It’s just like rotating an owl

June 14, 2013 in I kill me! by kgseymour | No comments

The other day at swim class, we worked on backstroke. And by “worked on backstroke” I mean I tried valiantly to keep from crashing into the lane rope while also not drowning. It didn’t go all that well, but I survived.

Part of the problem was that I kept laughing mid-stroke, which, well, was sometimes due to the fact that I’d crashed — yet AGAIN — into the lane rope, but also because I kept thinking of the video below.

See, our coach kept giving us drills focusing on rotating our bodies but not our heads, and also, trying to find a rhythm. And I had this going on in my head. Also it was 6 in the morning. You can imagine how this went.

H/T to The Bloggess for sharing this video.

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What’s next? Your guess is (almost) as good as mine

June 13, 2013 in life list, sweaty by kgseymour | 2 comments

This year started out with a big, sweaty bang. I signed up for two serious races (a long course triathlon and a half marathon) taking place in the spring, which meant that from January until mid-May, my ass belonged to the gym. And the pool. And my bike. You know what I mean.

I followed a pretty intense training schedule leading up the Leadman 125 Tri in April, but, happily, it absolutely paid off. I finished my first serious, major, for-real-I-am-not-even-joking endurance event with a smile on my face and, well, maybe not a spring in my step, but I didn’t shuffle across the finish line, either. It was incredible. Hell, it was life changing.

I took a few days easy after the race and then jumped right back into training for the Santa Barbara Wine Country Half Marathon. I upped both my running and my wine consumption in the month between the two races (which, for the record? Not the greatest idea to book two races like this so close together, but I had friends involved in both and just couldn’t say no), and set a goal to finish without hating life (which is more than I can say for any other half I’d done before that). I not only finished happily, but I set a PR. And then I drank ALL THE WINE. It was a big win for me, for sure.

Go Team Wine O! (It's legit. We had shirts.)

And now everybody’s asking what’s next.

I’m not totally sure. I’m planning a sprint tri over the Fourth of July weekend, and hoping to kick a little butt in the swim portion of an Olympic distance relay triathlon later that month, but as far as The Next Big Thing? I’m just not sure.

I want to tackle a half Ironman distance race, for sure — after the two races this spring, I know I can do it. But I need to decide which one I want to do. I’ve kept the training up, for the most part (although I’m certainly a little more lax about some of the longer workouts right now since I don’t have a Scary Freaking Race staring me down), so I should be able to prep for one with two or three months’ notice, but … I don’t know. Do I do it soon, while I’m still pumped up from the spring races? Augusta is in September, which is definitely doable. Or do I hold off until spring? Or next fall? Or …

Sheesh, you want to talk about first world problems? Which big fancy race do I do next? Wah, wah, wah. I kind of want to slap myself. But I also want advice — have you done a half Iron (or similar) distance race that you absolutely loved? What made it perfect for you? (Or, if you did one and hated it, I want the scoop on that, too.)

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Meet Trixie: A very catty interview with the newest Seymour

June 10, 2013 in those crazy mutts by kgseymour | 1 comment

We have a new cat! Well, not new in the sense that she’s new (she’s 2 years old) or even particularly new to us (we adopted her around Thanksgiving last year). But, she’s new to Jeez-o-petes. Of course, considering I haven’t posted anything since October, I guess a lot of things are new to Jeez-o-petes. I mean, babies have been conceived and BORN since I last wrote anything here.

Whatever. I’m back. With a cat. (You know how I roll.)

So, sure, I could just tell you about her, but I figured, hey! I’m a journalist, right? Why not do an interview? Happily, she agreed to participate for a small fee (wet food for dinner instead of kibble), and so, let me present our newest addition: Trixie.

Me: Thanks for agreeing to the interview, Trix!

Trixie: How long until dinner?

Me: Hahaha, that’s funny. So, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself.

Trixie: I wasn’t actually joking, but fine. Um, hi, I’m Trixie. I started out on the street and still totally have all my moves, so you best not cross me, woman.

Me: Noted.

Trixie: And those dogs? Tell them, too.

Me: Will do. Now, how do you feel about your roommates, Rudi and Hollie? What’s your relationship like? I’ve noticed that you’ve actually rubbed up on Rudi a time or two recently.

So close, yet so far ...

Trixie: The black one, Rudi … she’s okay. But Hollie? *mumbles under breath* Where did you find her? She’s … got a lot of energy. And good grief, is she loud.

Me: This is true. But, it must be said, Trixie, you’re quite the talker. Why do you have so much to say?

Trixie: Why is my bowl empty so much? And why do you get to eat all the cheese? LIFE IS UNFAIR.

Me: Umm, your bowl is empty because you throw half to the ground while eating it. What’s up with that?

Trixie: Lady, I’ve watched you eat pizza. I don’t really think you have any room to talk.

Me: Hey, let’s change topics! Trixie, what’s your stance on laps?

Trixie: I don’t trust them.

Me: So, the other night when you actually laid on my lap for a minute …?

Trixie: It was a mistake. Let’s never speak of this again. Now, seriously, woman, where is my tuna? And could I get a nibble of that cheese, you think?

 

Trixie was adopted from Puppy Hill Farm Animal Rescue, an organization for which I’m a volunteer and a board member. Trixie was found behind an apartment building with a litter of kittens and was available for adoption for months before Jared and I found her and brought her home. She has a few quirks, but she’s been a great addition to the family. She loves hanging out in the kitchen and chatting us up when we’re making dinner. She bats at Hollie every chance she gets, and I give it another six months before I find her cuddled right up against Rudi. It might be another six months before she’s totally comfortable cuddling up with Jared and me, but that’s okay. We’re not going anywhere. And Rudi is the best snuggler in the family, anyway.

 

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Spoiler: I didn’t drown

October 1, 2012 in Uncategorized by kgseymour | 4 comments

A little over a week ago, I competed in my first swim meet. Now, yes, I’ve been swimming against other people in triathlons for, well, a while now, but a meet is a whole different animal. You do your specific events and you dive in instead of running and there are far fewer people grabbing at your feet and kicking you in the face and clawing your back. Plus, I was going with my team (from swim class), so even if, like, I fell off the side of the pool and clunked my head, I’d have people there who would care enough to make sure I was okay.

So, you know, you’d think doing a meet would be no sweat, right?

HAHAHA NO, as it turns out.

The drive down was great. We chatted and laughed. It was basically like going to swim practice. Even upon getting there, it was really no big deal — it was a small meet and not a lot of pressure.

As we got our things together and started to warm up, I felt the first butterflies. I wasn’t worried, though; I get butterflies before most of my races, and it’s never a problem. They tend to go away as soon as it’s time to get serious, so, I assumed that this would be the case here as well.

Now, here’s where I should explain what I was nervous about. I know how to swim. And I was not doing long events — 50 butterfly, 50 free, and 100 free) — so I was really only racing for a couple of minutes. But, I’d only learned how to do a butterfly turn two days prior, and I’d never done a dive off the blocks. And, I don’t think I’d ever really done a 50 butterfly. At least, not as if I was racing. I was maybe a little nervous about some of those things.

Near the end of the warm up, we got to practice (or, you know, try for the first time) diving off the blocks. Umm, they are high off the water. In case you didn’t realize that. Because I didn’t.

This was when my knees started to shake.

I practiced quite a few times, and then we all gathered in our little area and prepared to cheer for our teammate competing in the first heat of the first race. I cheered as loudly as I could, but those butterflies in my stomach were really going at it, and I felt a little choked up.

A few races went by, and it was time for me to take my place for the 50 fly. I held my head high, rolled my shoulders back, and walked toward the blocks. My coach, Karyn, who’d been in the heat before me, saw through my nerves, possibly because I said something like, “Holy shit Karyn I AM TERRIFIED WHAT AM I DOING OH MY GODDDDDD.” She’s pretty astute.

She had me take a few deep breaths, and, well, it didn’t help much. I couldn’t tell if I was going to cry or vomit, but I was pretty sure one or the other was going to happen. Still, I climbed onto the block. Literally, climbed — I had to use my hands because my legs wouldn’t quite hold me. I got my feet in place, and looked at my competition.

Now, here’s the part where I tell you that I went into the race with no times, so I was seeded with those who’d submitted the least fast times.

I should also mention that one of the coolest things about a Masters swim meet is the inclusiveness. There are people of almost all ages — hell, I was the second youngest one there — and pretty much all sizes. My competition for this heat truly reflected that variety.

The horn blew, I dove in, and … I didn’t drown. I didn’t get disqualified. I didn’t even throw up in my mouth. I just swam, exactly like I’ve been doing for the last couple of years, only harder and faster and with more determination than I’ve ever felt in the water. I finished in what I consider a totally respectable time — 40 seconds and change. Which means, obviously, that the next time, I’ll aim for sub-40. I think that’s a good goal.

Now, I wasn’t over the nerves when the race ended. Between the nerves and the adrenaline and, you know, the swim, my legs were full on not working. I was really thankful that it took one of the other women in the heat a little longer to finish. Otherwise, I think trying to get out of the pool could’ve been a bit of a disaster.

My other races were less eventful, as far as nerves were concerned. I got my breathing under control shortly after the 50 fly, and that helped me calm everything else (legs, tummy, etc.) down. I left plenty of room for improvement, but did well enough to feel proud. And I’m excited to have real, actual times to beat next time.

And also, maybe I’ll feel less like throwing up for the next one. We’ll see.

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Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day (and, yeah, I’m still here)

September 19, 2012 in I kill me! by kgseymour | 1 comment

I’m still here, still kickin’, still paying for the domain so I’m thinking maybe I should actually, you know, use it.

I’m going to try, I swear, and isn’t this a good start? I think it’s a good start. Rudi does too.

Hollie thinks it sucks. In fact, not seen in this picture is me holding the white dog back with my left arm as she barks her head off at the ridiculous hat that made its way onto Rudi’s head. Thank god pictures don’t include sound.

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And that’s why I never leave the house

July 13, 2012 in I kill me! by kgseymour | 3 comments

A lot of people who work from home actually work from a bunch of locations — coffee shops, restaurants, shared office spaces, you know. Not me. I work from home. I occasionally change locations and work from the living room or the back porch instead of at my desk, but that’s about it.

Until today. Today, after my morning meetings, I decided I wanted a coffee, and maybe some food that I didn’t have to make. I headed over to my local Starbucks, which is in the same center as my gym, so I figured I’d have a coffee and late breakfast, work for a few hours, get in a quick workout and head back home to finish out the day. I threw on some gym clothes, packed up my computer, and headed out.

It was, for the most part, pretty damn successful. I ran into a neighbor and said hello, but other than a child who sat down across the table from me, singing and tapping my laptop and trying to force me to make eye contact while his mother giggled, that was really the only break I took. I didn’t even take a bathroom break.

Which is why I didn’t notice until a few hours later, when I was walking over to the gym, that I’d been out of the house, working in public all day, with my pants on backward.

What do you even do with that? Besides, of course, walking as nonchalantly as humanly possible to the gym locker room to turn one’s pants around.

Obviously, I’m never leaving the house again.

 

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What do you think a ghost landscaper would charge?

May 22, 2012 in I kill me! by kgseymour | No comments

The other day, while walking the dogs (well, let me clarify — while walking each dog separately, because while they’re sometimes not terrible on their own, together, they can go from zero to raving mad lunatics with just a glimpse of another dog who dares to walk on their sidewalk), I sauntered past a group of kids playing outside.

Now, this is not unusual. I have never seen a neighborhood where the neighbor kids go outside and play together as much as they do here. It’s kind of awesome, and kind of like the ’50s. Not complaining. I can still beat most of them in basketball. I think.

Anyway, a few of these kids belong to a family that moved in very recently; like, a few weeks ago, maybe. I know this because I know everyone in my neighborhood. After all, there are only about 60 houses in the entire subdivision, and I walk and run from end to end to end to end over and over, so, you know, if people leave their homes, I see them. Bottom line is, though, I had not yet met these kids.

The home they moved into is next to the house that backs up to our back yard. Said house (the one behind us, not where the kids live — have I lost you yet?), has been abandoned, which I know isn’t uncommon right now, but it hasn’t happened too much in our subdivision. And — here’s the weird thing — although nobody’s lived there for a couple of months, the lawn stays pretty well manicured. Like, better than half the lawns in our neighborhood. YES, these are things I now notice.

So, the kids were playing in the yard of the abandoned home, and when I walked by, a couple of them ran over to pet Hollie (who was very good, by the way), and told me that the house was haunted.

“Are you sure? How do you know?” I asked.

“Because it’s been empty for a really long time. And it’s really old,” said the boy. For the record, the entire neighborhood was developed five or six years ago.

“Also?” he continued, “We found a flip flop near the back door!”

If you ask me, that evidence isn’t nearly as solid as the fact that, obviously, the ghosts are also keeping the lawn mowed. And, I mean, they’re right behind us, and it’s not like the fence should hold them back. The only question is, what do you offer a ghost to get him to mow your lawn?

(And what do you have to throw in to get him to trim some hedges while he’s at it?)

 

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Remember the time we owed the IRS $27,000?

May 19, 2012 in I kill me! by kgseymour | 3 comments

As a freelancer, I pay a lot in taxes. I’m not complaining. I’m just stating a fact. I’m used to writing out a sizable check each quarter and sending it off in the hopes that April doesn’t come around and put a dent in my savings.

Of course, if it does, that means the quarterly estimates based upon the previous year’s earnings were too low. Which means I made more money than the year before. Which, generally, is awesome.

I’m always, always nervous about tax stuff. Probably because I don’t understand it (which is why I don’t like clowns. Are you happy? Sad? I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU ARE SMILING BUT HAVE A TEAR DROP COMING DOWN YOUR FACE). But we’re big rule followers, and our accountant seems to have a reasonable grasp of how the tax stuff works, so I can generally keep myself from getting too worked up.

Except for when I get a bill in the mail from the IRS for TWENTY SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. For those of you who are more numbers than words, that’s $27,000.

In case it’s not obvious, we do not make the kind of money that would ever put us in a position to owe $27,000 after paying quarterly taxes all year. Or even without paying quarterly taxes all year, really.

But in the moment of reading this letter, as I walked back from the mailbox, all I could think was ZOMG TWENTY SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS!?! WE’LL NEVER DO ANYTHING FUN AGAIN. EVER.

And then I started hyperventilating. And getting dizzy. And sitting down, then standing up, then sitting down, then standing up, then leaning against walls and yelling, “TWENTY SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS?!?”

Fortunately, Jared retained his reading comprehension skills and realized that a 1099 we’d submitted in 2010 for $600 had been read as $60,000. And you’re damn right we didn’t pay taxes on $59,400 ON TOP OF what we made that year. Nope. That’s a few too many zeros for me.

The situation is getting squared away, and I’m breathing (mostly) normally again. But I will never, ever open a bulky letter from the IRS again without a fainting couch very near.

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Making it all better

April 20, 2012 in mmmm... by kgseymour | No comments

AdvertisementThank you COOL WHIP for sponsoring this post. Join us on Facebook for inspiration and recipes for everyday treats. What you add makes it. #coolwhipmoms

The liquid diet (due to my jaw, not for weight loss) has come to an end! Well, sort of, anyway. I don’t have to stick to liquids and mush anymore, although I’m still having smoothies most mornings for breakfast because, well, the more I rest it, the faster I’ll be back to 100%. I’ve gotten a retainer to wear at night — it makes me sound like Cindy Brady, which Jared finds hilarious, but it’s definitely doing the trick. I can handle being a little lispy in the moments before my head hits the pillow if it means I’m cleared to eat crusty bread again.

This whole smoothie thing has been a real revelation for me, though — I’ve learned to view a well-made blended beverage as a meal (or at least a snack) rather than, you know, just a drink, and that mental shift made sticking to liquids SO MUCH EASIER. When I make a smoothie with the mindset that this is my breakfast, or this is my pre-workout snack, it really fills me up. Amazing.

Anyway, it also shifted the way I think about other meals and snacks and such. For instance, dessert. While I’m not normally one to order a dessert out at a restaurant (unless, you know, it’s REALLY spectacular … or the person I’m with orders one first), I do like to have a little something sweet in the evening. But it doesn’t have to be huge or heavy or chocolate or anything. In fact, I’ve found that some of my favorite smoothies can be turned into a delicious dessert with just a couple of small modifications.

Let’s look at my absolute favorite, shall we? The Orange Pineapple Mango Berry. It’s a (delicious, delicious) mouthful, I know, but it’s sweet and tart and creamy and fruity and super refreshing.

As a breakfast smoothie, I would make it with half a cup or so of plain lowfat Greek yogurt, a half (or so) cup of orange juice, a few pieces of frozen pineapple, frozen mango, and whatever frozen berries I have on hand (strawberry is my favorite, but raspberries or mixed berries are also awesome).

Here’s where it gets a little surprising. I add a scoop of chia seeds (ch-ch-ch-chia!), a scoop of protein powder, and, most mornings, a hearty helping of spinach (either chopped and frozen or fresh baby spinach).

Now, let’s talk about how to make it a little more dessert-y.

Don't you wish your smoothie was this pretty?

Mostly, I take things out. I don’t add the protein powder — I assume that, by the time I’ve reached the dessert point of my day, I’ve gotten enough. I might add the chia seeds, but, I mean, I don’t exactly use those for flavor, you know? And by evening, I’ve normally gotten the necessary nutrition for the day.

Approximately 10 seconds later, I scarfed the whole thing down.

If I have orange sherbet, I may swap that out for the Greek yogurt. It tones down the tartness and gives it a slightly more dreamsicle-y flavor. Mmm, dreamsicle.

And then, I add the most important part. COOL WHIP Whipped Topping. Anyone who knows me well will not be surprised by this in the least. I’m not shy about adding that stuff to just about anything — I use it as frosting on cake, I dip cookies in it, I mix it into fruit salad (although I have to credit my mom with that one — COOL WHIP fruit salad was my favorite side as a child).

So, I toss a spoonful into the blender and blend it all up. And, generally, I add a dollop on top, too. A big dollop. You know, just to be safe.

If you’re really trying to be fancy, you could also top with some fresh, sliced strawberries. But if you’re anything like me, you’ll be in too much of a hurry to drink it up to bother with presentation!

Sponsored posts are purely editorial content that we are pleased to have presented by a participating sponsor. Advertisers do not produce the content. I was compensated for this post as a member of Clever Girls Collective, but the content is all my own.

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What a pain in the …

March 13, 2012 in what the ...? by kgseymour | 1 comment

For a girl who’s used to going into the dentist and walking out with nothing but a zippy new toothbrush and a pocketful of compliments on how pretty her teeth are, yesterday was rough.

I made a last minute appointment, even though I’d just had my teeth cleaned a little over a month ago, for some jaw pain. I figured it was stress-related and that I was clenching and grinding my teeth. I figured they would tell me to take some more ibuprofen, pop in a mouthguard, and send me on my way.

I did not figure they would put me on a liquid diet for a week and tell me to stick an elongated cotton ball, which, yes, looks totally like a tampon, between my front teeth a few times a day. I also did not figure they’d tell me to come back in a week, and, if I’m able to open my mouth at that point, get a retainer.

I didn’t think for a second they would tell me that temporomandibular disorders (TMD, or, as you might better know it, TMJ) could be really serious and cause me to have problems chewing my food in the future if we don’t fix it now.

We didn’t even talk about how pretty my teeth are.

So, I’ll probably be posting a bit about this at Fit Bottomed Girls later this week (like, Thursday, when my weekly column runs), but thought I’d write a little something here as well because, ummm, I’m not much of a smoothie maker, and, if I’m going to get through the next week without being a TOTAL jerk, I’m gonna need a lot of good smoothies and other liquid meals. And I really do mean liquid — even mashed potatoes are off the menu.

Suggestions? Recipes? Just want to virtually point and laugh at the girl behind the computer who’s talking like Alyssa Milano (come on, I’m not the only one who notices she doesn’t move her mouth when she talks, right?)? Have at it in the comments!

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