Think Again

Ya girl here is TIRED. 

Let me tell you what my dumb self did. Wait, me and Ange (my gym partner) did this. And it was dumb. 

It was a gym day like pretty much every Wednesday. The menopause has me with a little bit of regain. 

Not today, Satan. 

Therefore, I have amped my workouts up a notch. I get to the gym around 30 minutes before Ange and try to get some extra cardio going on. They have this new elliptical that half kills a person. I just started it this week and even on the lowest resistance, I can barely manage a solid ten minutes. Those ten minutes equal around 2.5 miles. 

Stay with me here. 

After those ten minutes, I jump on the treadmill and start going. Today, I managed around 13-15 minutes before Ange got on the treadmill beside me. I decided to see what was on tv to keep me occupied and distracted. 

Say Yes to the Dress? Closed captioned?!! Yes!

Ange put her tv on the same channel and we proceeded to critique dress choices and enjoy ourselves. The show ended and we still had around ten minutes left on the dreadmill. 

Cue the next show. About people searching for their birth parents. 

Lord bless, we got emotionally involved before we knew it. 

Then light bright here said....Hey Ange? How about we skip weights today and just walk? We can get extra cardio in AND finish this show. 

Remember how we started walking during the previous show?

This show we were invested in.....was an hour long. 

We watched the ENTIRE thing while walking. 

I ended up with 6.77 miles overall by the time I finished. Oh, and guess what? The treadmill automatically goes into cool down mode at an hour. Yup. I started it back up to finish watching this show. 

We burned some serious calories because we didn’t just leisurely stroll. We WALKED. 

We were so exhausted by the time we sat down at the diner. What were we thinking?? 

Now I sit here on my front porch with an aching lower back that is solidly pissed at me. (Side note: got DDD (degenerative disc disease)   I checked my apple watch progress and see that I have 19K steps on the books for today. I could go take a walk and aim for 20K. Yeah, that mess ain’t happening. The gym is on the schedule for tomorrow as I need to get in at least 3 workouts a week and I kinda like to spend Fridays with The Man and the gym quit offering childcare (for Ange’s son-who has a piece of my heart) on Fridays. 

I am going to be hatin’ life tomorrow morning when I need help getting out of bed. 

Next time we get on the treadmill? We’re gonna need to think again before we get all crazy like that.

   

Sigh. My body is too broken for this mess. Why do I keep it up??

Too Salty for my Own Good

Yesterday, I had to take my Tahoe in to get the brakes fixed/repaired. 

I did not want to do this. 

In fact, that is one seriously massive understatement. I despise taking a vehicle for work. I am not a stupod person, but, I know most places see a woman come in and they rub their hands together with glee because they’re gonna find a gazillion things wrong that you NEED to get taken care of. Like I see little dollar signs floating around their heads. 

I tried to bargain with my husband. I told him I would do the laundry, go to the grocery store and get the groceries, cook meals, be responsible for family member’s doctor/dentist appointments and a host of other things if he would just take it himself.  

Let that sink in a minute. Because, you know, I already do that stuff on the daily. 

Alas, they did not have an early appointment for today and he wanted to be prepared in case our now college SOPHOMORE needed us to come help her bring stuff home for summer. Gah. I hate when he makes sense. 

So, I went. After I did an hour and a half workout at the gym. 

Your girl was beyond exhausted.

That alone made me salty. 

Add in my dang back hurting (stupid Degenerative Disc Disease) and I was way past salty. 

Three and a half hours later and a much lighter wallet, I got to go home. 

Things I took note of during my threehours of  torture sitting in a hard cheap plastic chair:

1. Why didn’t this business have a bench outside? You keep the waiting room (and I use the term loosely) colder than a witch’s butt so you have to walk outside to warm up...and there’s no seating. Fix it, sir. 

2. Make me go do this and I’m not cooking supper. 

3. I called my husband out of a training to talk to them about what would get done. Wait. He called me because I sent a picture of what they wanted to do and the sticker shock hit him good. 

4. I’m not mad about fixing the truck. That sweet baby is paid for. She’s a 2007 model and has done....I think three....round trips across this great country. This is the first time we’ve done this. Not bad. I’d rather pay this and be safe traveling and not have monthly car payments. 

5. At the end of the month, HE is driving for our family vacation. I’m gonna ride shotgun and back seat drive. It’s who I am as a person to do that. 

I suppose I should be ashamed for acting like a teenager who was told to clean my room. I showed my butt about having to do this adult chore. I didn’t stomp my foot, though. I managed to refrain. And supper at Applebee’s was pretty tasty, too. 

Three weeks until vacation. 

I think I can make it. 

I think I can. 

I think I can.

I think I can. 

Is it Monday?

I really thought it was Tuesday when I woke up this morning. 

This is usually my one day home during the week to get things done around the house. Laundry being the number one thing on my list. 

My calendar alerted me that my boy has a dental cleaning at 3:30. Gah. That means I gotta shower, get dressed, and go people. So be it. Only happens once every six months. 

I was on my third cup of coffee and did a quick pit stop in my half bath. 

It started backing up. 

The heck????

I start plunging and the stupid plunger broke. (Weight training at the gym paying off, eh?)

Ran to get the one from my bathroom. Hollered at Paige to go upstairs and grab one from there. 

No luck. 

Seriously getting mad now. 

Paige took a shift plunging while I googled can you put drano in a toilet. 

That would be a no. 

Dangit. 

Google did say put dish detergent and a pot of hot (not boiling) water in and that would break up a clog. 

Well, the water level went down and more plunging made for lots of bubbles. Lots. Of. Bubbles. 

After a good thirty minutes, I admitted defeat and called a plumber. 

Who can come between 3 & 5. My son’s appointment is at 3:30. 

Called The Man to see if he can come home early. He will, but not until 3. 

What if they come early? I have to leave at 2:10. 

Sigh. 

Call dentist and tell the complete truth. I’m sure the gal really didn’t want to know my toilet struggles. She did waive the cancellation fee because....crap happens. 

Call the school because my son’s phone is messed up (thanks Apple update) to tell him to come home. 

Ya’ll. It’s 10 am here and I am already TIRED. This is ridiculous. Now I’m doing extra cleaning because some random dude is coming in my house. 

Now we get to find out if a certain four year old flushed a toy or it’s a legit clog. 

Everyone’s bet is on the toy. 

Slightly thankful I can still wash clothes and there are other toilets in my home still working. 

I can hear our money going down the drain......

Happiness in my mouth

Know what this is? This is a carnita (pork) burrito with cheese and extra grilled onions. This junk makes my mouth extremely happy. 

Who says you can’t eat good after surgery. I enjoyed maybe a little less than half, and boxed it up for my husband to take to work tomorrow. Which means it’s a good snack for him. The tortilla is on the "eh, maybe not a good idea" list. I get that. But, because I had that little bit of tortilla goodness, I’ll have a protein shake for supper. Balance. 

Time to take it up a notch. Menopause, hormones, life, and falling off the wagon has equaled some regain. Not a bunch, but enough to snap my head back and give me some whiplash. Watch out gym, here I come tomorrow!

Good thing I got some new kicks this weekend. 

Beautiful Experience

I just had a most incredible experience. I went earlier to a pharmacy to pick up my prescription. This is not my usual pharmacy. I have to have a compound made just for me. Apparently, in order for a pharmacy to label themselves as a compound pharmacy...the pharmacist has extra schooling and I guess it’s a special deal. 

The pharmacy is a little ways away in not the greatest part of town. We’re talking around 30 minutes depending on traffic. Luckily, I found out they would make it and bring it to their branch that is literally five minutes away from my home. I could deal with that. 

This morning my crazy self pushed it hard at the gym. I literally walked on the treadmill for an hour to the tune of over 4 miles. THEN, I did some weight training. My poor apple watch probably should have just exploded. 

I was tired when I pulled at the pharmacy’s drive-through window. The sweet gal there looked and looked. Nothing. Cue deep sigh from me. I just did not want to come back out once I got home. 

She said give me your address and I’ll have it delivered as soon as it gets here. 

I’m sorry...what did you say?

I wrote my address down and drove away in shock. 

Pharmacies deliver? Is this a dream?

I came home and told my daughter. She had the same reaction I did. I said...what do I do? Do I tip? Is that proper? I don’t have cash to tip!

Son of a gun if dude didn’t drive up 15 minutes ago with my script. He was incredibly nice and I was raining "Lord, bless you"’s all over his head. 

It was a beautiful experience I will treasure. 

I feel bad I didn’t tip him. 

Stupid Wagon

I hate falling off of the recovery wagon. Hate. Hate. Hate it. Every time I think I’m solidly buckled in ....here comes a bump in the road. Seat belt flies open and here I go , falling on the side of the road on my head. 

I then get up, dust myself off, and debate getting on that blasted rolling cart again. Being honest here, sometimes I just want to just give up. Let that cart head on down the road without me. I get tired. Bone deep tired of always having to be hyper aware. Constantly counting protein. Wondering if I got enough good fluids for the day. Fighting the soul deep cravings for carbs is the ultimate fight for me. And there are times I lose that fight. I will lose a small battle and other times, I lose so brilliantly and epically that I amaze myself. 

Yep. That’s my mental conversation I have with myself when I’m standing beside the road wondering if this is all worth it. 

Then I sigh really big, square my shoulders, and take off after that damn wagon. 

It’s worth it. 

I am worth it. 

The battle may be long and tiresome. Attacks from the rear (hi there menopause!) can throw you off course. In the end, when all is said and done, I want to be able to say I never gave up trying. 

Have I mentioned how sore I am today from kicking it up a notch at the gym yesterday? Mary, Joseph, and the baby lambs!! I’m walking like I’m 100 years old, but guess what?

I’m sittin’ tall in the wagon. 

Being Four is the Bomb

I have a grand daughter. Long story short- she is  not my flesh and blood as from one of my natural born children- but the daughter of my husband’s younger cousin that I claim also. My gig is being the most amazing YaYa ever. Tough job some times, but oh so worth it. 

The Man (who was named Pop’m by a stubborn baby) and I were blessed to spend the day with her yesterday on her birthday. What an adventure we had! Of course I took loads of pictures! 

Before I share the pictures, let me show you what kind of conversations happen with this particular toddler...

Sass? You want a banana?

No ma’am, I’m not hungry. 

Five minutes later.....

YaYa? I need cake and ice cream..I’m so hot. Ice cream would help. 

You have to eat a healthy choice before a fun choice. 

I really need ice cream and cake. 

No healthy choice., No cake and ice cream. 

Silence. 

You want a banana?

Yes ma’am.

It’s always a good time here at The Edge when reasoning with a future lawyer/ballerina/princess. 

Birthday micro-fashion. Rainbow Dash dress. Best part? It had pockets! 

Lunch of choice was at the barrel of crackers where she found her baby and magic bottle. Little pit stop on the way to the tahoe to rock and feed the new baby. 

Adventuring is tough, people! She was passed clean out. If she were 17 years older? I’d say she stayed too long at the club. 

Recognize the lady on the right? That’s MY baby girl. The college freshman. Gonna catch you up on her soon. 

Candid photo for the win here. 

Serious as I can be- that’s my heart right there. There is something about grand children that activate a section of your heart and soul you never knew existed until they arrive. 

Just Don’t Understand

We all know this here gal is Southern. I adore good food. Shoot, most food addicts adore good food. I am no exception. 

What I do not understand is Chinese food. We have a great one that delivers when I have decided cooking is not an option that day. It’s quick, good, and full of sodium. Last night we ordered some of that amazing goodness and sat down to eat upon delivery. 

My husband had this little container of rice. White rice. That’s it. Nothing else. (It went with his General Tso’s Chicken)

Now, what kind of sense does that make, I ask? I had fried rice with flavor, little bits of ham, and some veggies. His was just....plain.

I’m sorry, but we Southerners just can’t do this white plain rice. There’s gotta be some flavor up on top or cooked in to it. 

That sad little container of rice was thrown away and never even touched. 

Rice is a canvas.....gravy is the paint. You gotta have both, people.