Okay, it is time to fill you in on what else has gone on in the last couple of months to make me feel like an overall failure and underachiever.
I covered the foot injury and having bronchitis more times than you thought you would hear about it. Then, I got the sinus infection, which I covered as well. Oh yeah, I know what I haven't covered. Brace yourself...shortly after I got back from Vegas, during the recuperation week, there was an evening we were getting ready to go to bed. The pups were on the floor sleeping. Brett went downstairs to get something and I was turning things off upstairs and locking things up, etc. I was on my way to go check on Ty and I went to step over Dutch. Keep in mind that Dutch has cataract in both eyes and I suspect he is starting lose his hearing. When I stepped over him, I startled him, he jumped up and took my right leg with him...across the living room. I hopped as much as I could until the unthinkable happened. It was like my pup had turned into a martial artist and leg swept me. I came crashing down to the floor. Hard.
Fortunate for me, Brett was in the room right underneath me and heard the whole thing. He returned upstairs to ask what that loud noise was to find me still lying on the floor. Don't worry, I was laughing. Dutch was trying to make it up to me, but I told him to take three steps back and he took four. We made up, but I was left with a very sore left hip and thigh as well as a slightly sprained ankle. Go figure.
The other thing I did not cover was the pinched nerve in my left leg. A few weeks ago, right before I got the sinus infection, but well after Dutch walked my leg, I jumped back into working out. Literally and figuratively, if you can have both, but even if you can't, I am taking both right now. Anyhoo, I worked out, no problems. I felt fine, I did just fine and enjoyed it.
I started my day like normal, got ready for work and was getting Ty ready before I left for work and my left shin had a spot that felt like it was on fire. I didn't think too much of it because it went away rather quick. While I was at work, I noticed it again. I pulled up my pant leg and felt the spot and it was cool to the touch, but it felt like I was burning up from the inside out just in the one spot. It went on for a couple of days. I started to get scared. So, what do people do when they have an ailment and start to freak out? Google it? That's right, Google. I Googled it and found that people with similar situations had either a pinched nerve or a neurological disorder. Sigh.
Thankfully, I still have a Neurologist on staff, so after consulting her, it was determined it was a pinched nerve. It wasn't painful, so that was a plus. It was irritating, for sure. Scary? Not anymore. BUTTTTTTTTTT, since I had this pinched nerve, I had to tone it down for a bit and not do the high intensity working out for a while. Sigh.
I took a break and instead was walking and just kept moving. Not a big deal. Things got better, I got back into working it like I know I can. Today, while I was working out, I was feeling pretty good about myself and the stellar job I was doing keeping up with Shaun T and super irritating girl, Tanya. Keep in mind when I am doing Insanity, I am all over the place. It is hard to stay in one spot. I would have a really hard time in class these days. Anyhoo, I'm jumping around, I bump into the recliner. Under the recliner was Tyson's plastic, foam covered bat. It rolled out from underneath the recliner when I bumped into it. I didn't know this until... I landed on it. My right foot landed right on top of that bat and I started to roll around on one leg. For a moment, I felt like I was an act in the circus. I tried really hard to keep my balance and not fall, but this is me we're talking about and there is no other way but to fall. My foot rolled off the bat, rolling my ankle and I came crashing down to the floor.
At 4:45 in the morning, there I am, lying on the basement floor and saying "oh shit." My foot is already throbbing. I stopped Shaun T. Wheeled out my Gazelle and got on that instead with my throbbing foot. Hot, I tell ya. Hot. (Insert numerous eye rolls here)
I can't make this stuff up. It really does happen to me. Too often. But then again, what would I have to write about and entertain you all???? I would just be (gulp) normal.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you wondering how I haven't broken anything lately, until next time...
Showing posts with label Funny crap. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Funny crap. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Painting Pottery
Alright, so two doors down neighbor texts me the week before Father's Day and says she would like to take her son to paint something for Father's Day and asked if Ty and I would want to go, too. I'm a HUGE fan of painting my own pottery in my own hues and designs, so of course I'm down!
I picked Ty up from daycare, had snacks on hand for him to eat on the way there. They were to meet us there. Ty scarfed down some snacks and I told him about what we were going to do. He loves to paint and I knew he would be into it.
We get there and the gal working was already wiping up the floor. Apparently, two doors down neighbor and son had spilled a bowl of water. Then, of course this place had to have Dum-Dums in plain sight. Both kids are about the suckers. So, since her son had one, Ty had to have one, too. No biggie. He is content for the moment. Ty chose, okay, okay, I chose a coffee mug for Ty to paint. Things were a bit dicey when we had to sponge water all over the pieces we were going to paint. Ty was WAY more into this than I thought he would be. So much so, that he wanted to just play in the bowl of water with the sponge. Distraction came when he remembered the Dum-Dums.
I got his attention when we went over to the shelves of paints and I let him pick out the colors he wanted to use. Back to the Dum-Dums. The gal finally put the suckers behind the counter. Did I mention that before that, our children had both placed their have sucked, licked and eaten suckers back in the bowl??? He picked three different greens, a yellow, a red and a blue. He concentrated while he painted. He was quiet and painted with conviction. I held the mug and spun it as needed. He painted the inside and outside of this mug in no particular pattern, just covered the mug in paint. It was hideous, but made completely by him.
After he got done painting, he said he was ready to go home. Well, we still needed to clean up and pay. During the time that two doors down neighbor was finishing up the painting on her husband's mug, our children, sitting side by side in chairs, get into a slapping match with each other. They NEVER act like this towards each other. I separate them, putting Ty at a different table so I can clean things up. He's back to wanting to play in the murky paint water.
Ty gets to come back to the table which we are sitting and sit back in his chair. Then the boys get into it again. Tyson didn't want the neighbor boy's hands on the chair and the neighbor boy didn't want Ty to sit in the chair. I was in disbelief they were doing this. We had them hug it out and all seemed well.
I paid and we start to leave. Ty stalls in the entryway and starts playing with the glass door. Then the neighbor boy comes and they are now fighting over the door, playing tug of war, one on each side of the door. The neighbor boy pulls the door closed on Ty's fingers, Ty is crying. I tell them both to not play with the door for fear of getting fingers pinched again. Again, disbelief. They never ever act like this.
After about 7 minutes of back and forth with Ty on leaving because he wanted to stay in the entryway of this place, I gave him the choice of walking or being carried. He didn't choose. I chose to pick him up and carry him. He was SO MAD. So mad that he actually hit me in the back of the head with his closed fist and it made my ears ring. No, I'm not joking.
After I spoke sternly, he and I rode in silence all the way home. I pull into the garage and he is whispering, "sawwy mommy. I need a hug." I go to get him out and I start crying. He starts crying and says, "I need out! I need a hug!" We hugged it out. Brett wanted to know what was going on, I could only tell him that he was naughty at the store.
The Saturday before Father's Day, we went to pick up the mug. It was a different gal working and I told her I was there to pick up a couple mugs that we painted. She pulls out a nicely painted, symmetrical striped, mug in bold colors. I told her, "look for hideous." She found it.
Ty and I got back in the car and I ask him, what else should we get daddy for his present. Without hesitation and in a "duh" tone, he says, "coffee!" I was thinking that we would get some fancier coffee, but Ty had something else in mind: the coffee that we usually have at home, the 270 cup tub of Folgers. He insisted that we get two. He also wanted to get his daddy some paints. We go to the craft aisle and he wanted to get finger paint. Done. Right below the finger paint was a pack of three safety scissors. Apparently, daddy needed those. I let him pick out the gift bag: a giant bag with pictures of balloons on it. Time for a card. The one card he liked right off the bat was a Minnie Mouse card, but it was to daddy from daughter. I put the kibosh on that and had him pick something else. He picked a Lightning McQueen card that played "I can't drive 55" - yes, Sammy Hagar singing.
Brett was pleased with the gift selection and he finally got to hear this whole story. Hopefully, we can go paint a mug again sometime. I hope it is a better experience next time. It was fun while it lasted and the mug, is so ugly it is beautiful.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that celebrated Father's Day with similar gifts, until next time...
I picked Ty up from daycare, had snacks on hand for him to eat on the way there. They were to meet us there. Ty scarfed down some snacks and I told him about what we were going to do. He loves to paint and I knew he would be into it.
We get there and the gal working was already wiping up the floor. Apparently, two doors down neighbor and son had spilled a bowl of water. Then, of course this place had to have Dum-Dums in plain sight. Both kids are about the suckers. So, since her son had one, Ty had to have one, too. No biggie. He is content for the moment. Ty chose, okay, okay, I chose a coffee mug for Ty to paint. Things were a bit dicey when we had to sponge water all over the pieces we were going to paint. Ty was WAY more into this than I thought he would be. So much so, that he wanted to just play in the bowl of water with the sponge. Distraction came when he remembered the Dum-Dums.
I got his attention when we went over to the shelves of paints and I let him pick out the colors he wanted to use. Back to the Dum-Dums. The gal finally put the suckers behind the counter. Did I mention that before that, our children had both placed their have sucked, licked and eaten suckers back in the bowl??? He picked three different greens, a yellow, a red and a blue. He concentrated while he painted. He was quiet and painted with conviction. I held the mug and spun it as needed. He painted the inside and outside of this mug in no particular pattern, just covered the mug in paint. It was hideous, but made completely by him.
After he got done painting, he said he was ready to go home. Well, we still needed to clean up and pay. During the time that two doors down neighbor was finishing up the painting on her husband's mug, our children, sitting side by side in chairs, get into a slapping match with each other. They NEVER act like this towards each other. I separate them, putting Ty at a different table so I can clean things up. He's back to wanting to play in the murky paint water.
Ty gets to come back to the table which we are sitting and sit back in his chair. Then the boys get into it again. Tyson didn't want the neighbor boy's hands on the chair and the neighbor boy didn't want Ty to sit in the chair. I was in disbelief they were doing this. We had them hug it out and all seemed well.
I paid and we start to leave. Ty stalls in the entryway and starts playing with the glass door. Then the neighbor boy comes and they are now fighting over the door, playing tug of war, one on each side of the door. The neighbor boy pulls the door closed on Ty's fingers, Ty is crying. I tell them both to not play with the door for fear of getting fingers pinched again. Again, disbelief. They never ever act like this.
After about 7 minutes of back and forth with Ty on leaving because he wanted to stay in the entryway of this place, I gave him the choice of walking or being carried. He didn't choose. I chose to pick him up and carry him. He was SO MAD. So mad that he actually hit me in the back of the head with his closed fist and it made my ears ring. No, I'm not joking.
After I spoke sternly, he and I rode in silence all the way home. I pull into the garage and he is whispering, "sawwy mommy. I need a hug." I go to get him out and I start crying. He starts crying and says, "I need out! I need a hug!" We hugged it out. Brett wanted to know what was going on, I could only tell him that he was naughty at the store.
The Saturday before Father's Day, we went to pick up the mug. It was a different gal working and I told her I was there to pick up a couple mugs that we painted. She pulls out a nicely painted, symmetrical striped, mug in bold colors. I told her, "look for hideous." She found it.
Ty and I got back in the car and I ask him, what else should we get daddy for his present. Without hesitation and in a "duh" tone, he says, "coffee!" I was thinking that we would get some fancier coffee, but Ty had something else in mind: the coffee that we usually have at home, the 270 cup tub of Folgers. He insisted that we get two. He also wanted to get his daddy some paints. We go to the craft aisle and he wanted to get finger paint. Done. Right below the finger paint was a pack of three safety scissors. Apparently, daddy needed those. I let him pick out the gift bag: a giant bag with pictures of balloons on it. Time for a card. The one card he liked right off the bat was a Minnie Mouse card, but it was to daddy from daughter. I put the kibosh on that and had him pick something else. He picked a Lightning McQueen card that played "I can't drive 55" - yes, Sammy Hagar singing.
Brett was pleased with the gift selection and he finally got to hear this whole story. Hopefully, we can go paint a mug again sometime. I hope it is a better experience next time. It was fun while it lasted and the mug, is so ugly it is beautiful.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that celebrated Father's Day with similar gifts, until next time...
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
While We Are Talking Cheerleading
Okay, when I had finally made the cheer squad, I decided it would be good to take a recreational gymnastics class to increase flexibility and strengthen my core and get some good conditioning before I actually started with the squad the next season.
You know how I'm a terrible dancer and in my adult life, a terrible gymnast? Well, I can't say that I was much better at gymnastics as a child, either. I wasn't good at all. I just really liked it a lot as a kid. So, there we are one evening, working on SIMPLE things on the trapezoid and the springboard. You know, straddle over the trapezoid, side sweep of the legs over the trapezoid and the tuck through on, you guessed it, the trapezoid. It wasn't even a real horse. Sigh.
Anyhoo, they kept piling on the trapezoid pieces. At this point, it was about 5 feet tall. I told the coach that it was too tall for me to go over it. She said to just do it. So, I did. I ran as fast as I could, hit that springboard as hard as I could, got up there, placed my hands on the trapezoid and went to put my feet through my arms and... uh-oh, it WAS too tall! The tops of my feet and my ankles caught the side of the trap and I fell forward, sliding down on my belly onto the mats below, but my calfs were touching my head. I was pretty much folded in half and couldn't breathe. (Right about now, my sister is laughing at this and she wasn't even there, but the imagery is enough to make her laugh until she cries) The coaches all run up to me and tell me not to move. Uhhhh, I'm not going to just lie there and leave my legs up there, not able to breathe, so I rolled at least where I could get my legs down and get on my back. An ambulance was called, got a ride to the hospital only to find that I had cracked a couple of ribs and bruised a lot of ribs and was very lucky I didn't break my back. Sigh. Yeah, that all really happened.
My second year of cheerleading, during a stunt and a school pep assembly, the flyer lost balance and fell. She fell on my face. It was her hip bone on my nose, to be exact. I blacked out for a couple seconds and had to leave the gym floor. Went to the doctor to find that my nose, while not a clean break, was indeed cracked and I could expect my eyes to blacken in the days to come. Yay.
As I was telling the story to one of my friends at school, while walking down the hall, I happened to mention that the gal that fell on my nose and broke it, actually got pissed and said, "YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO CATCH ME!" Yeah, pretty sure I did, WITH MY FACE. She didn't ask if I was okay, which I also mentioned and I said to my friend, "crap, I better look around to make sure she isn't behind me or something." I looked, I didn't see her behind me. The girl that I caught with my face approached me at practice that day and said she was behind me, but I didn't see her. She felt awful and I felt like an asshole. As any good cheerleader does, I hugged it out with her. Seriously. Yeah, this really happened.
The point of THESE stories? NO PAIN, NO GAIN! Now, go get 'em, tiger!!!!!!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you still in disbelief that I was ever a cheerleader, until next time. . .
You know how I'm a terrible dancer and in my adult life, a terrible gymnast? Well, I can't say that I was much better at gymnastics as a child, either. I wasn't good at all. I just really liked it a lot as a kid. So, there we are one evening, working on SIMPLE things on the trapezoid and the springboard. You know, straddle over the trapezoid, side sweep of the legs over the trapezoid and the tuck through on, you guessed it, the trapezoid. It wasn't even a real horse. Sigh.
Anyhoo, they kept piling on the trapezoid pieces. At this point, it was about 5 feet tall. I told the coach that it was too tall for me to go over it. She said to just do it. So, I did. I ran as fast as I could, hit that springboard as hard as I could, got up there, placed my hands on the trapezoid and went to put my feet through my arms and... uh-oh, it WAS too tall! The tops of my feet and my ankles caught the side of the trap and I fell forward, sliding down on my belly onto the mats below, but my calfs were touching my head. I was pretty much folded in half and couldn't breathe. (Right about now, my sister is laughing at this and she wasn't even there, but the imagery is enough to make her laugh until she cries) The coaches all run up to me and tell me not to move. Uhhhh, I'm not going to just lie there and leave my legs up there, not able to breathe, so I rolled at least where I could get my legs down and get on my back. An ambulance was called, got a ride to the hospital only to find that I had cracked a couple of ribs and bruised a lot of ribs and was very lucky I didn't break my back. Sigh. Yeah, that all really happened.
My second year of cheerleading, during a stunt and a school pep assembly, the flyer lost balance and fell. She fell on my face. It was her hip bone on my nose, to be exact. I blacked out for a couple seconds and had to leave the gym floor. Went to the doctor to find that my nose, while not a clean break, was indeed cracked and I could expect my eyes to blacken in the days to come. Yay.
As I was telling the story to one of my friends at school, while walking down the hall, I happened to mention that the gal that fell on my nose and broke it, actually got pissed and said, "YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO CATCH ME!" Yeah, pretty sure I did, WITH MY FACE. She didn't ask if I was okay, which I also mentioned and I said to my friend, "crap, I better look around to make sure she isn't behind me or something." I looked, I didn't see her behind me. The girl that I caught with my face approached me at practice that day and said she was behind me, but I didn't see her. She felt awful and I felt like an asshole. As any good cheerleader does, I hugged it out with her. Seriously. Yeah, this really happened.
The point of THESE stories? NO PAIN, NO GAIN! Now, go get 'em, tiger!!!!!!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you still in disbelief that I was ever a cheerleader, until next time. . .
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Insanity Days 11, 12, 13 and 14
Day 11
Woke up. Felt exhausted for no apparent reason, went down and started to workout and found that I couldn't see very well. Apparently, my seasonal allergies have kicked in and now, I have cloudy eyes! Yay!!!! Sigh. I'm sitting in the chair, blogging right now, eyes are clearing up, but it is after 5. Going to try again tonight and also take some allergy meds before bed. Sigh.
I ended up doing a little Tae Bo instead because it was Cardio Recovery. After the night I had with Ty, I couldn't get myself to do the workout that I loathe.
Day 12
I went for it full force this morning!! Cardio Power and Resistance is my favorite thus far. I have a little negativity towards one of the gals on Insanity. Okay, okay, quite a bit of hostility. She is overly dramatic and while she is in good shape, I find it extremely hard to believe that she is pushing herself THAT hard and needs to make THAT face all the time. For fun, I imitate her while I workout.
With TurboFire, you don't see much of the other people in "class." It is focused on Chalene, Alee and someone else going high impact at the front of the room. It is group vs. class setting. Group gives me the entertainment of others while class feels more like I am a part of the action.
I did notice that I pulled a muscle. My left pec, to be specific. It is a challenge to keep form intact when pushing myself.
Day 13
It was Pure Cardio. I did this during nap time and after I had colored my hair (and rinsed this time). It is pretty crazy. Ten minute warmup, five minutes stretching, then fifteen minutes of nonstop high intensity calisthenics.
I was slated to do Cardio Abs as well, but Ty woke up with about ten minutes of Pure Cardio left and he wanted to watch Mickey. I obliged because I was already sweating like crazy and all I could focus on was showering.
I started Cardio Abs to see how long it was. Only 16 more minutes, but I had already made Ty wait another 10 and let me tell you, when someone is repeating, "mommy, I watch Mickey?" while you are trying to kick ass, it doesn't make anything go any faster or easier. It is actually pretty distracting. Ty saw the beginning of Cardio Abs and he thought he would like to do it...tomorrow. Ha! So, tomorrow, I will do Cardio Abs on my "rest" day so I can do it with Ty. I hope he likes it!
Day 14
My day off and I popped in Cardio Abs...with Ty in tow. I am proud to say that I did half of the workout (the sitting part) with Ty either in my lap, on my legs or on my back.I introduced Ty to Shaun T. He was immediately confused upon seeing him on the TV and was asking, "who that?! Who that, mommy?!" Ty loved the standing ab work where we get to jump to our hearts' content. He was in heaven doing this.
In the short, 16 minute workout, I sweat more than I do normally in a forty minute workout. I think, in part due to the thirty pound child on my body the whole time. It was like I hadn't lost a pound. I always wondered what it would be like to be a contestant on the Biggest Loser when they give them backpacks full of the weight they lost. I got to try it out. With a little monkey on my back. Nice.
I really enjoyed the Cardio Abs workout. It was also simple, easy to follow and in minute intervals of the exercises. Incredible how long a minute seems when you HAVE TO do something for one minute. With a little monkey on your back.
Tomorrow is my 2 week Fit Test. I am looking forward to seeing if I have made any progress in two weeks. I'm not too confident that I have, but I guess we will see and I will let you know!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you Googling pictures of Shaun T, until next time...
Woke up. Felt exhausted for no apparent reason, went down and started to workout and found that I couldn't see very well. Apparently, my seasonal allergies have kicked in and now, I have cloudy eyes! Yay!!!! Sigh. I'm sitting in the chair, blogging right now, eyes are clearing up, but it is after 5. Going to try again tonight and also take some allergy meds before bed. Sigh.
I ended up doing a little Tae Bo instead because it was Cardio Recovery. After the night I had with Ty, I couldn't get myself to do the workout that I loathe.
Day 12
I went for it full force this morning!! Cardio Power and Resistance is my favorite thus far. I have a little negativity towards one of the gals on Insanity. Okay, okay, quite a bit of hostility. She is overly dramatic and while she is in good shape, I find it extremely hard to believe that she is pushing herself THAT hard and needs to make THAT face all the time. For fun, I imitate her while I workout.
With TurboFire, you don't see much of the other people in "class." It is focused on Chalene, Alee and someone else going high impact at the front of the room. It is group vs. class setting. Group gives me the entertainment of others while class feels more like I am a part of the action.
I did notice that I pulled a muscle. My left pec, to be specific. It is a challenge to keep form intact when pushing myself.
Day 13
It was Pure Cardio. I did this during nap time and after I had colored my hair (and rinsed this time). It is pretty crazy. Ten minute warmup, five minutes stretching, then fifteen minutes of nonstop high intensity calisthenics.
I was slated to do Cardio Abs as well, but Ty woke up with about ten minutes of Pure Cardio left and he wanted to watch Mickey. I obliged because I was already sweating like crazy and all I could focus on was showering.
I started Cardio Abs to see how long it was. Only 16 more minutes, but I had already made Ty wait another 10 and let me tell you, when someone is repeating, "mommy, I watch Mickey?" while you are trying to kick ass, it doesn't make anything go any faster or easier. It is actually pretty distracting. Ty saw the beginning of Cardio Abs and he thought he would like to do it...tomorrow. Ha! So, tomorrow, I will do Cardio Abs on my "rest" day so I can do it with Ty. I hope he likes it!
Day 14
My day off and I popped in Cardio Abs...with Ty in tow. I am proud to say that I did half of the workout (the sitting part) with Ty either in my lap, on my legs or on my back.I introduced Ty to Shaun T. He was immediately confused upon seeing him on the TV and was asking, "who that?! Who that, mommy?!" Ty loved the standing ab work where we get to jump to our hearts' content. He was in heaven doing this.
In the short, 16 minute workout, I sweat more than I do normally in a forty minute workout. I think, in part due to the thirty pound child on my body the whole time. It was like I hadn't lost a pound. I always wondered what it would be like to be a contestant on the Biggest Loser when they give them backpacks full of the weight they lost. I got to try it out. With a little monkey on my back. Nice.
I really enjoyed the Cardio Abs workout. It was also simple, easy to follow and in minute intervals of the exercises. Incredible how long a minute seems when you HAVE TO do something for one minute. With a little monkey on your back.
Tomorrow is my 2 week Fit Test. I am looking forward to seeing if I have made any progress in two weeks. I'm not too confident that I have, but I guess we will see and I will let you know!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you Googling pictures of Shaun T, until next time...
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
While We're Talking About Hair
As I was typing my previous post about my Liberty Bell hairdo, I remembered a couple other times that I had some horrendous hair mishaps. No, I'm not talking about my 3rd grade, 4th grade, 5th grade, 6th grade or 7th grade hairdos. Those don't count. I'm talking in my adult life. And no, I'm not talking about the senior year cheerleading picture, either.
When I was in college, I was sitting at home watching Lifetime movies and the star of the movie I was watching had the CUTEST haircut EVER. She had long layers and it just looked so nice. Having the same face shape as yours truly, I thought that would be a nice, subtle change-up with my current cut, which was just long and long. I wasted no time in heading to the mall to a Regis salon. I was met by a middle-aged woman and I described what it was that I wanted to do, having the shortest layers being about the bottom of my ear length when dry, the rest would be longer yet and just a trim off the bottom. She sounded and looked like she understood what I was saying. She shampooed and conditioned my hair and divided my hair up and used clips to hold chunks of hair out of the way.
She started with the front right quadrant of my head. I was not totally facing the mirror, but could tell once she started to cut that something wasn't right. She lopped off about 6 inches to bring the front quarter of my hair butt up against my earlobe. I exclaimed, "WAIT! What are you doing?!" She said, "isn't this what you said you wanted?" I said, "NO!" And that's when I began to cry. She whispered in my ear as I am sobbing, "this was just a miscommunication." Ummmmmmm, no shit?! She proceeds to ask ME how she wants me to fix my hair!!! Yes, you, the professional, ask the woman sitting in your chair in hysterics how YOU should "fix" her hair. I'm crying and in between sobs I say, "I don't know! How do you fix something like this!?!"
Well, let me tell you how she "fixed" it. She gave me a mullet. Yes, a mullet. No, I'm not making it up. Granted, it was what I would envision someone who is trying to grow their mullet out would look like. The front quarters of my hair were at least 6 inches shorter than the back half of my head. Nope, not joking. It was awful. I got a 10% discount for that cut, which, by the way was the same discount as my student discount.
I left the salon and had to pass through the store my now brother-in-law worked. Fortunately/unfortunately, he was working as I passed through looking like I had just heard the saddest news on the planet. He stopped me and wanted to know what was going on. I had just stopped crying, but upon having to rehash the horror, I said, again sobbing, in the middle of Scheels, "Jay, I got a haircut and I ended up with a MULLET!" He immediately starts to laugh and says, "Come on, it can't be THAT bad!" I pulled the ponytail holder out of my hair to reveal the mulletude. Me, still crying. In the middle of Scheels. He says, "Oh. Oh, man." He is again laughing and says, "Wow, Trish, when I saw you crying, I thought your Sunny had died or something!" I said, "Jay! This is SERIOUS! I. Have. A. Mullet!! I have to go." I abruptly left the store and headed for home. In the meantime, Jay called Brett to give him a heads up on the situation.
I arrive home to have Brett react almost the same way, but have some sort of compassion for my outburst of emotion for the trauma of sporting a mullet in the new millennium. No one should have to do that. No one.
The next day, I called the salon, spoke to a manager, who told me to come in immediately and she would fix it AND refund my money. She completely understood what having a mullet meant to me. I went, she fixed, I lived to tell about it.
I might as well give you the synopsis of the last mishap with my hair. It was 2 months before our wedding, I colored my hair at home, which I had done a million times over. This time, however, the dye left a red stripe all around my head like a very strange halo. It was two inches from the roots and was a stripe about 3 inches wide. ALL THE WAY around my head. For the next two months before our wedding, I had to go to a salon twice a week for three weeks, then once a week for 3 weeks to have my hair stripped and detoxed only to have it dyed again days before the wedding. That was over 300 dollars worth of "oopsie." Never happened again after that. Odd it HAD to happen right before I was about to get married. Go figure.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you really wondering how I don't have my own sitcom, until next time...
When I was in college, I was sitting at home watching Lifetime movies and the star of the movie I was watching had the CUTEST haircut EVER. She had long layers and it just looked so nice. Having the same face shape as yours truly, I thought that would be a nice, subtle change-up with my current cut, which was just long and long. I wasted no time in heading to the mall to a Regis salon. I was met by a middle-aged woman and I described what it was that I wanted to do, having the shortest layers being about the bottom of my ear length when dry, the rest would be longer yet and just a trim off the bottom. She sounded and looked like she understood what I was saying. She shampooed and conditioned my hair and divided my hair up and used clips to hold chunks of hair out of the way.
She started with the front right quadrant of my head. I was not totally facing the mirror, but could tell once she started to cut that something wasn't right. She lopped off about 6 inches to bring the front quarter of my hair butt up against my earlobe. I exclaimed, "WAIT! What are you doing?!" She said, "isn't this what you said you wanted?" I said, "NO!" And that's when I began to cry. She whispered in my ear as I am sobbing, "this was just a miscommunication." Ummmmmmm, no shit?! She proceeds to ask ME how she wants me to fix my hair!!! Yes, you, the professional, ask the woman sitting in your chair in hysterics how YOU should "fix" her hair. I'm crying and in between sobs I say, "I don't know! How do you fix something like this!?!"
Well, let me tell you how she "fixed" it. She gave me a mullet. Yes, a mullet. No, I'm not making it up. Granted, it was what I would envision someone who is trying to grow their mullet out would look like. The front quarters of my hair were at least 6 inches shorter than the back half of my head. Nope, not joking. It was awful. I got a 10% discount for that cut, which, by the way was the same discount as my student discount.
I left the salon and had to pass through the store my now brother-in-law worked. Fortunately/unfortunately, he was working as I passed through looking like I had just heard the saddest news on the planet. He stopped me and wanted to know what was going on. I had just stopped crying, but upon having to rehash the horror, I said, again sobbing, in the middle of Scheels, "Jay, I got a haircut and I ended up with a MULLET!" He immediately starts to laugh and says, "Come on, it can't be THAT bad!" I pulled the ponytail holder out of my hair to reveal the mulletude. Me, still crying. In the middle of Scheels. He says, "Oh. Oh, man." He is again laughing and says, "Wow, Trish, when I saw you crying, I thought your Sunny had died or something!" I said, "Jay! This is SERIOUS! I. Have. A. Mullet!! I have to go." I abruptly left the store and headed for home. In the meantime, Jay called Brett to give him a heads up on the situation.
I arrive home to have Brett react almost the same way, but have some sort of compassion for my outburst of emotion for the trauma of sporting a mullet in the new millennium. No one should have to do that. No one.
The next day, I called the salon, spoke to a manager, who told me to come in immediately and she would fix it AND refund my money. She completely understood what having a mullet meant to me. I went, she fixed, I lived to tell about it.
I might as well give you the synopsis of the last mishap with my hair. It was 2 months before our wedding, I colored my hair at home, which I had done a million times over. This time, however, the dye left a red stripe all around my head like a very strange halo. It was two inches from the roots and was a stripe about 3 inches wide. ALL THE WAY around my head. For the next two months before our wedding, I had to go to a salon twice a week for three weeks, then once a week for 3 weeks to have my hair stripped and detoxed only to have it dyed again days before the wedding. That was over 300 dollars worth of "oopsie." Never happened again after that. Odd it HAD to happen right before I was about to get married. Go figure.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you really wondering how I don't have my own sitcom, until next time...
Monday, May 21, 2012
The Things You Do for Family
My sister-in-law is a hair stylist. Let me also preface this with the fact that she has been a stylist for some time now and this is an old story that I am telling because it makes my sister-in-law laugh until she is crying because only up until this year, 2012, did I confess to her what truly happened that day.
When she was first in Cosmetology school, which was over ten years ago now, she needed to have people come in and get their hair cut so she could be graded. This was before she was technically my sister-in-law because Brett and I wouldn't be married until the next summer. I had never been afraid of getting my hair cut because my mantra was always, "it will grow back!" Just take a look at my senior year of high school cheerleading pictures. Eek. Anyhoo, Brett was a little worried about me letting her cut my hair and kept asking me if I was sure if I wanted to let her do this. I had longer hair, past my shoulders and told him, "it will be fine! It will grow back!"
So, I happily agree to let her cut my hair and we set a date and time. I remember having to request a half day of vacation that day because I commuted to DSM for work at the time. My appointment was at 11. I was thinking that I would go, get my hair cut and have a couple hours to burn doing something fun afterwards. I can't recall if it was before Christmas or right before New Year's that this appointment was in the books. Either way, it was December.
I arrive at the appointment, get my hair washed and conditioned. I sit down in the chair and tell her that I think a shorter cut, right about shoulder length would be good. Nothing fancy because I'm a wash and wear type of gal. She gets to cutting. And she cuts. And cuts. And cuts. No, she's not cutting off a lot, she's just extremely slow because she is just learning how to do all of this stuff. No biggie. Two and a half hours go by and she finally starts to finish up and begins to style it.
As she styles it, I try not to stare at what has become of my hair. There really is no turning back now. She styles and has to cut a couple more strands to even things up. She goes and gets her instructor for her to take a look at the finished product.
Instructor to me: Looks nice! Do you like it?
Me: YES! It is SO COOL! I LOVE IT!!! (yes, I was enthusiastic and genuine about it because, after all, this was my future sister in law's future career and did I mention my future sister in law?)
Instructor: Yes! It is a GREAT holiday cut.
Me: Umm hmm! (with a smile)
Okay, when I went in there, my hair was long, layered and easy to manage. When I left there, my hair was cut like a bell. Yes, a bell. Like the Liberty Bell. It was a little longer than chin length and it flipped up hardcore. Over three hours in the salon, too!!
When Brett came home and saw what had become of my experience at the salon with his sister, he encouraged me to tell her that she should fix it. I told him there was no way in hell I was going to say a thing to her because she was so nervous and trying so hard that I wasn't going to say a word. Plus, there was really nothing she could do to fix it at this time. Only time would prove to be the best thing to fix this. I wore the bell. I wore the Liberty Bell until it grew out. I didn't let my sister-in-law cut my hair again until she graduated. She asked a couple of times and I kindly said, "I would be happy to let you cut my hair when you are done with school!" She wasn't a fan of that answer.
It is 2012 and I finally tell my sister-in-law why I wouldn't let her cut my hair again. She laughed so hard and couldn't believe I sported the Liberty Bell until it grew out and I never told her that I didn't like it. The things we do for love. This is the same sister-in-law that I had to enlist to help me "fix" the unfixable when I had to cut a chunk of my hair out due to the lemon sucker slapped in my hair (refer to previous post regarding taking Ty to the doctor). I am still growing that gem out. It's hot. Really hot.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that have had a bad haircut or two in your lifetime, until next time. . .
When she was first in Cosmetology school, which was over ten years ago now, she needed to have people come in and get their hair cut so she could be graded. This was before she was technically my sister-in-law because Brett and I wouldn't be married until the next summer. I had never been afraid of getting my hair cut because my mantra was always, "it will grow back!" Just take a look at my senior year of high school cheerleading pictures. Eek. Anyhoo, Brett was a little worried about me letting her cut my hair and kept asking me if I was sure if I wanted to let her do this. I had longer hair, past my shoulders and told him, "it will be fine! It will grow back!"
So, I happily agree to let her cut my hair and we set a date and time. I remember having to request a half day of vacation that day because I commuted to DSM for work at the time. My appointment was at 11. I was thinking that I would go, get my hair cut and have a couple hours to burn doing something fun afterwards. I can't recall if it was before Christmas or right before New Year's that this appointment was in the books. Either way, it was December.
I arrive at the appointment, get my hair washed and conditioned. I sit down in the chair and tell her that I think a shorter cut, right about shoulder length would be good. Nothing fancy because I'm a wash and wear type of gal. She gets to cutting. And she cuts. And cuts. And cuts. No, she's not cutting off a lot, she's just extremely slow because she is just learning how to do all of this stuff. No biggie. Two and a half hours go by and she finally starts to finish up and begins to style it.
As she styles it, I try not to stare at what has become of my hair. There really is no turning back now. She styles and has to cut a couple more strands to even things up. She goes and gets her instructor for her to take a look at the finished product.
Instructor to me: Looks nice! Do you like it?
Me: YES! It is SO COOL! I LOVE IT!!! (yes, I was enthusiastic and genuine about it because, after all, this was my future sister in law's future career and did I mention my future sister in law?)
Instructor: Yes! It is a GREAT holiday cut.
Me: Umm hmm! (with a smile)
Okay, when I went in there, my hair was long, layered and easy to manage. When I left there, my hair was cut like a bell. Yes, a bell. Like the Liberty Bell. It was a little longer than chin length and it flipped up hardcore. Over three hours in the salon, too!!
When Brett came home and saw what had become of my experience at the salon with his sister, he encouraged me to tell her that she should fix it. I told him there was no way in hell I was going to say a thing to her because she was so nervous and trying so hard that I wasn't going to say a word. Plus, there was really nothing she could do to fix it at this time. Only time would prove to be the best thing to fix this. I wore the bell. I wore the Liberty Bell until it grew out. I didn't let my sister-in-law cut my hair again until she graduated. She asked a couple of times and I kindly said, "I would be happy to let you cut my hair when you are done with school!" She wasn't a fan of that answer.
It is 2012 and I finally tell my sister-in-law why I wouldn't let her cut my hair again. She laughed so hard and couldn't believe I sported the Liberty Bell until it grew out and I never told her that I didn't like it. The things we do for love. This is the same sister-in-law that I had to enlist to help me "fix" the unfixable when I had to cut a chunk of my hair out due to the lemon sucker slapped in my hair (refer to previous post regarding taking Ty to the doctor). I am still growing that gem out. It's hot. Really hot.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that have had a bad haircut or two in your lifetime, until next time. . .
Friday, May 18, 2012
A Chapter from the History of Trish and PIC #2
To lighten the mood of some of my recent posts, since I've been down in the motivational dumps, I thought I would share with you a great story from history. Not leaving any detail out, of course. A little foreshadowing: I don't sunburn easily.
It was the 4th of July. I had come back from IC with Brett for some reason and PIC #2 and I decided to hang out for the day. We thought it would be a great idea to catch some rays at "The Pits" because it was a hot, sunny, summer day. (BRILLIANT IDEA #1) I remember we went early and were pretty much the first ones there. We had grabbed my parents' old school chaise lounger chairs. You know, the ones that fold up into a small square and the head part folds out as do the feet part? Metal legs, plasticky cream colored vinyl. (BRILLIANT IDEA #2) Wicked awesome.
I will tell you that I was STILL wearing a two piece suit at this time. (BRILLIANT IDEA #3 and actually there is no sarcasm with this brilliant idea, it will prove to be my most brilliant idea yet, keep reading) Why was I wearing a two piece suit? I really don't know. I know I shouldn't have been wearing one at the time. I don't think I have worn one since. (Thank all that is holy for small miracles, I know. I know.) I have a naturally tan complexion and I honestly do not burn easily. However, we decided it was a BRILLIANT idea to cover ourselves in baby oil and lay out. (BRILLIANCE #4)
After about a half hour in the sun, it got really hot. I thought it would be a good idea to drag my chair to the water and put the feet part in the water. (BRILLS #5) After a couple hours in the sun, feeling great because I wasn't hot at all with my feet in the cool water which surprisingly, I didn't get any sort of disease from that water, we were hungry and decided to go to Taco Time for some lunch. Taco Time only because it was PIC #2's fave and mine when I was back in town.
We go to Taco Time and they have booths there that are covered in vinyl. We each had shorts and t-shirts/tank tops to put over our suits, so we were fully clothed. We sat down, ate our lunch, having a great time and when I was done, I stood up to put my tray away and throw my trash in the garbage can behind me. When I stood up and went to the garbage, I didn't like the feeling of my legs peeling away from the seat of the booth and I said something to the effect of my legs being melted to the seat. PIC #2 simply stated, with a gasp, "Ohhhhhhhh, Trish!" I stopped and looked behind me, saying "What?! What is it?!" She said, "you are really burnt!" At the same moment she said this, I caught a clear shot of my calf. I was burnt. So burnt in fact that I. Was. Purple. Yes, purple! I'm not even kidding. I can't make this stuff up. I sat back down to wait for PIC #2 to finish her meal, afterwards, she dropped me off at my parents' house. I showered and slathered on some greasy lotion. By the time Brett and I headed back to IC later that afternoon in his car with leather seats, I was feeling the burn, literally. I covered the passenger seat in towels for the ride home.
We arrived home to find that the ceiling of our apartment had been blown out by a leaky pipe, so we had to go elsewhere for a few hours while the crew cleaned it up. We went to buy some pure aloe vera gel and headed to our friend's house to go watch fireworks. Brett was being so helpful, he tried to rub in some of the aloe in my back, but the touch of his hands was way too much even being as gentle as he could. I told him to just squirt it at the top of my back and let it run down, making sure it coated the entire area. He did. Bless his heart.
I was miserable at the fireworks and Brett kept forgetting about my awful sunburn and kept trying to put his arm around me during the fireworks. Bless his heart again. We finally got home late that night and I had to sleep in the buff that night. It was awful. I was radiating heat to the point of making Brett sweat. No joke. He would just spray that aloe gel on my back and let it run all over. It was the only thing that helped. The next day, my skin was so tight and still VERY tender. I took a shower that felt like someone was poking my back with a million needles. I was getting dressed, panties first then bra and then when I went to put on shorts and moved a bit, I realized it was not going to fly wearing normal bras and panties. I hand washed my two piece swimsuit and was able to wear loose clothing for the next few days. I continued to hand wash my suit until I could bear to wear something else.
The weeks that followed were not pretty. I blistered, then I molted, shed and peeled. Rinse and repeat. Awful!
I have not put a lawn chair in water since. I have not used baby oil since. I have not worn a two piece suit since. I have not had to use aloe vera gel since. I have eaten Taco Time, though. SPF 700 is my friend.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that are searching for your sunscreen, until next time...
It was the 4th of July. I had come back from IC with Brett for some reason and PIC #2 and I decided to hang out for the day. We thought it would be a great idea to catch some rays at "The Pits" because it was a hot, sunny, summer day. (BRILLIANT IDEA #1) I remember we went early and were pretty much the first ones there. We had grabbed my parents' old school chaise lounger chairs. You know, the ones that fold up into a small square and the head part folds out as do the feet part? Metal legs, plasticky cream colored vinyl. (BRILLIANT IDEA #2) Wicked awesome.
I will tell you that I was STILL wearing a two piece suit at this time. (BRILLIANT IDEA #3 and actually there is no sarcasm with this brilliant idea, it will prove to be my most brilliant idea yet, keep reading) Why was I wearing a two piece suit? I really don't know. I know I shouldn't have been wearing one at the time. I don't think I have worn one since. (Thank all that is holy for small miracles, I know. I know.) I have a naturally tan complexion and I honestly do not burn easily. However, we decided it was a BRILLIANT idea to cover ourselves in baby oil and lay out. (BRILLIANCE #4)
After about a half hour in the sun, it got really hot. I thought it would be a good idea to drag my chair to the water and put the feet part in the water. (BRILLS #5) After a couple hours in the sun, feeling great because I wasn't hot at all with my feet in the cool water which surprisingly, I didn't get any sort of disease from that water, we were hungry and decided to go to Taco Time for some lunch. Taco Time only because it was PIC #2's fave and mine when I was back in town.
We go to Taco Time and they have booths there that are covered in vinyl. We each had shorts and t-shirts/tank tops to put over our suits, so we were fully clothed. We sat down, ate our lunch, having a great time and when I was done, I stood up to put my tray away and throw my trash in the garbage can behind me. When I stood up and went to the garbage, I didn't like the feeling of my legs peeling away from the seat of the booth and I said something to the effect of my legs being melted to the seat. PIC #2 simply stated, with a gasp, "Ohhhhhhhh, Trish!" I stopped and looked behind me, saying "What?! What is it?!" She said, "you are really burnt!" At the same moment she said this, I caught a clear shot of my calf. I was burnt. So burnt in fact that I. Was. Purple. Yes, purple! I'm not even kidding. I can't make this stuff up. I sat back down to wait for PIC #2 to finish her meal, afterwards, she dropped me off at my parents' house. I showered and slathered on some greasy lotion. By the time Brett and I headed back to IC later that afternoon in his car with leather seats, I was feeling the burn, literally. I covered the passenger seat in towels for the ride home.
We arrived home to find that the ceiling of our apartment had been blown out by a leaky pipe, so we had to go elsewhere for a few hours while the crew cleaned it up. We went to buy some pure aloe vera gel and headed to our friend's house to go watch fireworks. Brett was being so helpful, he tried to rub in some of the aloe in my back, but the touch of his hands was way too much even being as gentle as he could. I told him to just squirt it at the top of my back and let it run down, making sure it coated the entire area. He did. Bless his heart.
I was miserable at the fireworks and Brett kept forgetting about my awful sunburn and kept trying to put his arm around me during the fireworks. Bless his heart again. We finally got home late that night and I had to sleep in the buff that night. It was awful. I was radiating heat to the point of making Brett sweat. No joke. He would just spray that aloe gel on my back and let it run all over. It was the only thing that helped. The next day, my skin was so tight and still VERY tender. I took a shower that felt like someone was poking my back with a million needles. I was getting dressed, panties first then bra and then when I went to put on shorts and moved a bit, I realized it was not going to fly wearing normal bras and panties. I hand washed my two piece swimsuit and was able to wear loose clothing for the next few days. I continued to hand wash my suit until I could bear to wear something else.
The weeks that followed were not pretty. I blistered, then I molted, shed and peeled. Rinse and repeat. Awful!
I have not put a lawn chair in water since. I have not used baby oil since. I have not worn a two piece suit since. I have not had to use aloe vera gel since. I have eaten Taco Time, though. SPF 700 is my friend.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that are searching for your sunscreen, until next time...
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
I FINALLY found it!!!!!!
Cue the Hallelujah choir, I found it!!! Hallelujah! What did I find? EVIAN! Yes, my "treat" of a bottled water has been found in two grocery stores in town!!! Let me tell you, it was just as I had remembered it. Great water. Good stuff. Would you believe that I wouldn't share it with Ty? True story. He loves to drink out of water bottles or anything that isn't his, but that is mine. Most of the time, I don't mind sharing, however, he is 2 1/2 and he is not good at making sure there is no backwash.
Ty and I each have our own cups with lids and the hard plastic straws. I even bought different straws so that we could distinguish between the two. He likes the one that turns a dark pink with icy cold water. A lot of the time, my cup looks way more appealing and he and I fight over the cups. Seriously. It's ridiculous and even more ridiculous that I am admitting that I "fight" over a fricken cup with my toddler. I drink out of mine all the time at home, so at suppertime, he sees mine and wants to drink. I try to distract him with his sippy cup, but he usually declines and instead of an argument, I let him drink out of my cup. I was horrified to see there were actually CHUNKS swirling in my water after his swig. Gross. I showed him the chunks of cheese in my water. (I have a disgusted look on my face as I type this, by the way) He now knows what it means when I tell him that he can't have a drink because I don't want chunks in my water. This actually works in getting him to step off my water cup.
The other night, we were eating supper and we had grilled burgers, bananas and chips and dip. For dessert, I served up some yogurt cups with bendy straws. Kind of fun to drink yogurt with a straw. Entertainment for Ty, that's for sure. When Ty was sick a few months ago, he wouldn't eat much, so I tried the yogurt with a straw, he loved it and sucked down a couple yogurts. So, there we all are, sucking on our yogurts and Ty says, "mine's not working!" He kept trying and trying, so I ended up trading him. He happily sucked the yogurt down from the cup formerly known as mine. Without much thought, I started to swill down the yogurt only to have to spit it out immediately. Brett is laughing, Ty is looking at me in disbelief. I couldn't help it. Brett asked, "did you have a nice chunk of something in there?" I reply, "not only was there a nice chunk of burger jammed in that straw, but it also had the flavor of french onion dip and potato chip." (I really wish you could see my face right now as I type this. I am still disgusted.)
Lesson for the day, don't share straws with people that don't know anything about backwash. You will regret it if you do.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that now have an aversion to yogurt, until next time...
Ty and I each have our own cups with lids and the hard plastic straws. I even bought different straws so that we could distinguish between the two. He likes the one that turns a dark pink with icy cold water. A lot of the time, my cup looks way more appealing and he and I fight over the cups. Seriously. It's ridiculous and even more ridiculous that I am admitting that I "fight" over a fricken cup with my toddler. I drink out of mine all the time at home, so at suppertime, he sees mine and wants to drink. I try to distract him with his sippy cup, but he usually declines and instead of an argument, I let him drink out of my cup. I was horrified to see there were actually CHUNKS swirling in my water after his swig. Gross. I showed him the chunks of cheese in my water. (I have a disgusted look on my face as I type this, by the way) He now knows what it means when I tell him that he can't have a drink because I don't want chunks in my water. This actually works in getting him to step off my water cup.
The other night, we were eating supper and we had grilled burgers, bananas and chips and dip. For dessert, I served up some yogurt cups with bendy straws. Kind of fun to drink yogurt with a straw. Entertainment for Ty, that's for sure. When Ty was sick a few months ago, he wouldn't eat much, so I tried the yogurt with a straw, he loved it and sucked down a couple yogurts. So, there we all are, sucking on our yogurts and Ty says, "mine's not working!" He kept trying and trying, so I ended up trading him. He happily sucked the yogurt down from the cup formerly known as mine. Without much thought, I started to swill down the yogurt only to have to spit it out immediately. Brett is laughing, Ty is looking at me in disbelief. I couldn't help it. Brett asked, "did you have a nice chunk of something in there?" I reply, "not only was there a nice chunk of burger jammed in that straw, but it also had the flavor of french onion dip and potato chip." (I really wish you could see my face right now as I type this. I am still disgusted.)
Lesson for the day, don't share straws with people that don't know anything about backwash. You will regret it if you do.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that now have an aversion to yogurt, until next time...
Monday, May 7, 2012
I just ate what?!
Oh geez. Today was a strange day. I had a doctor appointment late morning and was going to swing through Panera for a salad, but there were no parking spaces available. So rather than park across the street and play chicken with the oncoming traffic, I opted to return to work to eat out of my "work pantry." As I type this, i am just now remembering that I have a can of soup and a Barilla microwaveable meal in my "work pantry." Both would have been excellent options at around 320 calories. Sigh.
I get back to work and obviously didn't evaluate my inventory very well, because I made a meal out of dried fruit and pita chips. Yes, I did. Not the worst choice, but definitely a far cry from the best. The dried fruit is wicked awesome. I only wish it wasn't sweetened dried fruit. It is a tropical mix with mango, papaya, pineapple, kiwi and coconut. I thank my sister in law for making me try it the other day. I would also like to point out that the bag of pita chips was down to those crumbs that really feel like you aren't eating anything because you are eating two or three pinches of crumbs at a time. I was so hungry that I almost picked the bag up and dumped it in my mouth, but I didn't. After having my fingertips covered in my own slobber from my feeding frenzy, I gave up and threw the bag away. Sigh.
For breakfast, I had a cup of dry fruity Cheerios followed by edamame in the pods. Let me tell you, mix that with the dried fruit and you will turn into a gassy mess with a capital "g" and there is hardly anything cool about that. To paint the picture, I keep my cell phone in my pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. While at work, it is on vibrate. Today, I probably took my phone out 20 times because I thought I felt it vibrate. Nope, just the rumblings in my tummy.
As I was getting ready to leave work today, a gas bubble was knocking on my back door. I held it in until I got to my car. I get in my car and get myself in a position to fart on leather seats and apparently, I also had to pee. Yup, I wet my pants. In my car. In the parking lot at work. Nice. I had to hustle home, change my clothes and go pick Ty up. Yup, I just let you all know this. Even nicer.
The lesson in today's blog post is if you are going to eat a lethal combination of fiber, do the ozone layer a favor and follow it up with a Gas-Ex chaser. Call it dessert if you will.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that missed the part when I said I would talk about farts, until next time...
I get back to work and obviously didn't evaluate my inventory very well, because I made a meal out of dried fruit and pita chips. Yes, I did. Not the worst choice, but definitely a far cry from the best. The dried fruit is wicked awesome. I only wish it wasn't sweetened dried fruit. It is a tropical mix with mango, papaya, pineapple, kiwi and coconut. I thank my sister in law for making me try it the other day. I would also like to point out that the bag of pita chips was down to those crumbs that really feel like you aren't eating anything because you are eating two or three pinches of crumbs at a time. I was so hungry that I almost picked the bag up and dumped it in my mouth, but I didn't. After having my fingertips covered in my own slobber from my feeding frenzy, I gave up and threw the bag away. Sigh.
For breakfast, I had a cup of dry fruity Cheerios followed by edamame in the pods. Let me tell you, mix that with the dried fruit and you will turn into a gassy mess with a capital "g" and there is hardly anything cool about that. To paint the picture, I keep my cell phone in my pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. While at work, it is on vibrate. Today, I probably took my phone out 20 times because I thought I felt it vibrate. Nope, just the rumblings in my tummy.
As I was getting ready to leave work today, a gas bubble was knocking on my back door. I held it in until I got to my car. I get in my car and get myself in a position to fart on leather seats and apparently, I also had to pee. Yup, I wet my pants. In my car. In the parking lot at work. Nice. I had to hustle home, change my clothes and go pick Ty up. Yup, I just let you all know this. Even nicer.
The lesson in today's blog post is if you are going to eat a lethal combination of fiber, do the ozone layer a favor and follow it up with a Gas-Ex chaser. Call it dessert if you will.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that missed the part when I said I would talk about farts, until next time...
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Meal/Snack Replacements of the Past...
When I was on this journey five years ago (I seem to use this starter a lot, apologies), one day, I decided that Atomic Fireballs (the cinnamon jawbreaker candy) was just what I needed to curb the sweets cravings. In true Trisha style, I decided to go on the hunt for them immediately. This was when I actually had vacation time to spare and could use it for doing fun things like shopping for Atomic Fireballs.
I went to a few stores, Target, Wal-Mart and even K-Mart and then hit up the grocery stores. The only things that anyone had were the chewy ones. I didn't want the chewy ones, I wanted the jawbreakers because I wanted something that I wasn't going to eat a ton of in one sitting. One of those things lasts quite a while, so I figured they were just about perfect for me to satisfy my hunger.
Since I couldn't find them, I searched online and found that Sam's Club had them in the candy shop dispensers. Awwwwww, yeah!! Well, my parents have the membership, so I called my mom and told her that I NEEDED to go to Sam's Club STAT! She obliged. I got my Atomic Fireballs at a club price. Wicked awesomeness.
The next few days are anything but a blur except I didn't know what was happening until it was way too late. Way. Too. Late. The first couple of days, I was successful in using the Atomic Fireballs for satisfying my sweet tooth and only had a few a day. By the third day, I seemed to be slightly addicted to them. In one day, I ate NINE. Yes, nine of them. They just tasted so good that day, that I just couldn't stop at just a couple. Yeah, already defeated the purpose of using them to stop me from eating a lot. Doesn't help you out much when you eat about 700 calories in Atomic Fireballs in a day. Okay, I have no idea how many calories exactly are in an Atomic Fireball, nor does it matter at this point, I'm over exaggerating on the caloric intake and have strayed from the topic once again. Sigh.
Anyhoo, the day of the 9 Atomic Fireballs, Brett and I decided to go out to dinner. I had noticed that by the end of the work day, my face felt really tight. Tight from the inside out, it was odd, but I shrugged it off. We were eating our dinner, I had ordered a veggie grilled cheese and fries. When I was eating the fries, I couldn't help but notice that chewed up fries were getting stuck between my teeth and under my lips. I kept having to use my finger to get the fries out. It was so weird. Brett looks at me and asks what is wrong? I tell him, he shrugs it off, too. I kept biting my cheek while eating, too. The food tasted funny as well. I couldn't figure it out. Then, I smiled when Brett said something funny, he looks at me and asks, "why and WHAT are you doing with your face?!" I ask him to clarify, but he was unable to put into words. I went to the bathroom and took one look at my face to see that it appears that from my cheeks to my chin look puffy and swollen. I tried to open my mouth and couldn't really get it open that far, my face was incredibly swollen. Yep, still had fries stuck all the way around my mouth.
I get back to the table and ask Brett if he noticed how swollen my face was. He said, "yeah, but I thought you were doing something with your mouth on purpose." I won't even touch that statement. Apparently, I had a reaction to cinnamon. I took Benadryl for the next five days straight to contain the tightness and itchiness. Once it went down, a couple weeks later, I decided to give it a whirl again. This time, I only at two Atomic Fireballs to test it out. Sure enough, my face swelled up like a balloon and I had chipmunk cheeks.
Brett ate the rest of the Atomic Fireballs and my father in law thinks it is hilarious to offer me an Atomic Fireball every now and again. My idea was brilliant and would have worked had I not developed this allergy. This also includes anything cinnamon flavored and sometimes snickerdoodles.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that are now wanting an Atomic Fireball, until next time...
I went to a few stores, Target, Wal-Mart and even K-Mart and then hit up the grocery stores. The only things that anyone had were the chewy ones. I didn't want the chewy ones, I wanted the jawbreakers because I wanted something that I wasn't going to eat a ton of in one sitting. One of those things lasts quite a while, so I figured they were just about perfect for me to satisfy my hunger.
Since I couldn't find them, I searched online and found that Sam's Club had them in the candy shop dispensers. Awwwwww, yeah!! Well, my parents have the membership, so I called my mom and told her that I NEEDED to go to Sam's Club STAT! She obliged. I got my Atomic Fireballs at a club price. Wicked awesomeness.
The next few days are anything but a blur except I didn't know what was happening until it was way too late. Way. Too. Late. The first couple of days, I was successful in using the Atomic Fireballs for satisfying my sweet tooth and only had a few a day. By the third day, I seemed to be slightly addicted to them. In one day, I ate NINE. Yes, nine of them. They just tasted so good that day, that I just couldn't stop at just a couple. Yeah, already defeated the purpose of using them to stop me from eating a lot. Doesn't help you out much when you eat about 700 calories in Atomic Fireballs in a day. Okay, I have no idea how many calories exactly are in an Atomic Fireball, nor does it matter at this point, I'm over exaggerating on the caloric intake and have strayed from the topic once again. Sigh.
Anyhoo, the day of the 9 Atomic Fireballs, Brett and I decided to go out to dinner. I had noticed that by the end of the work day, my face felt really tight. Tight from the inside out, it was odd, but I shrugged it off. We were eating our dinner, I had ordered a veggie grilled cheese and fries. When I was eating the fries, I couldn't help but notice that chewed up fries were getting stuck between my teeth and under my lips. I kept having to use my finger to get the fries out. It was so weird. Brett looks at me and asks what is wrong? I tell him, he shrugs it off, too. I kept biting my cheek while eating, too. The food tasted funny as well. I couldn't figure it out. Then, I smiled when Brett said something funny, he looks at me and asks, "why and WHAT are you doing with your face?!" I ask him to clarify, but he was unable to put into words. I went to the bathroom and took one look at my face to see that it appears that from my cheeks to my chin look puffy and swollen. I tried to open my mouth and couldn't really get it open that far, my face was incredibly swollen. Yep, still had fries stuck all the way around my mouth.
I get back to the table and ask Brett if he noticed how swollen my face was. He said, "yeah, but I thought you were doing something with your mouth on purpose." I won't even touch that statement. Apparently, I had a reaction to cinnamon. I took Benadryl for the next five days straight to contain the tightness and itchiness. Once it went down, a couple weeks later, I decided to give it a whirl again. This time, I only at two Atomic Fireballs to test it out. Sure enough, my face swelled up like a balloon and I had chipmunk cheeks.
Brett ate the rest of the Atomic Fireballs and my father in law thinks it is hilarious to offer me an Atomic Fireball every now and again. My idea was brilliant and would have worked had I not developed this allergy. This also includes anything cinnamon flavored and sometimes snickerdoodles.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that are now wanting an Atomic Fireball, until next time...
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Trisha. The Dancer.
I have mentioned a couple of times how awful of a dancer I am. Well, things have not changed in that department and in fact, they are most likely worse. I'm just not a good dancer. I don't even think I'm a good enough dancer to dance alone like no one is watching me. There is nothing sexy, seductive or graceful about the way I move. Nothing. It's pretty bad.
I never got to take dance classes as a child except for when my grandmother paid for me to take a dance/tumbling class at the local dance center. I loved it, except it sticks in my mind how at recital time, we were pirates and had these stirrup pants, white of all colors and they didn't want us to wear underwear under those pants. Ummm, every time I did a cartwheel, it felt like those pants were coming off and they were also made out of polyester which did NOT feel good on my nether-regions, so I did not go panty-less during recital time. I was 5. Yes, 5.
Anyway, as an adult, I thought it would be fun to take tap lessons. My mom sent me a check for my birthday in college to be able to take tap lessons, but by the time the next session started, I had a class during tap lessons. Poop. Fast forward to about 7 years ago and again, I wanted to take tap lessons. I signed up with some friends, bought some tap shoes and away I went. Yes, it was an adult tap class so I didn't look anymore ridiculous than I normally do. Let me tell you, there is serious leg muscle involved in tap dancing. It was hard, but it was so much fun to learn some basics. I didn't last too long in the class, I think I only took those lessons for about two months before I found out that they had a hip-hop class. Score for me!!!
The class was taught by a lovely gentleman with some seriously wicked awesome moves!!!! He was great. I had fun in that class. It was easy to follow and a good workout. One day, I got to class and he was not there. Something had happened and he couldn't make it to class on short notice. They would generally cancel class, but because this had happened before, they didn't want to cancel again. So, the BREAKDANCING teacher filled in and gave us a BREAKDANCING lesson. Yes, I am totally serious. There was a little girl there on that particular day, I think she was about 7 or so. She had come to hip-hop class to try it out to see if she would like it. Well, this cute little girl immediately latched on to me the moment she walked in. You know how some people attract cats or dogs? I attract kids. Maybe it is because I do crap like this making me appear younger than I am? I don't know, either way, I'm okay with it all. Anyhoo, we are doing these breakdancing moves and this one particular move, you were down on your hands, resting one knee on an elbow and the other leg was resting on the leg on the knee. Did you get that?! Good!!
I am trying and trying and trying to get this move because we aren't doing it to music or anything, we are doing it in slow motion to get the technique down. Little girl is right next to me and she is starting to get it. I keep trying and trying and finally gave up and without thinking, sat back, somewhat out of breath and said, "I can't do it." The little girl held the move, leg in the air and her little face looking up at me while I sit there being a big baby, says to me, "YES YOU CAN! You CAN do it, Trish!" Yeah, she seriously did. I honestly cannot make this stuff up. So, what do I do? I pick up my crap and leave class. KIDDING! I spent the rest of the class doing it all the best I could.
Fast forward a couple days when we are helping my grandpa move into his apartment. I could barely walk. We were walking up and down stairs, carrying stuff and my ENTIRE body, except my fingers HURT. Bad. Remember my jean-hiking dad? Well, he finally inquired as to my herky jerky movement and asked if I had a hard workout recently. I told him about the breakdancing snafu, blah blah blah. And here is the wisdom I receive from jean-hiking dad, "shit, Trish, you aren't sixteen anymore!" Really, dad? Really? Mr. Obvious.
Again, there I go, putting myself out there trying something new. It still took a couple more days to recover, but I sure as crap didn't sign up for breakdancing lessons.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you thinking about taking breakdancing, until next time...
I never got to take dance classes as a child except for when my grandmother paid for me to take a dance/tumbling class at the local dance center. I loved it, except it sticks in my mind how at recital time, we were pirates and had these stirrup pants, white of all colors and they didn't want us to wear underwear under those pants. Ummm, every time I did a cartwheel, it felt like those pants were coming off and they were also made out of polyester which did NOT feel good on my nether-regions, so I did not go panty-less during recital time. I was 5. Yes, 5.
Anyway, as an adult, I thought it would be fun to take tap lessons. My mom sent me a check for my birthday in college to be able to take tap lessons, but by the time the next session started, I had a class during tap lessons. Poop. Fast forward to about 7 years ago and again, I wanted to take tap lessons. I signed up with some friends, bought some tap shoes and away I went. Yes, it was an adult tap class so I didn't look anymore ridiculous than I normally do. Let me tell you, there is serious leg muscle involved in tap dancing. It was hard, but it was so much fun to learn some basics. I didn't last too long in the class, I think I only took those lessons for about two months before I found out that they had a hip-hop class. Score for me!!!
The class was taught by a lovely gentleman with some seriously wicked awesome moves!!!! He was great. I had fun in that class. It was easy to follow and a good workout. One day, I got to class and he was not there. Something had happened and he couldn't make it to class on short notice. They would generally cancel class, but because this had happened before, they didn't want to cancel again. So, the BREAKDANCING teacher filled in and gave us a BREAKDANCING lesson. Yes, I am totally serious. There was a little girl there on that particular day, I think she was about 7 or so. She had come to hip-hop class to try it out to see if she would like it. Well, this cute little girl immediately latched on to me the moment she walked in. You know how some people attract cats or dogs? I attract kids. Maybe it is because I do crap like this making me appear younger than I am? I don't know, either way, I'm okay with it all. Anyhoo, we are doing these breakdancing moves and this one particular move, you were down on your hands, resting one knee on an elbow and the other leg was resting on the leg on the knee. Did you get that?! Good!!
I am trying and trying and trying to get this move because we aren't doing it to music or anything, we are doing it in slow motion to get the technique down. Little girl is right next to me and she is starting to get it. I keep trying and trying and finally gave up and without thinking, sat back, somewhat out of breath and said, "I can't do it." The little girl held the move, leg in the air and her little face looking up at me while I sit there being a big baby, says to me, "YES YOU CAN! You CAN do it, Trish!" Yeah, she seriously did. I honestly cannot make this stuff up. So, what do I do? I pick up my crap and leave class. KIDDING! I spent the rest of the class doing it all the best I could.
Fast forward a couple days when we are helping my grandpa move into his apartment. I could barely walk. We were walking up and down stairs, carrying stuff and my ENTIRE body, except my fingers HURT. Bad. Remember my jean-hiking dad? Well, he finally inquired as to my herky jerky movement and asked if I had a hard workout recently. I told him about the breakdancing snafu, blah blah blah. And here is the wisdom I receive from jean-hiking dad, "shit, Trish, you aren't sixteen anymore!" Really, dad? Really? Mr. Obvious.
Again, there I go, putting myself out there trying something new. It still took a couple more days to recover, but I sure as crap didn't sign up for breakdancing lessons.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you thinking about taking breakdancing, until next time...
Monday, April 23, 2012
Working and Working Out
Long long ago, while in college, I had a part-time job working in a gymnastics gym. Part of the time I worked in the office, taking tuition and doing bookwork and the other part, I taught recreational gymnastics classes to kids ages 3 to 12. I had a ton of fun working there. It is still one of my favorite jobs to date.
On Friday nights, the gym would have makeup classes for kids that missed during the week. I would teach these make-up classes every Friday. I would always have two make-up classes back to back on Fridays, the first hour for the preschool/kindergartners and the second hour the older kids. Sometimes, I wouldn't have anyone the first hour. One particular Friday, I didn't have any kids the first hour and decided to mess around in the gym for a while. Aside from basic gymnastics and teaching the younger kids, I hadn't done anything that required a lot of skill and/or muscle tone.
There sat the parallel bars. I thought, "I'm going to do a pull-over." The bars were set really low for the recreational kids, so when I would get up there to demonstrate, I would just have to jump up there, using my arms, like getting out of a pool from the side. When I got it in my mind to do a pull-over, I really had myself convinced that I could do it because the bars were lower. There would hardly be any upper arm strength to it, if I executed it correctly. I pulled my chest and chin to the bar and swung my legs up in the air to get around the bar. There was one problem. The last time I had done a pull-over, I was ten years younger and about 40 pounds lighter.
I recall seeing my feet in the glare of the lights and as they seemed to hang out up there, my arms realize that they cannot bear the weight of my lower limbs and hips. My arms go completely straight and with the strain of my entire body on my arms, my hands let go, slamming me down to the mats below. Yes, it did. I came crashing down and even knocked the wind out of me. Once I could breathe again, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Nope, I didn't get back on that horse and try again, I moved onto the tramp track.
Tramp track. Harmless, right? I mean, how in the world can anyone injure themselves on a piece of equipment that is flexible and forgiving? I start off just jumping down the track in different fashions. I then move onto cartwheels, front handsprings and walkovers. I'm feeling like a rock star, a gymnastics rock star. I decide to go for it, the front tuck. Remember those weighty hips and limbs I talked about earlier? Well, I apparently didn't learn my lesson. I go for it, I have great speed, I jump, but you see, those damn hips and legs didn't quite make it around and I land on my butt. You're probably thinking, "you were on a trampoline, how could that be THAT bad?" Well, let me tell you. Where I landed happened to be where one of the support bars was located. My butt fat divided upon impact and allowed my ass bones to take the heat.
This was the point where I laid there gazing into those bright lights that I had minutes before watched my feet in and I just let myself feel the throbbing coming from my back and butt. I let it radiate through my body before I picked myself up and walked back to the office to await the second hour of make-ups.
Why did I tell you this story? I'm not quite sure. Probably because it could only happen to me. Maybe because I keep putting myself out there doing ridiculous things to myself and trying ridiculous things just because. I'm not afraid to try anything, really. My friends and I have been trying to get together to go to one of those stripper pole classes. I will most definitely injure myself there, but I've got to give it a try Carmen Electra style!!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you who put yourselves out there everyday, until next time...
On Friday nights, the gym would have makeup classes for kids that missed during the week. I would teach these make-up classes every Friday. I would always have two make-up classes back to back on Fridays, the first hour for the preschool/kindergartners and the second hour the older kids. Sometimes, I wouldn't have anyone the first hour. One particular Friday, I didn't have any kids the first hour and decided to mess around in the gym for a while. Aside from basic gymnastics and teaching the younger kids, I hadn't done anything that required a lot of skill and/or muscle tone.
There sat the parallel bars. I thought, "I'm going to do a pull-over." The bars were set really low for the recreational kids, so when I would get up there to demonstrate, I would just have to jump up there, using my arms, like getting out of a pool from the side. When I got it in my mind to do a pull-over, I really had myself convinced that I could do it because the bars were lower. There would hardly be any upper arm strength to it, if I executed it correctly. I pulled my chest and chin to the bar and swung my legs up in the air to get around the bar. There was one problem. The last time I had done a pull-over, I was ten years younger and about 40 pounds lighter.
I recall seeing my feet in the glare of the lights and as they seemed to hang out up there, my arms realize that they cannot bear the weight of my lower limbs and hips. My arms go completely straight and with the strain of my entire body on my arms, my hands let go, slamming me down to the mats below. Yes, it did. I came crashing down and even knocked the wind out of me. Once I could breathe again, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Nope, I didn't get back on that horse and try again, I moved onto the tramp track.
Tramp track. Harmless, right? I mean, how in the world can anyone injure themselves on a piece of equipment that is flexible and forgiving? I start off just jumping down the track in different fashions. I then move onto cartwheels, front handsprings and walkovers. I'm feeling like a rock star, a gymnastics rock star. I decide to go for it, the front tuck. Remember those weighty hips and limbs I talked about earlier? Well, I apparently didn't learn my lesson. I go for it, I have great speed, I jump, but you see, those damn hips and legs didn't quite make it around and I land on my butt. You're probably thinking, "you were on a trampoline, how could that be THAT bad?" Well, let me tell you. Where I landed happened to be where one of the support bars was located. My butt fat divided upon impact and allowed my ass bones to take the heat.
This was the point where I laid there gazing into those bright lights that I had minutes before watched my feet in and I just let myself feel the throbbing coming from my back and butt. I let it radiate through my body before I picked myself up and walked back to the office to await the second hour of make-ups.
Why did I tell you this story? I'm not quite sure. Probably because it could only happen to me. Maybe because I keep putting myself out there doing ridiculous things to myself and trying ridiculous things just because. I'm not afraid to try anything, really. My friends and I have been trying to get together to go to one of those stripper pole classes. I will most definitely injure myself there, but I've got to give it a try Carmen Electra style!!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you who put yourselves out there everyday, until next time...
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Celebrities in the house!!!
The other day, my uncle stopped over to get one of Brett's deer mounts to borrow. My uncle is an extremely talented artist and photographer that now makes his living doing what he loves. If only everyone could be that lucky. He has been drawing and photographing wildlife and is going to give it a whirl with people. Before he said he was going to draw people, I jokingly said that if he needed a human face to draw...this is where I posed in classic senior photo pose with head resting on hands. Okay, so I wasn't joking. He laughed anyway.
We had to go to the basement to get the deer mount. Yes the basement. Not on the main floor. Anyhoo, we went downstairs and my uncle asks if "this" is where I workout everyday (pointing to the family room down there). I tell him, "yes, this is where the magic happens." You should have seen him, he was completely star-struck at the thought of being in MY basement where I workout and collect all my thoughts for this lovely blog. He was giddy. Completely giddy, as if he couldn't believe he was MY uncle!!!!!! I'm not joking, he was so sad that he didn't have his camera on him to get a photo of he and I together in this star-studded moment!!!! He asked for an autograph, but quickly retracted that request in case it was an imposition. I told him it wasn't too much trouble and signed a napkin for him.
Okay, so, the only truths in that last paragraph was up to the point where I said "yes, this is where the magic happens." The rest is pure fabrication. Sigh.
I thought briefly about making this post about how awesome and gorgeous I am to follow suit of that woman that recently did that on her blog and had a great deal of backlash for it. Okay, so I thought about it for a couple days, not just briefly. But, the difference would be that if I wrote all of that on my blog, all of you would know that I am not serious and find it humorous, if I could actually say that I am super hot and men worship me and mean it. Ha! It makes me giggle just thinking about thinking that kind of thought! You following me? Good!!!!
Okay, so to follow up my eyebrow waxing post and my friend's Brazilian waxing story, she said it was okay to use her name. She said, "it's okay if you use my name. Women need to be warned!!" Ha! Thanks, Nicole, I am now sharing your horrific self-Brazilian story with the people that read this blog. Also, if you didn't know, Nicole is also the one that pushed me down when we went roller-skating. She says she wants to go roller-skating again. I asked, "why? So you can push me down again?" She simply stated, "yes!"
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that want Nicole's phone number to get the story in its entirety, until next time...
We had to go to the basement to get the deer mount. Yes the basement. Not on the main floor. Anyhoo, we went downstairs and my uncle asks if "this" is where I workout everyday (pointing to the family room down there). I tell him, "yes, this is where the magic happens." You should have seen him, he was completely star-struck at the thought of being in MY basement where I workout and collect all my thoughts for this lovely blog. He was giddy. Completely giddy, as if he couldn't believe he was MY uncle!!!!!! I'm not joking, he was so sad that he didn't have his camera on him to get a photo of he and I together in this star-studded moment!!!! He asked for an autograph, but quickly retracted that request in case it was an imposition. I told him it wasn't too much trouble and signed a napkin for him.
Okay, so, the only truths in that last paragraph was up to the point where I said "yes, this is where the magic happens." The rest is pure fabrication. Sigh.
I thought briefly about making this post about how awesome and gorgeous I am to follow suit of that woman that recently did that on her blog and had a great deal of backlash for it. Okay, so I thought about it for a couple days, not just briefly. But, the difference would be that if I wrote all of that on my blog, all of you would know that I am not serious and find it humorous, if I could actually say that I am super hot and men worship me and mean it. Ha! It makes me giggle just thinking about thinking that kind of thought! You following me? Good!!!!
Okay, so to follow up my eyebrow waxing post and my friend's Brazilian waxing story, she said it was okay to use her name. She said, "it's okay if you use my name. Women need to be warned!!" Ha! Thanks, Nicole, I am now sharing your horrific self-Brazilian story with the people that read this blog. Also, if you didn't know, Nicole is also the one that pushed me down when we went roller-skating. She says she wants to go roller-skating again. I asked, "why? So you can push me down again?" She simply stated, "yes!"
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you that want Nicole's phone number to get the story in its entirety, until next time...
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Illnesses and then some
When Ty was just under a year old, he acquired the stomach flu. Three weeks prior to that, Brett had the stomach flu. I knew I was doomed when Ty got it, but I had to keep my mind off of it.
Let me interject with how much I hate puking. I cannot stand puking and will go to any length to not puke.
So, Ty can't walk yet at this point and it was pretty easy to contain the nastiness. I put a blanket on the floor in the middle of the living room and put his handy Fisher-Price chair, that had a kickstand, atop the blanket. I could tell when he was getting ready to vom. I would spring up and swoop the kickstand out to rock him forward to catch the projectile in a burp cloth.
After about five hours, he stopped puking. He got some good shut-eye and was able to drink a bit of pedialyte.
This day, the weather was glorious. I was able to have windows open and the pups played outside a lot that day. Ruca dug a giant hole in the morning and in the afternoon, while I was cleaning up the house as Ty napped, I caught a glimpse of Dutch on the deck out of the corner of my eye. I thought he had brought a basketball up and on the double-take, I saw it was a rabbit head. A very big rabbit head. I literally screamed as loud as I could. The entire neighborhood had to have heard me screaming, BUBBA!!! NOOOOOOO!" I was mortified. I call Brett to tell him, he tells me to leave it and he will get it when he gets home. Did I mention that this rabbit head was right in front of the sliding glass door??? I couldn't even stand the thought of leaving it there for a few more hours. Out I go with garbage bags on my hands and a double bag for the head. After many yelps (from me), I got it taken care of. Yay, me!!
Ty wakes shortly thereafter and is somewhat back to his normal self. He and I played and he was smiling and giggling and having a good time. Then, it happened. I realized my shirt was wet and my pants and my arms and pretty much everything but my face. I look across the floor and see a trail of runny baby crap and even that same goo all over his soccer ball. I was afraid to look to see what I was covered in. Yes, it was indeed "that."
I called Brett again to find out where he was. He sensed the panic and asked what was wrong. I said, "get home now!!! I am covered in $hit!!! Literally covered in $HIT!!!" Thankfully, he had just turned onto our road. By the time he came in, I was already in my underwear and getting Ty ready for bath. I handed Ty over to Brett and in one of my not-so-proud moments, in my fecal frenzy, while still in bra and panties, I began scrubbing the carpet with Bath and Body Works' Tropical Passionfruit antibacterial hand soap with moisturizing micro beads. Yes, I really did that. I came to my senses shortly after and cleaned again with actual carpet sanitizing spray and then again with vinegar and water. I finally got a full shower.
It gets better/worse. That night, Dutch started getting sick. He had the runs, but at least it was outside. Rabbit or flu, not sure. That very same night, I felt it coming on. It was a pity I had eaten Casey's pizza. I actually cried when I felt it coming on. Brett wasn't sure what to do. Ha! I spent the next day in bed. It was a quick one. Recuperating the next day as well.
It was the day after that I went back to work. Brett and i thought it would be best to corrall Dutch and ruca in the kitchen since Dutch was still under the weather and it seemed Ruca was going that direction, too. I went home at lunch to let them out and make sure they had enough water. When I opened the door, I knew by the smell. Dutch was fine and happy to see me. Ruca was cowering in the corner. I round the furniture to find the hallway sprayed with crap. Walls and carpet. I call Brett to ask if he kenneled the pups. He says, "no, I didn't." I say, "well, ya probably should have, it's not pretty." Brett says, "no!" I say yes and we did that a couple more times.
I had to call work to tell them I wouldn't be back and was taking "VACATION" to clean up the annihilation. I called every single carpet cleaning business in town and no one had any openings. I rented a Rug Doctor and cleaned the carpets three times. In the middle of all that cleaning, I called my sister and cried while she laughed.
I caught a shower, returned the Rug Doctor and picked Ty up with time to spare.
All of that really did happen. Maybe the point of this post is to remind you to not eat raw rabbit and to push yourself to the brink of a nervous breakdown????? Or maybe to point out what my life is like and know you aren't alone when things continue to go wrong???? Whatever your interpretation, make it a good one!!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you with weak stomachs, I apologize and until next time...
Let me interject with how much I hate puking. I cannot stand puking and will go to any length to not puke.
So, Ty can't walk yet at this point and it was pretty easy to contain the nastiness. I put a blanket on the floor in the middle of the living room and put his handy Fisher-Price chair, that had a kickstand, atop the blanket. I could tell when he was getting ready to vom. I would spring up and swoop the kickstand out to rock him forward to catch the projectile in a burp cloth.
After about five hours, he stopped puking. He got some good shut-eye and was able to drink a bit of pedialyte.
This day, the weather was glorious. I was able to have windows open and the pups played outside a lot that day. Ruca dug a giant hole in the morning and in the afternoon, while I was cleaning up the house as Ty napped, I caught a glimpse of Dutch on the deck out of the corner of my eye. I thought he had brought a basketball up and on the double-take, I saw it was a rabbit head. A very big rabbit head. I literally screamed as loud as I could. The entire neighborhood had to have heard me screaming, BUBBA!!! NOOOOOOO!" I was mortified. I call Brett to tell him, he tells me to leave it and he will get it when he gets home. Did I mention that this rabbit head was right in front of the sliding glass door??? I couldn't even stand the thought of leaving it there for a few more hours. Out I go with garbage bags on my hands and a double bag for the head. After many yelps (from me), I got it taken care of. Yay, me!!
Ty wakes shortly thereafter and is somewhat back to his normal self. He and I played and he was smiling and giggling and having a good time. Then, it happened. I realized my shirt was wet and my pants and my arms and pretty much everything but my face. I look across the floor and see a trail of runny baby crap and even that same goo all over his soccer ball. I was afraid to look to see what I was covered in. Yes, it was indeed "that."
I called Brett again to find out where he was. He sensed the panic and asked what was wrong. I said, "get home now!!! I am covered in $hit!!! Literally covered in $HIT!!!" Thankfully, he had just turned onto our road. By the time he came in, I was already in my underwear and getting Ty ready for bath. I handed Ty over to Brett and in one of my not-so-proud moments, in my fecal frenzy, while still in bra and panties, I began scrubbing the carpet with Bath and Body Works' Tropical Passionfruit antibacterial hand soap with moisturizing micro beads. Yes, I really did that. I came to my senses shortly after and cleaned again with actual carpet sanitizing spray and then again with vinegar and water. I finally got a full shower.
It gets better/worse. That night, Dutch started getting sick. He had the runs, but at least it was outside. Rabbit or flu, not sure. That very same night, I felt it coming on. It was a pity I had eaten Casey's pizza. I actually cried when I felt it coming on. Brett wasn't sure what to do. Ha! I spent the next day in bed. It was a quick one. Recuperating the next day as well.
It was the day after that I went back to work. Brett and i thought it would be best to corrall Dutch and ruca in the kitchen since Dutch was still under the weather and it seemed Ruca was going that direction, too. I went home at lunch to let them out and make sure they had enough water. When I opened the door, I knew by the smell. Dutch was fine and happy to see me. Ruca was cowering in the corner. I round the furniture to find the hallway sprayed with crap. Walls and carpet. I call Brett to ask if he kenneled the pups. He says, "no, I didn't." I say, "well, ya probably should have, it's not pretty." Brett says, "no!" I say yes and we did that a couple more times.
I had to call work to tell them I wouldn't be back and was taking "VACATION" to clean up the annihilation. I called every single carpet cleaning business in town and no one had any openings. I rented a Rug Doctor and cleaned the carpets three times. In the middle of all that cleaning, I called my sister and cried while she laughed.
I caught a shower, returned the Rug Doctor and picked Ty up with time to spare.
All of that really did happen. Maybe the point of this post is to remind you to not eat raw rabbit and to push yourself to the brink of a nervous breakdown????? Or maybe to point out what my life is like and know you aren't alone when things continue to go wrong???? Whatever your interpretation, make it a good one!!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you with weak stomachs, I apologize and until next time...
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
The Joys of Home Ownership
The last time I was hitting the gym hard was about 5 years ago. I was doing great, feeling pretty good and exceeding my own expectations. That summer, Brett and our brother in law were preparing to go on a trip to Montana. It was the night before they were to depart and I was doing laundry. I turned the washer on and went upstairs to the kitchen to do a few things. As I was busy with the kitchen stuff, after about 10 minutes, I could REALLY hear the washing machine. I thought and said out loud, "wow! The washing machine sounds really loud right now, like running water... oh crap!" I ran downstairs to find that a hose had broken loose and was spraying water EVERYWHERE in the laundry room.
I yelled for Brett to come down. He and I cleaned up the mess as best as we could and he reattached the hose. I kept on with the laundry. The hose came off again. Again, we cleaned up the mess. He again reattached the hose. Since there was carpet down in our laundry room at the time, we both agreed that I would have to take that out the next day because it would smell by the time he returned. At this point, it was about midnight and they were leaving in a few hours. Went to bed, slept it off. I woke up bright and early and started chopping up the carpet and the half of the carpet pad that was down there.
Do you have any idea how heavy wet carpet is? Let me tell you that it was so incredibly heavy, awkward and being a do-it-myselfer that I am, did it by myself. The back of the carpet was so rough and it scratched and scraped my arms and legs so bad. It looked like I got into a fight with a cat using sandpaper as a weapon.
Carpet and padding hauled to the curb, laundry started AGAIN. I mopped and was going to put away the knives and blades I used in the garage. Came back down to finish up to find the washer had broken free AGAIN. Water everywhere. AGAIN. This time, I called my jean hiking dad to help get it reattached. He came, he saw the carpet and asked why in the hell I didn't call for help. My response: I don't know. Ha!! That one day was a superb workout minus the part where I broke down, fell to my knees, started crying and cussing up a storm that was not suitable for many adults. Wait! I didn't tell you that part?!?! Hmm, must have forgotten!!!
I have also been known to shovel rocks into a wheelbarrow and haul rocks to the backyard. I have also been known to load big pieces of concrete into the same wheelbarrow to haul it uphill to the driveway. Both excellent workouts. Multitasking once again at its finest!!
We do need to put more rock in our backyard. I intend to replace a workout or two with this activity. I'm kind of looking forward to it. I'm a sick puppy. I'm okay with that though!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you trying to figure out which home projects can be good workouts, until next time...
I yelled for Brett to come down. He and I cleaned up the mess as best as we could and he reattached the hose. I kept on with the laundry. The hose came off again. Again, we cleaned up the mess. He again reattached the hose. Since there was carpet down in our laundry room at the time, we both agreed that I would have to take that out the next day because it would smell by the time he returned. At this point, it was about midnight and they were leaving in a few hours. Went to bed, slept it off. I woke up bright and early and started chopping up the carpet and the half of the carpet pad that was down there.
Do you have any idea how heavy wet carpet is? Let me tell you that it was so incredibly heavy, awkward and being a do-it-myselfer that I am, did it by myself. The back of the carpet was so rough and it scratched and scraped my arms and legs so bad. It looked like I got into a fight with a cat using sandpaper as a weapon.
Carpet and padding hauled to the curb, laundry started AGAIN. I mopped and was going to put away the knives and blades I used in the garage. Came back down to finish up to find the washer had broken free AGAIN. Water everywhere. AGAIN. This time, I called my jean hiking dad to help get it reattached. He came, he saw the carpet and asked why in the hell I didn't call for help. My response: I don't know. Ha!! That one day was a superb workout minus the part where I broke down, fell to my knees, started crying and cussing up a storm that was not suitable for many adults. Wait! I didn't tell you that part?!?! Hmm, must have forgotten!!!
I have also been known to shovel rocks into a wheelbarrow and haul rocks to the backyard. I have also been known to load big pieces of concrete into the same wheelbarrow to haul it uphill to the driveway. Both excellent workouts. Multitasking once again at its finest!!
We do need to put more rock in our backyard. I intend to replace a workout or two with this activity. I'm kind of looking forward to it. I'm a sick puppy. I'm okay with that though!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you trying to figure out which home projects can be good workouts, until next time...
Friday, April 13, 2012
People are funny
People are funny. And I don't mean "ha ha" funny, I mean they can be ridiculous, intrusive and exasperating. From time to time, people have asked me if I am pregnant. The first couple of times this happened, I got rid of a lot of shirts and never wore the longer flowy shirts again. My response to them was "no. I'm just fat. Thanks." The dialogue to follow was never a sincere apology or even an insincere one. The person usually tried to justify their asking. I don't know about you, but I sure wouldn't even ask a woman if she were pregnant even if I was 99% sure that she was. It is just something you don't do. Alas, people still do it.
It hasn't happened to me in a long time, thankfully, but I'm pretty sure my snippiness about the topic made people think. I started responding to people with "since when do pregnant women look like they are harboring a baby anaconda? Last time I checked, the belly should be round and somewhat hard. This, (as I would grab my gut, squeezing it and shaking it a bit) is NOT a baby belly, unless I'm going to give birth to a baby anaconda sometime soon." Yeah, I really did say that. More than once. Not my proudest moments. I tend to have a problem with handling things with an amount of grace that saves me from looking like an a-hole because I get so worked up and let things slide until I can't take it anymore. Character flaw. Or it is the trait of my dad. Maybe both. You decide.
Another "funny" type I encounter are those that don't know what else to say so they say things that come off insincere or condescending. Seriously, the "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" rule is a good one to keep in your back pocket. Be sincere. Say what you mean and mean what you say. It works better for everyone involved.
Another "funny" type is the intrusive one. I have a family member that is extremely intrusive and overly opinionated when it comes to topics that are none of his/her business. Things that shouldn't bother me, end up making me feel deflated and angry. Now, I just avoid her and distance myself more and more. Things are definitely a lot easier without people trying to pull you down.
I learned a while ago, but later in life, from an awesome friend to "speak out of love." Meaning, when people tick you off, as much as you want to put them in their place, you should only do so out of love for that person, not out of spite.Now, I admit, I have a hard time with this general rule of thumb, but I can honestly say that it has helped me in my personal life and family relationships because I remind myself to speak out of love for that person instead of anger towards that person. It actually does help if you truly love and care for that person to begin with. I can't help you there, sorry.
There are quite a few people in my life with whom I am close that are negative. Oddly enough, the relationships I have with them are positive and healthy, but their attitudes are negative towards many many many things. Sitting here typing, I can't think of much positive that these people say in a day. Surprisingly, this has not had much of an affect on me. Maybe it is because I am hoping they will "catch on" to my trend and be more positive? I don't know. No, I'm not trying to change them either or make them my mission, but I want to lead by example. Don't get me wrong, you get me on a tirade about receiving the wrong car part or a nasty person trying to bring me down, I WILL unleash. I just try to not be like this every moment of every day.
I saw on a post by my sister in law that my mother in law had told her: Everyday we meet people we want to be like and people we don't want to be like. All that matters at the end of the day when I look in the mirror is that I am who I want to be.
I agree with this post. I think it is great. I do however think that there is always room for improvement. There is always a way to make yourself better. A different way of thinking, a different way of coping, a different way of reacting, a different way to do anything. Another START SMALL task. What can you do?
With that thought, I'm signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you with suggestions of what to name my baby anaconda, until next time...
It hasn't happened to me in a long time, thankfully, but I'm pretty sure my snippiness about the topic made people think. I started responding to people with "since when do pregnant women look like they are harboring a baby anaconda? Last time I checked, the belly should be round and somewhat hard. This, (as I would grab my gut, squeezing it and shaking it a bit) is NOT a baby belly, unless I'm going to give birth to a baby anaconda sometime soon." Yeah, I really did say that. More than once. Not my proudest moments. I tend to have a problem with handling things with an amount of grace that saves me from looking like an a-hole because I get so worked up and let things slide until I can't take it anymore. Character flaw. Or it is the trait of my dad. Maybe both. You decide.
Another "funny" type I encounter are those that don't know what else to say so they say things that come off insincere or condescending. Seriously, the "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" rule is a good one to keep in your back pocket. Be sincere. Say what you mean and mean what you say. It works better for everyone involved.
Another "funny" type is the intrusive one. I have a family member that is extremely intrusive and overly opinionated when it comes to topics that are none of his/her business. Things that shouldn't bother me, end up making me feel deflated and angry. Now, I just avoid her and distance myself more and more. Things are definitely a lot easier without people trying to pull you down.
I learned a while ago, but later in life, from an awesome friend to "speak out of love." Meaning, when people tick you off, as much as you want to put them in their place, you should only do so out of love for that person, not out of spite.Now, I admit, I have a hard time with this general rule of thumb, but I can honestly say that it has helped me in my personal life and family relationships because I remind myself to speak out of love for that person instead of anger towards that person. It actually does help if you truly love and care for that person to begin with. I can't help you there, sorry.
There are quite a few people in my life with whom I am close that are negative. Oddly enough, the relationships I have with them are positive and healthy, but their attitudes are negative towards many many many things. Sitting here typing, I can't think of much positive that these people say in a day. Surprisingly, this has not had much of an affect on me. Maybe it is because I am hoping they will "catch on" to my trend and be more positive? I don't know. No, I'm not trying to change them either or make them my mission, but I want to lead by example. Don't get me wrong, you get me on a tirade about receiving the wrong car part or a nasty person trying to bring me down, I WILL unleash. I just try to not be like this every moment of every day.
I saw on a post by my sister in law that my mother in law had told her: Everyday we meet people we want to be like and people we don't want to be like. All that matters at the end of the day when I look in the mirror is that I am who I want to be.
I agree with this post. I think it is great. I do however think that there is always room for improvement. There is always a way to make yourself better. A different way of thinking, a different way of coping, a different way of reacting, a different way to do anything. Another START SMALL task. What can you do?
With that thought, I'm signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you with suggestions of what to name my baby anaconda, until next time...
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Go Trish!
I am a "do-it myselfer." It just dawned on me where Ty gets it. I like to try to do things myself because I really like the challenge and I do like that feeling of accomplishment when I am successful or the good story to tell if I fail. I convince myself that I can do anything. This is a good thing, most of the time. I observe people doing things and really truly believe that I can do it. I watched someone cut Brett's hair and figured I could do it. That was a success. Really, it was and I am talking about before he was shaving his head.
I had watched a gal wax my friend's eyebrows and mine one day. I thought, "I can SOOOO do that!" Easy! So, I get me a little tub of MICROWAVABLE wax. Yes, microwavable. Before I continue, let's just say that really, if you are putting a beauty product in the microwave, you probably shouldn't use it. Because it was microwavable wasn't an issue, though. It just doesn't seem right. Anyway, I brought the wax home. Microwaved and followed the instructions. BEAUTIFUL results! I used the little guides that came with the kit and cut them the way I needed them. I put forth the effort.
Eyebrows grew back.
I bust out the wax again. Microwaved. Got to the bathroom where I decided that I could totally do it without the guides and could smear it on like the gal did at the salon. I was using a tongue depressor, by the way. Not a contoured piece to precisely apply the wax. I smeared the wax on and because I couldn't wear my glasses during this process, I didn't happen to notice that the wax was a little, um, bulky. What I thought was a wispy from my hair falling in my eyes, which I promptly wiped away with the back of my hand, I quickly realized was actually wax. I look in the mirror to see that my eyelashes are COVERED in wax. My top eyelashes are now stuck to my eyelid. I blink. Crap. Wax on both top and bottom lashes. At this point, my lashes are just about glued together. Instead of being able to rip the wax off, I have to empty the entire bottle of RESIDUE wax remover in my hand and start scrubbing. While it didn't burn and I didn't go blind from this, it sure didn't feel the greatest and my eye was quite red. And I still had the one eyebrow to go. Never waxed them at home again.
I am pretty sure that my home workouts are in an attempt to make an ass of myself only in front of myself and tell the story later as I characterize myself as a do-it-myselfer. Make sense? Good!!!!!!!
In all seriousness, I am a do-it-myselfer. I try anything at least once. I usually try to do things that I shouldn't by myself and end up having to have my head glued. I really believe that I can do anything. Most of the time, I succeed. Sometimes, I crash and burn, but strangely enough, that crashing and burning is only more motivation for me to try again. I don't have any real talents, so I find that I am constantly trying to keep doing better at things I'm not so great at. Always room for improvement.
I have a friend who is also a do-it-herselfer. In addition to yard work, decorating and home projects, she tried giving herself a Brazilian at home. I won't even hint to whom it might be because I'm almost positive my house would be vandalized and my car keyed.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you wondering why I told this story, again join the club, until next time...
I had watched a gal wax my friend's eyebrows and mine one day. I thought, "I can SOOOO do that!" Easy! So, I get me a little tub of MICROWAVABLE wax. Yes, microwavable. Before I continue, let's just say that really, if you are putting a beauty product in the microwave, you probably shouldn't use it. Because it was microwavable wasn't an issue, though. It just doesn't seem right. Anyway, I brought the wax home. Microwaved and followed the instructions. BEAUTIFUL results! I used the little guides that came with the kit and cut them the way I needed them. I put forth the effort.
Eyebrows grew back.
I bust out the wax again. Microwaved. Got to the bathroom where I decided that I could totally do it without the guides and could smear it on like the gal did at the salon. I was using a tongue depressor, by the way. Not a contoured piece to precisely apply the wax. I smeared the wax on and because I couldn't wear my glasses during this process, I didn't happen to notice that the wax was a little, um, bulky. What I thought was a wispy from my hair falling in my eyes, which I promptly wiped away with the back of my hand, I quickly realized was actually wax. I look in the mirror to see that my eyelashes are COVERED in wax. My top eyelashes are now stuck to my eyelid. I blink. Crap. Wax on both top and bottom lashes. At this point, my lashes are just about glued together. Instead of being able to rip the wax off, I have to empty the entire bottle of RESIDUE wax remover in my hand and start scrubbing. While it didn't burn and I didn't go blind from this, it sure didn't feel the greatest and my eye was quite red. And I still had the one eyebrow to go. Never waxed them at home again.
I am pretty sure that my home workouts are in an attempt to make an ass of myself only in front of myself and tell the story later as I characterize myself as a do-it-myselfer. Make sense? Good!!!!!!!
In all seriousness, I am a do-it-myselfer. I try anything at least once. I usually try to do things that I shouldn't by myself and end up having to have my head glued. I really believe that I can do anything. Most of the time, I succeed. Sometimes, I crash and burn, but strangely enough, that crashing and burning is only more motivation for me to try again. I don't have any real talents, so I find that I am constantly trying to keep doing better at things I'm not so great at. Always room for improvement.
I have a friend who is also a do-it-herselfer. In addition to yard work, decorating and home projects, she tried giving herself a Brazilian at home. I won't even hint to whom it might be because I'm almost positive my house would be vandalized and my car keyed.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you wondering why I told this story, again join the club, until next time...
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Randomness at its Finest!
Let's see. . . where should I begin? Lately, I've had a bit of spring fever. I'm still low on vacation time and am saving for the days when Tyson is sick and A VACATION only a couple months away. I will only be taking one day of vacation, but still, it is something I am SOOOOOO looking forward to. I really need a vacation because the last time I was actually on vacation was when I went to NYC in May of 2009. If you are quick with the math, you would know that I was pregnant at the time. I'm not sure that really counts going on vacation while pregnant. Even though we saw some sights, my feet swelled up like no one had ever seen before and I fell on the sidewalk. Yes, literally fell and right about now, my sister is laughing, unable to contain herself at the whole situation. I am clumsy and accident-prone. Not the first time I have tripped in public. For example, went to a Mary Kay party and I won a door prize. I went to the front of the room to accept my prize only to have the toe of my "beetle" Skechers get caught in the long, drapey tablecloth, that I spring forward, arms flailing, but was able to catch myself. My sister and I could not stop laughing. Oddly enough, no one else was laughing with us. What a case of the giggles. True story. I can laugh at myself. And others, especially on America's Funniest Home Videos when people fall. I'm a sick puppy, I tell you. Sick puppy.
Anyway, taking vacation time. So, PIC #2 is about in the same boat as me when it comes to vacation time. She has two kids and struggles at times to build up the vacation hours. She and I dream of the day we can take a day off and go do something and be carefree for ONE DAY. One day. That's all. Doesn't it sound lovely?? Well, lately, I have been fighting the desire to leave work with PIC #2 and go eat pancakes at Perkins, go to the trampoline park and then do a little shopping. She's been a fun-killer lately because if she said "okay" and meant it, I would actually spend some time eating those pancakes and then jumping on tramps. Tramps and cakes. Tramps and cakes. Got a nice ring to it. Doesn't it?? Someday we will. I just hope it is sooner rather than later because I really need to do something that I don't need to do. That has a wicked awesome ring to it. Ahhhhh...
The weather has warmed up nicely around here. Haven't been out on too many walks lately, but I need it to stay lighter out longer. Yes, yes, I know I have two dogs to take with me when it gets dark, but I just don't even like the idea of doing that. Last year, I got into running a bit and was able to add on a little more distance each time. Go me! I have a jogging stroller and tried a couple times with the stroller and Tyson in it. I loved having the stroller because I could put my cell phone in there, carry water and anything else I needed. It was great... until, I actually RAN with the stroller. Holy balls! It is REALLY hard to run with the stroller. It is awkward and I felt like I was going to tip over or pull the stroller over. I stopped running with the stroller after a couple of tries. Then, I would go on walks/runs by myself. I would have my cell phone in my pocket and my iPod in the other. Those are two items that are a bit heavier in pockets, especially when you are running, they tug on your pockets violently. I really wanted a fanny pack at this point. And I can't say that I don't still want a fanny pack. As ridiculous as these are and I wouldn't use them for anything but running/walking, they make so much sense!!! What was I thinking when I got rid of my fanny pack from the 80's? I actually saved up my babysitting money to buy a fanny pack that was purple, hot pink and a play-doh blue color. It was awesome. Wicked awesome. I'm totally serious about all of that. The awesomeness and using babysitting money for it.
The other day, I really wanted a treat. I wasn't sure what I was in the mood for, then it dawned on me. "I'm going to splurge on a bottle of Evian!!" Oh how I love that over-priced bottled goodness. Could I find a bottle? Negative. I settled for Fiji water instead and while it is good, I'm a little disturbed by the silica in it to make it "soft." Interesting. So, I'm still on the hunt for a bottle of Evian around here. I will find some. Maybe I'll take a half day of vacay and go gas station to gas station until I find one. I used to take vacay to go Pez dispenser hunting, so why not do it for Evian??? I'm serious.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you wondering how to get the last couple minutes of your life back, join the club...until next time...
Anyway, taking vacation time. So, PIC #2 is about in the same boat as me when it comes to vacation time. She has two kids and struggles at times to build up the vacation hours. She and I dream of the day we can take a day off and go do something and be carefree for ONE DAY. One day. That's all. Doesn't it sound lovely?? Well, lately, I have been fighting the desire to leave work with PIC #2 and go eat pancakes at Perkins, go to the trampoline park and then do a little shopping. She's been a fun-killer lately because if she said "okay" and meant it, I would actually spend some time eating those pancakes and then jumping on tramps. Tramps and cakes. Tramps and cakes. Got a nice ring to it. Doesn't it?? Someday we will. I just hope it is sooner rather than later because I really need to do something that I don't need to do. That has a wicked awesome ring to it. Ahhhhh...
The weather has warmed up nicely around here. Haven't been out on too many walks lately, but I need it to stay lighter out longer. Yes, yes, I know I have two dogs to take with me when it gets dark, but I just don't even like the idea of doing that. Last year, I got into running a bit and was able to add on a little more distance each time. Go me! I have a jogging stroller and tried a couple times with the stroller and Tyson in it. I loved having the stroller because I could put my cell phone in there, carry water and anything else I needed. It was great... until, I actually RAN with the stroller. Holy balls! It is REALLY hard to run with the stroller. It is awkward and I felt like I was going to tip over or pull the stroller over. I stopped running with the stroller after a couple of tries. Then, I would go on walks/runs by myself. I would have my cell phone in my pocket and my iPod in the other. Those are two items that are a bit heavier in pockets, especially when you are running, they tug on your pockets violently. I really wanted a fanny pack at this point. And I can't say that I don't still want a fanny pack. As ridiculous as these are and I wouldn't use them for anything but running/walking, they make so much sense!!! What was I thinking when I got rid of my fanny pack from the 80's? I actually saved up my babysitting money to buy a fanny pack that was purple, hot pink and a play-doh blue color. It was awesome. Wicked awesome. I'm totally serious about all of that. The awesomeness and using babysitting money for it.
The other day, I really wanted a treat. I wasn't sure what I was in the mood for, then it dawned on me. "I'm going to splurge on a bottle of Evian!!" Oh how I love that over-priced bottled goodness. Could I find a bottle? Negative. I settled for Fiji water instead and while it is good, I'm a little disturbed by the silica in it to make it "soft." Interesting. So, I'm still on the hunt for a bottle of Evian around here. I will find some. Maybe I'll take a half day of vacay and go gas station to gas station until I find one. I used to take vacay to go Pez dispenser hunting, so why not do it for Evian??? I'm serious.
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you wondering how to get the last couple minutes of your life back, join the club...until next time...
Friday, April 6, 2012
Minor injuries
I once posted on Facebook a direct quote from Brett:
"I think my days of being invincible are effing gone."
So true. So true. Of course, Brett was one of the few people I knew that actually believed he was invincible. Welcome back to Earth, Brett!!!! I find that my resilience is not as great as it used to be. No, I'm not talking lemon drop shots at a local restaurant and having to call Brett to come and pick me up because I didn't realize that my friends were drinking a glass of water in between their drinks. I'm talking about feeling like I am able to bounce back with a muscle strain or most recently, stubbing my toes on a dog toy.
Yes, you read that correctly, a dog toy. Dog toy. It was a little dicey walking about for a couple days, but now, it has healed pretty well for the most part. What was strange is that I started to panic, even with a contingency plan in place. I didn't know what I was going to do if I had to take a break from TurboFire. I know that I said I could do chair aerobics and sign up for water aerobics, but COME ON!! I'm 34 years old and I really cannot see myself workin' it chair aerobics style, especially not for jammed toes!!!!!! If the injury were serious enough, I would like to think that I would rock the chair aerobics, but now, I doubt my own contingency plan.
Because I have working out as such a high priority, it makes it really hard to swallow even the thought of not being able to workout for a while. Eek. I will say that the one good thing about going a little easy on myself having toe injuries, is that I can really focus on technique. That is something that usually gets put on the back-burner because I get so caught up in the energy and momentum of the workout.
We crowned the biggest loser at work a week early. He won by a landslide and for anyone to catch up would have been near impossible. He lost over 25 pounds and towards the end of the competition, he was even stepping on the treadmill twice a week!! I was so proud of him and still am. He came to me a few weeks ago and said, "I know how to make walking on the treadmill go faster. AC/DC." My reaction was , " you are walking on the treadmill?!?!" he said only a couple times a week. Then it dawned on me and I said, "YOU listen to AC/DC?!?!?!" I'm not sure which one surprised me more about my farming country friend. I am so proud!!!!
Now that the competition is over, there are five in my department that will still be keeping track of our progress. As of Friday, we had lost over 73 pounds in eleven weeks combined!!! Pretty impressive, I think!! I am now free to move my Free Friday into Sunday. I still have to come up with a catchy name for it. Stay tuned. Sunday's work way better for me because if I just want to eat naughty stuff, I am still likely to workout whereas Fridays are still routine with work that I can continue to stay on track!
Well, here's hoping for no more dog toys in the hallway! Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you thinking of catchy Sunday names, until next time...
"I think my days of being invincible are effing gone."
So true. So true. Of course, Brett was one of the few people I knew that actually believed he was invincible. Welcome back to Earth, Brett!!!! I find that my resilience is not as great as it used to be. No, I'm not talking lemon drop shots at a local restaurant and having to call Brett to come and pick me up because I didn't realize that my friends were drinking a glass of water in between their drinks. I'm talking about feeling like I am able to bounce back with a muscle strain or most recently, stubbing my toes on a dog toy.
Yes, you read that correctly, a dog toy. Dog toy. It was a little dicey walking about for a couple days, but now, it has healed pretty well for the most part. What was strange is that I started to panic, even with a contingency plan in place. I didn't know what I was going to do if I had to take a break from TurboFire. I know that I said I could do chair aerobics and sign up for water aerobics, but COME ON!! I'm 34 years old and I really cannot see myself workin' it chair aerobics style, especially not for jammed toes!!!!!! If the injury were serious enough, I would like to think that I would rock the chair aerobics, but now, I doubt my own contingency plan.
Because I have working out as such a high priority, it makes it really hard to swallow even the thought of not being able to workout for a while. Eek. I will say that the one good thing about going a little easy on myself having toe injuries, is that I can really focus on technique. That is something that usually gets put on the back-burner because I get so caught up in the energy and momentum of the workout.
We crowned the biggest loser at work a week early. He won by a landslide and for anyone to catch up would have been near impossible. He lost over 25 pounds and towards the end of the competition, he was even stepping on the treadmill twice a week!! I was so proud of him and still am. He came to me a few weeks ago and said, "I know how to make walking on the treadmill go faster. AC/DC." My reaction was , " you are walking on the treadmill?!?!" he said only a couple times a week. Then it dawned on me and I said, "YOU listen to AC/DC?!?!?!" I'm not sure which one surprised me more about my farming country friend. I am so proud!!!!
Now that the competition is over, there are five in my department that will still be keeping track of our progress. As of Friday, we had lost over 73 pounds in eleven weeks combined!!! Pretty impressive, I think!! I am now free to move my Free Friday into Sunday. I still have to come up with a catchy name for it. Stay tuned. Sunday's work way better for me because if I just want to eat naughty stuff, I am still likely to workout whereas Fridays are still routine with work that I can continue to stay on track!
Well, here's hoping for no more dog toys in the hallway! Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you thinking of catchy Sunday names, until next time...
Monday, April 2, 2012
The Drive You Don't Know You Have
Since starting this blog, I have been sought out by multiple family members and friends about ideas, suggestions and advice on what to do to START SMALL. Depending on the person and my own, non-professional, but experienced in the home workouts knowledge, I usually recommend starting with Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred. I like it because it covers a lot of muscle groups in a shorter amount of time. Perfect to START SMALL. Moreover, it is inexpensive and there are three different levels, so you can work your way up.
For most people, it isn't WHAT to do, but HOW to do it and KEEP doing it. I would like to think that all the people that have asked for my advice are serious about starting something up because they see me as someone more like them and can see me achieving goals and making it work with my busy schedule. Some may need someone to just show them something they might like to get them going. I wouldn't have found TurboFire if my old friend hadn't suggested it. (Thank you, again!!!)
I have one particular family member that quite a few years ago was working TWO full-time jobs. Wow. That is serious dedication and drive right there. This person hardly slept and when this person did, she was out. This person was known to be so deep in sleep and carry on a conversation where you couldn't tell that she really wasn't awake. You would tell her to go back to sleep and minutes later, she would be frantic trying to remember if she had done what she was supposed to do before she fell asleep the first time. Did you catch all that? Good.
This brings me to my first point. Sleep. Sleep is so incredibly important to staying motivated. Think about it. When you get less and less sleep every night, do you find it harder and harder to concentrate and stay on task? Eventually, I give up and give in to resting up. With plenty of rest, you already have one excuse to NOT use. With plenty of rest, you are probably more likely to get up and do something for yourself. With plenty of rest, you are able to execute workouts better and avoid injuries. With plenty of rest, you are less likely to become ill. With plenty of rest, you are more likely to stay motivated and focused. Keep the sleeping part in the back of your mind while you read the next part.
Okay, back to my sleep-deprived family member. Alright, so after doing this working two jobs thing for quite some time, I visited this family member one day. I happened to notice that the latest Windor Pilates set was sitting on her counter, unopened. Me, being a junkie on infomercials even back then, asked about it with a certain sense of jealousy. This is how the conversation went:
Me: You got Windsor Pilates?!?!?!?!
Family Member: Oh, boy, did I.
M: You have tried it already???
F: Umm, no. Here's what happened. You know how I fall asleep on the couch after work and stay there sometimes until 3 or 4 in the morning with the TV on?
M: Uh-huh...
F: So, about a week ago, I was asleep on the couch. I woke up and the TV was on and just couldn't shake Windsor Pilates out of my mind. I kept thinking how great it was for my body and how wonderful of a workout it was, so I turned off the TV and went to bed.
M: Uh-huh...
F: The next morning, I get up only to find my purse with my credit card out sitting by the phone. I was thinking that there is no way I actually ordered that! Today, there was a package on the front steps and it was confirmation that I had ordered it in my sleep.
M: (uncontrolled laughter)
Remember what I said about sleep? Put that in your back pocket. I want to also mention that before this family member quit her second job, she also ordered the Ab Roller in her sleep. I actually got to try this one out for a while, not bad, but not stellar, either.
Anyway, this family member has asked me about what she should do to START SMALL. No, I did NOT tell her to bust out the Windsor Pilates or the Ab Roller. I think she has the drive to get herself into the workout mode, just doesn't know where to begin. Hello?! She ordered workout stuff in her sleep! If she could have gotten herself to actually workout in her sleep, you can color me jealous as hell. I have always said I would love it if someone would come and move my arms and legs while I slept. Sounds perfect to me. She may have the drive, but she just needs the motivation and discipline to get it done. I believe she does have it and can do it, if she just gets herself into the habit of doing it. If she does like Chalene says and makes her workouts non-negotiable, she will be just fine!! DO YOU HEAR ME?!?! I know you do. :)
I recommended Jillian to this family member to do. It might be a little bit of a challenge, but I am confident in her ability to do it because she is pretty active already and I really think she could handle it since she is in good physical shape. Again, DO YOU HEAR ME?! YOU CAN DO THIS?!
As a side note, if you do start a workout that is on DVD, I strongly recommend watching it and go through the motions at least once before jumping in. This should help you to know what to expect and to avoid injury. TurboFire has a "New To Class" feature that pauses the actual workout to show the breakdown. Most DVDs do not have this feature.
START SMALL. Plan your workout. Sleep well. Execute your plan. YOU CAN DO IT!!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you wondering if this is a true story, yes, my friends, it is indeed a true story and until next time...
For most people, it isn't WHAT to do, but HOW to do it and KEEP doing it. I would like to think that all the people that have asked for my advice are serious about starting something up because they see me as someone more like them and can see me achieving goals and making it work with my busy schedule. Some may need someone to just show them something they might like to get them going. I wouldn't have found TurboFire if my old friend hadn't suggested it. (Thank you, again!!!)
I have one particular family member that quite a few years ago was working TWO full-time jobs. Wow. That is serious dedication and drive right there. This person hardly slept and when this person did, she was out. This person was known to be so deep in sleep and carry on a conversation where you couldn't tell that she really wasn't awake. You would tell her to go back to sleep and minutes later, she would be frantic trying to remember if she had done what she was supposed to do before she fell asleep the first time. Did you catch all that? Good.
This brings me to my first point. Sleep. Sleep is so incredibly important to staying motivated. Think about it. When you get less and less sleep every night, do you find it harder and harder to concentrate and stay on task? Eventually, I give up and give in to resting up. With plenty of rest, you already have one excuse to NOT use. With plenty of rest, you are probably more likely to get up and do something for yourself. With plenty of rest, you are able to execute workouts better and avoid injuries. With plenty of rest, you are less likely to become ill. With plenty of rest, you are more likely to stay motivated and focused. Keep the sleeping part in the back of your mind while you read the next part.
Okay, back to my sleep-deprived family member. Alright, so after doing this working two jobs thing for quite some time, I visited this family member one day. I happened to notice that the latest Windor Pilates set was sitting on her counter, unopened. Me, being a junkie on infomercials even back then, asked about it with a certain sense of jealousy. This is how the conversation went:
Me: You got Windsor Pilates?!?!?!?!
Family Member: Oh, boy, did I.
M: You have tried it already???
F: Umm, no. Here's what happened. You know how I fall asleep on the couch after work and stay there sometimes until 3 or 4 in the morning with the TV on?
M: Uh-huh...
F: So, about a week ago, I was asleep on the couch. I woke up and the TV was on and just couldn't shake Windsor Pilates out of my mind. I kept thinking how great it was for my body and how wonderful of a workout it was, so I turned off the TV and went to bed.
M: Uh-huh...
F: The next morning, I get up only to find my purse with my credit card out sitting by the phone. I was thinking that there is no way I actually ordered that! Today, there was a package on the front steps and it was confirmation that I had ordered it in my sleep.
M: (uncontrolled laughter)
Remember what I said about sleep? Put that in your back pocket. I want to also mention that before this family member quit her second job, she also ordered the Ab Roller in her sleep. I actually got to try this one out for a while, not bad, but not stellar, either.
Anyway, this family member has asked me about what she should do to START SMALL. No, I did NOT tell her to bust out the Windsor Pilates or the Ab Roller. I think she has the drive to get herself into the workout mode, just doesn't know where to begin. Hello?! She ordered workout stuff in her sleep! If she could have gotten herself to actually workout in her sleep, you can color me jealous as hell. I have always said I would love it if someone would come and move my arms and legs while I slept. Sounds perfect to me. She may have the drive, but she just needs the motivation and discipline to get it done. I believe she does have it and can do it, if she just gets herself into the habit of doing it. If she does like Chalene says and makes her workouts non-negotiable, she will be just fine!! DO YOU HEAR ME?!?! I know you do. :)
I recommended Jillian to this family member to do. It might be a little bit of a challenge, but I am confident in her ability to do it because she is pretty active already and I really think she could handle it since she is in good physical shape. Again, DO YOU HEAR ME?! YOU CAN DO THIS?!
As a side note, if you do start a workout that is on DVD, I strongly recommend watching it and go through the motions at least once before jumping in. This should help you to know what to expect and to avoid injury. TurboFire has a "New To Class" feature that pauses the actual workout to show the breakdown. Most DVDs do not have this feature.
START SMALL. Plan your workout. Sleep well. Execute your plan. YOU CAN DO IT!!!!
Signing off for now, to all of you near and far and to those of you wondering if this is a true story, yes, my friends, it is indeed a true story and until next time...
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