Archive for Month: July, 2010
Weekly Winners {The Hebrew National Better-than-a-Picnic-Picnic Edition}
Last weekend was The The Hebrew National Better-than-a-Picnic-Picnic in Atlanta. It was the final picnic on the nationwide tour of picnics that went from May to July, involving 47 fellow bloggers. I was thrilled to be a part of it. The day was hot and steamy, but that didn’t stop us; they don’t call it “Hotlanta” for nothing!
Centennial Olympic Park was bustling with families and activities. Many friendly faces came out to see us and enjoy the afternoon.
We collected diapers, wipes, and toys for The Atlanta Children’s Shelter, and school supplies for other local charities.
Thank you to all who came out. Here’s a visual re-cap of the day:
The following mosaic of pictures are going to be part of an in-kind project of smiling faces that we’ll be presenting to the Atlanta’s Children’s Shelter:
Thank you Hebrew National and The Motherhood for helping us host such a great event!
Ten
Ten Things You May or May Not Know About Me:
1) I sweat. A lot. I sweat in every season. I sweat in the air conditioning. I sweat, a lot!
2) I wear deodorant.
3) I love to look nice. I mean, I have my fair share of dress down, old tee-shirt, no bra days, but I have always been a fashion horse.
4) I can’t wear nail polish that well; it always peels off. So, this year I have opted for doing my best at self pedi- and mani- upkeep. Which means I often don’t have the most well manicured nails.
5) I want a new tattoo. I even tried it on for size the other night. Michael drew it for me, and now I am convinced that I will have this ink really soon. FYI: That’s a camera shutter at f/4!
6) I am at the point in my life where I don’t want to be exposed to people and situations that make me feel I’m not good enough. Or, more importantly, people and situations where I don’t feel respected. If you can’t respect me, I won’t respect you. Enough said.
7) I have one pair or black heels that I’ve had for years and I love them. If you see me in black heels you should know that those will be my favorite ones. I wanted knew ones, but then I put my old standby pair on, and knew I could not do them the injustice of not wearing them. They’re patent leather. They’re from Payless. And, I love them.
8) I swear. Like a sailor, I swear. I know how to control it, but in the right setting you should know that I will cuss like nobody’s business.
9) I talk a lot. I talk fast. I talk fast, a lot. I often talk to everyone and anyone. I very rarely don’t make eye contact. I am a people person.
10) I like a good, solid handshake. But, I also love a good, solid hug!
Handshakes Make a First Impression
There is one thing that I am serious about, and that’s a solid and firm handshake. None of this half shake, wet noodle business. None of this I’m just a wittle-itty-bitty woman so I can’t be possibly be direct with my greeting *fingers to dimples* bullshit. I don’t care if you are a man, woman, young adult, whoever-whomever, I’m all about the handshake. It’s very telltale to me.
I was very young when I learned that when I shook someone’s hand—upon introduction—that I should do so with intention. It was something that stuck with me, and something that I have taught my children. And, I will absolutely embarrass them and make them re-shake if I notice any wet noodleness. I’m THAT serious about it. Almost as serious as addressing elders with respect. Like, my neighbor is not *just* Beverly, she’s Miss Beverly, but I digress.
There are extremes, obviously, and while I like a nice, firm handshake I’m not all about bone crushing. I mean, I want to make a good first impression, not embarrass myself by being known as the Amazonian Woman who broke someone’s metacarpals in a twelve shake showdown. There’s no point.<!–more–>
Contrarily, I don’t want to be seen as a wimpy lame-oh, either. No way. I’m not that type of “little lady” and I want to be taken seriously.
Here are some tips to the perfect handshake:
1) Upon meeting extend your right arm from about three to four feet away with a slight angle and your thumb pointing up.
2) Lock hands, thumb joints meet, firmly clasp. No bone breaking allowed!
3) Pump two to three times and let go.
There—now you have it. My key to successful meetings. Go forth and shake it like Mama told you, yo!
Weekly Winners {The Worldwide Photowalk Edition}
{See the whole set on Flickr} {Visit Lotus for more winners} {See more Worldwide Photowalk pictures}
I Believe in Myself
Every year, in high school, I dreaded the time when we would have those horrendous physical fitness tests. We’d have to do push ups, sit ups, climb a knotted rope to the top, sprints, and we’d have to run a mile. I did o.k. on the sit ups, but that was it. The rest were always a big, fat fail, but I never felt worse than when I was running that mile. We had to run it in under twelve minutes, and if we didn’t make it we had to stay after school to try it again. And again, and again; until we came in under the clock. I hated it so much and it was something that stuck with me through my life.
I’d look at those runners in town and think, “My God, what a crazy person!”
I’d say, “Not me! I’m no runner.”
I’d blame my bad folk-dancing knee, my lack of time, my weight, my whatever-excuse-worked.
Not. Anymore.
This is my track. Well, it’s not “my” track, but it is the track where I started my bike training. And, now it’s the track that I run on. Yes, it’s the track that I run on.
Let me say that slowly:
It’s. The. Track. That. I. Run. On.
On June 27th, I downloaded the Couch to 5K app for my iTouch. I had heard all about the app, and, quite frankly, had those same thoughts about it like, Oh My God those people are crazy, I could never run, I have a bad knee, whatever-whatever.
But, I was already in push mode. I was pushing myself with every bike ride. My legs were strong. My heart was feeling good. The scale was responding. Skirts felt loose.
So, I pushed a little harder, downloaded the damn app, and gave it a go!
I am currently in week 4. This is the week where I run for three minutes, walk, and then five minutes straight (twice!) The other day when I finished the last run portion, I exploded into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. I couldn’t stop and I know that the dad and daughter who were playing soccer on the field must’ve thought I was a loon.
I don’t know? Maybe I was laughing at Miss Callahan (and maybe giving her a big, fat middle finger) for making me feel like such a dipshit—in high school—for not being able to finish the mile in under twelve minutes? Maybe I was laughing because I was alive?!
I did it. I didn’t die. I’m going to keep doing it.
Hello, my name is Mishelle, and I’m a *runner!
*Follow my training on Daily Mile!
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