My son and I went to visit an aunt & cousin this weekend and had a delightful time and came back refreshed and feeling groovy.
By two on Monday, I'm ready to leave again. How can I not hold on to a relaxed feeling? I think the ability is gone until the last of my kids is grown and gone. Even then, I know I'll be too invested in their well-being to really not be concerned about them. So I need to seek a new level of looseness.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Aging well
If you're old enough for chest hair and a soul patch, you're too old to ride a skateboard shirtless down the street. Time to graduate to a bike, my friend.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Yeargh!
I am up late from being out late. It's 10:11pm on a Wednesday. DH and I went to see HP and had pancakes at IHOP, because we're awesome. I can barely keep my eyes open.
When did I get so old? Although I'm a morning person by nature and prefer to go to bed early, I could stay up and rock the wee hours with the best of them not too long ago. I probably wouldn't be married to the guy I'm married to if not for many hours of Space Ghost Coast to Coast and Red Dwarf to provide safe conversation launching points. I think it's the lack of adrenaline. Staying up late with a hot guy I'm not sure finds me tempting enough to break up with his current crazy girlfriend? Exciting enough to keep me awake after he leaves. Knowing that he breaks up with her and the one after her and marries me? Wonderful, but knowing how the story ends kind of takes away the thrill. I'm making peace with my matins-keeping inner clock but intend to make more of an effort to go out dancing into the wee hours. On the weekends, when I can take a nap the next day. I still need to sleep and have the energy to exercise. I don't know if my sore adductors today are from Jazzercise or the adjustment my chiropractor made. I'll Jazzercise again tomorrow and see if it repeats, then we'll have evidence.
When did I get so old? Although I'm a morning person by nature and prefer to go to bed early, I could stay up and rock the wee hours with the best of them not too long ago. I probably wouldn't be married to the guy I'm married to if not for many hours of Space Ghost Coast to Coast and Red Dwarf to provide safe conversation launching points. I think it's the lack of adrenaline. Staying up late with a hot guy I'm not sure finds me tempting enough to break up with his current crazy girlfriend? Exciting enough to keep me awake after he leaves. Knowing that he breaks up with her and the one after her and marries me? Wonderful, but knowing how the story ends kind of takes away the thrill. I'm making peace with my matins-keeping inner clock but intend to make more of an effort to go out dancing into the wee hours. On the weekends, when I can take a nap the next day. I still need to sleep and have the energy to exercise. I don't know if my sore adductors today are from Jazzercise or the adjustment my chiropractor made. I'll Jazzercise again tomorrow and see if it repeats, then we'll have evidence.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
well well
I didn't think I had any followers, but lo, I do! So, here I am again.
I've started Jazzercising. Your MS Word spellchecker recognizes it. I get super sweaty and stinky. My sister is going with me and we're both purple faced and dripping by the end. But, we figure that if our aunt, fifteen years my senior and a couple jeans sizes ahead of us, can do it, so can we. If the 3,274 year old woman in front of us can keep up, so can we. So we did.
First observation: busty girls need to wear a super duper bra. I can keep up with the hopping and skipping and chasses and such, but my bosoms can't. I have two sports bras, but one is from pre-baby days and doesn't fit the same. The other creates a 30-minute cardio workout just to get into it, but nothing moves. So, I'm going to have to add that 3o minute cardio segment to my workouts. (If you're thinking, so just go to Target and get a couple more! then you haven't fully grasped the magnitude here. I'm not shy, come over and grasp it. You'll understand.)
Second, it's absolutely delightful that the instructor brings wet washcloths so we can wipe our sweaty, purple faces. Maybe we need to find a spot by the fans.
Third, I am way out of the loop on American pop music. I hear "Latifa" and I think "Ashan Bahebak," not "Ladies First." Paula Abdul? Did she sing that duet with Hakim? No. So I suppose this is an educational experience in music, too.
Fourth, you can take me out of Near Eastern dance class, but if there's dancing, I'm bellydancing. It's how I roll - from the obliques and through the hips. The warm up involves sliding the ribs over. Everyone else is leaning towards the wall. I slide just my ribs over. Everyone else rocks their hips like they're in George Michael's "Faith" video (I know that one!). I snap my hips sharply, using my glutes. I have a feeling some people are a little weirded out by it. I'm not bothered by it. I have yet to shimmy, but I think it will come once I'm more familiar with the footwork.
I have no idea how some moms write regular lengthy blogs. I am climbed like a rock wall as soon as I'm near the computer. But I'll make a point to make a howdy do! I hear my son still being awake.
I've started Jazzercising. Your MS Word spellchecker recognizes it. I get super sweaty and stinky. My sister is going with me and we're both purple faced and dripping by the end. But, we figure that if our aunt, fifteen years my senior and a couple jeans sizes ahead of us, can do it, so can we. If the 3,274 year old woman in front of us can keep up, so can we. So we did.
First observation: busty girls need to wear a super duper bra. I can keep up with the hopping and skipping and chasses and such, but my bosoms can't. I have two sports bras, but one is from pre-baby days and doesn't fit the same. The other creates a 30-minute cardio workout just to get into it, but nothing moves. So, I'm going to have to add that 3o minute cardio segment to my workouts. (If you're thinking, so just go to Target and get a couple more! then you haven't fully grasped the magnitude here. I'm not shy, come over and grasp it. You'll understand.)
Second, it's absolutely delightful that the instructor brings wet washcloths so we can wipe our sweaty, purple faces. Maybe we need to find a spot by the fans.
Third, I am way out of the loop on American pop music. I hear "Latifa" and I think "Ashan Bahebak," not "Ladies First." Paula Abdul? Did she sing that duet with Hakim? No. So I suppose this is an educational experience in music, too.
Fourth, you can take me out of Near Eastern dance class, but if there's dancing, I'm bellydancing. It's how I roll - from the obliques and through the hips. The warm up involves sliding the ribs over. Everyone else is leaning towards the wall. I slide just my ribs over. Everyone else rocks their hips like they're in George Michael's "Faith" video (I know that one!). I snap my hips sharply, using my glutes. I have a feeling some people are a little weirded out by it. I'm not bothered by it. I have yet to shimmy, but I think it will come once I'm more familiar with the footwork.
I have no idea how some moms write regular lengthy blogs. I am climbed like a rock wall as soon as I'm near the computer. But I'll make a point to make a howdy do! I hear my son still being awake.
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