My friend said this morning she was going to start calling me "Mo". That's short for Mohammad Ali. And while I'm short, white, and horribly uncoordinated -- that comparison is nothing but funny.
This came from our workout this morning. As part of our CrossFit circuit, my friend's husband included the boxing bag as part of our workout. Here's the workout:
Warm Up: 2 minutes of AMSAP (that's...As Many Sit Ups As Possible)
Circuit: 1 minute Flutters (that's a sit up while kicking your legs in a scisscor kick as high as you can without stoping), 20 second rest; 1 minute air squats, 20 second rest; 1 minute punching bag, 20 second rest. (5 rounds of this)!
Cool Down: 2 minutes of AMSAP
Post Workout: Cut clothes off with scissors because you can't lift your arms over your head!
I'm telling you...boxing is the hardest thing I've ever done! My friend's hubby (alias Cross Fit Nazi) said: "That was a great workout ladies but now I know why Deborah's children are so well-behaved!" We all laughed. I said I'd never thrown a punch in my life, and my good friend responded: "Yah! That's your problem! The way you were hitting that bag, there's a lot of pent up aggression!"
Ha! I was just pretending it was my realtor, the bank, and President O. Whatever. Needless to say, my arms are gonna be sore. But NOW...I want a punching bag. WHO KNEW?! I never knew I could sweat so hard from hitting a bag for 60 seconds. 60 seconds. That was an eternity each time I did it.
And for the record, it's fine. You can call me Mo. Mo better. Mo stronger. Mo meaner. Mo no sissy girl!!! I am empowered!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Evening Stroll
Tonight was a beautiful evening. After two days of gusty winds, it finally calmed long enough for us to enjoy the afternoon sunshine. I swapped my sweats for shorts and knew I needed to take a long walk.
At dinner I announced I was going to go for a long walk. My husband asked "How long?" Why? Does he actually want to join me? How could I resist. "Alright, I won't go for a super long walk. Will you come with me?"
I got him to agree. "Let's go," he said. "No -- you need to change out of your jeans and into shorts. We are going for a real walk!" "Ugh!" he groaned. Exercise is so much harder when you haven't done it in a while...or a year...or more.
Out the door we went. We weren't even one whole house away from ours and my husband pulls out a chocolate Dove egg and says "Want a Dove?"
Needless to say, I was cracking up. "You are not much help! No, I don't want one!"
"Why not? They're goooooooood." Dove's are his favorite. But all I need at the beginning of a long walk is chocolate mouth! I couldn't believe he grabbed a small handful before leaving the house. (Who's buying these things anyway?!)
We continued on passing the park near our house and I said -- "Let's cut through the fancy neighborhood and gawk at houses." That's Dave's favorite thing to do, so I got him to agree. After all, I had already indulged him in climbing the stairs of a half-built house one block down the street from ours. He's a nosey one, my husband. We started to climb the hill through this fancy street. "Are we almost to the top?" he asks. I laughed and encouraged him "You are doing it babe!" "I think I have a heart murmur." "No, that's just you re-discovering that yes, you are alive, your heart does beat, and you can indeed walk up a hill." Down the hill we went. That is the reward for climbing a hill. I guided him to unknown walking paths. Where are we? he's asking. Just keep coming. For a long while he enjoyed the views, the fancy custom homes, the 20 turkeys we saw on the hillside, the creek. Every now and then he'd say, "Slow down...you trying to kill me?" My answer "I'm saving your life! Keep coming! Just one more hill."
"One more hill? Is it big?" So funny. I actually saw my husband grab his heart a few times for dramatic emphasis. He has, at this point, offered me the Dove egg at least 4 times during our stroll. I said: "C'mon...let's jog down the hill to the light." "No, you can, I'll watch." "C'mon, you can do it."
Much more conversation about the length of our walk that was just supposed to be an extended neighborhood stroll and how we should have brought our phone because Mallory is probably scared to death that you took me on this long walk and killed me. I mentioned how this would all be so much easier if he would get on board and we could probably both be 10 lbs lighter by summer if we'd just do this 5 nights a week. Plus it's so much fun, we love doing this stuff together. But he's feet are feeling it and so are his legs. We aren't 20 after all, anymore.
When we finally walked into the house an hour later (and probably a good 3 or 4 miles later), Dave said: "Mallory. Your mother tried to kill me. We walked at least 10 miles." Hayden screamed: "10 miles! Oh my goodness." Mallory knew better. She just looked at me and rolled her eyes. Her dad is not very subtle or good at lying! And for the 100th time in the last hour, I had a really good laugh. And for all I know, Dave ate that last Dove egg from his pocket, soft and warm, no doubt from the walk, the minute he hit that couch.
At dinner I announced I was going to go for a long walk. My husband asked "How long?" Why? Does he actually want to join me? How could I resist. "Alright, I won't go for a super long walk. Will you come with me?"
I got him to agree. "Let's go," he said. "No -- you need to change out of your jeans and into shorts. We are going for a real walk!" "Ugh!" he groaned. Exercise is so much harder when you haven't done it in a while...or a year...or more.
Out the door we went. We weren't even one whole house away from ours and my husband pulls out a chocolate Dove egg and says "Want a Dove?"
Needless to say, I was cracking up. "You are not much help! No, I don't want one!"
"Why not? They're goooooooood." Dove's are his favorite. But all I need at the beginning of a long walk is chocolate mouth! I couldn't believe he grabbed a small handful before leaving the house. (Who's buying these things anyway?!)
We continued on passing the park near our house and I said -- "Let's cut through the fancy neighborhood and gawk at houses." That's Dave's favorite thing to do, so I got him to agree. After all, I had already indulged him in climbing the stairs of a half-built house one block down the street from ours. He's a nosey one, my husband. We started to climb the hill through this fancy street. "Are we almost to the top?" he asks. I laughed and encouraged him "You are doing it babe!" "I think I have a heart murmur." "No, that's just you re-discovering that yes, you are alive, your heart does beat, and you can indeed walk up a hill." Down the hill we went. That is the reward for climbing a hill. I guided him to unknown walking paths. Where are we? he's asking. Just keep coming. For a long while he enjoyed the views, the fancy custom homes, the 20 turkeys we saw on the hillside, the creek. Every now and then he'd say, "Slow down...you trying to kill me?" My answer "I'm saving your life! Keep coming! Just one more hill."
"One more hill? Is it big?" So funny. I actually saw my husband grab his heart a few times for dramatic emphasis. He has, at this point, offered me the Dove egg at least 4 times during our stroll. I said: "C'mon...let's jog down the hill to the light." "No, you can, I'll watch." "C'mon, you can do it."
Much more conversation about the length of our walk that was just supposed to be an extended neighborhood stroll and how we should have brought our phone because Mallory is probably scared to death that you took me on this long walk and killed me. I mentioned how this would all be so much easier if he would get on board and we could probably both be 10 lbs lighter by summer if we'd just do this 5 nights a week. Plus it's so much fun, we love doing this stuff together. But he's feet are feeling it and so are his legs. We aren't 20 after all, anymore.
When we finally walked into the house an hour later (and probably a good 3 or 4 miles later), Dave said: "Mallory. Your mother tried to kill me. We walked at least 10 miles." Hayden screamed: "10 miles! Oh my goodness." Mallory knew better. She just looked at me and rolled her eyes. Her dad is not very subtle or good at lying! And for the 100th time in the last hour, I had a really good laugh. And for all I know, Dave ate that last Dove egg from his pocket, soft and warm, no doubt from the walk, the minute he hit that couch.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Long Distance Runner
Today was Mal's first track meet she'd ever participated in. We discovered this year over Thanksgiving break that she really seemed to enjoy running. She's solitary and good at pacing herself, so we thought she should give track a go this year. I think she regretted not doing it last year...but it always takes her a while to warm up to ideas. She's always afraid she won't be perfect. Can you even imagine? Anyway, in her time trials at school, she got picked to run the mile, the 800, and the 4x400 relay B team. She was so excited.
So today was the big day. This is pre-racing, relaxed, socializing and just having fun.
This is her very bored brother hamming it up for the camera who asked me 100 times when were we going home?!!! We were there 2 hours. That was 2 more than he had hoped for! I confess, the track meet is a bit slow going and this wasn't as well-organized as it could have been. However, this is not a boy who likes being away from home for long stretches of time.
This is Mal -- the short girl in the green jersey -- baton in hand running the final leg of the 4x 4 relay.
The kicker...the mile event! Her favorite.
She placed 2nd of 9 girls in the 8th grade. She ran a personal best of 6:23. She was beaming. And from the sound of it -- so was I!!! I'm the kid's number one fan.
So today was the big day. This is pre-racing, relaxed, socializing and just having fun.
This is her very bored brother hamming it up for the camera who asked me 100 times when were we going home?!!! We were there 2 hours. That was 2 more than he had hoped for! I confess, the track meet is a bit slow going and this wasn't as well-organized as it could have been. However, this is not a boy who likes being away from home for long stretches of time.
This is Mal -- the short girl in the green jersey -- baton in hand running the final leg of the 4x 4 relay.
The kicker...the mile event! Her favorite.
She placed 2nd of 9 girls in the 8th grade. She ran a personal best of 6:23. She was beaming. And from the sound of it -- so was I!!! I'm the kid's number one fan.
What a great day. Running rocks!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Procrastination
Me oh my. SO much to do, so little desire to do it.
First of all, we're trying to buy the house we are currently living in. That's a long, boring story so I'll stop there. However, the appraiser is coming tomorrow and I just have a thing about people coming into my home and not having it be clean. So there's that. Plus, I have two soccer team gatherings on different days in my home Thursday and Saturday -- so cleaning needs to commence...now!
I know no one is going to sniff my sheets or do the white glove test. It's just the monster in me my mother created. She, no doubt, will chuckle while reading this...but...she was the QUEEN of chore lists growing up. (She still can't just sit and talk, she has to be cleaning something, most likely the stove top, while she's having a conversation in the kitchen). And, being the oldest (and certainly most reliable...cough cough...Liz) I always got the hardest jobs! Mopping three flights of stairs. WAXING the kitchen floor? (Does anyone do this???) That's on your hands and knees and wax on, wax off. It was a job. There were piles of ironing, probably my least favorite, and you could pick beans for an eternity. Well, it felt that way to a 10 year old child. Particularly when you consider there were roller skates to put on, handballs waiting to be hit, or friends around the corner beckoning to me over the fence.
I don't have friends beckoning to me currently over my fence, but I have a blog I'm posting on right now. I have a piano that's just been tuned and so lovely to pluck at. I have numerous online websites I could visit...and endless other things I could be doing. And yet I have two hours. Two really good hours to accomplish something. Yesterday I cleaned the garage. (This is mostly an open invatation for my husband to mess it up. He panics that I threw away a bunch of stuff. It's only a matter of time...)! Today needs to be the house. SPRING CLEANING!
The moment has arrived. No more procrastination. I will dream of how good it's going to feel and smell when I lay my tired body down on those April Fresh Downy sheets tonight. So, off to put on my rubber gloves, forgo the shower, and become Betty. Homemaker, that is.
First of all, we're trying to buy the house we are currently living in. That's a long, boring story so I'll stop there. However, the appraiser is coming tomorrow and I just have a thing about people coming into my home and not having it be clean. So there's that. Plus, I have two soccer team gatherings on different days in my home Thursday and Saturday -- so cleaning needs to commence...now!
I know no one is going to sniff my sheets or do the white glove test. It's just the monster in me my mother created. She, no doubt, will chuckle while reading this...but...she was the QUEEN of chore lists growing up. (She still can't just sit and talk, she has to be cleaning something, most likely the stove top, while she's having a conversation in the kitchen). And, being the oldest (and certainly most reliable...cough cough...Liz) I always got the hardest jobs! Mopping three flights of stairs. WAXING the kitchen floor? (Does anyone do this???) That's on your hands and knees and wax on, wax off. It was a job. There were piles of ironing, probably my least favorite, and you could pick beans for an eternity. Well, it felt that way to a 10 year old child. Particularly when you consider there were roller skates to put on, handballs waiting to be hit, or friends around the corner beckoning to me over the fence.
I don't have friends beckoning to me currently over my fence, but I have a blog I'm posting on right now. I have a piano that's just been tuned and so lovely to pluck at. I have numerous online websites I could visit...and endless other things I could be doing. And yet I have two hours. Two really good hours to accomplish something. Yesterday I cleaned the garage. (This is mostly an open invatation for my husband to mess it up. He panics that I threw away a bunch of stuff. It's only a matter of time...)! Today needs to be the house. SPRING CLEANING!
The moment has arrived. No more procrastination. I will dream of how good it's going to feel and smell when I lay my tired body down on those April Fresh Downy sheets tonight. So, off to put on my rubber gloves, forgo the shower, and become Betty. Homemaker, that is.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Test
This is only a test...BLOG problems, too?!? Oh my. We'll see if you guys are notified. Cuz -- if not -- I'm toast. I have NO idea how to fix it!
Thursday, March 19, 2009
One Question
AI Followers:
One question for Carrie Underwood:
"Why mess with a good thing?"
She had the prettiest hair EVER.
WHY?
Okay, I'm over it now. But for the record, Carrie, you are not Loretta Lynn, go back to your non-roots. Bleach. Long hair. Curls. Much, much better. No more huge flower pins in your hair. AND...one last thing...Randy Travis is WAY too old for you.
Done.
One question for Carrie Underwood:
"Why mess with a good thing?"
She had the prettiest hair EVER.
WHY?
Okay, I'm over it now. But for the record, Carrie, you are not Loretta Lynn, go back to your non-roots. Bleach. Long hair. Curls. Much, much better. No more huge flower pins in your hair. AND...one last thing...Randy Travis is WAY too old for you.
Done.
High School Daze
It's bad enough the computer age is passing me by. I mean, I can blog, which is something, but don't start talking IP this or tell me to just "...open up my PC and add some more RAM". I will NOT be happy. So there's that. I can't even text on my stupid Blackberry. I think that's what it is. I pay a LOT every month just to make calls and have access to the internet on my phone, and never...I repeat...never use it. I have a computer with a big screen at home on my desk. I can check the entertainment news when I get home. I don't need to do it while driving the car.
Good grief.
But now we're gearing up for high school. The paperwork and course selection process nearly put me six feet under. Not only did I think my daughter was being overly ambitious, but when did high school become, so...well, difficult! I have fond memories senior year of coming home by noon and lathering baby oil all over me so I could get a skin cancer tan baking in the lounge chair and listening to rockin' 80's tunes. (Search "Rock Lobster" by the B52's on your Blackberry now). I just don't remember being overwhelmed with the fact that I'd probably have 3 hours of homework every night.
Did I and just not do it? I was an okay student. I mean, I could have tried harder. But in popular fashion, I'll blame family problems on my lack of focus. I don't think there is an expiration date on that one, is there? Anyhoo, last night I went to a meeting on AP classes and a program similar to an IB program at Mal's future high school.
All I can say is I'm pretty sure when the principal started talking...someone propped me up from information overload. I'm telling you! I thought I was going to some 30 minute spiel and I was there for 1.5 hours with 20 pieces of paper in hand! It was really great, actually, and I got super excited about the opportunities my daughter is being presented with here. I'm in awe of how driven she is at such a tender age. The excitement of learning and figuring out what direction you want your life to take. Life is at her fingertips. In this day and age, you grab it now, or your stomach will be growlin' later and it'll be tougher to come by. PLUS -- she could take some of these classes and save us a ton of money.
And then there is the laying out by the pool. (Well, first we'd have to get one...I hear K Mart has them.) Tricky to know how to strike a balance in all of this. I realize this tale was very telling in the fact that we all know I'm not a rocket scientist today. And yet, I don't think my daughter would be disappointed if she turned out like me. (Albeit skinnier with less sun damage). But still, it'd be okay. And then there is the mother who doesn't want her children to make the same mistakes she did. TAKE the chance. WORK harder. BE better. SEIZE the day.
I'm sure she'll find her way through this with or without my help. But I still need her to hold my hand. Road sign: Beware: Curves ahead. Driver pay attention!
Good grief.
But now we're gearing up for high school. The paperwork and course selection process nearly put me six feet under. Not only did I think my daughter was being overly ambitious, but when did high school become, so...well, difficult! I have fond memories senior year of coming home by noon and lathering baby oil all over me so I could get a skin cancer tan baking in the lounge chair and listening to rockin' 80's tunes. (Search "Rock Lobster" by the B52's on your Blackberry now). I just don't remember being overwhelmed with the fact that I'd probably have 3 hours of homework every night.
Did I and just not do it? I was an okay student. I mean, I could have tried harder. But in popular fashion, I'll blame family problems on my lack of focus. I don't think there is an expiration date on that one, is there? Anyhoo, last night I went to a meeting on AP classes and a program similar to an IB program at Mal's future high school.
All I can say is I'm pretty sure when the principal started talking...someone propped me up from information overload. I'm telling you! I thought I was going to some 30 minute spiel and I was there for 1.5 hours with 20 pieces of paper in hand! It was really great, actually, and I got super excited about the opportunities my daughter is being presented with here. I'm in awe of how driven she is at such a tender age. The excitement of learning and figuring out what direction you want your life to take. Life is at her fingertips. In this day and age, you grab it now, or your stomach will be growlin' later and it'll be tougher to come by. PLUS -- she could take some of these classes and save us a ton of money.
And then there is the laying out by the pool. (Well, first we'd have to get one...I hear K Mart has them.) Tricky to know how to strike a balance in all of this. I realize this tale was very telling in the fact that we all know I'm not a rocket scientist today. And yet, I don't think my daughter would be disappointed if she turned out like me. (Albeit skinnier with less sun damage). But still, it'd be okay. And then there is the mother who doesn't want her children to make the same mistakes she did. TAKE the chance. WORK harder. BE better. SEIZE the day.
I'm sure she'll find her way through this with or without my help. But I still need her to hold my hand. Road sign: Beware: Curves ahead. Driver pay attention!
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