There was climbing tonight to round out my many hours of awake time. Now I’m really tired.

And there will be a large bruise on my shin tomorrow, surrounding the split in my skin where my leg smashed into an arete (outside corner).

But, on a positive note, no new blisters since my hands have somewhat re-established their protective roughness.

Man, could I go for some chicken McNuggets right now. Too bad. I’ll have a cool, refreshing glass of water instead.

My hands = so raw. Ow. I’m just peeling off little circles of skin from my palms and fingers.

I guess that’s what happens when you go climbing two nights in a row after not climbing for two weeks… and then most recently, two weeks before that. My hands got too soft. I need to regrow those protective calluses*. There’s pain, but it is (as they say) a good pain that means I DID something.

Various parts of NJ are without power as a result of last night’s heat-aided thunderstorms. I am not in one of those parts, but I had no train service today since they were busy cleaning debris from the tracks of my train line. Hopefully, they’ll be all done with that by tomorrow, because it really hurts to drive in now - in terms of gas prices and the price of parking.

I need some water and I need some sleep. In that order. Stat.

* I double-checked the spelling because I wasn’t sure if this should be a “-us” or “-ous.” Apparently, the “-ous” is for emotional hardening only.

I had my wrist surgery a year and a half ago. I went to occupational therapy for almost five months. I’ve been doing well, I think. I’ve been rock-climbing since September and my wrist has gotten a lot stronger from that; I’m able to grab onto holds with strength I most certainly did NOT have even three months ago, much less last September.

Despite all those advancements, it’s still something that impacts my day-to-day activities. When I was shopping in Princeton yesterday, I had a bag of about eight CDs. After carrying that for about 45 minutes, my left wrist was experiencing sharp pains shooting up into my forearm - I thought about asking one of my friends to carry them for me, but I would’ve felt like a helpless weakling (definitely NOT a feeling I enjoy). So I switched carrying hands for a bit, but I’m right-handed so I needed my right hand to reach into my purse, open doors, get money out of my wallet, sign my name, and other such things.

Yes, I can feel changes in barometric pressure in that wrist; the weather will affect it for the rest of my life, according to my surgeon.

Today, though, it’s really bringing me down. I did some light cleaning and then took a break to do my new Pilates DVD so I would have some kind of exercise today. Since my friend LJ is out in California, responsive and regular climbing buddies are a rare treat (commodity?). I’ve been able to go climbing once every two weeks, basically, down from twice or three times a week. Last time I went (Tuesday night), I sucked. Before getting back from vacation, I’d been climbing 5.9s (not easily, but I was finishing them) and trying 5.10s, but I was struggling with a 5.7 on Tuesday. Maybe it was just a bad night or I was tired from a long day of work; those happen - but it was pretty demoralizing. I didn’t cry, but it was close.

However, in a change from the Eva of Olde, I’m not going to give it up or give up on it. I’m trying to enlist my brother since he has the gear but just hasn’t been climbing in several years. I’ll keep contacting friends at the rock gym to latch onto their climbing nights. This has been such a good thing for me in so many ways, it would be stupid to toss it without trying every possible method for retaining its presence in my life. I can hope that my steadfast friend returns soon and brings with him the promise of regular intensive climbing, but I can’t count on that. In the meantime, even once a week is something.

So my substitution is more Pilates; both Pilates and climbing work your core muscles, so they dovetail nicely (some of my best climbing has been after doing a Pilates work-out beforehand). On this new DVD, I got through the first 17 minutes; broke a sweat, felt good about doing a more challenging workout… but then it got to the portion where the mat exercises required me to rest my entire weight on my hands (a la downward dog) while lifting my legs or stretching. It also called for me to rest my weight on my hands and wrists behind me while I balace on my tailbone and lift my legs into the air.

I couldn’t bend my left wrist enough in either direction to complete the exercises. The range of motion (ROM) in my left wrist is limited and while I can increase strength with exercise, my ROM is as good as its going to get because my anatomy is different; it’s not a matter of stretching or exercising. I have missing bones. Bones that aren’t supposed to be located in the active portion of my wrist have moved into that space; that’s how I was supposed to heal. It’s never going to be the same.

There are other things it will impact as well, but as a currently single gal, I have the luxury of waiting to cross that bridge.

Today was a pretty nice day. Very spring-like. Sunny and breezy and warm. A little chilly off the water.

I’m not typically a warm-weather aficionado, but I have to admit that today was nice. And I did get to go rock-climbing for a little while late this evening, so I feel good and tired from a combination of fresh outdoor air and physical activity. Still, I have to admit that it might be even nicer to be somewhere like this:

(My father traveled to Fiji about a year ago and he took these photos. It looks decent enough, no?)

On the brief walk from my office to the train station, I had a few moments of crazy sensory awareness. Or was this the closest I’ll come to a moment of Awareness? It was mostly auditory and visual. Eh, I don’t know. Anyway, I was aware - all at once - of:

Sound: helicopters overhead, the puffity-sucking sound of an old man smoking his pipe alongside me, the jangling of metal dog tags on a pair of dogs getting walked, seagulls crying, the rhythmic splashing of water against the dock, the soft sounds of my ballet-flat-clad footsteps compared to the clomping of the business men walking ahead of me, the old man speaking in Italian on his cell phone and repeating “ciao” over and over trying to get someone off the phone, the possibly-homeless man repeating, “Good evening, spare some change?” to every passerby, the wind whistling and rushing by my ears when it kicked up, rush-hour horn-honking a few blocks off…

Sights: the Hudson River catching the light of the late afternoon sun and splaying it along the train station and wood of the dock, long strips of sunlight cast onto the walkway from between the buildings to the west of the river, the tendrils of smoke from the old man’s pipe moving very slowly and thickly despite the windy day, the tessellations formed by the hexagonal stones of the walkway, the tips of my striped shoes appearing and disappearing rhythmically from under the hem of my skirt…

…reminding me of something Stephen Pinker wrote - that one of the most amazing things we do as true bipeds is walk upright. With every single step, we’re defying gravity and saving ourselves from falling by just a fraction of a second. A toddler learning to walk really is a big deal in those terms.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much in the olfactory sense group since I didn’t take my allergy medicine and am a congested girl.

In other news, I will be Twittering a bit (again, after my aborted efforts last year because it bored the crap out of me) every now and again. It will be an easy way to post quick stuff when I’m on vacation–or when I’m just really busy this week.

I feel compelled to do some Pilates and go running since my rock-climbing plans for tonight didn’t pan out. I happen to have gotten all addicted to a sport that requires a partner; this is highly uncharacteristic of me, but it happened. Tough. The friend with whom I climb regularly and have climbed regularly since September (”my climbing buddy”) is on the West coast at the moment and, thus, not able to belay for me. My efforts to arrange otherwise didn’t pan out for tonight, but I’m making an effort to arrange something for tomorrow night. If not, I will be doing a LOT of running. It’s just not as fun or rewarding or challenging. Boo-hiss.

I can’t believe it’s 9:00 already. I guess that’s what happens when you get home from work after 7, though. The hours run away like horses over the hill… to adapt and paraphrase a phrase. But something that will feel wonderful will be collapsing into my bed tonight and maybe getting rid of this headache. Ah, bed. Ah, slumber. You elusive temptresses.

I don’t even know how much time I’ll have to write in the next week. Seriously.

Today I drove my friend to the airport in the morning so he could catch his flight to San Francisco, and I will be flying out there to hang out with him next Wednesday. The seven days between now and then will be both interminable and far too short.

For example, I’ll be working every single day, including the weekend. That’s when I’ll be working the New York ComicCon to represent my company’s Shakespeare: The Manga Edition series. It should be pretty cool (if providing a little bit of geek overload - which I might even enjoy a bit if I didn’t get scared by people who are crazy hardcore about [insert comic book/graphic novel/manga/TV/movie series here] ) and the days should fly by since it will be busy.

Neil Gaiman is doing an appearance and signing sometime during the convention, but one part is a $500-a-ticket fundraiser for the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund and the other (reading - $20 a ticket) is most likely going to have lines spilling out the door if it doesn’t sell out. Since I’m working Saturday and Sunday, Friday is my only free night this week (and I’d like to see my other friends before I disappear for about two weeks), I won’t be attending, as much as I enjoy Mr. Gaiman - and I do.

All that coolness doesn’t change the fact that I will have spent all the hours between noon and 8 pm (you know, hours when I could be taking care of things like laundry and shopping and packing) standing in a noisy convention center.

It just puts a lot more pressure on me to get things done in the evenings. My usual evening routine is to get home from work around 6/7pm, change into running clothes, run for 30-45 minutes or so, shower, eat, check email/RSS feeds, and then read or watch a movie until I fall asleep. Tonight, I was unable to adhere to that routine; I got home at 6:30, checked email quickly and then ran out to stores to get vitals like sunglasses, shorts, a couple of tank tops and such. I got home at 9:00 and ate some dinner (leftover spinach and a piece of toast - PATHETIC) then tackled email, checking tracking on some stuff I ordered for said trip (durable rock climbing pants since Old Navy cargo pants won’t cut it), put away purchases, did some cleaning… and now it’s 11:00. Where does the time go?

Somewhere I can’t see. And the reasons for my blindness may vary.

But I’m glad to know that the title of a mix CD I made provided the possible title for a story my friend is writing, that I am basically guaranteed to have non-stop fun during my vacation which makes everything coming up to it worthwhile, that the stress I’ll be feeling at work will be productive stress because I’ll be getting lots of things done, and that I’m going to go rock-climbing tomorrow and it will feel good.

Objective: Prepare for a trip which will involve “camping” (at a music festival), rock-climbing and walking around a lot in a much warmer climate than I’m used to (the average temperature in late April in the Indio Valley is a high of ~90°F, low of about ~60°F).

Item 1: Comfortable walking shoes.
Method: Shopping.

My 6 year-old Sauconies just aren’t cutting it in the all-day comfort department anymore, but they are seriously the most comfortable just-kicking-around shoes I’ve ever owned. After much research into available color combinations in my size, the pictured sneakers were ordered and will be arriving on Tuesday. That color combination is called Bayou/Black.

Item 2: Single-person tent and lightweight sleeping bag.
Method: Excavation?

I am assured that someone in my family owns both of these already - but that they’re either in the basement or the attic. I have a week and a half to put on my miner’s helmet and gas mask and see what I can find… and if they cannot be found or are found to be in an unacceptable condition, I think I can borrow a tent from a friend at work, and might just have to pony up the ~$40 for a sleeping bag. Perhaps the Columbia Double Whammy Fleece Sleeping Bag and Pillow.

Item 3: TSA-approved luggage lock
Method: Damn, a trip to Target.

My big “trans-Atlantic” suitcase is equipped with a TSA-approved lock. But the suitcase I’m taking to California is not quite as fancy or huge or heavy, so I’ll have to buy a lock. I don’t want to find the contents of my suitcase strewn about the luggage carriage because they decided to randomly inspect MY suitcase and then just zipped it up halfway (it’s happened to more than a few people I know). Chances are that if there’s a lock, it will be second nature (while running through their robot-like procedures) to replace it after closing the suitcase.

There’s more (shorts! a hat!) but I’ll deal with those later.

Today is my brother’s 29th birthday. I’ve already welcomed him to Old. There will be family dinner tonight. There may be blood (or just verbal aggression). I should do some mental preparation - maybe even go running so I’m feeling relaxed before we embark upon the excitement of the evening.

Coolness experienced today, in order:

1. the sense of accomplishment achieved through finding free and legal parking on the streets of Manhattan (after circling blocks for 45 minutes)
2. getting a tasty lunch at a cafe in Chelsea (savory crepe! ham & cheese croissant! hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate syrup!)
3. climbing the big climbing wall at the Chelsea Piers for several hours and getting all the way up a challenging 5.9 level climb (challenging for me, anyway - only the second 5.9 I’ve ever completed)
4. walking around Manhattan for a few hours and stopping in Mxyplyzyk, Other Music, The Strand (where I bought bargain-priced books by Paul Auster and Angela Carter that I didn’t own yet) and the Virgin Megastore
5. warm drinks at one of the omnipresent Starbucks because it was getting quite cold and windy around 8pm
6. spazzing out like stupid New Jerseyans at a club down the shore (except it was during the car ride home from NYC) while listening to a Benny Benassi CD:

   Benny Benassi - Satisfaction
   
   
   (You may recognize this from a Burger King TV commercial from last year - the actual video is totally NSFW, but so over the top and sexually charged that I can’t help but laugh. In a phrase: chicks in bikinis with power tools - or just listen to the song.

7. getting home and purchasing tickets for Coachella… because I’ll be heading out to California just in time for that three-day festival of musical loveliness
8. eating some leftover tamarind lentils, putting on a fun eye candy crap movie (X-Men) and maybe getting to sleep early

I’ll get to that answer.

I’m very tired (have been up and on the move since 5:30 this morning - at least I got some cool free books out of it) and I think being tired and a little stressed (busy busy busy at work) is affecting me emotionally at last. It’s what happens. Stress can take down both your physical and emotional immune systems like nobody’s business. There’s other stuff, of course (there always is) but it’s all stuff I just have to work out in my own damn head and not release as a burden on others.

I did get some new climbing shoes today, so that’s exciting. I’ve been doing the rock-climbing thing for a bit over 6 months now — and while I’m not doing a stellar job (OK enough to experience progress), I have to bear in mind that a) I’ve never been athletic, b) I am missing 3 of my wrist bones in my left hand and it’s still 60-70% weaker than my right wrist and c) I’ve only been at this 6 months.

My original shoes were OK - I didn’t spend too much on them because I wasn’t sure how far I was going to get with this. Well, yesterday, two people at the gym suggested I might need new shoes just because it seemed that the rubber on my (now) old pair was worn down due to normal wear & tear and not quite as sticky as it should be. I started looking a few weeks ago, but wasn’t positive that I needed them. Two suggestions in one hour = convincing. So I went over to an outdoor/climbing store after work and picked some up.

Those are the shoes over there [points up & left]. Some of the style names they give these shoes - esp. when they’re specifically for women - are pretty ridiculous. These are called “Siren.” Yes, siren… as in luring sailors to their deaths with a creepily hypnotic song. Then there’s a style called “Hottie” and another called “Elektra” (so you’ve got the choice of an awful Jennifer Garner movie or Marvel comics female ninja assassin… or return to an original spelling of Electra and you’ve got a Greek myth that gave birth to a Freudian complex called the Electra complex… female version of the Oedipus complex, in a really general sense.)

It’ll be good to try those out next time I go to the gym. Let’s hope they make a difference and give me some more confidence in my climbing. Sometimes a small exterior change can make all the difference to a personal perception and defeat a mental hang-up. Not the placebo effect exactly… but related, I suppose.

I’ve been rock-climbing (indoors, at a rock gym) every week since mid-September. That’s going on five months now, and it’s been a huge part of my physical fitness “makeover.” In terms of keeping me interested and challenged, it’s great, and it is hard work. However, I’ve progressed moderately well for someone who goes only once a week, is missing three bones in her left wrist and wasn’t ever Miss Athletic to begin with.

So today was a pretty OK climbing day. I didn’t conquer anything super difficult, but I tried some climbs that were a bit more technical and different from what I’ve done thus far (thusly was I informed by my friend who invited me to join this crazy world’o'climbing). I kept trying, rather doggedly, thinking that there had to be something I was overlooking or missing that was making them more difficult.

Nope. They were just difficult for me. My hands got tired. And that’s OK. End result?
I have some markings. Something to show for my efforts. Perhaps even a sort of tribal initiation sign.

I’ve got me some raw hands.

It’s hard to take a steady photo of your right hand when you’re right-handed. The left hand is not as adept at keeping a camera still. However, you can still see the shiny new blister on my pinky finger, the pink spots on my palms and fingers where callouses have been building for several moons (and soreness persists), and the bit of abraded skin on my index finger. There’s lots more excitement under that Band-Aid and on my other hand, but why give it all away?

Just don’t let anyone say I don’t give a 110% when I set out to conquer something!

Even if I don’t quite get there by the end of one attempt, there’s always next time.