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I started thinking about asking the other day, when I realized that I hadn’t gone to work out in nearly a week. I’m not motivated. Even though I get there and within 15 minutes, I’m feeling strong and confident, and all Zen and just one rep at a time about it.

NOT motivated. How does one get motivated? There is no motivation to get motivated. One is already not motivated!

The still small (nagging) voice in my head said, “Ask the fitness director at the Y. Talk to her and say, ‘I’m unmotivated to work out.’” Within the computerized system for keeping track of our machine workouts, there is a button: Send A Message To The Instructor! The pre-fab message was “I have a question.” By just touching the screen, I sent the message and am waiting to hear. I’m not motivated enough to call her. (It may not work as I haven’t heard from her. Or oh no! maybe she’s nmotivated to get in touch!)

So now, I’m going to have to get serious about this, and I’m far too savvy to my own tricks. But I’ll try my favorite answer to questions like Baseball Player’s “why?” (See this entry.)

When asked “why” by a young person, my answer is often “I wonder!” said with just a touch of mystery and appreciation. It works with kids, sullenteens, crabby sleep-deprived college students and defensive continuing-ed adult students. It doesn’t work with all questions. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and there’s a simple answer to “What page are we on?” “What time is it?” Some do not respond well to the perceived-as-sarcastic “I wonder!”

But when said with sincerity and inquisitiveness, it opens up the possibilities, it challenges the brain to search, it kicks one over into creative mode.

Not motivated to work out? I wonder why? Hmmm. Perhaps I should find out. The Y fitness director might have an answer. I even have her email. I am motivated to switch to another window right now and send her a message.

I wonder what it will feel like to have already worked out. I wonder if I can sleep late tomorrow if I work out to alleviate back pain today. I wonder if I’ll come up with interesting blog topics while I’m on the elliptical. Hmmm, it might just be working.

I’ll see you at the Y. Maybe.

I am pursuing a nationally renowned weight loss plan that has Points and meetings and suchlike. In their online tools, they have a recipe builder which says that the following recipe is 3 points per serving. I always eat more than a “serving” which is approximately 1-2 tablespoons. However, I make no claim that this is an approved Plan recipe, um, you know, in case the recipe police are out today.

By combining the nationally renowned weight loss plan’s recipe with that of Deceptively Delicious, and my infamous Killer Pesto (now archived offline, probably 6 pts per serving), I came up with this recipe with far less fat from olive oil and parmesan cheese, which my son said, “tastes the same.” This recipe also works in sneaking vegetables into my kid, with his permission. HUZZAH!

Pesto Schmesto

2 oz. pinoles (pine nuts)

2 oz. hard parmesan cheese, grated (reduce points further by using reduced fat or fake parmesan cheese, but I’d rather eat Real Food and count the points)

1 c. fresh basil leaves

1 tablespoon olive oil (use less to reduce points further; one recipe replaces the oil completely with chicken broth eyes warily)

1/2 c. pureed cauliflower (yellow squash or zucchini puree will work as well)

3-5 garlic cloves, depending on your tolerance and desire for garlic

Salt and pepper to taste

Put all ingredients in the food processor and blend well. Place in pasta bowl and then add boiled, drained hot pasta (rotini, capellini or farfalle are great; whole wheat pasta means you can eat more!). Toss and eat.

Can be frozen ahead. Also good as an additive to eggs, cream cheese or salad dressing, or used as a cracker spread.

The garlic and basil leaves are wonderful as warding off upper respiratory crud and sore throats in this house.

Lucy in the Park, originally uploaded by tigerwillow.

Lovely girl. It’s been six weeks since her adoption, and she now notices a pattern to the days. I get herded to the dog food twice a day, I am alerted to the presence of squirrels in the back yard, the trash truck in the alley or the guy with the spaniel on a ridiculously long leash. I am also told when it is time to go for walks on leashes so that the neighborhood may know that it is safe.

At 2:50pm, she comes into my office and looks politely at her watch. Time to pick up the boy from school. She has a following of squealy girls and a few guys at the schoolyard. But if that little black fluffy dog is there, forget it – all her manners go by the wayside.

When we go to the dog park, she spends a lot of time herding the smaller dogs, and chasing the ball-chasing dogs. She only herds the resident terrier at the end of the day when she is bored with everything else. He growls a warning, then apologizes and they snooze together on the dog couch, on opposite ends.

She also goes to all doctor appointments, shows promise as a service dog, and exhibits impeccable car manners. Except on the road trip when she nosed into the scones I was saving for Monahans. They were gone when I looked for them - an innocent but faintly orange and cranberry-loving look on her face.

She sleeps under my bed, and when she dreams, the woofs and quick inhalations come up through the mattress more than become audible. ONe night only, I let her sleep on the bed with me. She was a most amiable companion and did not hog the bed at all. When she sleeps under my chair during the day, she sometimes leaves a puddle of drool and then modestly cleans it up when she wakes up.

She is my last three dogs rolled into one and I adore her.

Hi. We really only know each other online. But I think we have so much in common, more than is readily apparent. I was raised by a military wife, and learned well the lessons that military families must in order to survive.

I’m going to say some things that you cannot say because you are indeed a good military wife. Maybe you agree or disagree. Maybe you are pumping your fist in the air, or quietly disapproving. But I can say these things because I have no ties anymore, except by memory and loyalty. But I am on the “outside,” I’m a “civvie,” and while some military folks secretly sneer at me, I know better. As a civilian, I get to express some of the opinions that you hold, and hold private. (more…)

Your Score: Rabbit

You scored 21 Ego, 14 Anxiety, and 18 Agency!

IT was going to be one of Rabbit’s busy days. As soon as he
woke up he felt important, as if everything depended upon him.
It was just the day for Organizing Something, or for Writing a
Notice Signed Rabbit, or for Seeing What Everybody Else Thought
About It. It was a perfect morning for hurrying round to Pooh,
and saying, “Very well, then, I’ll tell Piglet,” and then going
to Piglet, and saying, “Pooh thinks–but perhaps I’d better see
Owl first.” It was a Captainish sort of day, when everybody
said, “Yes, Rabbit ” and “No, Rabbit,” and waited until he had
told them.

You scored as Rabbit! (more…)

I have learned to walk. Twice.

Once as a baby, like everyone else.

Once as a six-year-old. I had to relearn to walk because the paralysis that came with polio erased my muscle memory. It’s harder the second time, trust me.

But because I got up again and walked, ran, skipped, danced, rode, jogged, tramped, hiked and otherwise ambulated, I know both the utter necessity of doing this, and the steel required. After a devastating loss, it’s the only choice that ever made sense to me. Rise up and walk.

A number of factors are at work right now, in my heart, in my week - and my answer has been “learn to walk. Again.” It’s my way of hitting Reset. But mind you, this is not the self-castigating “pick yourself up and walk, you big fat baby.” No, this is the tentative one-foot-in-front-of-the-other toddling. This is venturing forth into new territory - a place where I have no experience. Never before has the buck stopped here. But it does. People, plants and pets are counting on me. (And maybe a few pipes too.)

Look for me to be buying new shoes, hitting the gym, practicing my walking all alone on this path.

I wish Britney Spears all the best. I hope Heath Ledger’s family can grieve and heal from their loss as time allows, and I even hold out a good thought for Tony Romo and his new girlfriend. Mazel tov!

But the onslaught and constant Chinese water torture of teasers, promos, gossip, “news,” and muckracking is just absolutely ridiculous. There is no good that can come of it. I don’t care if it “helps” someone to see Tyra’s cellulite; I don’t care if there are claims that Celebrity Rehab shows that Even Celebrities Are People Too. Any idiot can figure that out.

While I get a kick out of the snarkfest called The Soup, it’s not exactly the kind of thing that I want to spend my time on, sitting next to my child on the couch.

No, really, if you examine it even a little bit, there is nothing good that comes from participating in this kind of thing. It offers no return on the investment, it makes one jaded and it sucks up a whole lot of ink, money, and energy that could be devoted finer arts.

Like knitting.

Like Johnny Depp movies. I don’t need to know what he wears, what he smokes or what his children’s names are (Lily Rose and Jack) to know that I adore his performances. I do like hearing him talk about his work, but it is still not necessary.

Now, if you point me to an article or show where Johnny Depp is discussing knitting, well, that’s not bottom feeding then, is it? No, that would be inspiration!

One of my bloggy friends - a woman I know only because I like her writing - is a walking miracle. And I love a good story.

Read her latest story, in her words, in chronological order, with apologies for perhaps plagiarizing too much of her blog into mine:

Boxes

Frightened

News

Questions

Memo

(more…)

I didn’t actually mean to not post an entry for the past several days but you turn around and suddenly it’s the end of the month. For me and my calendar, my son’s birthday in the middle of the month seques quickly to the MLK school holiday and then to the annual business meeting for my company which is a huge time sink, not always in a bad way.

As I’m typing this, I’m watching weather reports for a different (and colder) part of the country and mourning the untimely and tragic death of Heath Ledger. I may write about this later, but suffice it to say that I am distraught.

I also have a thought or two running around in my head about focus versus creating choices and staying fresh and alive. Perhaps in the midst of my busyness, the inner voice saying, “that’s just not me” will explain things.

I’m working on an article for a deadline of two days ago, so I haven’t been blogging. But this quick update is to pause and reflect on the focus required for some types of writing, and the software that loves them. (Horrible syntax, but I was trying to make a pun on “the women who love them, the spy who loved me” and like that there.)

Word: all business. Arial 12, left justified, single spaced, spelling turned on, track changes turned off. Save every 5 min. Quick, dirty, feels like work.

Scrivener: pure fun and creativity. Full screen, notebook mode, outline, storyboard, post-its, research windows, play play PLAY.

WordPress: mushy, raw, kneading word-dough to get pretty web page. Hit Publish and “Ooooo look, shiny things!”

Gmail/web email window: visual telephone, chit-chat, blah blah blah. Hit Send, next…

Back soon, after deadline.