Tag Archives: blog

Poking My Toe in the Water Again

A couple months ago, I blurted out, during a “get to know you” exercise, to a colleague that I have a blog (although I didn’t tell him what it was called). Then I remembered I hadn’t written in said blog in quite some time. To give you an idea how long it’s been, when I tried to log in today, I wasn’t even sure I knew the password.

Since this all started with activity trackers, I will pick up where that left off, or would have left off had I left off there. About, oh, like, um, a year ago, I decided that the Next Big Thing for the Featherstone family would be the Lumo Lift. This little device was so tiny and subtle that it would be worn on the – for me, anyway – bra strap. Not only would it track footsteps and all that, but it would – get this – vibrate every time I slouched. (Well, not just me, but the user….anyway.) At last, today, I took mine out of its package (there are two others unopened) and gave it a test run (after I spent about 20 minutes trying to figure out how to attach the thing). I also plugged in my Jawbone UP to see if the two were in synch.

The Jawbone was DOA. Didn’t track a thing, and didn’t respond to my iPhone’s request for data. Fail. The Lumo? Well, it didn’t buzz once unless I set it on “coach” mode, in which case, it didn’t stop buzzing (and I am telling you, I wasn’t slouching that whole time, either). I spent a good part of the time checking to see if it still was attached, or catching it when I fell. Finally, when I was in the mud room getting more paper towels (gotta love this color commentary) it fell off, and it remains there now. It lasted a good, say, seven hours, and I am being generous. Good thing I got it at the advanced sale rate of like $69.

Meanwhile, I had charged up the Fitbit, and found two of the three bands I have for it. Now it’s charged up, tucked into its pink (magenta?) band, and wrapped snugly around my non-dominant wrist. I’ve gotten about 25 steps in before settling into bed and beginning this entry.

Meanwhile, my boyfriend is having an intense Facebook conversation with a woman who found him after 15 or so years. It’s 11:33 pm our time. Whatever.

Anyway, more to the point: I am back on the devices and therefore back here. I’ve also started (four weeks ago, to be exact) a new eating plan, and I am down 17 pounds (insert cheering emoticon here). That feels pretty good. Besides, if I am going to blurt out that I have a blog, I may as well populate said blog. Let’s see what happens.

Second Freshman

I spent a good portion of the day sitting at my desk working, helpfully reminded of that fact (the mostly sitting part) by the buzzing of my Jawbone every 45 minutes (since I have it set to vibrate after 45 minutes of inactivity). Things only got crazy when I parked about a mile away from the high school for Back to School Night, and I had to walk – nay, run, since I was (surprise!) running behind – all the way there. Even so, probably not enough steps to warrant a discussion, and in any case, my phone is all the way over there [points to phone in charger about two feet past arm’s length] so I am not getting up to get it so I can report step count and all that.

Before that (Back to School Night, not not reaching for the phone), I had A Day. Y’know, one of those days that starts off with rain leaking into your car, and is followed up by several unpleasant interactions with someone who is either a major league asshole or – no, wait, there’s no “or” here – which is then followed by the discovery of a flat tire with some sort of hole in it, only to return home and find two trees missing and the lovely aroma of mold wafting its way into the living room. So really, that sprint to the high school was the high point of the day up until that moment.

Anyway, this was my first BTSN in our new town, at the littlest one’s new school. Of course, the littlest one is 14, and his new school is the aforementioned high school, but that doesn’t mean I am not going to call him the littlest one, at least in this particular blog post. Where was I? Oh, right, getting to the topic at hand. First BTSN, first time in the new high school. My second freshman. In all the hubbub over the college freshman, little has been made about the other freshman, the guy who bravely and heartily agreed to move, even though that meant he’d start at a school where he didn’t know a single person. And here we are, two weeks into the new school year, and this child of mine seems to be doing pretty well – and his new school seems pretty terrific, too.

This is what I learned: My son is in a good place. He got lucky with teachers (my favorite one is his favorite one!), he’s in a place conducive to learning, and he has opportunities he never would have had had we stayed in our old school system. Even the cafeteria is nice. It’s a good start, a really good start.

At the end of my crapola work day, when I was ready to scream, my colleague/friend said, go home, go to the people who really matter. At the end of the day, look who I get to come home to (yeah, yeah, the grammar sucks). How lucky am I? And that, dear fan club (AKA people who share either my DNA or my room), is really what it’s all about.

Needs a title

This has not been the most prolific blog experiment, I do realize. Nevertheless, here I am again, trying to see if anything grows.

Ok, on the subject of moving, an excellent walk today, again with my friend J. (I’m already sensing a little theme here.) At only 1:18 pm:
Jawbone says 11,032 steps, 5.1 miles
Fitbit says, your battery is low, and also, 10,784 steps, 4.81 miles

Same wrist and all that.

More on moving. As previously noted, we’ve moved. Two months here, and we haven’t totally moved in. At what point is a house a home? My room sorta feels like home, mostly because I’ve got my stuff semi-set up in there, and because BBL is there, too. As far as the rest of the house? Not moving, but feeling stuck. Where do all of these things go? Do we need two sets of silverware, pots and pans, and dishes? (Actually, we need more dishes. A full set that we all could use would be nice.) Or does it just not matter, about the stuff, that is? This I need to figure out. It shouldn’t matter, the stuff, that is, when determining if a house is a home.

On a separate note, I am looking forward to the return home, in three days, of the littlest Featherstone. Not only do I want to give him the world’s most enormous hug, but he can also help me (he promised) make this whole thing more visually appealing. Hey, every little step helps, am I right?