was way better than I had assessed for my first finish.  Yay me.  I pushed the last minute hoping to beat the clock to 37 – which I did not.  Final time: Gun 37:06 Chip 36:52

Barbie beat me by less than 30 seconds.

But I was happy with my result.  I had run a majority of it.  I had stuck to MY plan.  I had run faster than my training pace and yet had enough left to finish strong.

Woody Allen once said “80% of success is showing up.”  I found this to be true.  It was much harder to get to the race than it was to finish it.  I could have used the excuse that I had stayed up too late, or not ran outside, or knowing I was unable to run the hills, not run any of it.  The people cheering for the first wave of runners were cheering for me just as enthusiastically.  Despite the medals being given out indicating who in the group had finished first we were all there racing the same person.   Ourselves.

Except not.

I don’t drink during the day.

Yet.

Since I am at a cross roads, I need to figure out my life.  This is the first time, ever, in the history of Annie that there has not been a preschooler in the house.  EV. ER.

So basically I need to stay away from babies.

Which I was doing.  Until this morning when I happened upon the stroller walking club.  Yes, that’s right.  20 women and their strollers with little people in said strollers.  And me, with neither a stroller nor a little person.  So, as they were gathering around I stopped and said “I feel as if I’ve forgotten something.” At which point I was informed this group is for “registered members and their children only”.  So, let me get this straight.  I now have to register to walk in the park with my baby? And probably also pay?

F and also Q!  Walking in the park with your baby should be free.

Earlier this week we had dinner with one of our born of the heart babies whom we had not seen in five years when foster care people removed him and his siblings from our home.  Guess what?  He’s not in jail.  Not a terrorist.  Not a lot of things that you said he was destined to be.  He’s awesome.  That being said, I hope that the last five years are the only five years I miss out on.  Because while you cannot define our relationship on paper and there is no box to check, he is my baby, born of my heart.

So F and also Q foster care people.  You don’t know everything.

Also

as you know I’m training for half marathons.  The physical aspect of it all is going well.  The mental however, I’m torturing myself with.  The voices in my head tell me that I cannot do it.  I can’t do it perfectly, so I might as well not do it.  I’m lazy.

Well F and also Q voices in my head.  I’ve ran 63 miles this month.

That being said.  I gotta run.

Then we read someone’s blog, mine…. where I talk about how much fun Twitter is and how the people I love the most are on Twitter and were I to be forced to choose between Facebook and Twitter, hands down, I’m a tweeter.

And yet, you still don’t get it, but you feel like you are missing something really fun.

Have you ever been to a party, and had to force yourself to stay awake on the drive home.  It was boring! Then you get home to discover all your friends’ statuses now read “went to the best party EVAH!!!” and wondered if you were at the same party or if it picked up substantially whenever you were out of the room?

Yeah, it’s like that.

Until you get involved you are just wandering around a party hearing things like “Chick-fil-A – nom nom nom” and “Babies are cute” and “how many times do I have to fold laundry?”

And you roll your eyes.

Twitter is like that party.  Unless you jump in, it is everyone else having a conversation that doesn’t involve you.

Here’s the best tips I have on how to play the game.

Join the conversation – It’s not rude to jump in, OK, sometimes it is…but if someone tweets “Lunch at restaurant XYZ.”  It’s an invitation.  Not to lunch, (stalker).  To converse. Tell them if you love it.  Tell them if you hate it.  Tell them that there is a really cute waiter there, doesn’t matter.

OK – But how?  I only follow my mother and my brother and they never tweet anything. Well, first you have to follow more than your mother and your brother.  Feel free to steal some people from my “Following” list.  These people are funny, or give me coupons, or converse with me.  Pick a few at random.  You can always unfollow.  Might I suggest a few, @BeccasCrazyBoys she’s always got something interesting going on.  @Karpo she’s whole food nutty runner like me.    @MightyHunter he’s fun and banters well.

OK – @annieology said something hi-freakin-larious.  What do I do now?

There are several options.

The Retweet – This option tells all your followers what funny thing just happened.  The straight up Retweet shows up in my Retweet section, a “retweet with comment” shows up in my @replies.  Yes, it’s a foreign language.  Ones twitter score is based on the amount of times they get “Retweeted” they get virtual, meaningless points for connecting with people.  Twitter on the computer and smart phones comes enabled with the Retweet button.  Use it.  I notice, others will too.  Most social media fanatics will converse with you if they notice a Retweet.

Retweet with Comment – This option allows you to copy the entire tweet and add a comment.  For example, someone tweeted “Got caffeine?” your reply would look like this “RT: @annieology Got caffeine?//You know it. Dble espresso.” And that’s how you introduce yourself.  A conversation is started.

The @ reply or the “mention” – All usernames are preceded with an @ sign.  I am @annieology. To talk to me directly, but publicly, you would say “@annieology You win at life.” <<<I’ve actually gotten that.  Do not @reply when you want that tweet kept private.  It’s going out into the world.  And Big Brother has his little sister transcribing every tweet ever so, don’t @ anything you wouldn’t say in the newspaper.

The DM – This stands for Direct Message.  This conversation remains between you and me.  No one else can see it.  This is rarely used by me.  This is a party, I’m not spending the evening chatting privately in the corner.  But, I’ve had people send me their address, or ask a question regarding foster care or adoption they didn’t want out there just yet.  Feel free to use it, just know that it’s not often used.

Another way to get involved is the #hashtag. People start a conversation and in order to help people find it, they all use the same #hashtag.  Recently, this was used in #HomeHer10 – a Twitter fest for all of us who were unable to go to Blogher10, a blog conference for allstars.  They attended swanky parties and got lots of cool swag.  We at #HomeHer10 had our own Twitter conference.  Our conference existed of things like “10 loads of laundry every day. How do I do it?” and we often complained that room service was lacking.  Everyone played along from their own home.  We were not mocking Blogher10, most of us would have gone had we been so blessed.  The mocking nature of the “sessions” were more mocking conferences in general, not that specific one.  If you’ve ever been to a conference, you know they can be a bit ridiculous when it comes to “breakout sessions”.

All that to say, if you see a #hashtag, click on it.  It’s your pass to the conversation.  I gained about 1/3 of my followers during #HomeHer10 – any time I found a funny comment I would follow that person.  Most did the same in return.  The herd has been culled a bit in the weeks since.  Just because someone is fun at a party, doesn’t mean you want to have lunch with them every day.

There are no rules, but if there were, these might be some of them.

1. Tweets are limited to 140 characters.  If you would like to write a book, write a book.  I will unfollow you in a heartbeat if my entire timeline is you telling the world about the diaper incident at the restaurant.  Last week I had one person tweet 22 times in 17 minutes.  Buh bye now.
2. Live Tweeting events.  There are exceptions for people I love.  But so help me, if you live tweet an event you better give me a warning in case I have text alerts on.  I’m not at the game, I don’t care.  If I cared enough to want to know, I’d have gone to the game.  (love you B)
3. Inside Jokes – The entire story is hard to convey in 140 characters.  If you call @BackPackingDad a rumor mongering publicity whore, he might find it hilarious.  He might Retweet it.  You might get people unfollowing you and sending you @replies because he’s the nicest person on the planet, how dare you?  I dare, because it’s a joke.  And it facilitated my best day ever hits wise on the blog. But if you are sensitive to others comments, keep that in mind.

So, I hope that helps.  From the outside looking in, it is not important who is eating where.  On a singular basis, it doesn’t matter that I can’t find my keys.  It expands your world a bit.  You find out that people in North Carolina also lose their keys, or are frustrated with their three year old.  You see that people are the same no matter where you go.

Your world gets a little bigger and the world gets a little smaller.

After Coke and chocolate.

And sex.

And maybe a nice vacation.

Or a nap.

But if I can’t have Coke, chocolate, sex, vacations or a nap aren’t available, I’ll take TV.

Oh, and ice cream.

Then TV.

I enjoy it.  It does not require thinking, or decisions.  Of course it can, but if I don’t feel like solving the world’s problems today, then someone else will do it for me and put it together in a nice little half hour, or hour, or maybe two hour present.  When I feel like getting involved, I can.  But I don’t have to.

I do not have the patience to answer your questions about the show I’m watching.  I don’t want to explain the genre, the characters or the plot.  I don’t want to have to explain how we got to this point in the season. I don’t want to debate the validity of the entertainment choice, nor the concept as a whole.

I just want to sit there and let someone else do the work.

This particular incident came up during America’s Got Talent.  Yes, this is a talent show.  No, LeAnn Rimes is not a contestant.  I did not care to explain why AGT is on again tonight, who is responsible for voting contestants through, or her choice of outift or song.  I don’t.  If you prefer to talk with me, I will engage in a conversation covering whether or not Eddie Cibrian is enough of a reason to watch CSI: Miami.  And how I cried when Bobby died.  If you understand the connection, feel free to engage me in conversation during the entertainment, if not I prefer to check my Twitter.

Yes, it seems bitchy.  I am.  This does not mean I hate you.  It only means I like to veg in front of the TV.  And that I’m a bitch.  That is all.  Don’t read more in to than that.

Since it is Africa hot here in The City By the Sea, I’ve been running on a treadmill inside.  When I started a couple of months ago I ran barefoot exclusively.  Then, American consumerist that I am, bought shoes to run barefoot in.  I know.  Brilliant marketers.

I bought Vibram Five Fingers, I think I have the KSO’s.  I didn’t so much love them.  It felt like I was  still wearing shoes.  My feet still acted like they were in shoes.  My technique was a pathetic cross between shoes and not.  So, I kept running inside barefoot on the treadmill.

As my mileage increased the treadmill got hotter, and after five miles or so very hot, so out came the shoes.  And I’m running and I’m used to running barefoot now so the shoe thing was less of a problem.  My pace remains under the shuttle time.

Last week, I started running a bit outside.  Vary the terrain and what not.  My brain is not used to running barefoot outside and went back into shoe running mode almost immediately.  The other day I ran 7 miles on the treadmill under a 14 minute pace, which is not hugely fast but I did add mileage so I’m happy.  Take it outside and I can barely get around the block, my feet have turned stupid.  My brain is used to running outside a certain way, yet it is used to running inside a new way.  Throw that all together and it was not pretty.

So, for now, cardio training inside.  Learning how to walk barefoot outside.

It’s a process.

The physical aspect of the half marathon has not been nearly as daunting as the mental aspect.  I way over think it.  All.  The.  Time.  Mileage wise, the math looks good, as long as I can figure out how to run outside.  I am currently nine weeks away and scheduled to run 8 miles today.  Even if I just add one mile a week, theoretically I will be able to run 17  miles in nine weeks.   My mind keeps telling me “you’ve never run 17 miles and it’s gonna be even harder because you can’t even walk outside”.  My mind needs to shut the hell up.  Friday it told me to go and drive the course.  Bad idea.  I got tired DRIVING it, because it was so long.

Time to stop worrying my pretty little head and just do it.  I’m gonna go walk around the block, if I can figure out how to.

Earlier in the week, I held a press conference.  Fully intending to apologize for my poor behavior at #HomeHer10.  Well, things did not go exactly as planned and I ended up calling @BackpackingDad a “rumor mongering press whore”.  Yeah #annie2012 – Thankfully he appreciated the press, whore that he is, and now I’m even more famous on the internet. There are Facebook pages and such detailing the scandal in it’s entirety.

That’s right, instead of punishing me for my poor behavior and name calling, the internet has awarded me with (some) fame.  Four minutes after he RT’d me my Sitemeter had so many hits, the half hits on the graph had disappeared.  I really don’t know why Sitemeter graphs half hits.  They don’t even exist.

That’ll teach me.  Now, I’m still trying to get Perez Hilton to hate me for hating him.  No such luck, but when Perez hates me…or Focus on the Family.  Either way.  I don’t care.  Each of them are equally skilled at taking a non-issue (myself) and putting it on the radar because they spend so much time trying to shut it down.  Look, no one ever heard of xyz before you brought it up.

Now, redirect your thoughts back to me…

I have three coughing boys.  The Google says coughing without a high fever or barking is nothing to worry my pretty little head about.  At least not until page 15 of the search results.  Then…then my pretty little head starts getting worried.

This morning I got up at 5 ish and took the littles to the beach to watch a turtle release.  I love going to see them, but if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.  The sunrise was absolutely gorgeous though.  While you are on my tweet photo page, see also the turtles.  Eventually I will transfer the pictures to my computer, but that involves brain function of someone who didn’t get  up at 5 ish.

I’ve started signing up for races, and by signing up, I mean thinking about it, detailing my running related expenses in a budget committee meeting and hoping to get denied so I don’t really have to do it, because if I can blame my finances, which I can’t then I don’t really have to see if I can run a 15 K or a half marathon.  And this is the week that Tony Robbins wasn’t on NBC.  I don’t watch it (yes I do).

Without saying why, people never cease to astound me.  This goes both ways,  good and bad.  The generosity of some people amazes me.  Luckily stupid people are everywhere, so as not to make me too hopeful for humanity.

Well, it’s hard to run seven miles when you are asleep, so I should get to bed so I can wake up and run.

But before I do, this is for Perez and/or Focus – I hate Perez. He’s gay. I’m planning a fake wedding to a girl because we both want Elvis to perform our wedding and our husbands don’t get it.

p.s. That’s a period, not a “because”.  Two separate statements.  #becausesomepeopledontknowenglish

Get them ready the night before – Most parenting sites have this tip.  Pick out their clothes the night before.  If you want to be truly awesome, DRESS them the night before.  Why go thru the hassle of a wardrobe change at 7:00 a.m. when you can can completely eliminate it.  This will give the kids five more minutes of sleep, and I think we can all agree how important sleep is.

Feed them.  Or don’t.  I’ve had 24 kids.  Some eat in the morning.  Some don’t.  They all should, you can lead a horse to water and all.  You want to make your morning truly enjoyable (a total living hell) get into a power struggle with a five year old about the amount of milk there is or isn’t in a bowl of Cheerio’s.  #lose #lose

School supplies.  They should have some.  Unsure of what to get?  Things to write with.  Things to write on.  Maybe some glue.  If you feeling particularly self important get a binder.  I’ve discovered that it doesn’t matter what you send that first day, they always come home with a list, or 15 of things that are also needed.  I take advantage of the fact that everyone else is home filling out 72 pages of “who can pick up my kid” type paperwork and go hit the stores after I get the addendum’s. Plus, everything is on sale so I buy two and am prepared for next year. (as far as you know)

Get them to bed at a reasonable time.

Who am I?

God?

Can I perform miracles?  No.  Plus, if they have to fall asleep during math a couple of times to learn that sleep is important, so be it.  If they get left behind, not my problem.  I am quite comfortable with the fact that some kids do need to be left behind, maybe even mine.  Let’s be honest now, someone is holding your kid back, you know it.  Your little Susie is not that stupid.

Pack them a nutritious lunch.  Or if you live in my town, don’t.  I’m still begging Jamie Oliver to come to our town, which is the fattest city in America.  I have a bit of foodie crush on him, and after having been stuck in London during the Volcano thingy earlier this spring, Tech Support may not ever take me back.  Let’s pause a moment while I drool over the bruschetta again.

Expect the worst.  They may not miss you.  You’ll be fine.  Just think about how much cleaning you can get done when they aren’t following behind you squishing blueberries and chocolate into the berber.

It was alleged on Saturday night by @BackpackingDad that while attending the #HomeHer10 conference I lifted a bag of Cheeto’s from the gift shop.

I am not a crook.

and as long as I have  you here….

I did not have sexual relations with that woman. Yes, I have a wedding planned to a female, in Vegas, not a marriage.  Yes, I was declared an honorary lesbian on Twitter the very same day, but therein lies my defense.  Honorary.

It has been alleged that there is a TMZ video of the alleged “Cheeto” crime.  Well, let me just ask you this, how many people are there out there with “I am annieology” tramp stamps?  Lots, so you remember that before you go casting  your aspersions in my direction.

This has been a trying time for my family and myself.  My kids cannot even enjoy a trip to Party City without the paparazzi chasing after us.  Sure, I could order party supplies online, but I feel the need to use up every last second of my 15 minutes.  I am hoping to leave here, thru the west entrance exactly 12 minutes after I step away from this podium, with my children without any further incidents.  I am parked in the west lot Row H in a red Sienna minivan, vanity plates say “Cheetos”  I have also provided a picture in your press pack and ask that you leave us alone. (Except not. wink)

I would like to thank my husband, Tech Support, for standing beside me thru this ordeal.  He assures me that Tide will take out Cheeto stains from pants, I hope I can say the same for my reputation.  The stain this has left on my heart, and the heart of my family….tissue please…sniff…sniff.

My sincerest apologies to the #HomeHer10 organizers oh wait, that’s @BackpackingDad, he’s a rumor mongering press whore.

Please understand that I cannot comment any further on this under the advice of my attorney and with the full protection of the 5th Amendment to Constitution to the United States.

God Bless America

West lot, Row H, twelve minutes….don’t be there (wink)

My kids matchy matchiness is brought to you by Gap – where you can be you-nique by looking the exact same as everyone else.

I’ve been a pissed off mood for the past 24 hours, full disclosure will not happen, but I am in a no good rotten mood.  I am generally one to let things go, or so I thought.  Turns out they were not let go of, just buried deep within my soul waiting for a trigger. And boom, Armageddon.   I was fully prepared to be over it this morning, but alas there was no milk.

No milk meant no pancakes.  No pancakes meant no carb loading.  I needed carb loading to run far far away.  Instead, I used my “running” time to go to the damn store on a Sunday.

In order to make my Sunday grocery shopping more enjoyable, I wore the sexy dress.  Yes, it did in fact look like I was wearing last nights clothes.  I owned it.  “Yeah, I spent the night, and no, I couldn’t find my panties.” which is why I wore the boxers.

Anyway….

Pancakes were made.

and I ran away.

and I feel better.

I’m hoping tomorrow will be a better day.

Vomit before sunrise.

Three loads of laundry.

Breakfast.

Waiting. Whining. Wailing.

Last day of summer camp?

We Throw Frisbees?

and now the random

Where the hell did my summer go?  Hello, Twitter.  You know you owe me at least three weeks.  Dr. Pepper is following me on Twitter.  Coca-Cola however is not.  I can take a hint.  Not well.  But I can.

Have I ever told you that my neighbors named their dog after me?  Yes.   I hate going outside only to hear,

“ANNIE STOP POOPING IN THE NEIGHBORS YARD.”

sorry, but technically…it is MY yard.

We have a new CPS worker.  She is “sending” me paperwork that I need to enroll the orphans into school.  I’ll keep you posted.  Don’t hold your breath.  Feel free to cross your fingers, but I don’t want anyone passing out.

I just remembered I haven’t gone to a turtle release this year.  What the heck kind of coastal resident am I?  I’m calling them now….August 11-15 ish.  Yay.  I love to do that.  Why do I always wait until the last one?  At the end of the summer, when I’m tired and my hopes are dashed.  When my kids know less than they did three months ago…

Oh, to be young and hopeful again.

I will be almost 40 in about four weeks.  Not 40, that is a year away, I have a year of people saying “oh, you’re almost 40″ thank you math genius.  Let’s just skip 39 and be 40 because I think almost 40 is going to be worse.  I don’t know why.  It reminds me of high school.  Oh, you’re almost old enough to drive, vote, drink…not necessarily in that order, but never at the same time.  Yeah, I know.  There is something awesome on the other side of the curtain, thanks .

Anyway….I gotta get up early, there is a breakfast session at #HomeHer10 – I think it’s called, “Mom has a headache and I didn’t teach you to use the microwave for no reason.”

When I was a kid I had to wait for someone to drag their ass to a stove to cook breakfast for me, there weren’t no fancy microwavable breakfasts, not that we were allowed anywhere near that thing lest we become forever sterile and ridden with tumors.  My kids are lucky.

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