A quick check in

It’s my birthday week! Yaay?! I’m kind of flooded with a lot of thoughts, emotions and memories. I think I want to save them for my entry next week… if my brain had a spirit animal it would be a squirrel hopped up on nuts at a rave – it needs some funneling, to say the least. But I always have time for a gym story….

BRB, Gotta go Force Cry in the Steam Room

I received a lot of kind feedback from last week’s post, thank you so much! It was a tough week, to be perfectly honest. I had a migraine for most of the week, cried a lot. Y’all, I planned one evening around going to the gym and crying in the sauna. No joke. And this guy kept coming in and out and I’m over here, “EXCUSE ME, TRYING TO DRAMATICALLY CRY IN THE STEAM ROOM ALONE PLEASE, THANKS. IT’S REALLY HARD BECAUSE I’M SWEATING SO MUCH… I’M GETTING CONFUSED IF THESE ARE TEARS OR BALLS OF SWEAT… I MEAN, IS THIS NORMAL?” So I went home and ate cheese while nursing a lack of hydration/forced cry headache. Grieving is just not cute. I mean, it’s not all proud moments clutching pearls while a single tear rolls down your cheek. Its more spontaneous outburst of tears when a certain musician plays, poor choices for fun (why have just one headache when you can be self sabotaging and add a new pain to the mix?!), assuming everyone is mad at you (no one is mad at you, to be clear)…. and it’s time. Time can ease the pain while simultaneously exasperate the length of absence it’s been since you last saw them. Time is a fickle mistress.

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A funny thing did happen at work this week. One of the gals turned 21 and was planning a 21-Run (no, that’s not the joke but yes, you should laugh at that cause I sure did) anywhoooo one of the other gals was heading to the party and trying to look up ways to ensure they wouldn’t be hungover and I’m hollering, “I GOT YOU FAM – I’M A PROFESSIONAL*” and I’m giving her my best secrets about pedialyte, emergen-c, etc. Then here comes my boss, “Maybe just don’t drink that much…” I was floored, literally never had that thought cross my mind.

*I’m a recovering alcoholic with over two years of sobriety – I’ve had a few hangovers in my life… Physically and emotionally I imagine. Wait, are we talking hangovers or hangups?

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The family got together on Easter which was lovely. Easter gatherings have changed dramatically over the years with who we’d spend it with and where. The above photo was taken at a friend of the family’s that we spent it the most with. At one point we would pull out the vhs tape (who still has a working vhs player?!) of the egg hunt we had, where said photo was taken. Side note: Y’know, people think they have a resting bitch face, but it’s quite clear I established this look in 1983. Its a pretty cute tape of us being silly, me glaring, my mom and sister in their 80’s finest and I think I pushed a boy over. Probably. I’m still trying that technique to pick boys up to date. Still single

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This last week at the gym: My dear friend took me to the gym and gave me a workout routine which I’m forever grateful for. Its nice having a trainer I actually trust! Expecting instant results is trying to discourage me, but I’m keeping focused. Mermaid swimsuit and giant clam shell floatie will be mine. As per usual I saw my fair share of odd happenings. One was the lady giving the thigh master a lap dance. It was incredibly uncomfortable to watch as she stood facing the chair bopping up and down. Really hoped she sanitized the thing afterwards… today I saw an older woman in the locker room causing what I would describe as an incredible offense (I’m being really dramatic and sarcastic here) she was EATING in the bathroom. But what you ask? A Sriracha flavored baked tofu loaf. What in the what? Why is that even a thing, first off, but eating in the bathroom?! Nope. Just, noooooo.

Have a great week y’all and whatever you do… please don’t let me catch you eating in the bathroom. K, thanks.

Romance at the Gym – Still Got It

Saturday was St Patrick’s Day, in case you went so Irish you forgot – no judgement. I chose to make my co-workers some cookies to celebrate the holiday and made Peppermint Chocolate Crackle Cookies. The cookies are chocolate and covered in powdered sugar so in the spirit of my Grandma Rosetta I learned how to dye powdered sugar green. Grandma would dye everything green for the holiday – bread, butter, milk, unopened milk, your mouth… It seemed only fitting. I was, however, ambitous on how many cookies I thought I needed to make and how much powdered sugar I thought it would require. It doesn’t take much powdered sugar to coat a cookie, so I’ve learned. I am currently in possession of probably 1.5 cups of green powdered sugar that I have NO idea what to do with, yet feel compelled to keep it. That is also grandma coming out of me, for the record. I mean, it’s perfectly fine but I never use powdered sugar, so I could afford to toss it, but no. Its in a bag in my pantry. *sigh*

It’s hard to not think of rainbows when you hear St Patrick’s Day, which reminds me of my favorite story from my sister’s childhood. When she was little she saw a rainbow in the sky and told my father she wanted to find the pot of gold at the end so our family could have more money (I know, my sister is the perfect human being). Dad agreed to help and they went hiking around the neighborhood but each time they reached where they thought the end of the rainbow was, it moved. Finally after a couple of hours of this it grew dark so they came back home. My sister told this story at my fathers memorial last year ending, “he taught me in that moment to never give up, to keep pushing, to persevere against the odds.” And then a woman played, ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow,’ and we all cried (It was in that moment, I realized Stila waterproof eyeliner was a fantastic investment). For my sister’s birthday this year I bought her a locket with a line from the song, safe to say it was a hit.

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This (last) week at the gym: I’m pretty excited and proud of myself, I’m finally going to the gym. For the first time EVER it hasn’t been a struggle to go, I actually don’t mind it. Who knew? Anyways, the other day I noticed one of the personal trainers and thought he was cute. So, I’m minding my own business on the leg press machine when him and I make eye contact. I’m in between sets so I’m taking a moment to breath as this happens. What I haven’t mentioned is the compromised position I’m in on this machine – I’m sitting here with my feet planted on the press so my legs are squished tightly against my chest, more or less a birthing position ready to launch a baby out, but with clothes on, I imagine I’m also flushed in the face and we lock eyes. I’m not good at this whole flirting thing so I try to smile, but he starts to look concerned and starts towards me and that’s when it occurs to me – he thinks I’m stuck. So I start my next set, he stops and goes back to whatever he was doing prior to our awkward, I mean super romantic rendezvous… Maybe next time I’ll try to make direct eye contact on the thigh master. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, everyone needs a hobby.

Alright, I better sign off before I start rambling.

A Dog Ghost Ate My Tire…

I did it y’all. I went to the gym. I went to the gym two. whole. days. and not only did I make sure EVERYONE KNEW, but now I’m much more sore than I think I should be. I mean, I’ve leveled to no longer sitting on the toilet, I just fall on to it. Something fell on the ground? Sorry, it lives there now. Forever. You want to walk directly behind me? WHERE’S THE FIRE, BUDDY? STOP BREATHING DOWN MY NECK. But overall? Total mood boost. Couldn’t believe it. I haven’t been to the gym everyday, obviously, but on the other days I’ve gone on long walks and managed to do some sort of workout and I couldn’t be happier. So I’ll keep y’all posted on that. I did notice one dude at the gym that I couldn’t catch on video in time because I took too long awkwardly staring in shock… He was doing a sort of pelvic thrust off of a weight lifting bench with a giant dumbbell resting on his hips. I mean, this dumbbell was one of those cartoon looking ones that you rarely see someone grab because its too big. I mean, even this guy could barely bring it to the rack with both hands when he was done, I honestly thought he was going to drop it on something, er, valuable(?)… But man, he was just thrusting with this damn weight sitting there for a minute and then spent the next 20 minutes walking around. So, if you need something awkwardly small, yet heavy to be lifted by someone’s pelvis, I know a guy.

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Yesterday was my sister’s birthday and we spent it walking around LaConner which was quite lovely and peaceful. Loitered around Dirty Biter Park while up there, which is next to the former Palace Meat Market, both are actual places. The park is named after some beloved town dog from the 70’s that became the town, “hero,” for hanging out at bars, jumping in your lap and going around living his best dog life. There was a sculpture of the dog on a bench that didn’t match with the photo next to it, save it’s odd cross bite after biting in to an old tire as a puppy. I made A LOT of jokes all day about the name and came home to a flat tire on my car. No joke. But before y’all feel bad and think I’m cursed because I’m a low key jerk, or a ghost ate my tire, my car is a 2012 and those were the original tires, so I think I had done okay. I mean, hell, my tires chose to go out while parked instead of driving. I now have new tires and my car isn’t shaking anymore! Yay!

Lord, I dont deserve a vehicle.

This is a photo of myself and Dirty Biter – sorry for all the jokes at your expense!

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Alright, I gotta go make dinner. I got hungry talking about

Dirty Biter, I mean, working out.

So, now what?

I’ve been taking about starting a blog for years, so I felt pretty incredible and self-congratulatory for finally starting one and putting *one whole entry* up. I wasn’t quite expecting Oprah to hit me up afterwards, I mean not after atleast a few entries, but maybe Ellen? Who knows… I woke up the morning after and went to use the restroom *SLAM* left leg was asleep and I collapsed on the floor. Not graceful at all – my room isn’t large so I slammed in to the wall, hit my three shelf nightstand, WHY DO I HAVE SO MANY TRINKETS AND GLASSES OF WATER ON IT, hand slipped on a sock on the ground… All within seconds of me being awake.

The universe is quite excited for this blog, too. Clearly.

So now what? I mentioned learning to love myself, but how? It’s a process but I’m ready for some new changes to this. I got sober two plus years ago and saying my health and exercise routine wasn’t important prior to this change is an understatement… Since sobriety it’s remained a bit on the back burner between meetings, working, depression from my fathers passing… So I have some weight that I’ve gained that I’m not thrilled with, right? I’m not sitting here saying I’m fat, but I could stand to get in better shape. A sports massage therapist said my body was designed to birth many children – THANKS JANET, NO ONE ASKED. Also, a goal with getting in better shape is to get back on stage and perform… (I’ve danced for over 25 years and have cut back all performing the last two plus years)

Reward for reaching goals besides, I suppose, gratification? Mermaid swimsuit and clam seashell floatie so I can reach my final form – Ariel. Everyone needs a hobby y’all.

I’m not planning on turning this in to a gym blog, but I do hope to talk about it from time to time because that’ll mean I’m actually going. I bought a new sports bra this last week that I tried on once and then hid it, so I must be getting pretty serious. Note: I’m writing this while eating chocolate peanut butter cookies.

Wish my creaky knees and myself luck. XoXo

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