Tag Archives: fitness

I Blame The Polar Vortex, The Black Hole and The Higgs Boson Particle For My Inability To Walk Without Falling…and Rob Ford

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As I took my (hopefully) last and fateful fall in the driveway by way of black ice, ( I shall call it black ice ‘cause it was ice and the pavement is black and I didn’t see it with all that glaring ball of light shining in my eyes last week..something we have not seen most of these 5 mths of hell…otherwise known as winter) I began to laugh, only it hurt so much I had to stop and realized if H was looking out her window right at that exact moment, she would have caught me just gangling up from behind my car and looking to my right at the man and children pretending not to have seen my butt slam, only to almost slip again from all the laughter and hilarity going on…and then watch as my car door slammed the mirror on daughter’s car. A great start to an obviously even greater day!
My shoulder has been ripped in several locations due to my ever evolving ‘exercise journey’ that involved one too many downward dogs and pushups. I can only assume this from the overzealous amount of pain that has decided to envelop me, leaving me sobbing in pain a few nights as no sleeping position was comfortable. The dog kept rescuing socks from the laundry basket in hopes that these gifts would appease my crying. Gifts of socks are always appreciated, but at the witching hour of midnight, I could have done without. I managed to get a spot that was a lesser degree of pain from exquisite (doctors call pain ‘uncomfortable’ or ‘exquisite’…never ‘excruciating’…they’ve obviously never given birth sans pain relievers or epidurals..or torn muscles in their shoulders they never realized they had) and got a few hours rest. It still hurts. I need chocolate and alcohol. Maybe a sling. A new shoulder? A varying degrees of drugs – street or legal….oh, sorry “medication”….ugh.
I’ve been absent from the blogosphere as of late and have no reason whatsoever for my lack of presence than…ummm….wait a minute, I’m thinking… Laziness…hmm…yep, that about sums it up.

Lazeh..lazy…lazarona….lazarooni…lazalazalaxidaisical laziness.

Me. I’ll get a t-shirt with that emblazoned on the front.
Me: LAZALAZALAXIDAISICAL LAZINESS QUEEN.
BOW TO YOUR QUEEN.
WAIT. DON’T GET UP. STAY THERE. IT’S MORE COMFY AND STUFF. I KNOW YOU WANNA BOW, SO THAT COUNTS. MAKE ROOM, I’M COMIN’ OVER. IT’S EXHAUSTING BEING A QUEEN.
MY SHOULDER HURTS..… I NEED ICE.

NO, NOT FOR MY SHOULDER FOR MA DRINK! GEESH.

exhausted meme

 

Namaste and Other Yoga Words I Can’t Say

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I attended my first yoga class evah, last night with Bestie, D and KS. We thought it would be a good way to start the New Year off right and it may be fun!  Apparently, ‘fun’ is relative.  The location was a small structure that I kindly referred to like this:  “OH MY GOD WE’RE DOING YOGA IN A SHED!”  Had it been equipped with a dart board and a wood stove, we would have rushed to the nearest liquor store for the wine and snacks, Yoga class be damned.  As it turned out, it was a small daycare complete with cubbie holes and manipulative block area.  The room NEXT to the daycare room was where I would experience the Downward Dog and the Tree pose ( I was more of a stick, than a tree.  Yeah.)

The dog is laughing at my downward dog.

The dog is laughing at my downward dog.

We managed to secure prime location spots at the back and to the right side of the room so as not to disrupt the rest of the class with giggling that may have escaped us during any portion of completing the poses.  We managed to be somewhat mature adults (yay us!) for the majority of the time.  There were some serious students of the Yoga practice who attended and we did not want to appear rude or inconsiderate.

Apparently, Yoga is a meditative and QUIET activity where they try to instill an aura of inner peace and tranquil contemplation.  Oh, yeah sign me the fuck up.  Sure…I can be quiet, in fact I AM quiet ¾ of the time…except, at the end of the class when we were supposed to lie down and be COMPLETELY STILL.   Yeah.   I reached for my water to have a sip before I fell into a near catatonic state of relaxation.  As I reached for my water bottle, it erroneously decided to explode in ma face sending water spraying into my eye like a whale expelling air from its blowhole.  Meanwhile, the instructor was going around the room dimming the lights and getting everybody blankets and pillows.  It was like nap time in kindergarten going on.  I was confused…and soaking wet from the spray of water in ma face.  I felt the urge to proclaim “WTF?!”, instead simply looked over at KS who was laughing, which got me laughing, but we were QUIETLY laughing, so no rules broken there.  We rock.  And then came quiet contemplation time and we had to be PERFECTLY STILL.  (which never really happened as I was hearing everybody else breathe and then some random bell started ringing and I thought I was hearing things or was that a poor excuse for a fire alarm?, and then some guy began to ‘sing’ and I use that term loosely ‘cause it was more like he was yodeling really…not actually singing.  My eyes darted open as I was half expecting the room to rise up and start getting their shoes on to escape the fire that was surely blazing out of control in the closet where all the cork bricks were stacked and the yodeler was truly hiding, but as I stealthily looked around the room so as not to get caught cheating, I noticed everybody else was laying still so I assumed this bell-ringing and yodeling was SUPPOSED to happen.  Ohhhhh.) No flames, no fire and no hunky firemen…damn, this Yoga thing kinda sucks.

Ugh…I bit the inside of my cheeks so I didn’t have to be the totally immature one and break out in an inappropriate amount of laughter.  It’s like that laughing disease people have…spontaneous uncontrollable laughter at the most inappropriate times.  KS thinks she is a victim of this disease.  I think I am a victim of KS’s thinking of her victimization and the impending laughter that will surely ensue if we ever stop biting various appendages…she her hands, me my inner cheeks.  AND, by ‘cheeks’ I mean the ones on my face.  I would be a Yoga MASTER if I could bite my own ass cheeks. I think I just invented a new pose….I’ll call it “Crunching Idiot”.

This ain't gonna happen any time soon.

This ain’t gonna happen any time soon.

That would be a feat of brilliance I’ll save for maybe my second or third class…AND the hunky firemen.  What?  I gotta have something to think about during Catatonic Rest Time.  Geesh.  (there is a more accurate yoga term for that, but I can’t remember what it is…and too lazy to look it up.)

Until next time, as Joanne and Hal say, keep fit and have fun.

I bet Joanne can chew her cheeks...betcha.

I bet Joanne can chew her cheeks…betcha.

Walking From Zombies Would Be So Much More Fun If There Were Actual Zombies Following Me

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  Since my knee has been giving me trouble, I have been relegated to walking instead of running.  In response to this downward spiral of activity, my body has rebelled by gaining pounds (I’ll not say how many, but it’s akin to a cute baby beluga) and my metabolism as slowed to a near snail-like pace.  Nice.

Yesterday was a nice day and as I was still in vacay-mode, I set off on a walk.  These are the thoughts that invaded my head during that hour- long sojourn into ass pain:

“This walking-shit sucks”

“This blows chunks.  I fucking hate this”

(These first two thoughts were made in less than 1 minute into the walk)

“This is going to take me forever”

“Ugh…whose idea was this?”

“Oh I so much would rather be running like you”  *longingly looks at a runner perhaps too creepily as she gives me a weird look and rushes off*

“Fuck off, I hate this shit too. Stop looking at me like I’m a 90year old grandmother”

“At least if I had a somewhat normal semblance of a dog, I could probably take her with me. Instead, I get mini-Cujo with allergies and hyper-sensitivities to anything that moves.”

“I love that damned dog”

“Maybe I should concentrate on my next great post.”

“’Great’ being the optimal word. I rock”

“I need a new job”

“One where I get paid oodles of money without leaving the comfort of my house”

“I just described everyone’s dream situation.  We should all work from home.  And bake cookies.  And drink wine”

wine and cookies

“I wonder if all stay-at-home and work-from-home peeps do that…bake cookies and drink wine all day.  When do they do laundry or clean?”

“Hire a maid.”

“Yeah.  Great plan”

“Mmmmm…wine.  I need more.  Hey, I didn’t drink that much on holiday.”

“That lemon-drop martini was awesome.  I soo should learn how to make that mutha for DH”

“And I developed a whole new appreciation for Sangria.  Should make that stuff up too.”

“Man I have a lot of drinking plans ahead of me.  Sad? Or rockin’?”

“Def. Rockin’”

“I need a good story idea for the CBC contest.”

“Hmmm…mystery?  Nah. Definitely not romance…crap.”

“Yeah, you’re running, I’m walking. You’re awesome and I’m old.  I’m almost over it.”

“Who am I kidding?  This supremely sucks”

“I’ve decided I need more socialization with other people.  Maybe I should take obedience classes like Maggie”

“Maybe there’ll be a Benny in my class too!  THAT WOULD BE SO AWESOME!”

“Look, lady if you’re going to stop for me, stop. Otherwise go on into the intersection that is laden with speeding vehicles and take your life into your own hands.  Become one with the road!”

“ASS”

“I have nothing but contempt and ire-ridden loathing…hey! I’m almost home!”

“And me just about to continue my negative shit-storming.”

“This wasn’t so bad”

*approaches door*

“Who am I kidding?”

*walks inside porch*

“This totally blew chunks.

Maybe if there was a gang of zombies following me, it would make the whole walking thing a bit more interesting.

Maybe if there was a gang of zombies following me, it would make the whole walking thing a bit more interesting.

 

Loose Limbs

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There was a comment made at DH by Bestie the other night about her knee. She has been running and she suddenly developed this odd bump or ‘growth’ on the side of her right knee.  ( I bet she is soo impressed I’m telling you this right now.  She’ll be all “OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TOLD THE WORLD ABOUT MY KNEE-GROWTH!” And I’ll say “Calm down.  If you wanted to tell the world about half of the crap that seems to eek from my appendages, do you think I’d mind?!  Hell, no I’ve probs told everybody everything anyways, so go with it Sista!”  ‘Cause that’s how we roll)

Anywho, about the growth.  Yeah.  She said she laid off the running to see if it would magically disappear since she can’t risk injury. (it’s still there but on a smaller scale)  She needs to be able to stand up to make a living.  She’s a hairstylist (and not a nude artists’ model like I know all of you were thinking).   And a damned good one, peeps!  (that soooo makes up for my mentioning her knee-growth) 

That statement pretty much got me thinking… I don’t really need all my ‘appendages’ to be able to earn a living at what I do.  In fact, if I was missing a limb or two, it wouldn’t matter.   Not that I’m going to throw my arm into the nearest wood chipper or ‘accidentally’ fall in front of a moving lawn mower, but there is some comfort in knowing if my finger or toe or left hand suddenly detaches from my body, my life is not permanently ruined.  My career is not over.

 Maybe a little uncomfortable, I mean can you imagine trying to maneuver multiple hand puppets with just one hand?  Or trying to toe paint with only 4 toes?  (I’m figuring one toe missing from the dominant painting foot…provided you have two feet.  If not then that really sucks) 

See?  Stuff can be done with missing body parts.  Wait, what? 

I should clarify…one can still operate and function without ALL appendages just fine.  Not that you would do something with someone else’s detached limb like use it to clean the toilet or pick up the dog’s poop or touch somebody on the shoulder when he wasn’t looking and then stroke his cheek in a loving manner only for him to become abruptly aware the hand is kinda ‘manly’ and then he suddenly sees the man-hand as it independently moves around haphazardly and he screams like a little girl who just got her first cell phone.   No…not at all….

So not the hand I had envisioned but it will do in a pinch....

So not the hand I had envisioned but it will do in a pinch….

I noticed a spot on my arm that is different from the gagillion other spots I have on my arm.  It’s a great spot of pink.  So, I decided to Google ‘bright pink spot on my arm.’   Now I know why doctors HATE IT when patients Google shit.

 DON’T GOOGLE SHIT. They should have that sign on their door.  I should probs pay attention to it next time.  Apparently it has to be a certain shade of pink to qualify as ‘right’.  LIKE WHAT, A SALMON COLOR?!!

 

Hypochondriacs must have a hell of a time on Google.  Their doctors must ban Google or tell them to stay away from computers.  How would they be able to remain sane with all of the ‘this causes cancer’ and ‘you will die if you have this’ or ‘death is imminent; get out now while you still can’?    It reminds me of D1 who every time she gets a headache, she has a brain tumor. Or if she has a little pain, it must be a cancerous tumor that is spreading wildly or if she gets a hangnail, she’ll have to amputate her whole hand since gangrene is imminent. 

She’s the nursing student.

 I know.  Four years of hilarity coming ma way! 

And brain tumors…let’s not forget all the brain tumors.