Namaste, Bitches

Daughter and I have decided to give Yoga a try.  She signed us up last week and tonight is our second class.  It was a little disconcerting to be walking into someone’s private home as a Yoga studio, but we decided to keep an open mind and give it a go.

Our Yogi is a slightly-more-than-middle-aged woman who has cleared away the front room of her house to use as a space for practicing.  It was spacious and warm, a perfect spot, really.   There are only 8 people to a class, and to say Daughter is the youngest is akin to stating that an elephant is big.  EVERYONE is my age or older.  She seemed undaunted by this, but I was a bit concerned.  I mean, hey it’s all good for me sista, but she’s just a youngin’…not the class I think she had in mind when she went on Google to find a studio.  Yep.  Googled ‘Yoga Studios’ in our area and this is the one she chose…huh.

yoga

Yeah, we don’t look quite like this

I was unfazed by the older man with the ZZ Top beard and the ragged faded jeans, but the dude who placed his mat beside me (I think his name was Brian) was a heavy breather.  Yep.  Like a bad Seinfeld episode, this guy sounded like he had just run a marathon in under four minutes.  Good thing he wasn’t a close-talker or I really would have had an issue…

seinfeld-close-talker

Close Talkers and Heavy Breathers back up and turn over, please

There were more men than I expected, but I think they were part of couples since the ladies they joined seemed to be very supportive and insightful in the ways of Yoga.   “Bob, YOU WON’T NEED THAT BIG CABLE KNIT SWEATER DURING CLASS.  UGH”.     “Jim YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG”    “Frank, for GOD’S SAKE JUST BREATHE!”

I did not hear any of that, but it would have been AWESOME if I had.

Couples Yoga should provide counselling services after class.

Hello, business idea for the psychiatrically inclined…

By the way, ‘psychiatrically’ is probably not a word and I’m not about to look it up.  I just spent waaaay too much time re-watching Seinfeld episodes looking for a Heavy Breather gag…

The class was a wee bit longer than I thought and when she pulled out the bolsters and dimmed the lights, I thought ‘couples yoga’ is about to get weeeirrrrrd, but it was more like nap time in Kindergarten.  Sorry, ‘relaxing time’…

Her voice suddenly dropped a few octaves as she went around the room to make sure we were ‘relaxed’…mkay.   I suppressed my urge to laugh and made it through relaxation time unscathed…. except for Heavy Breather Dude who I think almost went into cardiac arrest when it was time to come back to reality and this plane of existence…and stand up.

Poor Bob had to put on his sweater lest he got a chill….tonight is about to get awesome with Geriatric Couples Yoga….

yoga-posing

Lose the sweater, Bob.  It’s about to get real up in here…

I CAN’T WAIT!!

Namaste, Bitches.

 

 

12 Days With No Added Sugar and Still Alive To Tell About It

I’m finished my 12 days in the 14 Day Challenge the Land of No Added Sugar, and I have to say it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.  I figured by now, I’d be hoarding little sugar packets and chugging back their sweet goodness in a bathroom stall. (I didn’t do this)  Or licking the remnants of a latent brownie or cookie crumb off of the kitchen counter, ( I SO WANTED TO DO THIS) or sucking back the remains of wine from the recycled wine bottles still downstairs. (NO, I DIDN’T DO THIS EITHER, EVEN THOUGH I SEE YOU EYEING ME AND THINKING THAT I REALLY DID…OKAY, I THOUGHT ABOUT IT… GAWD)   Or even sneaking mouthfuls of chocolate chips straight from the bag. (Somebody beat me to it)   I haven’t done any of that.  No, really.  I haven’t.

Oh, sure the first few days were like The Hunger Games around here.  I could have easily made one of my kids a human sacrifice for a piece of chocolate cake…or cookie…or crumb of a cookie.  Seriously.   Hubby wouldn’t even drink a glass of wine in my presence lest he endure a death stare of epic proportions.  He still hasn’t had any wine…maybe he’s been visiting the recycling bottles downstairs…

I’m better now.  I don’t feel the need to stab a baby for its juice nor take down some random person in the street for drinking a can of Diet Coke.

Most days.

All that being said, I feel well.  My cravings have diminished.  I have found a coffee that isn’t like drinking the bottom of a sink hole filled with sludge and I’ve lost a few pounds along the way.  All good.

I have noticed a few other things since embarking on this journey of sugarless magnificence:

I’m not craving sweets as much as I used to. Not even chocolate, which is surprising since it’s as close to my heart as cute puppies and Christmas

My eyesight has NOT improved.   WTF sugar?!  Not that I thought it would, but I thought if I was clouded with sugar-induced haziness, it may improve to the point of me not having to squint.    Still read today’s bootcamp exercise as ‘Stripping’ instead of ‘skipping’….and just so you know, the Canadian government weather website tab says ‘Taxes’ not ‘Texas’…I remember thinking “WTF has Texas got to do with Canadian weather?”   Or Taxes for that matter…MAGOO TOAST

I still want a glass of wine. That hasn’t gone away and next Tuesday, I will possibly indulge in a glass…TUESDAY IS NOW MY FAVOURITE DAY.

Sorry to the fellow bootcamp ladies. I must apologize for my epic under-my-breath swearing ( I only said ‘Fuck off’ a few times…yeah.  A mere few times…)  at your effortless perfection in the kitchen in posting all those wonderful looking recipes whilst I slob over on the couch watching Leah Remini take down Scientology and then  cry over the next FUCKING AWESOME EPISODE OF SHERLOCK EVER.  (I think that’s the new title, by the way.  Look it up.  It’s on PBS.  Even THEY can be a wee bit sweary when they want to.)     Anyways,   I would post an epic pic of my unflavoured oatmeal drowned in Cinnamon, but I feel it would cower in comparison to all of your blah blah wonderful soup-stuffed-something-or-other with kale and fucking AVOCADO dishes.    Not a wee bit edgy….

I eat more often. I eat better food every couple of hours so I’m not ravenous when I get home.  Seems to do the trick

I drink more water…probably because there’s nothing else to drink, but it has helped.

It doesn’t bother me too much when my co-workers plop down in front of me with their tea and Oreo cookies and eat them in front of me without offering one or putting them away out of sensitivity for my plight with sugar and all it’s evilness. Oh, you’d think they’d care, but apparently they are as empathetic as an abandoned indifferent stagnant rock with no care or compassion for others who are working their asses off at improving their health and fitness and becoming an overall well-rounded individual, so piss off!  Nope, doesn’t bother me ONE BIT.

So, there you have it.  I’m rocking the sugarless thing with all the raw emotion of a person on a runaway roller coaster with a death wish.

ONLY TWO MORE DAYS TO GO AND EVERYONE MAY SURVIVE THIS SHIT.

Maybe….

karen

Me on Tuesday

 

Day Two of the 14 Day Challenge

I started my day with a workout, so blah coffee before said workout was a must.  Even if there was no sugar, I needed the caffeine to get me on the go.  Good thing too.  That workout was tough…

After the third cup of sugarless tasteless coffee, I can honestly say it still tastes shitty…maybe I need to switch coffee brands.  Or go to tea…HA!  Had you there for a minute, didn’t I?  TEA?!  That may send me over the edge, so I’ll stick to the duller-than-watching-grandma-knit-blankets coffee until I “get used to it”.  Which is going to happen any day now according to those ‘in the know’…ie, people who have given up sugar in the coffee like eons ago and say there’s nothing to it…the same people/person/daughter who then says ‘buy me a cookie at Tim’s okay?’

I did manage to eat some eggs with almonds for breakfast, so that was good.   I just read that sentence.  The almonds weren’t IN the eggs.  They were a side.  Like avocado is a side for some people…apparently, I’m supposed to like that.  I like guacamole, does that count?

I’m really not complaining about the whole ordeal, I just like verbally expressing my distaste for anything non-sweet, like celery and cold coffee and that lady who hates Christmas.  She probably hates babies and little puppies too….Maybe she had a bad week, or maybe she’s trying the ‘no sugar’ thing too, in which case, she should definitely eat that big ole chocolate bar and get over it.  WE NEED CHRISTMAS. AND BABIES. AND CUTE PUPPIES MAULING BABIES.

Can I have withdrawals from chocolate?  Because I think I’m going to need a similar thing to a methadone clinic for my chocolate addiction…”I’ll need an injection of the caramel centred Pot O’Gold, please”.

I’m faring better than I thought I would, although, it may not sound like it.   Some wonderful people are posting great recipes on Facebook that I can actually try out, like a one pot chicken breast with beans thing that looks good and easy to make.  Which is excellent for me.  They must know me well.  Or feel sorry for me after my post yesterday.  Either way, it’s awesome.   I’m not in the crowd of great ladies who cook up shit a week in advance and have all their veggies chopped and organized in the refrigerator by colour and size and crispness…I CAN’T DO THAT.  They cook up pots of stuff that I can’t pronounce and make food that rhymes with avocado…NOTHING RHYMES WITH AVOCADO.

I operate on a different plane.  It’s more like ‘fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-and-hope-shit-works-out’.  Yeah.  That’s more me.  In saying that, I DID manage to prepare my lunches in advance (by this I mean an hour before I leave for work )  and have snacks at the ready so I don’t steal somebody’s cookies off their desk…or chocolate bar…Not that I’ve been scoping out people’s offices for snacks…STOP JUDGING.

All in all, day two has been…meh.  Not BAD, but doable.  If tomorrow goes like today and so forth, I got this.  Just gotta learn how to organize my veggies…so green goes before orange, then red, then yellow…I`m thinking alphabetical.  Are they chopped or sliced?  I’m going to have to get new containers…and labels.  AND SUPPORT STAFF TO HELP ME WITH THIS SHIT.

refrigerator_full_veggies

My refrigerator does NOT look like this.  Where’s all the wine? 

Who knew organizing vegetables could be so complicated?  OBVIOUSLY THE PEOPLE WHO DO THIS ALL OF THE TIME.  They must have the global market on Tupperware.  It’s all in the lids.  Those damned things get lost and reappear in the strangest places…years later.  At least in my house. Do people still buy Tupperware?  Is that still a thing?  Huh.

tupperware

Maybe I’ll just get pre-cut veggies and store in Ziplocs…hey….see?  I got this.

At least until Friday…Friday is wine night.

WWWWIIIIINNNNNNEEEEEEE…..

wine and cookies

 

The 14 Day Eating Challenge (Yet Another Way to Make Me Cranky)

food-meme

The challenge title is misleading.  It’s not challenging one to eat, which would totally be a challenge I would GLADLY take on.  It’s challenging one to eat RIGHT.  A group of us ladies have decided to follow our fearless leader into the depths of healthiness (and despair) by accepting her carefully laid out plan for healthy eating…and Gawd knows what else, because we are supportive. And awesome. And probably a little drunk from the holidays to really think this through.

Anyways, like any carefully strategic plan for world domination, there are rules…quid pro quos…stuff that’s listed that’s forbidden to eat/drink/consume… stuff I ate in large quantities over the holidays that apparently are BAD for me.  Pffft… We are to read the list, memorize the list…basically, BE ONE WITH THE LIST.  Ugh…here we go….

My thoughts are in the parentheses…

This is the list of NO’s:

  1. No chips (dat’s okay, don’t mind’em anyways)
    2. No white potatoes (don’t mind ‘dat either.)
    3. No Ice cream   (so far this is easy….)
    4. No fast food   (Okay, so no Micky D’s for a while)
    5. No fried food   (Nudding? Hmmm)
    6. No chocolate   (WHAT?!  But…not ONE BITE?! I may die)
    7. No white bread (fine.  No homemade bread )
    8. No soda or juice   (done)
    9. No cakes, cookies, donuts, etc.  (I’m thinking the “etc” part includes everything I love)
    10. No added sugar of any kind (Sweet Jesus, lady WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!…okay, I’ll need to breathe for a while…)

Sugars – Avoid all added sugars for this challenge.  (ugh…sooooo gonna die)
Substitute Sugars – Avoid all substitute sugars, including stevia. While it’s not a sugar, the idea of the challenge is not only to get sugar out of your diet, but also to get you away from the need for something sweet.  ( and away from eating stuff that tastes better than the cardboard boxes those sweet donuts from heaven came packed in)
Alcohol – Avoid alcohol because it can make your cravings worse.  (but if you’re drunk, you won’t notice the cravings, will ‘ya? )   

I started a day earlier, just because I wanted to be able to focus and ease myself into this 14 day hell ride we call HEALTHY EATING.   Whatever…

Things I discovered today, Day One:

I drank my first cup of coffee EVER with nothing in it but a bit o’milk.  Tasted like crap, but I’m willing to try it again…not sure why…I guess I can be convinced of anything.  Next I’ll be signing up for Scientology classes and Leah Remini will be trying to save me…

I like sugar.  EVERYTHING has added sugar, so I’m focusing on fresh fruit and veggies and almonds.  Boring as hell, but it gets me through my morning….but I still want to stab somebody in the throat for no sugar in my morning coffee…

By 11:30 I needed another coffee.  Usually by this time, I have had 2 or 3 cups.  I only had the one since I wasn’t relishing the taste without the sugar.  So some may say “another benefit” while I’m saying “I WANNA KILL SOMEBODY SO I’LL STAY IN MY OFFICE, THANKS”

I found I drank more water out of desperation. Desperation will make you do crazy things…who has Tom Cruise’s number?

Why does it seem to be more water exiting my body, than entering it?  Seriously.  The bathroom at work is going to get my name plate plastered on it.

Did you know that salad dressing has added sugar in it?  WORK WITH ME PEOPLE.  I’M EATING A GODDAMNED SALAD.  THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS PROVIDE A DECENT –TASTING- SAUCY- LOVELINESS TO MAKE IT TASTE BETTER THAN STALE CARROTS AND GRASS FROM LAST SPRING’S THAW!!

See?  A wee bit stabby.

DAY 2 SHOULD BE AWESOME….

koala-eating-salad

Thanks for Making Me A Better Smartass, Apple.

I should not be allowed to have any kind of ability to message memes or GIFs to other people on my contact list.  It can easily get out of hand and I will substitute actual words for a video clip.  It’s like Apple decided I shouldn’t speak, but allow others to do the talking for me, so they give me all of these options of random celebrities doing awesome facial expressions like rolling their eyes or sticking out their tongues or giving people the finger…you know, stuff I do all of the time, only now I can get Beyonce to do it for me!  HOW AWESOME IS THAT?!  I can be Beyonce without actually being Beyonce.

Conversation has taken a back seat to Justin Timberlake dancing or a random actor rolling their eyes or even Prince looking bored and uninterested.  If my kids ask me a question, they brace themselves waiting to see if I respond with actual words, or a short vid of Honey Boo Boo dancing like a maniac.

Apple has made it so easy for me to basically dumb down any communication to a glib video response instead of a long drawn out ‘okay’  or ‘Thanks for letting me know’ or the ever popular ‘WTF?!’ Now all I need is a search term and a little patience to scroll through all the video clips, then pick the best one and voila!  My answer to the question of ‘what’s for dinner?’  ‘Did you remember to pick up Son?’  or ‘I got an A on my paper!’ is as easy as typing ‘dinner’ and I get clips of food and people eating food and sarcastic memes about food, all at my fingertips waiting for me to push send.  The possibilities are as endless as the videos and when I run out of them, I simply type in another search term and BAM, more choices to be sarcastic without even typing a single word!  APPLE FINALLY GETS ME.

There is a downside to my laziness…the written/spoken word is diminishing before my eyes and I’m unwittingly supporting it.  I’m a major contributor to the degradation of society by allowing myself to fall victim to the temptation of random video responses!  WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?!

I know what’s wrong with me.

It’s easy.  It’s fun.  It’s engaging.  It’s smartassiness at its finest and I FUCKING LOVE IT.

I enjoy the search for the videos and the reactions I get when I send them.  I like seeing the funny face or the OMG STOP IT, from my kids or my friends who I bother at work…or in the middle of the night.  You can even do it while you’re drunk, and people will just think you’re being a smartass.  Not that I’ve ever done that, before.   I think I should actually text words a little more often.  Everyone may be expecting a video response every time they message me, so they’ll stop messaging me and then they’ll stop speaking to me.  Pretty soon, they won’t even want to text or talk or anything!  I WILL LOSE ALL COMMUNICTATION WITH MY CHILDREN AND MY FRIENDS ALL BECAUSE TAYLOR SWIFT HAS A BETTER EYE ROLL THAN ME!    SOCIETY WILL COME TO SCREECHING HALT AND CONVERSATION WILL BE OBLITERATED IN THE FAVOUR OF A BEYONCE HAIR FLIP!  EVERYBODY WILL THINK I’M A WICKED SMARTASS BECAUSE OF THE FLIPPANT VIDEOS DRIPPING WITH SARCASM AND SASSINESS!

zwg87_f-maxage-0

Now, I’m not only the worst conversationalist ever, I’m the BEST smartass ever.

Way to go Apple.  YOU JUST MADE MY LIFE.

A Funny Thing Happened on the way to the Tattoo Studio…

Apparently, when you turn fifty something inexplicable happens to your brain.  Decisions are made based on what would be fun, or what could transform a little life into something exciting.  Looking down the tunnel towards old age, it gets necessary to move in a more forward thinking direction.  What have I not done in my life that I really should do?  Like, now.  Do now.   Take a plunge.  Leap. Dance.  Get a tattoo.

A tattoo?  Yes.   With Daughter.  She asked me and in an instant I said ‘yes’.  I didn’t even hesitate or flinch.  I just jumped in. No debating, no weighing the options, just jumped.  It’s only a little ink, right?

Let’s do it.  She was so excited.  I was too…until we walked into the tattoo studio for our consultation and then I realized it was actually happening. A permanent drawing on my body.  Ready?  Hmm….

Oh, sure there was a lot of checking with me to see if I was on board.  Was I sure?  Daughter and I looked over literally hundreds of designs.  What size?  Did we want colour?  How about the image itself?  There were many I nixed based on size.  There were more she declined based on simplicity. I was going for simple.  At my age, simple was imperative.  A few weeks later and we had our first appointment.

We made our way down to the studio.  A little red door on a downtown street.  Colourful art and sketches cover the wall of an old walk-up; aged wooden floorboards creaked beneath our feet; plaster ceilings and vintage crown moldings.  There was a park bench and an old tattoo chair adorning a tiny living room complete with sofa and coffee table. Directly across from the green micro-fibre sofa hung precariously from an old nail, a shrunken pirate head with ginger beard and eye patch.  Perfect.

We sat down with the artist in that room to go over our ideas for our tattoos.  She was a young woman, grey haired and sweet.  I saw no visible tattoos, however, just peeking out from under the hiked-up sleeve of her sweater I could see a black swirl like the wispy end of a tail.  Ah, there it is.

She asked questions.  Allayed our fears.  Calmed me down a bit.  We went through our ideas and she took the time to get to know exactly what we had in mind.

We chose daisies and asked the artist to do a sketch and send it to us just so we could imagine what it would look like permanently inked on our skin.

The day of the appointment arrived and Daughter picked me up.  She was so excited, how could I not be?  She went first.  Watching the tattoo artist was like watching somebody paint a picture while doing a bit of surgery at the same time.  There’s the whir of the instrument, the chatter of voices and the wincing of Daughter’s face.  She was so determined not to move, she made herself shake.  I asked Daughter what it felt like and she said it was like somebody scratching at your skin.  Nothing painful.  Huh.  That wincing face, though.

She was done in thirty minutes.  A quick change up for the room to be disinfected and cleaned up and it was my turn.  Ugh.  My brain started going into overdrive.  Was it too big, really?  Maybe she can scale it down to one daisy…then mine would be different than Daughter’s and that would defeat the purpose.  I was back in the room with the shrunken pirate head.  I think I heard him sneer at me, “Oh, whaddya ascared of a little tattoo?!  Pfft…sure if I had arms, I’d show ya all mine!  Dey were good’uns, they were.  All done by a sailor with a hook for a hand and a needle dipped in black ink.  Hehehe…good ol’ days, dey were.  A’course I may ‘ave been a wee bit over da limit wit da rum, if ya catch me drift….”  ‘Oh, my Gawd will ya shut it, pirate!  Can’t ya see I’m panicking here?!’    “Jasus, girl it’s only a bit o’ink.  Nuttin’ to git yer panties in a knot o’er.  An daisies at dat!  Pffft…wuss.  Well, if ye were on ma boat-“      ‘YOU DON’T HAVE A BODY LET ALONE A BOAT!   TOO BAD YOU STILL HAVE A MOUTH! KEEP TALKIN’ CAPTAIN JACK AND I’LL PITCH YOU OUT INTO THE HARBOUR! ’    “Take it easy, Missy!  Where’s me rum…”  ‘ NOW, you’re talkin’…..’

She came out to get me and we were off.

She attached the design to my lower leg first to make sure the placement was accurate and straight.  Then I hopped up on the table and she set to work.  I was on my side, so I was able to have a lovely view of the harbour while she worked.  I think she did that intentionally.  Smart girl.  Captain Jack was laughing it up out in the living room, I’m sure of it.   I asked her intelligent questions like “Has anyone passed out from this before?  Ever been accidently kicked or swatted while tattooing?  What’s the biggest tattoo you’ve ever done and how long did it take you?  Anybody ever vomit on your table?”

She answered my questions with a degree of concern making sure I wasn’t going to do any of those things to her.  Nope.  All good.  Except for that annoying scratching.  “That’s the tattoo.”  Oh.  Then I’m good.

It went well.  The tattoos look great.

I wonder what my next adventure will be…hmmm.

As for Captain Jack, I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other any time soon, although I thought I could hear a verse of  ‘Yo Ho Ho and A Bottle of Rum’ as we were walking out the door….

 

tattoo

 

 

 

 

 

East Coast Trail The Sequel, With Art and Everything!

We, meaning the ladies and I and a few little ones, embarked on our second epic East Coast trail hike last Sunday morning onto Cobbler Path.

2016 645  A 4kms and change hike into awesomeness that can only be described as steep and climby and a wee bit sweary.   Although it wasn’t raining…it was foggy, instead.  Newfoundland weather never disappoints.

2016 657

See over the cliff?  That’s the ocean.  See it? IT’S RIGHT THERE! 

So foggy, I couldn’t see the ocean…which was a bummer because who doesn’t like to see the ocean?   AND, we had to walk/hike/climb and of course, swear up the long stairs onto a steep cliff to look down and see…nothingness.  White nothingness.  Ugh.  At least we got through it…with a balancing act of epic proportions, I might add.

2016 647

  WHERE ARE THE DAMNED RAILINGS?!!

2016 665

 

The last pics are the artwork we found on the buildings just as we were heading out of Red Cliff.

Enjoy.

 

 

 

2016 678

They are waiting for me to cross the rocks and water.  Smartasses.  

2016 700

Graceful as fuck.  Again. 

2016 702

We are happy we are not lost in the fog…BTW…THERE’S THE OCEAN IN THE BACKGROUND.  WE FOUND IT. 

Wow…a wee bit sweary, but interesting for sure…

Our next adventure we are expecting to see actual vistas…and scenes.  And hopefully each other at some point.  One of the ladies is hoping there will be railings on the stairs, but I’m not holding my breath.

2016 667               2016 685

 

 

http://www.eastcoasttrail.ca/

http://eastcoasttrail.ca/trail/view.php?id=22