Who I Am

In my last post I wrote that, clearly They Don't Know Who I Am. It's a good thing I DO.

(although sometimes I nearly forget)



That Is All.

And that's enough.

More anon, shame-slayers!

*in which my five faithful readers are provided with helpful instructions as to the appropriate manner in which to respond to each of the following startling pronouncements*

The other day I was running on the treadmill at the gym
On the treadmill!!! No way!! At the gym!!! with all those humiliating mirrors! Good on you!!!
when the chick who's in my team for the corporate triathlon in three weeks
 you're doing a triathlon in three weeks? Wow! That's brave, especially since you've sat on your backside wallowing in self pity and gaining weight for so long! (I'll pay that: harsh but fair)
(whom, as I mentioned in my last post, I introduced to multisport whereupon she prompltly lost heaps of weight)
oh her
hopped on the treadmill next to me and said, you're running! Good on you!
well spotted captain obvious, also I'm sorry but our condescension meter may have just given a little blip. We'll keep you posted
is it hurting you? It looks like it's hurting you
Of all the cheek! But perhaps she was just expressing concern?
No, it's fine. This is just how I run
- ten minutes pass -
Well it obviously isn't hurting you, you're still going!
*there are so many insulting implications in that remark that we are speechless*
Sometimes the only thing that keeps me going is the fact that I Know Who I Am. Clearly no-one else does.

They've remodelled the gym so there aren't so many mirrors, which works for me. Don't tell me I shouldn't have issues about how I look after gaining 11kg in 2 years: I just do, ok? If I hate myself for having issues about hating my appearance then it's a double helping of shame and sad and one is enough.
Apart from the mirrors and the morning show the thing I hate the most about the gym is the kind good on you for coming in here smiles I get from the very trim older ladies. They mean well I know but I hate them. I've become one of those 1p0d people so I can pretend I'm not actually there.
When I run on the treadmill, though, I feel strong and determined and amazing - I almost almost feel normal again! I cover up the numbers and I just run and run and sweat and sweat and I just want to keep going and going but I'm being very careful about not injuring myself as I'm sure you will understand.
In other news: LBTEPA vs ebay: epic fail. But in a way not - I'm keeping my eye out for groovy flat shoes so that the eternity I must spend in post-surgery heel-less purgatory won't also be in Frump City...ok ok that doesn't explain the red strappy sandals...ok let's just call it an epic fail and be done with it.

Not so LBTEPA vs the Demon Drink! Progress to date is steady but far too boring to describe in detail; suffice it to say that the LBTEPA Liver Preservation Society is very pleased with me.
Must go, chums: I'm on a 30 minutes tiresome jobs/ 30 minutes fun stuff schedule today and the stove beeper has just gone off. The washing awaits!

P.S. this has been going the rounds of effbee so you've probably seen it but I thought it so funny I had to share. I may have to make it my new header.

 More anon, jugglers!

and another thing...

- in which LBTEPA stomps off, muttering sulkily -
....the other person I introduced to multisport? Has lost 9kg and is feeling better about herself than she has in years. Which is good.

More anon, humbuggers
PS - no ebay = epic fail

But I press on.

So far so hoopy

So far the score is LBTEPA 100000000, sloth, whingeing and self-pity 0, although there have been some epic tussles I can tell you. The only reason I got out of the house for a ride this morning was becuase (after quite few minutes justifying remaining horizontal) I remembered that my 2013 motto is WORK HARD. Not "be lame and make excuses".
I've been (ahem) 'running', (2km non-stop so far coo er go me), riding my bike (oh 2009 power-to-weight ratio, wherefore art though?), walking and even swimming. Since last I wrote I have scarfed down six bowls of muesli, three salads (I'm having them during the week), only two pieces of bread and no diet coke. A big tick for three alcohol-free days, and no ebay either! Go me! Tres boring for you, my five faithful readers, but even more boring for me....no, that's not right. I just want to look after myself properly for once and not give up becuase it's hard or a bit of a pest and then make excuses. I want this time to be different. Le sigh....

I must say I do find it a bit annoying that everyone I introduce to endurance sport instantly starts running sub-six minute kms and winning age-group prizes.

MOre anon, Svengalis!

The Plan

As part of Project FOC (Fear Of Crutches, aka fear of having to literally drag my (currently) lardy arse around with my (currently) weak and puny upper body after the surgery, which, I believe I have mentioned, is in early April) I am going to give up
- bread (mostly)
- diet coke
- alcohol at least 3 days a week
- ebay
and eat muesli for brekky and salad for lunch.
Waddya reckon? I reckon it's a ripsnorter. We'll see what happens.
The other week I cancelled my gym membership in a fit of I'm so fat I'm so ashamed of myself not the mirrors noooo! - come on, don't tell me you've never been there - but I was too disorganised to do it in time for the end of month processing so after a lot of bullying encouragement from my skinnyfast slavedriver good kind friends I have managed to un-cancel it. Bring on the big clanky things!
The surgeon also told me that overloading my foot might hurt it (pain schmain, I say) but won't damage it, so in an unexpected and frankly unwelcome resurgence of the ol' LBTEPA spirit I have signed up for the local corporate triathlon. In four weeks. 9kg heavier than the last time I did it. With no training. It will be unbelievably horrid why do I always think I have to confront ALL MT DEMONS AT ONCE WHY WHY WHY??? the Best Fun Ever.

More anon, mousketeers!

Update

I'm having ankle surgery on the third of April. I have A Plan, but I must go to work now and earn some money to pay for all the retail stress management I did.
More anon!

Operation 2013

So...these new year's resolutions.
They're good and I like them. I fully intend to pursue them with vigour and pep.
However, they've been discarded in favour of uncontrollable crying and an overall feeling of intense weariness for a moment - a short moment, I hope - while I get my head around the phone call from the sports doc telling me that my ankle isn't going to get better by itself and will only stop Hurting All The Time after some (I hope highly trained) bloke has a rummage in its innards with sharp implements and I spend 3 months rehabbing it Very Carefully.
Three. Months.
Feel free to wince, goodness knows I am as I see the words I've just typed.
Maths aren't my strong point but even I can work out that even if I could have the op done in the next few weeks (thankyou, incredibly fortunate set of life circumstances that have enabled me to afford private health insurance) that won't leave three months before we go on holidays to Japan where we will be doing a lot of walking (did I mention we're going on holidays to Japan in March? Sometimes I think I should just rename this blog 'sooking about first world problems' and be done with it) which leaves us in April, which plus three months leaves us in July, which given that I've barely raised a sweat in anger in the last year pretty much leaves 2013 f***ed, athletically speaking.
It's sort of a relief to have the verdict. There will be no more hoping and pretending to be optimistic and pretending to be fine about being so unfit and so heavy and pretending not to be bothered by the pain and pretending not to be so worried and sad and pretending not to be so angry and pretending everything is ok and pretending and pretending. Sort of a relief. But actually Not Really A Relief At All In Any Way. The axe has fallen and here we are.
I've got nothing today. No 'ok, this is how it's going to be, I'll...(insert impressive, gritted-teeth plan for intense and dedicated self-improvement) and everything will be fab. Nothing. I'm tired and I'm sad and tomorrow the sun will come up and I'll do something.
And as I said in a message I left on the mighty Emma's phone this morning, we'll run together again one day. We will. 
More anon, friends!

P.S. Hey, I've just realised that this date last year was when the Goofy challenge was run! Yay for January 9th!!
NOT.
PS please don't say anything along the lines of oh well, at least now you'll be getting some answers etc etc. I can't look on the bright side today. I'll do it tomorrow, I promise. Or the next next day

Resolute

I don't usually make New Years's Resolutions, but 2013 is the year of not doing the same thing over and over again so I had a think about it and these leapt to mind:
Stop whingeing so much
Lose some of the 11kg I have gained in the last 2 years
Drink less alcohol
Exercise near-daily
Stop using self-pity as an excuse to not exercise.
Stop using un-dealt-with anger as an excuse to stuff my face
Stop using ebay to self-soothe
Be nicer to Noddie and J
Do more stuff that I like
Grow veges
Be a better friend
Work harder
Next post: what these new behaviours will actually look like (I need a while to think about it all).

Do you make resolutions? How do you usually go with them? What are yours? Maybe you should run my life.
On that note: should I buy these shoes?

More anon, dancers!

and a happy new year

with a little help from my little friend

It may not surprise you to learn that I am often quite strict with my poor dear Noddie. One of her jobs is to clean the bathrooms, and our Saturday mornings are often enlivened with the sounds of
Those bathrooms need to be done before you go to your firend's house 
I don't wannnna.
You don't have to want to, you just have to do it
I'll do it laaaaater
If you'd started when you were asked you'd be finished by now
Oh Mummmmmy you're so meeeeean
Can't I just get a drink
No! Just go and do it! 
(huffy flounce)
etc etc
The other day it struck me that I was doing exactly the same thing (without the lame bleating, I mean, calling me mean, she has No Idea how mean I can get, foolish child) with my exercises. Mangled ankle or not - and let's not go there, the world didn't end last night, we're all in a good mood - I could still do my core work, stretches and weights if I wasn't wallowing in self-pity. Clearly the LBTEPA mojo needs some help. To this end I have summoned the LBTEPA Behaviour Modification Unit (Junior Division). You said you were going to do your exercises
I don't wannnna.
You don't have to want to, you just have to do it
I'll do it laaaaater
If you'd started when you were asked you'd be finished by now
Oh you're so meeeeean
Can't I just get my 1p0d?
No! Just go and do it! 
(huffy flounce)
It's working a treat. My core and arms hardly know themselves, and Noddie thinks it's hilarious More anon, comrades!

South Africans vs Kiwis

About this time last week I had applauded my darling Noddie playing the piano at the school concert, taken my peer support committee to lunch as a thankyou for the tremendous work they do and was on the train to Melbourne finishing my Christmas cards. By this time tomorrow (but last week; do keep up) I was about to wake up, catch the train into the city with my sister's partner, have a happy look at the Myer Christmas windows (which were just charming), enjoy a funky little breakfast at a funky little laneway cafe and head off, full of coffee and trepidation, to the sports physician.
AND THAT'S WHERE IT ALL WENT HORRIBLY WRONG.
I think it's the difference between optimistic cheerful Kiwis and dour tell-it-how-it-is South Africans (see? South Africans: no nickname! Says a lot). Spunky Dr  Andrew (in whose bin I threw up last time as you might recall. Awkward) was all don't worry! This will work! And if it doesn't work the next one will work! You'll be running by Christmas and lining up for Melbourne next October! whereas Dr Tony was a bit hmmm, well...this should work, but the next step if it doesn't is surgery (SURGERY??) to remove the bone chip and when I asked in a very small voice whether that would be a keyhole procedure yes, it's keyhole but all foot surgery is pretty complicated and takes a while to recover from. But we'll know in four weeks (FOUR WEEKS???) whether it's worked and I'll be able to refer you to a surgeon before I move back to New Zealand.
New Zealand appears to hold a strange attraction for sports physicians. Bloody place must be crawling with them. No wonder they're so good. But I digress
That, my five faithful readers, is when the old LBTEPA Stiff Upper Lip had a Red Hot Go at kicking in, but ultimately failed as you will see. I'd had it in my head that This Would Be It. The Long Tiresome Slog that began in April would be all done, all finished thankyou linesmen thankyou ballboys. I even had an appointment on Friday with the owners of the Prawn Jetty of Doom to sign off on all the out-of-pocket expenses. It was all going to be over, before Christmas, with time to get better enough to wear my pretty heels to my nephew's wedding and fit enough for the corporate triathlon in February  and now it was all Not Like That At All.
I do know that this is all no big deal in the big scheme of awful things in the world but it was a big horrid shock and discouragement, especially since handsome Dr Andrew had blithely tossed off the comment no, you won't need surgery AND I BELIEVED HIM. I was so happy to believe him. I was so sad to hear it might not be so.
I'm getting teary again writing this. What a bloody la la.
So. A shock.
Off I trotted next door to the radiology clinic. I'm good like that. I do what has to be done.
The lovely reassuring John the radiologist sat down with me and explained everything, then went into the big machine room where UmmIforgethername the not very reassuring Ummnotsureofherjob freaked me out saying they were going to put the Big Horrid Needle into a completely different place than I was expecting, nowhere near the pain and right through a bruise I got from moving the coffee table. Umm went and got John, whose capacity for reassurance proved somewhat limited when I asked how many of these have you done? and he answered we do loads and loads of these with all the joints in the ankle but this one is really unusual so no, we don't do them very often, no, but we do all the joints in the ankle all the time so don't worry...
That's when the Come on LBTEPA Don't Cry switch broke off.
I won't go into detail about being able to vaguely feel a Big Horrid Needle being poked into your ankle and hearing two people who do this all the time only actually they don't saying things like almost got it, just a bit that way, that's the spot: suffice it to say it was horrid and they need more tissues in the room. And it hurt. I cried. I cried on the machine and in the wheelchair and in the recovery room while I was being told by an annoying Irish nurse that no one had ever reacted like that before and while I drank my tea and ate my bikkie. I cried becuase I was so sad that this was happening, and when I was finished crying I paid them a lot of money and limped to the tram stop and went to pub at the station and had a sadly-not-all-that-restorative chardy and read my book for an hour and a half until my train came and then I went home. 
It still hurts. It hurts all the time unless I don't walk on it at all, the week before Christmas (insert hollow laugh here).
I'm not optimistic about this. Dear time: please prove me wrong!
There's always chardonnay I suppose. And mince pies.

Mmmmmm....mince pies.....


More anon, bravehearts!

Sorry

Hi There All!
Lots of apologies, firstly for being even more AWOL than usual with lots of time-consuming dance concert/bedroom painting/Christmas stuff, you know the drill, and secondly for having to install one of those prove-you're-not-a-robot thingys. Poor dear Casa d'LBTEPA has been attacked by some exceptionally distasteful spam. This will not be tolerated!
I head off to Melbourne tomorrow for what I hope will be the very last episode in this interminable Saga of the Mangled Ankle. If all goes well the sports physician on Thursday will agree with the one I saw last time (who has buggered off back to New Zealand, filling me with confidence. NOT), organise a fun-filled injection right into the middle of all those complicated little foot bones ewwwwwww (there is a brief pause while LBTEPA turns pale, feels faint and is given smelling salts by her devoted attendants) and send me off home all better at last, the end, all done, all finished thankyou linesmen thankyou ballboys.
Hey, a girl can dream.

More anon, optimists!

Simple, not easy

It's simple. In order to be an athlete one must
- exercise regularly
- pretty much organise one's life around exercising and good health
....sounds pretty simple
and it is
but not easy.
The Streak has been great - 12 days, 9 days, looking good for the win not that I'm competitive hahaha  - because I'm remembering how much I miss working out and feeling fit, but it's still a bit of an afterthought.
Things do get in the way. 
- the bike is still put away in the shed from the holidays
- The Spousal Unit's shifts are, as always, all over the place
-  this week we have at least one thing, sometimes two, on every single day, from school concert rehearsal and performance via dance concert photoshoot (rolling eyes), stop-start, dress rehearsal, matinee and evening performance all the way to the Sunday School concert, with a couple of work things in between. Cross your fingers for us that the weather's not too hot.
- December the first = Christmas tree day! With bonus nativity setup, carols-on-shuffle and domicile be-tinselling! Must fit in some senselessly time-consuming Christmas letter action as well... and present-wrapping! what, you haven't finished your shopping yet?owowowstophittingme.

- housewifey sh**, you know, minimal hygiene, food, clean clothes etc etc
- oh, and work
- J's been quite down. It's important that I spend time with him. Noddie also is requiring extra patience and concentration. We've had to move on to some pretty serious treatment for her psoriasis and it's knocking her around a bit, poor little lambie.
- the mangled ankle hates sand. It's still sore from the holiday. Walking is good but I do so miss running.
- sometimes I get really down about being injured and lardy and mojo-free. I took my marathon medals off the wall the other day. Noddie asked where they were and I realised I was being a bloody sook so I put them back up. I hate the thought of another steroid injection, onto the bone ew ew ew and what if that doesn't work? ohdearohdearohdear but it has to be done
- AND I HATE THE MORNING SHOW ON TV AT THE GYM and I hate wearing headphones
Jumping these little 'hurdles' used to be automatic. Now sometimes it takes me a couple of days to even notice them! Dealing with them has changed from 'part of exercising' to 'another job I have to do before I can work out'.
Well, my friends, as of today it's changing back.
I've written A List. Lists Are Good
- get the **** bike out of the shed!
- check J's roster. If he's not on an early shift then work out in the morning. Life has a tiresome habit of eating the evenings. We know this.
- don't eat anything between 5-6pm. Arsenic hour, that sad, tired, hold-your-temper-for-dear-life breathe-in-breathe-out what-needs-to-be-done-what's-for-tea-Mum???? time, is when the majority of the mindless scoff-fests which have created such irritating wardrobe limitations tend to occur.
- suck it up that gym - mindless tv noise = headphones. Princess.
- vacuum the damn study and damn well get down on the floor and stretch.  It is the idea you fear, grasshopper, not the reality
- try and remember that I like swimming. I don't know why I always feel as though I don't and never want to go. It is the idea you fear, grasshopper, not the reality....(there is a brief scuffle/pause while ancient sage is dragged off). Yes, I think we got that.
Simple stuff. 
So, my five faithful readers, waddya reckon? Will this help? Am I kidding myself?
What are your practical tips and strategies for living an athletic life? Share! Share!
I'll let you know how all this goes. What I'm doing now isn't getting me what I want, and it might just work. You never know.

More anon, tinsel-towners!

madness

this streak thing
well
we went to Merimbula, fab place, you should go there
but don't get food poisoning. That's unpleasant.
Mind you, if you did happen to get food poisoning, Merimbula would be the place to get it. Such nice places to lie down and feel like death warmed up

Of course if you had any brains and had food poisoning and felt like death warmed up you probably wouldn't go swimming
but there is only one rule when we go somewhere with water unless it's midwinter or something
MUMMY. GOES. IN.
and it was such a lovely spot. Who could resist?

So the streak continues!

I'm a bit OK EXTREMELY upset though. The sports doc has had to postpone the injection.
 ....
What's another 10 days when it's been 10 F$%&*ing months?
FOR F$%&*ing EVER, THAT'S WHAT. BASTARDS. WILL THIS EVER END ARRGGHHH
I know I know it's nothing in the scheme of things but I was so hoping it would be over *sad face*
...breathes in...breathes out....
(wanna hear something funny I was going to be all 21st century and funny and write hashtag woeisme and I couldn't find the # key LOL)
#neoluddite
More anon, pincushions!

Sofa so good

Well the streak is broken but I can tell you that 12 back-to-back days of intentional exercise, mostly outdoors, makes a huge difference to everything. Everything. I feel So. Much. Better. I can recommend streaking to anyone tee hee that sounded rude
I broke it becuase I went out for tea with friends from my placement, to celebrate The End. Yesterday was the last day of the last thing I had to do for the Masters That Ate My Life. The paperwork has been written up, signed and posted. The email has been sent. It's done. Now all I have to do is to wait for uni to do its stupid interminable stuff, and I'll be an M.Psych at last.
I can't believe it.
So I went out for dinner, had a few extra sherbies and and fell asleep on the recliner watching Hawaii 5-0 (I was very tired). I have a Challenge to win, though, so the next streak starts today. And at 3pm so do my holidays. Did I mention I'm going on holidays?
:)
Noddie turned 9 on Sunday. She's a grouse kid and I love her. We had a cave girl party!

Somebody asked me what I'll do with all my new spare time. If I feel like it, I'll make a birthday cake that takes all afternoon. That's what.

Life is so good right now. I appreciate it so much.
More anon, rainbow connectors!

Streaking

DEAR BLOG
It's not you, it's me. I have been so boring that I've put myself to sleep thinking about what to write. Look!
...blah blah blah ankle still stupidly sore oh woe not tolerating running or heels (shocking!) looks as though I will have to go back to Melbourne for another steroid injection into the bone this time eww eww I'm so  disappointed will this ever end blah blah blah must stop self-pity drinking and over-eating no wonder I'm such a lardarse these days blah blah I can't believe my nephew and his fiancee could be so thoughtless to poor Noddie I am so mad at them I could SPIT blah blah blah...
SEE WHAT I SPARED YOU?
but darlings, I can spare you no longer. I am currently So Excited I could just about burst. This time next Wednesday we will be on a balcony overlooking a lake in sunny Merimbula, jewel of the sapphire coast if what I am led to believe in the brochures is accurate, sipping white wine, reading a novel and vaguely thinking about dinner BECAUSE MY MASTERS WILL BE COMPLETELY FINISHED AND WE WILL BE ON HOLIDAYS. Hoorah! and woot!

And that's not all...
My five faithful, ever-patient and steadfast readers will have postulated the existence of a severe shortage of workout mojo on Planet LBTEPA in the recent past. How perspicacious you are, for such has indeed been the case. But all is not lost, gentle readers. Your heroine has the bit back between her teeth. The gauntlet is down and there is champagne at stake.
Pardon?
I told you I was over-excited.
I have these two friends, K and J. They are titchy little skinnyfasts and I feel like Gulliver when I stand next to them, but they are Good Sticks. They think it's normal to want to ride and swim and lift and run and sweat. They are My People. Fortuitously, we have all been experiencing somewhat of a mojo-adjacent phase (could it be the weather?) and it was as we were mutually bemoaning this sad state of affairs that The Challenge was born.
The Challenge will run from Nov 5th until Dec 5th, finishing conveniently in time for the festive season becuase we might be endurance heads but we are Not Stupid. The woman who lays down the most days of exercise in that time wins. There is another prize for the longest unbroken streak WHICH I AM WINNING GRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!! and another for the most kms covered. One each. Perfect! Because I am injured and K likes riding more than J and I do, there are no restrictions as to what a 'workout' is - core work, weights, walking, (ahem) 'running', swimming... just so long as it is a) intentional and b) works up a sweat. I just typed up 'worked up a swear', but that's optional.
 I'm loving it. The Workout Ninja has been released!

Bring. It. On.
More anon, chirpy cheepers!

Good news!

No surgery!
Just getting my breath back. Will post soon about What It All Means
More anon, happy facers!

what if....

I'm very worried about what the sports doc will say tomorrow. Part of me doesn't want to know.
But then again, not knowing and just worrying isn't terribly amusing.

More anon, honeybuns!

Sweet relief

Since last we spoke, dear readers, your heroine has
i) been to the printer's, the post office and the coffee shop to collect, despatch and celebrate the departure of the Thesis That Ate My Life in the proper fashion
ii) continued to celebrate the departure of the Thesis That Ate My Life in the proper fashion with a party filled with food and laughing and chatter and kids running around jumping on the trampoline and playing with lego. Possibly a few sherbies were consumed by those of appropriate vintage. I admit nothing.
iii) changed none of her recent exercise habits.

We are off to Melbourne on Wednesday for a flying visit to the paediatric dermatologist (for the Nodster, poor little thing) and also the sports physician (gulp) at which possibilities for the future will no doubt become more clear.

More anon, bradypodidae!

Marathon Sunday

Today is a strange day. It's Melbourne Marathon day. Some of my friends are racing. It's a beautiful day for a hitout, not too warm but not blowing a gale and pouring like yesterday. They'll go well.
I'm going to finish my thesis today. Apart from some minor alterations when my supervisor sends it back on Wednesday, it will be done. It's only hours away (assuming I stop faffing around on the internet) but I cannot actually imagine it.
It's been a full year since I raced.
This is the first year since 2004 that I haven't been at Melbourne.
My appointment with the sports physician is on the 24th.
I don't know who reads this blog or what you do to have a big amazing life (Share! Share!), but if you ever get the idea that you might like to run in a race, then do it! Make it a big one. Be with other big dreamers. They're your people.
And if you think, one day I'd like to do a marathon, then go for it! Running up a marathon finishing chute is one of the best feelings in the world.

Go for it, my friends.
Dream big. Be amazing.
More anon

Breathing in, breathing out....

Since my thesis supervisor's response to my first draft changed from "just a few comments' to 'still a lot to do'  It's due on Thursday aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!! I have to say that I have found this surprisingly difficult to do.
Current mottoes, clung to like lifebuoys by a drowning person:
P's get degrees
Just keep writing, just keep writing
Only another week and then it's all over
and of course 

Have you got any other bits of HTFU/never say die/JFDI you big la-la for me? I'd be very grateful.
You know what though? I'll be ok whatever happens. I know where my towel is.

More anon

Things to think about

This post was so whiny and filled with self-pity and woe-is-me that I have deleted it. Except for the shoes
.
.
.
.
Oh look! Shoes!

mine, all mine, my pretties.......

The thing you don't want to hear

...your physio say the specialists at Olympic Park sports medicine have access to the best orthopaedic surgeons......
.
.
.
Look! Shoes!

More anon, optimists!

open letter

Dear LBTEPA
please please please pleeeaasse stop kidding yourself. Things are not improving. They are getting worse and worse - every time you (ahem) 'run', even at that paltry level and for that paltry distance, the soreness and niggles are more intense and last for longer. You can feel it all the time now, even as you're sitting there writing. Walking is getting more painful. You need to admit that the experiment hasn't gone as you hoped. It's time to stop running, darl, right now, before things are even more buggered up. You gave it a good shot, and you were careful and patient. It should have worked and it might have worked but it's pretty clear now that it didn't. On Monday you need to ring the physio and ask for that referral.
It's not the end of the world though, mate. It sucks and I'm very scared and worried too, but we'll get through it, I know
(((hugs)))
your ankle
PS I'm sure it will be ok. Eventually.

Did I tell you I was thinking of taking up cross-stitch?

More anon, thumbelinas!

Since last we spoke

Since last we spoke, dear readers, I have been Out For A Run four times. What? you gasp, Why weren't we told? Why were there no fanfares and fireworks?
Well the thing is this: there are two things actually, don't confuse me. Thing 1: by (ahem) 'Run' I mean walk 50 steps run 20 steps for not more than 15 minutes. Try that for a while, if you want to DO YOUR HEAD IN.
But LBTEPA, you soothe (aren't you nice?) you've had a long lay-off. You have to start small. Be patient. From little things big things grow etc etc etc.. And haven't you been outside? In the sunshine and the fresh air? How nice is that? This is true, my friends. You are right, as always (you're great!). Being outside is one big happy bundle of Hello There Good Things I've Missed You!
But onto Thing 2, as we must. My physio has laid it down that this slow cautious teeny tiny very patient and disciplined program is to See What Happens. It's been more than five months since the Great Prawn Disaster; if my ankle can't tolerate slow cautious teeny tiny etc etc (ahem) 'running' without pain, then it's off to the Specialists in the Big Smoke becuase she has got nuffin' left. Nuffin. It's not going well right now. My ankle is sore and niggly all the time. A tip for the more anxious among my five faithful readers: don't g00g1e 'persistent ankle pain post chip fracture'. Just don't.
But LBTEPA is doggedly remaining in the Too Early To Tell Zone. I can Not Know Yet and be ok with that. I have to. Worrying and worrying is doing my head in and there are loads of other things queueing to do that.
In other news, I have just made the final couple of weeks of the Thesis That Ate My Brain insanely more difficult. Through sheer stupidity. No one to blame but me. You see, I sent the first draft off to my supervisor and waited until yesterday (the agreed date) for her reply... which was, hi could you send me the first draft please as we have only 2 weeks until it's due
.
.
.
It was in the draft folder. I'd pressed save instead of send. Now I'll have six days instead of 13 to fix it and get it bound and sent off. Thinking about it makes me feel sick.
This morning blogger ate the hilarious and pithy post I was writing this morning as a treat insted of folding the washing and I bawled my eyes out.
I just want to cry and cry and eat and eat all the time but a) I have to go to work and b) I've already gained so much weight that it's interfering with my rehab (my physio said) and my pretty summer clothes don't fit and I don't need another dunk in the look-what-you've-done-you-have-no-self-control-you-loser barrel. Not today anyway.
It's hard to blog at the moment becuase the inside of my head is such a mess. Here's a photo of an elephant instead

More anon, glitterati!

Lost in Translation

The other day I was wrestling with the Thesis That Ate My Brain and I kind of...er... got into a bit of a tizzy, as you do, or well I do, and I started to Worry About Things. Ankle Things. Will this bloody thing ever get better Things. Have we reached crunch time or is there still hope Things (told you I was in a tizzy). So I rang my physio and asked her - or so I thought. I must have been speaking tizzyspeak becuase her response was all about my going to Melbourne for a second opinion if I wasn't happy with hers, (?!?!?!), reports for insurance claims (??!!??!?), etc etc etc. Eventually I managed to stammer out my actual question: have we reached the point of no improvement vis-a-vis the Stupid Ankle, or is it too early to tell? All my fingers are crossed for B, I'm giving you the drum. The physio explained that to date we have been focusing on rest, and now it's time to start loading the ankle more to see what happens (that sounds like B, don't you think? Woot!), but I can still go to Melbourne for a second opinion etc etc etc. How embarrassment. That'll teach me. All I really wanted to know was whether I should put my marathon medals in the cupboard and start giving away my shoes.

 

or possibly buying some new ones. You never know.

More anon, babel-fishers!

Where in the world is LBTEPA?

I don't know that the full import of my last post imparted itself to my five faithful readers.
I WENT FOR A RIDE ON MY BIKE.
I WENT OUTSIDE.
ON MY OWN.
AND WORKED UP A SWEAT.
OUTSIDE.
ON MY OWN.
ON MY BIKE.
FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE MAY. 
Just writing that put the most massive grin on my face, and I'm currently this ( - ) close to handing in the first draft of the Thesis That Ate My Brain howwillIgetitdonebytomorrwarrgghhh? so it's only the most fabulous thoughts that can plaster a smile on this dial. Hello bike = helloooo instant good mood!!! My family plans to present my physio with a plaque to express their gratitude. It's pretty quiet where I live. A morning ride to the gym might involve seeing perhaps two cars, but instead some pretty mist over the parks and the river valley. There are cockatoos and lorikeets. It's coming up to magpie season but I'll deal with that. You can't bring me down off my high. Oh my friends, my friends, how I have missed that wonderful spinning-along feeling and the hum of the tyres as you ease on down the road. Do you ride a bike? Do you like it? Why? Share!

In other news, LBTEPA's family and friends are deeply saddened to advise her readers that apart from the odd velocipedic outing, gung-ho workout ninja LBTEPA has been reported missing, presumed gone troppo. They blame society.
There have been rumours as to her fate

and even sightings, although none from verifiable sources.

 A search party has been despatched

but really all we can do is hope for the best and trust in the old LBTEPA pluck to bring her safely home.
More anon, whip-crackers!

So I went for a ride on my bike

That is all.

More anon, wooters!

Cluck!

NEWS FLASH! DATELINE TUESDAY: A reporter from the LBTEPA Times has today announced that our heroine's physio has given LBTEPA permission to ride her mountain bike!!! LBTEPA's bike, not the physio's. Do pay attention. For one thing she's a short lady so it would be too small. Said riding is to occur for not more than 30 minutes every second day, to see what happens. Any ankle pain means stop stop STOP STOP RIGHT NOW NO NO NO VERY BAD. This is Very Exciting News - I haven't been on a proper bike since May! This is the start of getting my life back!

So has your heroine in fact been out on her bike?
She has not.
 And why is that, my five faithful readers may rightly ask?
Welll... brace yourself for some lame excuses, 'cause they're on the way....
I've been sick. The thing with sinus infections these days, as I believe I have mentioned before, is that since the re-bore I no longer wish to saw off my own head within minutes of the germs assaulting my immune system.  It takes me much longer to notice that I've been dragging myself around doing the absolute minimum family maintenance,  not exercising and wishing I was dead NOT because I am slack and lazy and unable to handle stress (I had a uni assignment returned to re-do and I cried for an hour. At work. Thank goodness it was Friday afternoon and the place was almost deserted) but because I'm actually very very crook.

Aaand the LBTEPA Award for the Most Wonderful Thing Ever Invented goes to....ANTIBIOTICS!!!

I've also been pretty busy at uni as you can see from the above. This situation will ease in due course though, sometime in December. I hope.
*LBTEPA has left the room to bang her head on the desk and think about wine and shoes. We appreciate your patience. Normal service will resume shortly*

I saw this car last time I was in Melbourne. The number is now on my speed dial. 

Blah blah blah excuses excuses, pictures to distract you from excuses, it's been unbelievably windy and raining a lot and J has been on late shift blah blah blah. Wanna know the real reason I haven't been out on my bike?

Yes, give the lady a free ticket to Sooky La-La Land on the Spineless Express! What if it hurts? What if it's not properly better? You know what? What if? So what? I will go today, I promise. I'll take a photo for you, if I don't fall off.
More anon, cluckers!

JFWS

I've been falling into that blogger black hole where you don't have time to write the usual epic so you don't write anything, then you haven't written anything for ages so you Owe The Readers a particularly jaw-dropping bit of epic prose but you don't have time for that and on it goes. I'm at the unpleasantly crunchy end of my thesis and after mumblemumbleOMFGhasitbeenthatlong years of formal education I do Know One Thing about writing: you have to write something. Just Write Something is my motto with the Thesis That has Eaten My Life and is now Eating My Brain (don't expect any sense out of me in the next six weeks no no nooooooo), and henceforth it shall also be my blogging motto.
So
As my five faithful readers are aware, this is a sort-of endurance sport blog, not a weight-loss blog. However, I want to share one of those make-a-face moments - I got a new ID card yesterday for my new placement (that's I'm doing while I finish the Thesis That is Eating My Brain. The placement is at the local psychiatric ward which I think is apt). I put it on the doover with my work ID card. The two photos were taken about two years apart, and the second one is as flattering as the first (there are some gifted photographers in East Gippsland HR). But the new one still looks like the old one's fat ill much older sister. My sugar (fermented and otherwise)-based stress-management strategy is showing. I have no portrait in my attic. Must look into that.
In other news:
I go back to the physio today to see how close I am to going outside. Gosh I miss riding my bike. I'm a bit upset at the moment becuase my other foot - the one that went bung last year - is hurting again!  I went to Melbourne last week and walked all day (YAY!) in flat boots with no arch supports (doh) so maybe that's it. I love my boots though. I am blessed with extremely shapely calves so finding boots that both do up and are appropriately fabulous is a challenge.

In other other news: hurrah! Hurrah! IT'S SPRING!!! We went to the beach on the boat on Sunday. It was brilliant.

Obligatory Exercise News: 2 trips to the gym and 2 swims this week. Must. Do. Better.
More anon, blossoms!

The Perils of LBTEPA

See this? It's a very dangerous exercise known as a static lunge with a band. I was doing this yesterday at the gym (although certainly not wearing head-to-toe brown, nor brown of any kind for that matter. Please.) as part of my very first go at my Exciting New Program at the Temple of Sweat. I like my program, for the most part. I like gyms. I like the machines and the clanking and the little adjustable knob thingos. I may just have a teeny crush on the rowing machine - so much more fierce than the stationary bike! I don't even mind the Noise The Young'uns Call Music These Days
But I don't like static lunges with bands.
I got this picture from g00gle images. There aren't any pictures of what it's like when the band slips out from under your foot and smacks you in the eyes.

Ow.

The muscular tatooed bloke on the next machine swore and got the gym attendant to bring some ice. I didn't swear, nor did I cry (until I got home), because that is the LBTEPA Way. My eye is still a bit swollen this morning and I have a bit of a headache, but I am going back this afternoon to finish that damn workout.

I'm sure I ticked the "all exercises must be 100% nuffy-proof" box on my assessment. Le sigh......

More anon, Ironsides!

Stardate Sunday

I must write swiftly. Since Starship LBTEPA crash-landed on the Plague Planet I have been the slave of the Plague Monsters and they may call for me at any time. Their demands are unceasing. The only blessing is that I have not been infected. This means that if I plan carefully I can sometimes experience a semblance of freedom, even if only for a short time. The blossoms here are lovely and give me such joy. Other slaves to the Plague Monsters tell me this planet is not so bad, and that it will be warmer soon.  They have accepted their fate. I fear becoming like them. I know the monsters are coming to value my labour, even to almost feel affection for me. I have taken some advantage of this and made my way to the Temple of Sweat as often as I can, but I must be careful.
I will get stronger. I will escape.
They are calling me - I must go!

More anon, stargazers!

one of the first images sent from Mars

as you do

In which LBTEPA realises that There Is Enough, and that Being Fabulous is always the best policy. 

Dear Blog
Since I started going to deep water running I've been thinking oh I must join up at the gym, if I get a corporate membership it would cost less than one class and one swim a week... oh come now what a waste of money I have a perfectly good mat and weights and a set of core and strength exercises and a bike on rollers at home... oh but I am so borrrrrrred with that but if I was more disciplined I could do it ... but classes sound like fun........as you do.
The other day I was prodded in the back by the wise, serene and gentle sages of the LBTEPA Think Tank (Philosophical and Spiritual Division) who pointed out in no uncertain (yet serene and gentle) terms that I was not treating the universe as a place of abundance, where There Is Enough for things that matter, and also (equally calmly and wisely) that I was giving a low priority to my health and emotional wellbeing. Continuing ever so serenely on (I have to say they were starting to give me the pip by this stage), the sages pointed out that if I insisted on being so venal as to fixate on the finances, then I might like to channel my attention (see? Pack of bloody hippies. Sheesh.) toward the fact that a) kicking my twice-weekly takeaway coffee habit  and bringing my lunch to work a couple of times would more than cover it and b) a year's gym membership is about the same as the medicare out-of-pocket for a couple of scans and specialists' visits, which I'm less likely to need over the next decade if I get properly fit again.
To sum up (and I thought this was rather brusque: I may write a stiff letter) they said
You like going to the gym
You can afford it
You need to get out more
Stop bleating and sign up
So I did!!
It's been great fun, although rather confronting to have to (ahem) confront the mumblemumblemumble kgs of extra lard I've been ignoring. I must be the only person to have gained weight doing Dry July (I DID IT! I DID IT! AND YOU CAN STILL DONATE TO THIS GREAT CAUSE!!!) Damn you, mirrored pilates studio! Oh well. It is how it is and I'm buggered if finally making eye contact with my spare tyre will stop me from pumping iron again. Sing it with me, ladies - body shame is temporary;  fabulousness is forever!
I have to go to the physio now to check how The Ankle is going. This is scary* but not as bad as the dentist yesterday which I got through without crying or throwing up. Go me.

More anon, Olympic addicts!!
I LOVE the Olympics. I'd ALMOST get cable for the Olympics. Really.

Did you see the finish of the women's triathlon (and by 'see' I mean scream yourself hoarse at the tv)?What's not to love? 

*Ankle Update: Physio is happy. All is progressing as it should be. If I keep up the standing on one leg (which is Quite Tricky), all should be tickety-boo in due course!!Yay!!

MBPE

In what is possibly the Most Boring Post Ever - apart from all the woe is me I am so sad this is so hard ones - so ok possibly nowhere near the Most Boring Post Ever, but certainly not very interesting to anyone except me; but then it is my blog (but I digress) I have finally realised why I literally dread the thought of going swimming even though I always enjoy it when I get there.
You see, I used to be a very good swimmer. People think I am still (I had an irritiating argument with my dear Spousal Unit on that topic just the other day) but I know I'm not. I'm a good swimmer technically and also compared to non-swimmers, but I am so far from my notion of good swimming shape that I can only just see it on the horizon at noon if I squint . The problem is that I can see it, and that I know exactly how far it is from Here to There (a bloody long way, to use the technical term), and that distance is what I see when I think about going to the pool. Not the half an hour immediately ahead of me, but the weeks and weeks and weeks of feeling unco-ordinated and unfit and finding time around J's shifts and the lane-hogging local swim-squad to fit it in. Another job. Another failure to suck up. Another Bloody Slog to get back something I've lost because I was SO SLACK (aka I am a real person with a real life with priorities and frailties aka I Hate Myself Because I'm Not Superwoman). Le Sigh....
At this stage I don't know what I'll do with this new-found insight, but I always think change is easier when you actually know what you're dealing with.

More anon, philosophers!

Flick

I don't know what the physio said on Wednesday that has Changed Everything, but a switch has been flicked, from Injured and sad and bleaty and a burden to others to Getting Ready To Run Again. Seven or eight more weeks of swimming and deep water running and bike-on-the-rollers and core work and weights and stretching and standing on one leg which is quite tricky and no heels?

Bring.
It.
On.

Except the heels. That's not good. But then I'm going to Melbourne next week, for a prostate cancer conference. Don't I have the best fun? There could be some fab flats there, if such a thing exists. In Melbourne. Not at the conference. Please try to focus.

More anon, dollfaces! And stand back.....

Question, questions

Where have I been? It's been nearly two weeks and really...I've been nowhere, done nothing. I feel as though I'm floating aimlessly, whilst simultaneously moving in ever-decreasing circles.
Will I ever be able to establish an exercise routine again? God I hope so. I feel sad and flabby and dispirited and a failure
How good is feeling strong? I remember it. I remember feeling motivated and organised and happy. I just can't quite work out how to get back there from here at the moment.
Isn't it funny how it's the idea of a daunting task that we fear rather than the task itself? Doubting your own ability to do something new is so tiring but it's hard to overcome until you actually get stuck into things... *slaps self on head for faffing on* that was a long-winded faux-philosphical way of saying, this sobriety thing isn't as hard as I expected. I've even managed an unaccompanied 300km round-trip with my mother-in-law without succumbing to the siren call of the port barrel. You can still sponsor me though. It hasn't been that easy. Just click here! You know you want to!
Will I ever get to go outside, by myself, for a pleasant sweat again?
Will my ankle ever get better?
Will I ever run again? I do so want to run again. I drive up the hill I used to steam up and I say to myself, I will do that again. I. WILL.
What will the physio say this afternoon?
Was buying this on ebay an over-reaction to a major blue with my dear Spousal Unit?

I think we all know the answer to that one...

More anon, sonic screwdrivers!

it's not luck

I've finally got in to the new physio who is a) not leaving town, or so she says, b) kind and c) straightforward, and got the (ahem) good oil (as it were) on my poor sad ankle.  It seems that becuase I couldn't get anyone to listen to me or help me with how to look after it while we found out what was wrong with it ( will resolve in 6-12 weeks, no appointment necessary anyone? BASTARDS), I now have ligament damage as a result of the untreated fracture not being immobilised.
Short version part 1: minimum 8 weeks before I can think about starting to run again.
Short version part 2: ....whimper.....sniffle....
Long version:
Step 1- strap it and stay off it like it was my job for 8 days then go back to the physio to see if that helps.If it doesn't,
Step 2 - 2 weeks in a boot to try and settle things down. If that doesn't work
Step 3 - don't think about step 3.
The physio remarked it's lucky you've got swimming and your bike on the roller and your strength and core work to do. I regret to say that my rather curt rejoinder was it's not luck, mate. It's work. The stuff I have put in place is there becuase no matter how dismal and despairing and frightened and abandoned I might feel, I will Do What I (physically and emotionally) Can. I Will Not Give Up (or not for any great length of time anyway).
I am sad. Sad, gutted, forlorn, despairing. These emotions will pass, I know, but until they do...

WHAT NOT TO SAY TO AN INJURED ATHLETE, especially one who has just had bad news
NB These are all actual things people have thought appropriate to say. I have added my (mostly) unspoken reactions for your reading pleasure. The LBTEPA Publishing Division would like to assure readers that no capital letters were harmed in the writing of ths post.)

I told you exercise was bad for you, and you can't even drown your sorrows LOL
IF I HADN'T KNOWN YOU FOR 25 YEARS YOU WOULD SO BE UNFRIENDED
You still get to go to Queensland, and you'll come back refreshed!
NOTE TO SELF: DON'T OPEN UP TO THIS PERSON AGAIN
There's always Pilates you know
That'll fill the void. not.
You just have to see this in a more positive way
NO. I. DON'T.
We all have our little setbacks in life
THANKS FOR TOTALLY FAILING TO COMPREHEND ANYTHING I WAS SAYING
There's always next year's marathon
NO SH*T SHERLOCK. I WAS TRAINING FOR THIS ONE
Well at least you can still swim
OF COURSE I CAN F***ING SWIM. IF I WANTED TO SWIM I WOULD SWIM
I don't know why you want to run anyway, I hate running
I HATE YOU
Do you think your body is trying to tell you something?
YES, TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE. I TRIPPED OVER A PIECE OF CONCRETE WHILE I WAS BUYING PRAWNS YOU MORON
Have you thought about what you'd do if you could never run again?
WHY ARE YOU SAYING THIS TO ME?

Look, I know that in the big scheme of things this is extremely minor. No-one has died, no-one is hungry or homeless or has cancer or lost her job. But it's my lost self and lost joy and my grief. If I can give you one thing to take away from this post, it would be this: don't tell other people how they should feel. You are more than welcome to have any sort of opinion about how valid their feelings are and what la-las they are with their lame first world problems (not that any of my five faithful readers would harbour such unkind notions) but keep them to yourself. Nothing says I'm not listening to you louder than you'll feel better when you (do what I say/agree with me). And nothing will make the person feel more lonely and as though no-one understands.

WHAT TO SAY TO AN INJURED ATHLETE
Oh no. That's awful.
How are you coping? (only say this if you actually want to know. The athlete will be so overwhelmed at your understanding and sensitivity s/he may actually tell you, and this could take quite some time).

But out of the darkest clouds comes the silverest lining, and you will be very proud indeed to note that I remained steaddfast to my vow of abstinence* despite what even the harshest critic would describe as rather provoking circumstances. On the way home from the physio I drove past a pub; my knuckles may have tightened slightly on the wheel, but I kept on going! Go me!

More anon, tiger-tamers!

*If you did feel inclined to sponsor me for Dry July, please click on the logo in my sidebar. It's for a great cause. Thanks!

A new phase

You will no doubt be pleased to know that the LBTEPA family has returned intact from a week in the licentious and sinful northern climes. I crewed for the mighty Emma at a tough day at the Gold Coast marathon; nobbled by the heat, the marshalls directing her off road and a #$*&ing #$*&!#$*& of a spectator tripping her up, she retired hurt at 30km. DNF = Did Nothing Fatal but her heart was broken after working so hard. It was stinking rotten foul horrible filthy luck and we were very sad. But as she has said, her last marathon will not be a DNF. She'll be back.
Oh, my five faithful readers, how I wanted to be out there! But it was fun to spectate, especially when I walked along the far leg of the course cheering on the back-o'-the-packers. Looking strong, looking brave, looking determined, I yelled to them. Just a bit more pain and then the bling is yours! And it was nice bling too. Emma and I sighed over it at the post-race rehydration session, in which I participated with gusto (that's what friends are for, no?). Proving how gorgeous our running mates are, one bloke offered Emma his medal when she told him her story. *wiping eyes* Proving also that we are All Grown Up now, Emma and I gave our unfinished mumble mumble not telling how many bottle of bubbles to a Patsy-esque (?)octogenarian called Loretta.

Loretta's hair and makeup were just like this! Her outfit was red and purple and I want to be her when I grow up 

Clan LBTEPA screamed on scary rides at Dreamworld despite it being clear that Disney World has ruined us for faintly dodgy amusement parks. We went out on a boat on a hugely windy day to see whales and proved by our failure to succumb to seasickness that the LBTEPA clan is made of sterner stuff than approximately 80% of our fellow passengers. So very glad I wasn't a crew member that day. But! we saw whales!! Breaching, right out of the water!!! Less than 100m away!!!! Highlight of my life, right there (as was returning to shore. There is only so much the LBTEPA vestibular system can take). We drove south to Byron Bay to see what all the fuss is about, and took Noddie to surfing lessons, at which she seemed both quite adept and to thoroughly enjoy, to the point where she would have gone every day, had she only been able to organise to become Boss of The World. While she was riding the waves I swam in them. It was cold in the water but it was warm and sunny so I bobbed and splashed and bodysurfed and tried not to be run over by the surfers, eaten by a shark (eek!!!) or towed out to sea by a rip. Too. Much. Fun.

So in short, pretty much - apart from Emma's stinking luck, and BOOO to the race gods, I say. BOOO! - as I expected. Also as expected, most of the week was spent in a haze of sadness and worry about not being able to run and about the damage I might be doing to my ankle by walking as much as I did. Crappy holiday for the family becuase Mummy wants to spare her ankle versus pain and possible exacerbation of the injury? I didn't know what to do so I HTFU and carried on. It's bloody sore now. I'm sad and worried but I'm used to it. I'm seeing the physio on Tuesday. I hope she can help me. I don't want to rely on Dr Google but when your GP writes a note saying calcaneal fracture, will resolve in 6-12 weeks, no appointment necessary then waddyado? *headdesk*

So. We have floated down from our 9th floor absolute oceanfront apartment and back to Chateau LBTEPA for the next phase. Big things are afoot, my friends, oh yes they are! The astute among my five faithful readers will have noticed in my sidebar that I am participating in Dry July. Yes, I, LBTEPA, emotional drinker and extreme excuse-maker, am taking a month off the booze to raise money for cancer support services. Surprised? I certainly was when the thought came to me, very strongly and wouldn't go away. I suspect the LBTEPA Institute for Behavioural Modification has been sneaking about behind my back.
Now the deed is done. I have a donations page and I have told everyone I know. It's happening.

The LBTEPA Think-Tank has come up with a couple of goals, outlined below
Goal 1. (not negotiable) not touch a drop of alcohol from July 8th until August 8th.
Goal 2. (fingers crossed) raise $1500 through sheer irritating persistence.
If you would like to help me with number 2, please click the link in my sidebar! If not, any and all kind words, mockery, derision and/or cans of HTFU (with or without spoon) will be appreciated. I'll keep you posted!

More anon, abstainers!