So, as you know I joined the gym. I love the gym. I go three times a week, I'm usually there about 6:15 (that's AM I might add) and I do 30 minutes on the treadmill. I love the treadmill. Well, other than yesterday. My MP3 player needed charging and I forgot to charge it. Walking on the treadmill is very boring without music blasting. So yesterday I only did 20 minutes. And then I do about a 25 minute circuit on the weights. I just love it. (Cripes, do you get the feeling that I like the gym?)
But I haven't really been sore. Well, other than my heel, but I think that can be cured by a better quality pair of runners. I was thinking that I should be feeling the muscles that I've been working so hard on for the past 4 weeks. They should be a little tender. And they haven't been. I mean, I know I've worked them, and I'm not looking for that "crap, why can't I get out of bed" kind of feeling, just a "wooo, yes girl!, you worked it!!" kinda feeling.
So with my 20 minute treadmill workout yesterday I had a little more time to concentrate on the weights. There are 9 machines that are part of the structured workout, however you can add more. Which I had already done. One for the chest area and one for the butt area. Gotta bring back up what gravity has pulled down, if you know what I mean.
But I also increased the weight that I was lifting. I figured I needed to increase the weight in order to feel the feeling that I was looking for. So I did. To all 11 machines. And yes, I was working. I was sweating. I was feeling the feeling!!
And it turns that what I was doing worked. I was working harder and lifting more and feeling the feeling!! And today it all paid off. Oh sure, I got out of bed and really didn't feel anything. But, once I got to work, well, things started to happen. Things started to feel like they had been used. Been worked out if you will.
Then IT happened. During a hilarious conversation with my co-workers, I laughed. Laughed until I was almost crying. And I felt it.
You have no idea how thrilled I was to discover that I had an Ab. Yes, an actual abdominal muscle. I really didn't think that this body had any, let alone one! And I was feeling it.
I cannot WAIT to get back to the gym tomorrow! Work it girl, work it!!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
You only get one
So, the phone rings at work today and its for me. It's SG.
Me: Hello there.
SG: Is this a mid-life crisis?
Me: I'm sorry? What?
SG: Am I having a mid life crisis?
Me: Yes, I do believe you are.
SG: Really? You think I'm having a mid-life crisis?
Me: Yeah, I do. And now that we've got what you wanted, your mid-life crisis can be over and it can be MY time to have a mid-life crisis.
SG: No, this isn't the mid-life crisis I wanted. I wanted a different mid-life crisis.
Me: Well you should've thought of that before we bought the cure for your mid-life crisis.
SG: Nooooo
Me: Yes
SG: But, but.... I wanted my mid-life crisis to be like a double garage that's just loaded with tools and stuff. That's what I wanted my mid-life crisis to be.
Me: Sorry, no can do. Your mid-life crisis is over. Finished. Complete. DONE!!!
SG: Shit
Talk about counting your puppies before they're born!!
My mid life crisis is coming. I just know it is. It has to. And my mid-life crisis will only be cured by one thing.
And once I figure out what it is, I will be sure to let you know!
Me: Hello there.
SG: Is this a mid-life crisis?
Me: I'm sorry? What?
SG: Am I having a mid life crisis?
Me: Yes, I do believe you are.
SG: Really? You think I'm having a mid-life crisis?
Me: Yeah, I do. And now that we've got what you wanted, your mid-life crisis can be over and it can be MY time to have a mid-life crisis.
SG: No, this isn't the mid-life crisis I wanted. I wanted a different mid-life crisis.
Me: Well you should've thought of that before we bought the cure for your mid-life crisis.
SG: Nooooo
Me: Yes
SG: But, but.... I wanted my mid-life crisis to be like a double garage that's just loaded with tools and stuff. That's what I wanted my mid-life crisis to be.
Me: Sorry, no can do. Your mid-life crisis is over. Finished. Complete. DONE!!!
SG: Shit
Talk about counting your puppies before they're born!!
My mid life crisis is coming. I just know it is. It has to. And my mid-life crisis will only be cured by one thing.
And once I figure out what it is, I will be sure to let you know!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Now what?
I'm sorry. I can't blog.
I can't stay focused enough on anything these days to see whatever it is I'm trying to focus on through to the end. You know, like cleaning the bathroom and forgetting to do the toilet? Like washing the dishes and not putting them in the rack to dry, just leaving them in a sink full of rinse water? Buying groceries and leaving the bags of sugar and flour in your trunk?
The week was hard. Very hard. And I was distracted.
I used to look forward to Friday's. The end of the work week. A little grape going on in the evening. Relaxation. Two days of a different kind of hard work.
But not this past Friday. I was not looking forward to Friday.
#1Son was writing his test to get his learners permit.
His permit to start driving my car. His permit where someone else tells him he's mature, responsible and smart enough to get behind the wheel of a vehicle and propel himself down the highways and bi-ways at speeds way faster than a pedal bike. Someone who doesn't see how immature he can be when it comes to bugging #2Son, the dogs, his dad, me. Someone who doesn't see the temper tantrums when it's his turn to do the dishes. Or shovel the snow. Or put his freshly washed, dried and folded laundry away.
And he passed.
I'm sorry, I just can't blog right now.
I can't stay focused enough on anything these days to see whatever it is I'm trying to focus on through to the end. You know, like cleaning the bathroom and forgetting to do the toilet? Like washing the dishes and not putting them in the rack to dry, just leaving them in a sink full of rinse water? Buying groceries and leaving the bags of sugar and flour in your trunk?
The week was hard. Very hard. And I was distracted.
I used to look forward to Friday's. The end of the work week. A little grape going on in the evening. Relaxation. Two days of a different kind of hard work.
But not this past Friday. I was not looking forward to Friday.
#1Son was writing his test to get his learners permit.
His permit to start driving my car. His permit where someone else tells him he's mature, responsible and smart enough to get behind the wheel of a vehicle and propel himself down the highways and bi-ways at speeds way faster than a pedal bike. Someone who doesn't see how immature he can be when it comes to bugging #2Son, the dogs, his dad, me. Someone who doesn't see the temper tantrums when it's his turn to do the dishes. Or shovel the snow. Or put his freshly washed, dried and folded laundry away.
And he passed.
I'm sorry, I just can't blog right now.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Serious Traffic Jams
Last night we had a wee bit of excitement out here in the boonies. And the traffic was horrible. We must've had 30 some odd cars up and down the road in front of our place. You have to understand, we're lucky if we see 10 cars in front of our place. In one day. I mean, other than Saturday when people are going to the dump to drop off the trash and recycling. Then we see about 20. And the trash they drop along the way.
It was a busy place last night. The air was filled with the sounds of sirens, which was really upsetting because hearing sirens is never a good thing. But more importantly, they were drowning out the sounds of the frogs. Yes, the frogs are back!!
It would appear that there was some kind of explosion at the dump. And the black smoke and flames were unbelievable. #2Son came running into the house to yell "grab the keys, we gotta go!".
It was a busy place last night. The air was filled with the sounds of sirens, which was really upsetting because hearing sirens is never a good thing. But more importantly, they were drowning out the sounds of the frogs. Yes, the frogs are back!!
It would appear that there was some kind of explosion at the dump. And the black smoke and flames were unbelievable. #2Son came running into the house to yell "grab the keys, we gotta go!".
This is well in progress because me, who never leaves home without her camera, left home without her camera and had to go back to get it.
The fire is where they let people to put their wood and rubber products. And among the rubber products are tires. The tires were on fire causing the horrible black smoke that you see there. Don't we pay a fee for tire recycling every time we buy tires? Why are people putting them into the dump then? Why aren't people recycling them? Or using them for flower planters in their yard? Oh yeah, most people aren't redneck enough to know about the joys of having your petunias grow out of tires that are strategically placed along the driveway.
This fire burnt well into the evening and is still smoldering this morning.
I was really glad the wind was blowing the way it was. But I'm also sad for those in the direct line of the smoke. On such a beautiful evening, the first one we've really had, it must've been horrible to be in it.
I'm sure they were outside listening to the frogs too. Because we all know that's what you do on an April evening, after a long, cold winter.
Rriibitt.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Things I Know, Right Now
1. Wielding a rake for the first time can be painful
2. It will give you blisters
3. The blisters will pop
4. Then you can't do the dishes
5. The boys don't like to help
6. They have a mountain of excuses
7. Like "I don't like picking up dog crap"
8. The dogs like being outside
9. Facebook and all of its applications can be addictive
10. Baby Stella was very unhappy
11. LaMarr the West Highland Terrier needed some attention
12. Belle, Rex and Wolf all needed to be fed and exercised
13. The barbeque is a good thing
14. #1Son working until midnight....not so much
15. A corkscrew in the computer room is a good thing
16. A fridge in the computer room is an even better thing
17. Wine in the fridge in the computer room is OUTSTANDING!!!
18. Prayers and Crystals...we know they work ... get better soon Christopher
2. It will give you blisters
3. The blisters will pop
4. Then you can't do the dishes
5. The boys don't like to help
6. They have a mountain of excuses
7. Like "I don't like picking up dog crap"
8. The dogs like being outside
9. Facebook and all of its applications can be addictive
10. Baby Stella was very unhappy
11. LaMarr the West Highland Terrier needed some attention
12. Belle, Rex and Wolf all needed to be fed and exercised
13. The barbeque is a good thing
14. #1Son working until midnight....not so much
15. A corkscrew in the computer room is a good thing
16. A fridge in the computer room is an even better thing
17. Wine in the fridge in the computer room is OUTSTANDING!!!
18. Prayers and Crystals...we know they work ... get better soon Christopher
You Can't Go Back.
Nine days without a blog is way too long. As a matter of fact, I almost didn't remember my log in information. But, in my defense I was 4 days without viewing a computer monitor OR accessing the www. I was out of town. On business. Yes, I occasionally get to travel in my job. Like once every 3 years. And I go to the same place every time. Ohio. I was glad to be out of there before the earthquake hit.
Usually I travel through Minneapolis. I like the Minneapolis airport. Very well laid out, easy to navigate (still haven’t found the duty free in that airport, don’t even know if they have one) and a very friendly airport. And the fact that when I go through Minneapolis I get to go through customs in my home province, well, it’s just comforting, you know. Like, if they’re not going to let me in, not a problem, I can just go home.
This time I went through Toronto. And, well, I didn’t like it very much. At all. The only good thing going for the Toronto airport is that I did find the duty free. I was nervous about customs (don’t ask me why, I just was) but it all went fine. Except for the part where I wanted to go out and have a smoke and they wouldn’t let me. After I put my suitcase on the conveyor belt, to head off to the place where all good suitcases go and you risk the chance that you may never see your belongings again, I turned around to head back out through the doors I came in. And the conversation went something like this:
Guard: Ma’am? Where do you think you’re going?
Me: Me? Oh, I just wanted to go back out so I could step outside for a cigarette.
Guard: Sorry ma’am, you can’t do that
Me: I can’t? Why?
Guard: You’re in the United States now ma’am.
Me: So you’re telling me I can’t go out and have a smoke when I have 2 ½ hours until my next flight?
Guard: That’s right ma’am. You can’t leave the United States.
Me: Do they sell alcohol in the United States?
Guard: Yes ma’am, they do.
Me: Good, ‘cause I’m gonna need a couple of doubles.
And so began my Toronto experience.
You can see a variety of people in airports. Particularly after you’ve slammed back a couple of shots because, well, you’re in the United States and you can’t leave to have a smoke. I don’t know why, they just get more, uhmm, interesting. Take for example this.
The young girl, maybe 23ish, sitting in the boarding area, with a Laptop. A Blackberry. A Trio. And a cell phone. Now, I’m not sure if she was just showing the world how technical she was, that she could multi-task, that she was important. But to me, she just looked like she was showing off. Someone should tell her that she could probably get away with just one of those items, not all four. And that I would’ve been happy to take the laptop off her, well, lap.
Or the guy who was purchasing cigarettes. He was just a wee bit pissed off when he threw twenty five US dollars down on the counter and it wasn’t enough to pay for his two packs of smokes. The clerk did the conversion and the poor guy lost eight cents on every dollar. I guess they’re not used to having to pay more in Canada. He walked away cursing under his breath and shaking his head. I chuckled.
Or the chick in the bathroom. Whilst doing my business I hear this young voice talking loudly saying she was just heading to the plane and that she couldn’t wait to get there and that she was going to do some naughty things when she finally sees you. I come around the corner to see a blonde with hair to her waist, about 5’ 11”, thin as a rail with pants that were no doubt painted on, a shirt that had a vee-neck cut down to her navel, 4” stiletto boots and more bling that I have ever seen in my life. Oh, and make-up. She had on a ton of make-up. I think she saw me stop in my tracks, my jaw drop down to the ground as I just stood there, shocked. I then started to giggle. I mean really giggle. Almost laughing out loud giggling. She gave me the once over and with a toss of her bleach job, strutted out.
The Toronto airport wanted $8.99 for a ham and cheese sandwich on white bread, wrapped in cellophane with a pickle smooshed into one side. The airport charges $7.89 for a 22oz domestic draught beer. They charged me $5.99 for a burger, fries and a container of coleslaw. I had to put the mustard and ketchup on the burger. No relish. No cheese. They charge $2.29 for cheese. And no doubt it’s plastic cheese, not a nice aged cheddar or mozzarella.
With this years business trip behind me, and another one 3 years away, I can now concentrate on blogging.
I must say however, the Hilton I stayed at had the most comfortable pillows I’ve ever laid my head down on.
I should’ve brought the bigger suitcase.
Usually I travel through Minneapolis. I like the Minneapolis airport. Very well laid out, easy to navigate (still haven’t found the duty free in that airport, don’t even know if they have one) and a very friendly airport. And the fact that when I go through Minneapolis I get to go through customs in my home province, well, it’s just comforting, you know. Like, if they’re not going to let me in, not a problem, I can just go home.
This time I went through Toronto. And, well, I didn’t like it very much. At all. The only good thing going for the Toronto airport is that I did find the duty free. I was nervous about customs (don’t ask me why, I just was) but it all went fine. Except for the part where I wanted to go out and have a smoke and they wouldn’t let me. After I put my suitcase on the conveyor belt, to head off to the place where all good suitcases go and you risk the chance that you may never see your belongings again, I turned around to head back out through the doors I came in. And the conversation went something like this:
Guard: Ma’am? Where do you think you’re going?
Me: Me? Oh, I just wanted to go back out so I could step outside for a cigarette.
Guard: Sorry ma’am, you can’t do that
Me: I can’t? Why?
Guard: You’re in the United States now ma’am.
Me: So you’re telling me I can’t go out and have a smoke when I have 2 ½ hours until my next flight?
Guard: That’s right ma’am. You can’t leave the United States.
Me: Do they sell alcohol in the United States?
Guard: Yes ma’am, they do.
Me: Good, ‘cause I’m gonna need a couple of doubles.
And so began my Toronto experience.
You can see a variety of people in airports. Particularly after you’ve slammed back a couple of shots because, well, you’re in the United States and you can’t leave to have a smoke. I don’t know why, they just get more, uhmm, interesting. Take for example this.
The young girl, maybe 23ish, sitting in the boarding area, with a Laptop. A Blackberry. A Trio. And a cell phone. Now, I’m not sure if she was just showing the world how technical she was, that she could multi-task, that she was important. But to me, she just looked like she was showing off. Someone should tell her that she could probably get away with just one of those items, not all four. And that I would’ve been happy to take the laptop off her, well, lap.
Or the guy who was purchasing cigarettes. He was just a wee bit pissed off when he threw twenty five US dollars down on the counter and it wasn’t enough to pay for his two packs of smokes. The clerk did the conversion and the poor guy lost eight cents on every dollar. I guess they’re not used to having to pay more in Canada. He walked away cursing under his breath and shaking his head. I chuckled.
Or the chick in the bathroom. Whilst doing my business I hear this young voice talking loudly saying she was just heading to the plane and that she couldn’t wait to get there and that she was going to do some naughty things when she finally sees you. I come around the corner to see a blonde with hair to her waist, about 5’ 11”, thin as a rail with pants that were no doubt painted on, a shirt that had a vee-neck cut down to her navel, 4” stiletto boots and more bling that I have ever seen in my life. Oh, and make-up. She had on a ton of make-up. I think she saw me stop in my tracks, my jaw drop down to the ground as I just stood there, shocked. I then started to giggle. I mean really giggle. Almost laughing out loud giggling. She gave me the once over and with a toss of her bleach job, strutted out.
The Toronto airport wanted $8.99 for a ham and cheese sandwich on white bread, wrapped in cellophane with a pickle smooshed into one side. The airport charges $7.89 for a 22oz domestic draught beer. They charged me $5.99 for a burger, fries and a container of coleslaw. I had to put the mustard and ketchup on the burger. No relish. No cheese. They charge $2.29 for cheese. And no doubt it’s plastic cheese, not a nice aged cheddar or mozzarella.
With this years business trip behind me, and another one 3 years away, I can now concentrate on blogging.
I must say however, the Hilton I stayed at had the most comfortable pillows I’ve ever laid my head down on.
I should’ve brought the bigger suitcase.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
American Idol Voters, Yeah, I'm talking to YOU!!!
I'm not liking you very much!
Do you not have any sense of talent? Do you not have any sense of talent?!?!?!?!?!?
Yes, I repeated myself, but, believe me, it is needed.
You voted off Michael Johns!! Hello?????? What is wrong with you? Really? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU????
You have no idea of what talent is, do you?
Michael Johns has the goods. He's got the voice. He's got the talent. He knows music. He's got the "thing" going on. He is so going to be a recording star! And, my money is on a successful one at that!
I can't be sure if I'm going to watch this again next season. Yes, I will finish out this one, because there is some talent left. But I am seriously pissed that you voted off the Georgia boy with the Australian accent.
But so help me...if the voting public doesn't figure this "talent" thing out ( and really, it is a talent competition ) I will not be tuning in again. It's not about what y'all are making it about. It's not a popularity contest.
It really isn't.
You's all gotta get a set of new ears, I'm tellin' ya!
Do you not have any sense of talent? Do you not have any sense of talent?!?!?!?!?!?
Yes, I repeated myself, but, believe me, it is needed.
You voted off Michael Johns!! Hello?????? What is wrong with you? Really? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU????
You have no idea of what talent is, do you?
Michael Johns has the goods. He's got the voice. He's got the talent. He knows music. He's got the "thing" going on. He is so going to be a recording star! And, my money is on a successful one at that!
I can't be sure if I'm going to watch this again next season. Yes, I will finish out this one, because there is some talent left. But I am seriously pissed that you voted off the Georgia boy with the Australian accent.
But so help me...if the voting public doesn't figure this "talent" thing out ( and really, it is a talent competition ) I will not be tuning in again. It's not about what y'all are making it about. It's not a popularity contest.
It really isn't.
You's all gotta get a set of new ears, I'm tellin' ya!
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
I must preface this by saying that sometimes shit happens and that no matter what you do, you can't avoid it. And by this I mean, not only have I had "serious" computer issues (like letting those that don't know what do with it, do whatever they want to with it, and infect it with some sort of serious STOV (Some Type Of Virus)...HELLLOOO!! when the virus protection says "infected" don't go any further) and you do....crap, do you have ANY IDEA OF HOW MUCH WORK YOU JUST MADE ME HAVE TO DO????. I've also had ISP issues. And, this, compounded with whatever goes along with living life on the www, just hasn't made it possible to post. I probably shouldn't let you know that my computer is ancient and really needs to be replaced, should I? However, that could just net me a bigger, better machine, so yes, by all means, I'd be happy to take your "hand-me-down-thank-you-very-much-bound-to-be-better-than-what-I-got!
But life in my real world has been hell too, but, hey, you know, I'll grab another excuse wherever I can. And by real world, I'm talking eight to four thirty. But I don't blog about work...
So here's the real deal thingy.
Ever since I signed the cheque, I’ve been having panic attacks. I mean, it’s only for fifty bucks, but that fifty bucks will change my life as I know it.
#1Son has signed up for, wait for it….Driver’s Ed!! And he’s at his first class as I type this!!
Just shoot me now! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!
I used to look forward to him getting his license. Almost as much as I was looking forward to him moving out! Aging the poor kid I know, but getting his license, it would mean that I wouldn’t be driving him all over the place. It would mean sending him to the store. Or to pick up his brother. Or drive SG and I home from some place where we could consume too much grape.
And then, on Saturday, we’re heading off to get his “customer number” from the Provincial Insurance Provider. You need one you know, or you can’t take the written test. And then the questions start.
“How much would tires cost for this thing”?
“Why”
“Cause once I’m driving it, there ain’t gonna be any rubber left on ‘em!”
So, while my chest tightens slowly, I give a nervous giggle. Change the subject I say to myself.
“Do you work tomorrow?”
Idle chit chat for about 3 minutes when he drops the next one on me.
“How does it work if the car gets written off”?
Que the band around my chest begin to tighten even more. He hasn’t even cracked the book yet and he’s looking forward to wrecking my Cav? And wondering how it’ll work if he writes it off??
“You don’t really need to know how it works if the car gets written off.”
“Wait Mom....yes I do…what if someone takes me out? Or what if it gets creamed while I have it parked at the school?”
“You think you’re going to be taking my car to school!?!?!?”
“Sure, why not. You and dad can carpool”
So now, it begins to feel like I’m seriously having a heart attack. I decide to slow down and turn around, you know, head back home. Screw the Customer Number! Screw the Driver’s Ed. Screw even letting my son touch my car keys ever again.
This is soooo not going to be fun at all.
But life in my real world has been hell too, but, hey, you know, I'll grab another excuse wherever I can. And by real world, I'm talking eight to four thirty. But I don't blog about work...
So here's the real deal thingy.
Ever since I signed the cheque, I’ve been having panic attacks. I mean, it’s only for fifty bucks, but that fifty bucks will change my life as I know it.
#1Son has signed up for, wait for it….Driver’s Ed!! And he’s at his first class as I type this!!
Just shoot me now! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!
I used to look forward to him getting his license. Almost as much as I was looking forward to him moving out! Aging the poor kid I know, but getting his license, it would mean that I wouldn’t be driving him all over the place. It would mean sending him to the store. Or to pick up his brother. Or drive SG and I home from some place where we could consume too much grape.
And then, on Saturday, we’re heading off to get his “customer number” from the Provincial Insurance Provider. You need one you know, or you can’t take the written test. And then the questions start.
“How much would tires cost for this thing”?
“Why”
“Cause once I’m driving it, there ain’t gonna be any rubber left on ‘em!”
So, while my chest tightens slowly, I give a nervous giggle. Change the subject I say to myself.
“Do you work tomorrow?”
Idle chit chat for about 3 minutes when he drops the next one on me.
“How does it work if the car gets written off”?
Que the band around my chest begin to tighten even more. He hasn’t even cracked the book yet and he’s looking forward to wrecking my Cav? And wondering how it’ll work if he writes it off??
“You don’t really need to know how it works if the car gets written off.”
“Wait Mom....yes I do…what if someone takes me out? Or what if it gets creamed while I have it parked at the school?”
“You think you’re going to be taking my car to school!?!?!?”
“Sure, why not. You and dad can carpool”
So now, it begins to feel like I’m seriously having a heart attack. I decide to slow down and turn around, you know, head back home. Screw the Customer Number! Screw the Driver’s Ed. Screw even letting my son touch my car keys ever again.
This is soooo not going to be fun at all.
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