Week Two

Geez, Jill, I'm TRYING!

The Burn

There is a game I love to play and I'm sure I'm not alone.  It's called The Lottery Game and What You Would Do With All that Money if You Won It (I've never spelled out the game before.  That name is LONG).  After the first couple of things I always say I would do--take friends and selected family on a big cruise, set up a college account for a nephew and a suh-weet retirement account for two friends--I would hire a personal trainer to come to my house, say, 3 mornings a week, to scream at me to GET OUT OF BED AND MOVE MY ARSE.  Specifically, I would want to hire 

Hello!  LOOK at her.  She's fit but still looks like a woman.  And she's mean.

her-->


Unfortunately, I have not won the lottery (sorry friends with no retirement account!), so I've decided to try something that Meg is trying.  Jillian Michael's Ripped in 30 Days is a 30 -day (duh) program in which you do one week of level 1 and then progress to, you guess it, levels 2-4.  

I just did level 1 today.  I felt like I was having a heart attack.  On level 1.  This should be "interesting" but I am determined to keep it up.  Jill (we're friends now) suggests you do it 5-6 days a week. I'm going to shoot for 4-5 days because I'm committed to mediocrity.  But I'm going to do it.  I've been running off and on for almost 2 years and I'm still not loving it and I'm still not even running the whole time I'm out there.  Someone tells me that if I keep at it, I'll get there.  But a huge part of me (probably my butt) thinks I need to get into shape a little more before I run successfully.  Weird, I know, because most people get in shape by running.  But I think I am so OUT of shape that I need a push with some strength training and cardio.

I used to be SO STRONG.  I could crack a walnut between my thighs, people (ask HH...  teeehee).  I am someone who puts on muscle easily.  Alas, I am also someone who puts on weight (fat) easily too.  And I'm 41. Double bummer.

I am aware that this is probably one of my most boringest posts ever but I'm putting this out there so I have some level of accountability.  Help me, Rhonda, I hope this keeps up.  I don't want to be older faster than time is doing its thing.  I want to be strong and energetic (to the level that people think I am because of my personality).  I want to feel great!

I don't think I'll be exactly RIPPED in 30 days, but I'm pretty sure I'll tear something. 


**I just read this post and noticed the glaring irony of my masthead.  But who wants to look at something healthy?

Happy Birthday to Me

Healthy.

Happy.

Excited for the future.

Loved.

(And only occasionally frustrated by my children)

On Strike

In my memory, this iconic sign said "Strike." 

Okay, I'm not really on strike. I'm just considering it.  Having a pre-teen daughter and a teenage son is not all it's cracked up to be.  Not that many people think it's tons of fun but I guess I thought it would be.  Well, that's not it either, really.  Here's what I thought, honestly.  I thought that my OWN teenage years were so recent that not only would I be sooooooooo understanding, I would also be an ally instead of Other.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!

I'm sure those of you who have already been through this just fell off your chair at how dumb I am.  But I really did think that.  I can remember, almost tangibly, how tortured I felt--stuck somewhere between I Want My Mommy and Why Won't She Just Leave Me Alone.  Because I remember it so well, I thought I would understand from the parent perspective as well.  

Turns out it hurts.  A lot.  I didn't realize how much it hurts my feelings that I seem to be the punching bag for my daughter and invisible to my son.   This is just one of many moments that I wish I could talk to my mom about how she felt.  And to hear that Everything Will Be Okay.  

She looks nice here. Don't be fooled.  She crazy.

Since, short of calling up that Medium wanker (and what a bee-eye-tee-see-aitch she turned out to be!), I can't talk to my mom, I'll have to lean on my friends.  Lynn, Judy...you've been warned.

I Think I Just Peed My Pants

http://megduerksen.typepad.com/

This is what turns up when you google "flu bug."
This thing is too cute for something so yucky.

My poor sick boy.  

First The Girl had it. Then I had it.  Then she had it again.  Then I had it again.

Can HH escape its wrath??? 

Now THIS would be an interesting group

Those who know me will say that I talk a lot.  I've been told my whole life that my mouth "waddles like a duck's rear end (thanks, Dad).  But most of the time, I think it's a good thing.  And while my childhood report cards may have said things like "talks too much," at least they didn't say what my father so proudly tells us his own report card said: "Talks too much and annoys others."  I'm sure I've annoyed some people with my talking (friends, please tell me if I do!), but most of my worst yammering is either because I'm nervous and trying to fill uncomfortable silences or because I want to get to know you.  Not filling every silence is something that I, as a grown-up 40 year old woman, am trying to work on.  I'm getting better at it and even liking the silence sometimes. I'll bet others are enjoying it too.

For the most part, I think people find me easy to talk to because I talk.  I open myself up, I make fun of myself, and I try very hard to put people at ease.  I do not (at least I don't think I do--friends, tell me if I do PLEASE) ramble on and on about myself.  While I will disclose the latest stupid thing I've done or admit that I sometimes feel/do/act the same way you do at your very worst, I do not think I am so very interesting as to talk incessantly about what makes me ME.   I am very self-conscious about making sure I don't.  

Because, people, I am also a good listener.

Now, lest you think all this blather is proving I am full of crap and DO talk about myself, I'm coming to my point.

I am in a group processes seminar in school, which is basically about group dynamics (good! Interesting!) and also teaches us how to have group therapy (dumb!  not necessary for my major!).  I love the professor, in all his counselor-ly ways.  Love him.  But there are some who are in the class who think a) they are beyond the class and know everything and b) are so wrapped up in what They are All About that they can't even see when they are being, ahem, a-holes.

I'm not going to disclose anything because I am a Keeper of Secrets, but I am going to vent that I, a talker, had to tell someone else in my small group that he was Talking Too Much and not letting anyone in.  He turned it around and said it was because our personalities clash because we are Too Similar.  WHAT?  I had to explain the difference between Talking A lot (small amounts, in many instances) and Talking Too Much (9 minutes for an answer to a question.  THAT, my friends, is a soliloqy). 

A show of hands from those who think I should make this very pie for next week's group?

Now,  I thank you for listening. I'm going to do what that pie says and see what happens next week.