Math

5 days a week of martial arts + 1 day a week with trainer + 1 day of rollerblading x too many joint injuries = prescription anti inflammatories + muscle relaxant = 1 wicked drug induced hangover

In the words of Ree, OH. MAH. HOLY. HELL. YA’LL! I hurt and I can’t shake the cobwebs.

 

The dentist, the gyno and the dojo…

Today is going to be the BESTEST EVER. I get to go to the dentist! Now before you go feeling all sorry for me, you might as well know, I’m a freak of nature. Never had a cavity. Neither has Steve. We have good teeth. Nevertheless, STILL. HATE. THE. DENTIST! We used to have one in California that Steve and I called Captain Hook. She was getting up there in age and when she used the hook thingie she’d slip and she’d cut us. Totally cut us, man. Going to try a new dentist today. My palms are already all sweaty and I’m practicing curling my toes while they poke at me and wedge my jaw open. Mmmm. Fun. Almost as fun as the gyno. Where the same thing happens with sharp objects, sweaty palms and curled toes but….Moving on……

So guess what? GUESS. WHAT?!?! *I* received my next belt in Hapkido last night! WOOO HOOO! I am now no longer the lowest belt rank! I was so giddy I had trouble falling asleep last night. I do have one complaint though. Whenever the senseis in the dojo decide they’ve got a problem area or ate too much over the holidays, somehow I end up paying. Last night Sensei says “We’re going to do crunches tonight because I need some ab work.” I couldn’t resist saying “So this is like when Sensei Yoda comes into sparring class and announces he has a muffin top and needs to spar?” Sensei laughed and said “Exactly.” That was the day Yoda broke Steve’s ribs, all because he ate too much over Christmas. In case you were wondering, *I* did not need the crunches as I’ve done my 500 for this week. At least it wasn’t push up night. I *HATE* push up night when Sensei decides his arms are flabby. No wait, “I’m going skiing” nights are way worse. I *HATE* it when he’s going skiing and says he needs to get his ski muscles in shape. Sigh.

Anyway, can you believe the train wreck that is Britney Spears?!?! Hasn’t slept since Saturday…Ok, I’ve gotta run. The dentist is waiting with his implements of pain….

 

Run. Bike. Swim. Repeat.

Run. Bike. Swim. Repeat. In a veritable whirlwind of cross training, I’ve been mixin’ it up lately. Except, since I hurt my ribs, I haven’t swum and I’ve been struggling with weightlifting. Because I can’t take it easy. I don’t know how. If I’m going to work out, I only know how to go balls out. Consequently, several weight training sessions have left me unable to work out for days on end afterwards. So after five days off the weights, I did some weightlifting on Wednesday. Then, I thought, hey, I haven’t been able to swim since January, let me do that. Mmmm. Yeah. Do that. Not.

I was already limping by Wednesday evening. Turning over in bed was excrutiating. Swimming is funny because I’m always reminded of all these little muscles you never know you have unless you’re swimming. My legs, shoulders and abs were in the worst condition. I thought I would feel better by today, but no. I was breathing and grunting like Rosie O’Donnel at an all-you-can-eat buffett every time I tried to move.

I had a training session scheduled for this afternoon. I’m not allowed to cancel due to soreness. Oh no. He would make me pay dearly for that. So I went. And he laughed at the tiny screams that escaped everytime I had to do something. After about twenty minutes of sweating, screaming and grunting I decided to beg. “Can we PULEEZ do something that doesn’t hurt so much?” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You have something that doesn’t hurt? Show me something that doesn’t hurt and we’ll work that.” So I stood there for several seconds assessing. Desperately trying to find something that didn’t hurt. Finally I grinned and held up my wrists and rotated them at him. He rolls his eyes at me and then challenges “I could make those hurt too!” Sigh. So here I sit. Pain is not my friend. I clearly must have sustained brain damage because I’ve been sitting here trying to decide whether I’m going to run, bike or swim tomorrow. Sigh.

 

I will never use the hairdryer again

I’ve seen a lot at the gym. The horrors of the locker room continue to haunt me. I’ve grown up in locker rooms. Being a swimmer, they’re just completely unavoidable. Until today, I thought I’d seen it all. People never cease to amaze me in the disgusting things they will do in a locker room. It never occurs to them that they are not in the privacy of their own bathrooms. I have seen zits popped, noses picked, unspeakable naked activities, heard noises that no other human being should have to endure, seen shaving that should ONLY be done in the privacy of one’s own home, and seen vafros that should never have seen the light of day.

I should have paid more attention when I got the first omen. I ran into the senile pachanga lady again today. I should have just run screaming at that point. But did I? No, of course not. Being the anal retentive germ freak that I am, I had to wash my hands before I left the gym. And that’s where it happened. I don’t ever want to speak of it again after I tell you this. It will haunt me until my dying days.

I was washing my hands at the sink, when someone near me turned on a hairdryer. And I was going about my business, when my subconscious said “Hey, something’s not right over there. Better take a look.” Curse my subconscious! And so being as stupid as I am, my gaze shifts to the woman with the hairdryer. Except she is not drying the hair on her head. That’s right, she’s drying the carpet, not the drapes. Now I want you to know, I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen people drying the drapes, and then giving the carpet a shot too while they’re at it. But this was different. Not only did she only go over to the dryer to dry the carpet, she had it so far up the coochie that I thought the motor might blow. It was literally lost between her thighs. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and do believe I said to myself out loud “Are you f*cking kiddin’ me?!?!” I have never seen such a thing. And she continued to shamelessly stand there, hairdryer shoved deep into the hooha and blow it dry. I gagged at the thought that I may have touched those hairdryers before. Dear God, I may have used them before. Rest assured, I fled the premises immediately. And I will never touch a public hairdryer again. EVER.

 

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…

Steve and the espresso maker have made up. Ergo, I have coffee, the sun is shining and all is right with the world again…… I’m headed to the gym, but only to ride the bike, no weights, eliptical or running, I promise. I need endorphins. You can feel my moods dipping low without the gym, can’t you? Therefore you must realize, I MUST HAVE MY WORKOUTS.

Baseball is going gangbusters. My team knows what they’re doing and they look good out there. I’m very happy with the way the season is going and every time we play another team, that Dad that gave me a hard time in the beginning of the season for being a woman coach has to eat a slice of humble pie. Tee hee.

I have to say, when the weather is clear here, there is nothing in the world like it. It is so take-your-breath-away beautiful. You can see the snow capped mountains and the air is so fresh here. It is worth every single gray winter day. Seattle is one of the best kept secrets in the world….

I’ve finished my coffee and I’m off to the gym to get high. I mean, to get my endorphins on. lol. Hope your day is sunny too……

 

Kids. The ultimate buzz kill.

You’ll never guess what happened. Never. Try. Go ahead. Try. No that wasn’t it but I like the way you think. Ok, here it is: I either broke another rib or rebroke the same one in a different spot. Soooo anyhoo, me and the doc are getting to know each other REALLY WELL. Now before you go accusing me of sneaking off the gym and working out, I was actually choking to death when this happened.

Stop laughing. See, I was drinking some water and somehow I inhaled while drinking which caused the water to go down the wrong pipe. And then I exploded into a coughing fit shooting water out my mouth and all over the floor. Thank God I wasn’t in public. Then son #2 helpfully said “Mom, you shouldn’t throw up all over the floor. You should lean over the sink. That’s what I do.” Each cough put incredible pressure on my ribs while I was desperately trying to stop it. And then I felt a tug and a pop. And each cough after that was even more excrutiating. Sigh.

So now I’m walking all hunched over again like a 92 year old lady. And I’m breathing like Roseanne Barr trying to climb a flight of stairs or tie her shoe. Either way, it’s no good. Because. Each. Breath. Hurts.

Doc gave me new and different drugs. I passed on the narcotics again. Narcotics are just SO 1980’s. I mean, what’s the point of getting high? I got kids. They’re the ultimate buzz kill. I’d be all in the zone, listening to Pink Floyd, watching shadows chase each other all over the wall when the school would call. You know they would. And it would be something like “Yeah, um, we’ve got son #1 here and uh, well there was an incident (it’s always an ‘incident’.) And well, his leg bone is sticking through the skin. I can see where they put those screws in, by the way, awesome job they did. But uh, can you come get him and take him to the hospital?” And I’d be like “Well, um, I’m really high right now and I’ve been watching this fly stuck in a spider web for like the last two hours and it looks like he might try to get away, and I want to see what happens, so like, do you think you could call an ambulance? And I’ll meet ya’ll there when this shit wears off in about 6 hours. MmmKay?” Yeah. It’d SO go like that.

Today I told the doc “Look, I haven’t been able to work out in a MONTH. You don’t understand how that is for me. Some people have gotta have chocolate, some people have gotta have drugs, I GOTTA HAVE MY WORKOUTS.” He tried not to snort when he laughed.

The new plan is that I go back next week. They inject me with a whole bunch of radioactive crap. I walk around for like three hours and glow or something and come back and they watch my bones glow on a TV set. Or some of you may know that as a bone scan.

I’ve got TWO lidocaine patches slapped on me now. Except, I keep having evil thoughts of all the really funny things I could do with it. Like walk by Steve and slap one on his ass and wait until he notices he no longer has feeling in his left buttock. Or smack one on his chest while he’s sleeping, wait for it to kick in and then wax his chest. He’s particularly picky about the nipple area. I could cut some into round shapes. Maybe when I ripped them off, all the hair would come with it. Ok, I gotta stop laughing. It hurts like hell to laugh. Laughing. Must. Stop. Where are those fighting kids when you need them?!

I’m going to go sit and watch some TV. Nothing funny, mind you, because that would hurt. No funny comments either. Just looking for more buzz kill here.

 

I’ve been maimed by a jog bra

I have a love-hate relationship with boob mashers jog bras. When you’re born with an ample bosom, breast crushers jog bras are a Godsend. My sister and I both double up and wear two when we run. Of course, I discovered about a year ago that if you find a really tight good one, you can go with just one. The difference when you wear a tight good one, is about 2 cup sizes. Consequently, the first time my trainer saw me in normal clothing without the dreaded jog bra, he asked me if I had had a boob job. I slapped him of course, but I can understand how it might look different.

Being the stubborn fool that I am, I decided that since I did not die from riding the bike on Saturday, I would go back for more punishment cardio today. In an extremely overly optimistic moment, I decided to put on the jog bra in case I decided to do the eliptical. Cuz Lord knows, without one, that eliptical can hurt. My thinking was that the band on the jog bra would fall below the broken rib and besides, they used to bind people with broken ribs up so it would be a GOOD thing. About a minute after I got the bra on, I was walking largely doubled over. Within two minutes I was on my hands and knees, gasping for breath trying not to scream at the crushing chest pain. I crawled back to my bedroom whereby I carefully pulled the torture device jog bra from my body and laid on the floor and whimpered. That’s right folks, I was severely maimed by a jog bra today. It still hurts. That is all.

File Photo of bra in question

 

How to destroy you inner chi in 2.3 seconds…

I took myself out tonight. I got a babysitter and decided to escape for a little while. It’s always hard when Steve is gone and this week has been particularly hard because son #1 has been uncontrollably hyperactive with ZERO impulse control. I just want to start screaming and not stop. My brain feels claustrophobic inside my head when he’s like this. So anyway, I went out. I shopped a little. Had a little dinner. Then that nagging voice in my head reminded me that I haven’t been to the gym in three weeks. The other nag in my head pointed out that I LIKE breathing and any workout could jeopardize that. Crushing chest pain ALWAYS ruins my day. So the nags negotiated a deal whereby I would try riding the bike for a bit and see how that went. I lasted 15 minutes before the sharp searing hot poker through my chest and back let me know I should quit while I’m behind. I went and sat in the hot tub and that relieved some of the pain. I was feeling pretty relaxed and had found my inner chi again. I had coffee, listened to Jimmy Buffett, started reading a novel and all was right with the world.

I should preface the next part by saying that when Steve is out of town, the house stays SPOTLESS. I can not stand to have any mess. Mess makes me feel disorganized and out of control so I keep it really clean. I don’t even let a single dish hit the sink. So imagine my blood pressure when I get home and there is a sink FULL of dishes. I almost went postal. The kids had used SEVENTEEN CUPS in 3 hours. I was FURIOUS. All my good chi was immediately destroyed. I’ve been walking around with my teeth clenched and my head pounding trying to calm down. Then I went upstairs and son #1 was IN MY BED with clothes he had been wearing while playing in the sand and mud. There is a whole bunch of sand and mud all over my clean, white sheets. Seriously. I am trying so desperately not to go COMPLETELY POSTAL.

There are so many days with this kid that I truly wish I was a drinker. I could be three sheets to the wind right now and not care that my bed is sandy, the kids’ rooms are a mess and I had to ruin my chi by doing dishes. No, I couldn’t just leave the dishes until morning. I would have thought about them all night. And dreamed I was doing them over and over. Better to just do them and get it over with. So I’m just hanging out here waiting for the meds to kick in. I told the babysitter to come again tomorrow. And tomorrow night I’m not coming home until AFTER they are in bed. Even if I have to sit in the driveway with my book and Jimmy Buffett.

 

I am so stubborn, I annoy me….

I’ve been feeling steadily better. I was so excited I was feeling better that I even ran errands this morning for the first time in a few weeks. But then I got cocky. I lifted a planter that was cracking to put it in the garden because I was afraid it was going to crack all over the driveway. And then…..I went straight back to square one. I could just cry. My back went into spasm almost immediately and the crushing chest pain is back with a vengeance. Grrrr. I am so annoyed with myself. I couldn’t just wait a little while longer, could I? I had been telling myself all morning that there was no reason I couldn’t go back to the gym, because I was feeling pretty good. Literally, I want to cry. This is so frustrating. I just took some valium because it seems to have a much shorter acting time than the non-narcotic stuff the doctor prescribed. I take the stuff he gave me and 12 hours later I am still groggy. The half dose of valium I took will be in and out of my system before I have to drive later this afternoon. Sigh.

And I think I pissed Sean off by saying publicly he broke my rib. So for the record, I do want to say, that Sean is an excellent trainer and did not do anything wrong that would have caused this. I am quite certain that my ribs were quite stressed from lifting son #1 and the wheelchair and any workout I might have done with him did not suddenly snap my rib. I meant for it to be teasing, just because it’s unbelievable that I could have cracked a rib without knowing how or when it happened. I hope that’s clear and I did not mean to besmirch your good name, Sean or excellent training record.

So if you were wondering, the valium isss starting toooo kiiiccckkkk innnn. Can’t breathe yet, but feeeelllliiinnnggg aaa littllllleee sleeppppyyy. There’s a very strong sensation that I am melting. All over the kepboard. Typooosss irreevvveeeellllaaannnttt.

 

Self diagnosis leads to self medication which leads to sweet, sweet relief…

I had a really bad day on Sunday. I felt absolutely awful. I was beginning to think there would be no end to my misery. I asked Steve to rub my back with the hope that it would somehow sooth the raging fire in my chest and back. Then, we made a discovery. There is a rib, a single rib, that when you press on it, causes me to scream and burst into tears. Pressing on it reproduces the chest pain, shortness of breath, pain down my right arm and up into my jaw and the pain in my back. This is absolutely delightful news. Because it means I knew what to do. Being an athlete, muscular-skeletal issues are something I can relate to and know how to treat. Been down that road enough times, my friends! So I rooted through a huge pile of expired medications in the medicine cabinet. I searched for muscle relaxants and powerful anti-inflammatories. I discovered I’ve been hoarding narcotics since 1996. Sadly, those are so expired I’m too afraid to take them. I discovered some anti-inflammatories and some valium that weren’t too far gone. (My cut-off was three years past expiration.)

As SOON as the valium kicked in, for the first time in more than two weeks, I could take a deep breath in. I almost started sobbing with relief. I called the urgent care clinic and asked if they could pull my x-rays and see if there was a fracture in my ribs. I found out that even though I had many x-rays and ct scans of my chest, they were not looking at my ribs and therefore would not be able to tell if they had been broken. I called and left a message for my internal medicine doctor and continued to self-medicate but he never called back. By this morning, I was feeling a bit better. Unfortunately, when the muscle relaxant wears off, the chest pain starts up again. However, I was hopeful. I was also pissed that the doctor never called back. I had a visit scheduled with my rheumatologist this morning to follow up on my knee. He started asking questions about the problems I’d been having. To my utter delight, I found out that he practices internal medicine too. Holy God, I could have saved myself 2.5 weeks of pain and torture if I had known that. I’m not particularly fond of the internal medicine doctor I had been seeing who practices across the hall. His bedside manner leaves something to be desired and he’s always in a rush to get to the next patient. But sweet Jesus, I LOVE the rheumatologist. And he thinks that I indeed might have cracked my rib. He wrote me some prescriptions for muscle relaxants and anti-inflammatories and a patch that has lidocaine in it to put on top the skin. I love this man. I told him he was my hero. FINALLY SOMEONE IS ACTUALLY TREATING ME. He told me to come back in two weeks. If my rib is still angry he wants to run some tests, like a bone scan. But for the first time since this nightmare started, I have hope that I am going to get better.

I’m sure this is leaving you all with many unanswered questions. Like, why the doctors never even looked at this possibility when it seems fairly obvious. Every single doctor I saw, it came up in conversation that I had a son in a wheelchair that I was lifting, and my heavy workout regimin. And yet, no doctor even suspected since there was no “trauma.” (I failed to mention how Steve beats me every day, but I didn’t think that was relevant. Kidding. Totally Kidding.) It makes perfect sense. I had a BRUTAL workout the Friday afternoon before this started with my trainer and by Sunday morning when I woke up, I was in severe pain. MY TRAINER DID THIS TO ME!!!!! I will NEVER let him live this down. EVER. You hear that Sean? You will go to your grave feeling bad for breaking my rib during a workout. I suspect it was actually a combination of lifting my son, lifting the wheelchair and the workouts. But we’ll blame Sean. We’ll make him feel bad FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. ;D So anyway, I’m about to go pick up my bag of meds and I’m giddy with the anticipation of getting better. Just writing about how bad I’m going to make Sean feel made me laugh. Which hurts my ribs. See how it all leads back to him? Yeah. I thought you would. So the moral of this entire saga is this:

1. Never go to the ER
2. Ambulances should be left to the unconscious
3. Don’t bother with doctors
4. Self diagnose and self medicate. You’re better off.

 

Teixeira’s Anatomy

It’s a new show. Starring my children. Son #1 asked where his temple is the other day and can not remember what the “thigh” is called. Son #2, who calls his huevos “tentacles,” can not locate his chest today. And yet…ask either one of them where their rectus abdominus, trapezius or obliques are and they can tell you the correct location. Sigh. What are we raising here? Two gym rats I tell you….

 

Priceless

Number of cardio minutes: 55
Number of weight training minutes: 60
Number of days of post-workout soreness: 2.7
Endorphin high: Priceless

For everyone else, there’s dessert.

 

Giving up…

My trainer was telling me about the client that he works with before me who was complaining about working out 5 days a week and not losing weight. The conversation went like this:

Client: I’m sick of this! I work out so much and never lose weight!
Trainer: (who always calls them as he sees them) Well, if you want to lose weight, you’re going to have to give up second dinner.
Client: Second dinner?!?! But I LOVE second dinner! I can’t give up second dinner! It’s SOOOOO good!

My response? “I’ve never even heard of second dinner.” Apparently I’ve been missing something?

 

New Revelation for Son #1: I am heavy

<lifting son #1 into the car>

Son: MOM! You have to lift me HIGHER!
Me: Son, you are REALLY heavy.
Son: DADDY lifts me higher.
Me: Yeah well, you’re a little over 1/4 of Daddy’s body weight so it’s easy for him. You weigh 70 pounds. You’re more than HALF my body weight.
Son: YOU WEIGH LESS THAN 140 POUNDS?!
Me: Sigh. Yes, Son. Good math.
Son: Wow Mom, you’re strong. I must be pretty heavy for you.
Me: Sigh. Yes, Son. Yes you are.

I finally got to the gym Friday. After not being able to workout for 3 weeks I thought I would have lost a ton of strength. As it turns out, constantly lifting more than half your body weight keeps you in shape. I only noticed a slight lapse in core and leg strength, but I’ve lost more than that not working out for a week and a half. I did notice my cardio endurance had dipped when I ran on Wednesday. (Yes, I was sucking wind and sore after. I’m never sore after running! I noticed no cardio difference on the eliptical and bike.) But I suppose losing a little when running is to be expected. Anyway, it was a relief that I didn’t have a big set back. I didn’t even have to lower the weight on anything. I did reduce the number of reps on a couple of sets, but other than that, I was good. WHEW.

 

My drug of choice

That got your attention didn’t it? Ya buncha looky loos! ;D This week is son #1’s first week back at school since the accident. I’ve been staying at school with him, helping him readjust, helping the school learn how to handle the wheelchair and wheelchair issues that arise. Today the school nurse wanted me to be at school in case they needed me, but not in the classroom. Which gave me like, an hour and a half of semi-freedom. So I went outside and ran a couple of miles around the school and did push-ups on the playground. And it was heaven. Pure heaven. No screaming kids, no one making demands of me, just exhaustion and my favorite drug, endorphins. Endorphins beat any chemical enhancement you can take. EVER. I am still high on endorphins and now I feel kinda sleepy. I’ve left son at school BY HIMSELF since the morning went fine, for an entire hour and a half. I can see some freedom coming my way in the coming weeks and I am GIDDY. I’m going to top this off with a little piece of chocolate. And some more endorphins this afternoon. I’ve got baseball practice later today. I am one with my chi.

 

The Senile Pachanga Lady (aka S.P.L)

About every three weeks I have the same conversation with this old lady at the gym. She’s completely senile and every time-to her- we have this conversation for the first time. Except we’ve had this conversation about 200 times. I round the corner to my locker row where she has the locker below me. Invariably, she’s naked. And usually sitting naked on the bench with nothing under her. After the first time I saw that, I don’t even put the bottom of my shoe on the bench to tie them. <shudder> Anyway the conversation always goes like this:

S.P.L.: Oh, do you have a locker on this row?
Me: Sigh. Yes, I have the one above yours.
S.P.L.: Oh really? I’ve never seen anyone use that locker.
Me: Yep. That’s my locker.
S.P.L.: Well, you must have just gotten it then.
Me: Sigh. No, I’ve had it about 2 years.
S.P.L.: I’ve never seen you. You must work out at a different time.
Me: No. Always the same time. I always work out in the afternoon so there’s no crowds.
S.P.L.: Well maybe I’ll see you again!
Me: I’m sure you will.

It’s very hard for me not to add: “You’re going to get some serious pachanga cooties sitting on that bench naked like that. Not to mention you’re leaving a few behind. Small children put their hands there. I used to tie my shoes there. I used to put my stuff down there. You could get an STD doing that. I’m sure of it. Now put some clothes on. It makes me want to throw up a little.”

Oh, dear, sweet, senile pachanga lady, just please put some panties on before you sit down and for once will you remember that we’ve met?

 

Just so you know….

Steve is massaging my very sore back yesterday and says “OMG! Your back is SO skinny!” I don’t get excited because I think I know why. I sigh “I think it’s because I’ve lost muscle mass from not being able to work out.” A few minutes later he says “Yeah. I think that’s why.” Sigh. I went to the gym on Saturday and my usual routine was BRUTAL. Did I mention BRUTAL? I thought I was going to die while running. Who tied pianos to my legs?! By Sunday, rolling over in bed hurt. So being the smartest person EVER, I went and worked out again today. I didn’t have much time so I had to rush through it and was killing myself because I was not resting between sets. My trainer finds this amusing and is plotting my torture for Friday. However, growing up my dad always taught me that whenever you were really sore from something, go out and repeat whatever it was that made you really sore and it will actually relieve the soreness. (He was a big fan of making me run when my legs were so sore I couldn’t sit down on the toilet.) So that’s what I did. So allegedly I’m not going to be sore tomorrow. Allegedly. I can’t tolerate being flabby or too skinny. I’m going to try to workout every day this week. Except Sunday. I rested on Sunday. Because even God rests on Sunday.

 

Hi, remember me?

I’m the smart ass, edgy woman who lost her chi? Yes well I’m back. I think. At least this looks like my house and my stuff. I think I recognize this computer. Except, I’ve spent 30 of the last 45 days in another state. So I’m not sure. I seem to have misplaced my chi again too. Anyone remember where I left it? Ah yes, the gym. I’ll try to get there ASAP to see if anyone else is trying to wear my chi or trying walk off with it or something. Maybe it’s in my locker.

I got home last night and was surprised to see the Christmas tree. “Ah yes,” I thought, “it was Christmas.” I looked in the mirror, surprised to see that I looked haunted. I discovered piles of Christmas presents I forgot that I had opened. But the thing about life and death that I find so surprising is that time and life just march on. Oblivious to the fact that my world is in complete and total darkness, the sun still rises in the morning. Life continues to go on around me and without me. I tell it to wait, and it doesn’t. “But” I say to the sun, “I’m not ready for you to shine because everything inside me is dark.” But I hear no reply. I look around me and realize that everyone else just kept living. Time didn’t stop for them. But wait. I’m not ready.

I sit here in silence with only the ticking of the clock. Reveling in the what ifs. Wondering why time can’t pause until I’m ready to hit “play” again. And I wonder how long it will take for the sun to shine on my soul again? How long will it take before I can be funny without feeling guilty for laughing? How long before I have to face people and tell them that no, the holidays weren’t too good to me this year, without raining on their parade?

Today I go in search of my chi again.  I tried to be funny, for your sake really, but I’m not so much funny, am I? Maybe for a second? Until I got all philosophical on your ass? Stupid sun. It’s not that I haven’t laughed in weeks. I have. My six year old beat my sister in law at the game Fact or Crap. When I ridiculed her for this she retorted “HE ONLY BEAT ME BY ONE!” and I laughed really hard.

The kids seem to be doing ok. My parents took them for a few days and took them to movies and played with them. They’re back at school with their friends today. As for me, I gotta go get the annual hoo-ha check up. Which I just LOVE. Let me tell you, it’s my most favorite thing in the world to do. Favorite. Thing. Oh I’m sorry, was that dripping with too much sarcasm for you? We also just realized a few minutes ago that Steve is supposed to be taking son #1 on a cub scout camping trip. Tomorrow. Mmmm. So much fun packed into the next couple days I’m not sure how I’ll manage. First a hoo-ha exam, then more packing. You’re envious aren’t you? I have to go now. The doctor is expecting my hoo-ha shortly. And I still need to find where I put my chi.

 

I have re- located my inner chi

My inner chi has been missing for about a month. I recovered it at the gym today. Apparently, that’s where I left it. I worked out until I turned every muscle in my body to jello. When I finished the last crunch, I stared up at the ceiling from the floor and let the endorphins course through me like I had taken a boatload of narcotics. And there, right there on the floor, I realized where my inner chi had been all along.

It has been an emotionally draining few days. Well, first there was the storm, adding a little stress, then when we got to California, we discovered that Pop’s health has declined significantly just since we were there 2.5 weeks ago. The cancer is taking it’s toll. It is hard to watch cancer rob him of his vitality and strength. Pop’s always been so active and strong and now he’s…well, frail. It’s a terrifying thing to realize that even your heroes are only mortal.

On son #2’s birthday Pop got really sick and was in severe pain. I gave him 13 doses of Morphine, 4 Vicodin and 3 Ativan and it didn’t even make a dent in his pain. That was enough narcotics to put down 3 elephants. And he has a HUGE pain threshold. I’ve never felt so helpless in all my life just sitting there watching him suffer. I was terrified that I was going to kill him with the massive doses of Morphine I was giving him, but I was following the hospice nurse’s orders to the letter.

If you smoke, I implore to visit with someone dying of lung cancer. I promise you will never smoke again. It is a painful, agonizing and slow death. It is probably one of the worst deaths you can imagine. I have tried to make it very clear to my children that these are the consequences of smoking and I hope it will prevent them from ever even taking a drag off a cigarette.

In other news, you’ll all be amused to know that I ran to the grocery store during the trip and I actually got CARDED! I was pulling stuff out of my basket when the guy said something I didn’t hear. I said “What?” He said louder “May I see your ID?” and I just stood there and waited for him to laugh. When he didn’t I said “Are you serious?” and he got all upset like I was trying to B.S. my way into buying some beer because I was 14. I almost said “Duuuudddddeeeeeee” but handed him my ID at which time he tried to recover from looking shocked. I said “Thanks. I haven’t been carded in at least 10 years.” lol.

I’m glad I found my chi again. I was feeling so edgy and tense. I’m hoping to stay relaxed through the rest of the holidays this year. I may end up having to hit the gym twice a day to make it through, but I’m determined to keep my exercise induced high intact. Get high everyone, go exercise. lol.

To see pictures of the huge Pacific Northwest wind storm visit my Flickr page.

 

Martha Stewart rules the roost…

When the inners argued this morning, Inner Martha bitch slapped Inner Food Network Chick and decided to make pancakes from scratch. I put all the ingredients together and was just about to stir it, when I picked up the buttermilk carton and noticed it felt warm. My hands were icy, but….I picked up the eggs….warm. Oh no. I opened the fridge to check the temperature: 64 degrees. Crap. The door has an alarm that goes off if it’s left open and no alarm went off. So instead of the usual plumbing breaking when Steve’s gone, it appears the fridge has broken. The phone rang just as I started to cry. It’s Steve. I forbid him from leaving for this long ever again. (I did that last September when he was only home for 8 days the whole month. Notice he left again for more than a week. ) I think he was about to tell me how much Spain sucked with only a dial up connection in his hotel room but decided my Inner Angry White Male just might be homocidal.

After I was able to gather myself, I went outside to our garage fridge which had spare eggs, milk, buttermilk, and butter and re-made the pancakes. Inner Food Network Chick was pretty smug about this until Martha sucker punched her. Looks like Martha hooked up with Angry White Male last night and has a new lease on life. Chocolate chip pancakes from scratch are TOTALLY worth it.

Martha threw four tennis balls in the dryer with the down jacket and the feathers seem to be unclumping a bit. It still smells a little like wet dog. And washing it probably removed any waterproofing. Sigh. The repair guy for the washer insisted we switch to a High Efficiency detergent for our front loading washer. Dude. I told him we bought this washer before HE detergents were even invented. But he insisted and Steve listened. So Steve bought All detergent. Just so you know, All sucks. It sucks big….AHEM. Sorry. Anyway, it’s not cleaning. Which is really annoying because I’m going to have to rewash this jacket and after spending 2 days trying to get it to dry with no heat and 6 times through the dryer, I’m annoyed. Really annoyed. And the pizza stains didn’t come off my youngest’s shirt. I told him not to wear his pizza, but he never listens. Martha does NOT recommend All. Or Tide. They sucketh. Martha will be going in search of some yummy smelling Gain or Mrs. Meyers that actually CLEANS clothing.

We’re slipping back into summer mode. The kids are reading and drawing and playing quietly. After basketball yesterday I refused to leave the house, because the kids have started fighting the second we get into the car. Being enclosed in a small space during a civil war could drive someone to drink. I took them to a restaurant yesterday and they started screaming and fighitng and punching each other DURING THE MEAL and I could not get them under control. I’d grab one and the other would be throwing a roundhouse punch, I’d grab the swinging arm and the one child I didn’t have would kick or throw another punch. Needless to say, I walked out the restaurant without them even finishing their meals. I was totally humiliated. I would have walked out carrying one under each arm, but their combined weight is more than I weigh. Two teenagers were staring at me as I was trying to get them into the truck with them punching and screaming. I almost turned to the teenagers and screamed THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU HAVE UNPROTECTED SEX! But my youngest was punching in the face by then and I didn’t want to have to visit the ER so I had to focus on them.

I drugged the crap out of the dog last night. He’s all mellow now. He’s staying high until Steve gets home. Because it’s the drugs or the gas chamber. I’ve had it. My other dog seems embarassed to even know the bad one. She tries to pretend she’s never seen him before in her life.

I forgot to mention that due to a trainer induced injury, I couldn’t turn my head yesterday. Well it wasn’t all his fault. I worked out eight times in 6 days. My back rebelled. Night before last I couldn’t sleep due to pain. It was so bad last night I debated about searching the medicine cabinet for some narcotics. But I decided that I probably couldn’t combine narcotics and my knee medicine, so I opted for a boat load of Tylenol. I’m a little better today. I can turn my head, although not very far. I usually work out on Mondays, but perhaps I’ll ride the stationary bike tomorrow and read a magazine. I still have to do running club too, and extreme pain makes me crabby. I listened to my neighbor and dropped the intensity of my workouts when I’m not working out with my trainer, but the problem becomes that I don’t feel like I worked out. So then I work out again. Sigh. It’s a vicious, vicious cycle.

We’re headed to California on Saturday for 11 days. I’m really hoping the weather is nice. I’d like to spend some time on the beach. And I’ll be doing a lot of running. I might go work out with my old swim team too. Certainly there’ll be stories to tell. And Thanksgiving is coming up. Where Martha rules the roost and we don’t even know that Food Network Chick.  

 

Speak slowly, I confuse easily…

Ok, I’m going to admit it. I’m having a hard week with Steve being out of town. I’m not sleeping, the person who helps me around the house quit, my babysitter didn’t show up for a meeting I had to go to at school with the teachers, and my trainer measured my fat at the gym.

Tonight I called the produce delivery service to bitch them out for not showing up today and as soon as they answered, I hung up because I realized they weren’t supposed to come until tomorrow. This morning, I heard the garbage trucks at 6:30 and shot out of bed running around trying to find a robe to put on to run outside and put the cans out because I forgot Thursday is garbage day. It’s freakin’ cold at 6:30 a.m. when all you’re wearing is a t-shirt and robe.

I sustained a second degree burn on my hand from the oven trying to get dinner out. It is a hideous burn. Did I mention that Prozac-taking lunatic of a dog? No? He is driving me up the WALL! He has taken to start demanding to be fed at 1 pm just to tick me off. He’s barking non-stop even after getting a face full of vinegar. He thinks he’s ENTITLED to be fed when he wants to be fed. He normally gets fed at about 8 pm. (*&$#(&*%$( dog!

The rain has been unbelievable. I can’t walk outside without it filling the pockets of my jacket. I went to the store to get dog food and it completely soaked the bags before I could load them into the truck. I bought a smaller bag (33 pounds) to carry around the back of the house and put in the can for the dogs because I knew I would not be able to handle 44 pounds of soggy paper and dog food. It turns out that’s the only smart thing I’ve done all week because the 33 pound bag broke as I got to the garbage can. The 44 pound bag broke before I got it out of the truck.

The children aren’t helping either. They have fought non-stop since dropping Steve off at the airport on Sunday. However, this evening there has been no arguing for TWO WHOLE HOURS! WOOO HOOOOO!!!!!! Well, they were on a conference call with my dad for like 40 minutes of that, but still, they managed to get through the call without pummeling each other.

So when you speak to me, speak slowly. I’m having a hard time. Hopefully, I will not spend another night staring at the ceiling listening for the boogey man or the cat-rats. And perhaps I will wake up less confused and less crabby, certainly less cold and wet. Because I don’t care who I hear at 6 something tomorrow morning, I’m not getting cold and wet again for anyone.

The kids don’t have school tomorrow. My trainer says “So how are you going to make it through the day?” I said “I’m coming here.” lol. My goal is to make it through tomorrow without sustaining injury or burns, maiming any dogs, or being drowned in the rain. I’m hoping the kids can go most of the day without fighting, and if I play my cards right, coaching basketball by myself tomorrow will go off without a hitch. I feel like I might be being overly optimistic given how the week has played out so far, but we can all have dreams…..

Update: My week appears to be improving. My youngest just came into the room and asked “Did they have electricity when Daddy was little? What about phones?” I laughed so hard I couldn’t answer.

 

Geek Love

One of my anniversary gifts finally came yesterday:

 

Yes, it’s the brand new, tiny, two inch iPod Shuffle. An ideal MP3 for running. I’m so excited my iPod is not going to be hitting me in the face while I work out anymore. It can clip on to your clothes and it’s so light! But what makes it the perfect gift for a geek to express his undying love for his wife is this:

An ENGRAVED iPod shuffle. I heart my geek.

 

I have rage…..

I have rage. Well, it’s mostly gone now, but earlier I had rage. My washing machine broke (and strangely Steve wasn’t out of town, plumbing ALWAYS waits until he is out of town.) So I went online and booked an appointment with Sears to come and fix it. My appointment time was between 8 and 12. Which is pretty annoying, that I have to sit and wait for 4 hours. And they make you sit by the phone. They call during that time and if you don’t answer, they don’t show up. That happened one time when I was in the bathroom. I tried running with my pants down and didn’t get there in time. I had waited FOUR HOURS for them and then they didn’t come because I didn’t answer the effin phone.

So anyway, noon comes and goes. I have to leave to take son #2 to gymnastics and by this time I am livid. I was working myself up when my cell finally rang at 1:10. I was in the gym, doing push ups and my phone rang. I’m pumped and feeling mean because I hurt. And I let loose the flood gates of hell on him. And instead of being apologetic he tried to tell me that he had me on the schedule for 1, and that he didn’t see what the problem was. Surely if there had been an error it wasn’t his fault. Which only fed my fury. He seemed stupid and had an attitude. After ripping him a new one, he agreed to show up at 2:20. As it turns out, he wasn’t a bad guy and what I had perceived as stupidity and an attitude was actually that he was wearing hearing aids and has the speech of someone who was deaf. Boy did I feel like an ass. I still hate Sears, but I did not continue to vent the force of my fury on him like I would have had someone shown up that many hours late with an attitude problem.

So here I sit. Only mildly pacified because my washer is fixed. I have decided that my rage is due to pain. I have taken stock of the things that hurt and decided it annoys me that things hurt. Here is a list of the things that hurt:

My upper back.
My lower back.|
The middle of my back.
The back of my back.
The back of my front.
The side of my side.
The other side of my side.
Above my ass.
Below my neck.
Behind my arms.
Above my legs.

Oh and also my knee hurts.

In case you were wondering, the gym and running club didn’t help…..

Update: 9:06 pm I have just discovered that my washing machine is actually NOT fixed. $160 and it’s not fixed at all. AND I have to pay $45 just to make another appointment. SOMEONE will pay for this and it won’t be me…..

 

Don’t laugh. I’m really hurt….

I have sustained injury in yet another freak accident. My back is killing me. Yesterday I took down this planter hanging from a tree because with winter coming some of the plants are dying and it needed to be replanted. I did not want to wait for Steve to rehang it, because it will sit there for the next six months while I nag him to hang it. Then he’ll only end up hanging it because he tripped over it and broke his toe.

Unfortunately for me, the hook is pretty high up, so I had to hug this tree, stretch to the very tips of my fingers, then suspend the 30 lb. basket out from my body and try to get it onto the hook. It really hurt my back.

I had a training session today at the gym and told my trainer what happened. He looked at me and said “Of all the weird injuries you’ve received……….so you’re telling me I have to take it easy on you today because you sustained a plant hanging injury?” as he tried not to laugh. But then he did.

 

A visit with Dr. McDreamy

For the last month, I’ve had to visit the eye doctor at least once a week, sometimes more, between issues I’m having with my eyes and my son’s deteriorating vision. The eye doctor is kinda cute, so we’ll just call him Dr. McDreamy.

Last week when I took son in, I was 3 days into that illness and looked like absolute hell. I didn’t have the energy to say more than 3 words to him. I’m finally feeling a little better today so I decided I would actually run with the kids in running club today and then we’d go straight to Dr. McDreamy’s office.

Since this is Seattle, no sports, clubs, concerts, events, etc. are ever cancelled due to rain.  The kids can be running shin-deep in water on the fields and the refs won’t call the games. Our coaching guidelines for baseball said “Games should only be cancelled for rain out if you can fish in the infield.” Needless to say, although it was pouring today, running club was not cancelled. I should note that since I’ve sat out a week, the kids’ stamina has improved quite a bit and my legs got a little tired today. Also I stopped to help a crying kindergartner and son #2 kept on running and it took me about 1/3 of a mile to catch up. I was actually OUT OF BREATH for the first time ever in running club.

So anyway, there I am running in the pouring rain. I am beyond soaking wet. The pockets of my jacket were filled with water because it rained in my pockets. I could see my hair falling into ringlets around my face and felt it expanding exponentially every minute I was in the rain. My face is dripping wet, and then I remembered I had on make-up. I look down at my chest to see black tears dripping onto it. Effin great. I’m going to see Dr. McDreamy looking like Alice Cooper meets Tammy Faye Baker. I surmised that I probably smelled like a wet dog too. My hair looked like Courtney Cox’s in that Friends episode where they went to the Bahamas. I’m telling you, I have been so HOT lately!

I saw one of my friends who did not recognize me at first. It was the Alice Cooper make up, I’m sure of it. I screamed when I saw myself in the rearview mirror of the car. I wondered if I’d be charged for the appointment if I called in scary. My son really needed to be checked so I wiped my face off with a 2 inch square of my shirt which was the only dry object for miles around. I was rained through to 2 layers, but the tsunami did not reach the third layer- my shirt. I could not get my zombie eyes totally cleaned up but I looked more like I’d been punched in both eyes, rather than made up for an episode of Tales from the Crypt. I tried to hide in the corner, but I think Dr. McDreamy might have noticed. I quickly apologized for smelling like a wet dog. He said we smelled better than the person in the other room and most of the people that come in. Glad I don’t work there.

I’m home now and totally chilled to the bone. Even my underwear is wet. And I have mud splattered all over my ass and back. I supposed this is a step up from the dumpster diver I looked like the other day. Perhaps by next week I can look like my usual, super model self when I go back again to see Dr. McDreamy.