My weekend kicked off with what I would consider a Hyper-Sensitive day. No, I wasn’t leaving my tears all over Philly, but I was overly in touch to what was going on around me. Some of which could have left tears.
Keep in mind what you are about to read occurred on an 8-minute ride.
I was on my way to pick up my mom for our weekly food shopping extravaganza when I noticed a “man” walking down a very busy boulevard in my area. What made me question his humanness was the fact that he was wrapped in a white bath towel from head to toe and the resemblance to E.T. was uncanny. Call Home …. Please.
As I was sitting at what seemed like the longest light in the world, a woman crossed in front of my car. She was dressed in full Muslim garb, which isn’t something out of the ordinary these days, however the extreme hooker heels peeking out from under that garb took me by surprise. I could feel the blisters forming with each step. These shoes came right out of Lady Gaga’s closet!
Still adjusting my eyes from the hooker heels I made my left turn where I had the pleasure of sitting at yet another red light. This is where a minivan pulled up next to me trying way too hard to be cool. I thought minivans are where coolness goes to die.
This poor guy had all the windows open with the radio blasting on what may be the worst sound system on the planet. His song of choice for all of us within listening distance was Pitbull’s Culo. Here is a sample of my horror:
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Lets go (Let’s go)
Right about now, we need all the ladies to hit the danceflo’ (Dominicana)
If you got a big ol’ booty (Cubana, Mexicana)
And you like to set that motherfucker, let’s go! (Colombiana) (Boricua) Pitbull, Lil’ Jon, Heey, Heey!
The fact that I recognized this song might be the scariest part of the experience!
The car behind me couldn’t get away from the impromptu concert fast enough. It just zoomed right in front of me when the light changed. But no worries she found herself next to me at the next light. So predictable.
When this happens we are obligated to turn and acknowledge such drivers with an expressionless glare a/k/a victory.
What I was not prepared for was the zombie decal covering the entire window glaring back at me. At first I thought it was sporting a friendly peace sign, then I realized it’s clawing to be released. WTF!
Once I put my heart back in place the light turned green and the Zombie mobile cut in front of me again. As I tried to justify the big hurry I noticed a gold glittered dog bone magnet that read “Groomer” going across the trunk of her car. Ok, maybe the crazy driving is due to a grooming emergency.
Just when I thought I was safe she erratically turned into an apartment parking lot. At this point, I was really hoping to see a matted dog waiting for her assistance. Sadly for my corneas the only thing waiting was a young man in a Superman stance sporting an erection. Yerp!
This is when I decided to pause, opposed to heading straight for the nearest pole. There had to be some sort of lesson hidden within all this crazy. What was CC or that cosmic comedian better known as the universe trying to tell me?
M E M O
1. Wearing a bath towel on the boulevard was a reminder to stop letting the opinions of others fuel my journey;
2. Hidden hooker heels could have been a sign to stop holding back and just let my inner hooker heels shine;
3. Poor minivan guy was a little nudge to be more of myself in spite of my current surroundings;
4. The zombie desperately trying to escape was really me knowing that it’s indeed time to move forward; and
5. Erection guy’s message was loud and clear. Confidence is the key to making your dreams come true.
Enjoy the Ride!
Over the years I have had little subtle pebbles tossed in my direction to get my attention. Sometimes they are just little dings that I usually dismiss, and other times they are more like implosions. 0 to 100 that’s me.
It’s not as though there aren’t “in betweens” so to speak, there are, I just choose not to take those too seriously, and always, always, always give other people the benefit of the doubt about their intentions. Seeing the good in others certainly has its ups & downs.
It just never occurred to me that anyone would really be annoyed by another person happy nature? Seems Effed up if you ask me.
So when people have made sly comments about my happy nature or overly enthusiastic reactions, I really didn’t take them too serious. How can anyone be annoyed by happiness?
What could be worse than that you ask? Pulling in the reins on my happy disposition to please the cantankerous crowd. Oh yes, I did!
This is an old habit of mine that has always been hard for me to break, mainly because I want to make the people around me happy, it’s just my nature. Seeing the line between them and me is the struggle. I’m a Pisces, it’s how we roll.
Last week authentic Lisa decided to go into full protest mode and she was not shy about it at all!
There I was attending an unexpected Yoga class on Friday morning. I normally can not attend on Friday because I take my mother shopping, but she called and for whatever reason changed plans. Let the DIVINE intervention shenanigans begin.
During class, we were experiencing the Fish Pose. Now, I am very new to Yoga, and almost always need some sort of adjustment to get the pose correctly. In my head I’m a rubber band, outside not so much.
I got myself into the pose, sort of like an octopus gets into a paper bag, but I did it. Gracefulness is not my forte.
My instructor came over to compliment me on my accomplishment. She stated “Look at that arch Lisa!” “I’m not surprised, you have such an open heart and happy soul.” Validation in the house.
Right after this pose we went into Savasana a/k/a the Corpse pose. Lay flat and do nothing, of course I’m really good at this one. It is the final pose where you calm your nervous system, and relax your mind and body into bliss. It’s heaven.
Well, as I entered my state of bliss I began to cry. My authentic self just lets loose from the depths of the damn closet demanding her freedom, just as I was getting my bliss on. Pay backs are a bitch.
Even Pinterest got involved slamming this quote right in my face!
The reminders are popping up everywhere I go these days, keeping me in check with myself. Hey, we can’t all be at the top of this class called life.
I started this blog ride 3 years ago yesterday, basically to document travel adventures in my husband’s mid-life crisis convertible, but the universe took the wheel for a different ride. I was not in control.
Instead this blog provided me a place to get real with myself by writing it down and bringing it to life. Can’t ignore that anymore…check.
So, here I am again making it real, learning more crap about myself and Enjoying the Ride!
Thanks to all the folks I picked up along the way, you are the best travel companions a girl could have on this bumpy road called life!
Over the weekend, we took a trip to The Philadelphia Auto Show … why? Well, because sometimes you do things in the name of love. There is a song all about it.
I knew my husband really wanted to go so I made the plans. Feel free to let out a big old awe!
I presented the plans to my husband, whom I thought would be over the moon, however that was not the case. No balloons or confetti to be found!
This is what happened next:
Me: I thought you wanted to go to the car show?
Husband: Yea, I do.
Me: So why do you look as if I just asked you to split an atom?
Husband: Because I can’t believe you want to go.
Me: Well, I really don’t want to go but I’m always dragging you places, so I thought why not.
Husband: Are you going to have “the face”?
Me: What face?
Husband: The Williamsburg Virginia face?
Me: Hahahahaha! You remember a face from 24 years ago, but no recollection if our son is currently in the house?
Husband: Well that face was memorable.
Me: Silence. Can’t argue that truth bomb!
I roamed the streets of Williamsburg VA., dreaming of all the other things I could be doing while the husband looked at EVERY SINGLE artifact in awe. Omg! The flashback is too much!
Don’t even get me started on the women making candles …. I can’t!
So, what does a good wife do? She promises not to have the Williamsburg face, but will not guarantee a lesser state of boredom face. Win win.
We went. We looked. We left. Oh and we overpaid for a soft pretzel that should have been made of gold dough!
On the way home I couldn’t wait to ask the million dollar question:
Me: How was my face?
Me: Come on I thought I did really well.
Husband: Yea, I guess it wasn’t too bad.
Me: “Wasn’t too bad!” I thought I held it in pretty well.
Husband: Yea, you did better than Virginia.
Me: In my defense I don’t care about new cars. In fact, the smell makes me sick. I just care that my car starts and gets me to my destination. Although I did like the speedometer on that Mini Cooper and the red seats in the Jaguar were cool, but I was much more interested in the people.
Husband: In that case you were very happy.
Me: Did you see the empty Gatorade bottle in the Mercedes?
Me: Did you see that guy with the gauges in his earlobes down to his shoulders.
Me: How about the pack of Newports in the Lexus?
Me: Umm … the guy with the tear drop tattoos on his face taking selfies in the Hummer?
Me: Were we at the same show?
Husband: Apparently not.
It doesn’t matter where we were or what we were doing that day, we still had a great time just being together … Enjoying the Ride!
Todays Daily Post Pens and Pencils asks the following:
When was the last time you wrote something substantive — a letter, a story, a journal entry, etc. — by hand? Could you ever imagine returning to a pre-keyboard era?
Just this week I wrote a note of well wishes to a sick friend and good luck wishes to friends who are starting a new chapter in their lives. I would consider both of these notes substantive, because they had the personal touch of the written word …. my words.
As a matter of fact, I can’t return from the pre-keyboard era because I never really left. I love giving and receiving a written note. I don’t care if it’s a simple “Pick up milk” on a post-it or a loving reminder inside a card that someone out there in the world is thinking of me on a special occasion. Handwriting Rocks!
Let me toot my handwriting horn now. My handwriting truly rocks because I went to Catholic school where penmanship was far more important than anything else on the planet. You haven’t lived until you completed an entire copybook of the handwritten alphabet!
My children, ages 20 and 21, will never ever master this craft. There are chickens in barnyards across America with better writing skills! Although my daughter had a brief stint with penmanship, my son had less.
He has voiced his dislike for my hand written notes claiming he struggles to read cursive, while insisting I print. I refuse to resort to wall drawings on his behalf!
At work I still have the pleasure of using a sharpened wood pencil, along with a date book that has real paper pages. Don’t faint.
I use these old school tools to schedule the doctor’s surgeries and I love it! Sharpened pencils make me smile, erasers … well, they make me smile even wider. Trust me, when you’re dealing with the public erasers are a dream come true.
Honestly though the pen and pencil people of the world have to have some empathy for this keyboard era. What are they going to do save a text message from their lovers on their phones? Ugh … that is just depressing.
I guess if they don’t know any different they’re really not missing anything. Ok, now that’s even more depressing.
I am grateful to have the skills to write a note; the ability to appreciate a written note; and the sense to frame a note written by my husband on our first anniversary. Husband and writing are rarely used in the same sentence.
This little beauty has acted as a reminder over the past 24 years on more than one occasion and I cherish its existence. It has also acted as a life saving tool more than once as well … just saying.
Doing things “by hand” isn’t as dirty as it sounds. So take a moment today to write a note and as always … Enjoy the Ride!
This quote has resonated with me with a force that I could not longer ignore. Why? Because it’s truth on paper, or in this case … Pinterest. I’ve kept my distance on my Blog for reasons that were just not genuine and this little reminder brought me here today. I know… I know … I know.
I haven’t been “too busy” to write. Lamest excuse evah! Seriously! I’m not out solving world peace, I’m walking dogs and washing dishes. Just doing my thang.
The truth is I’ve been away because old habits really do die-hard, especially those from our childhood. Those Mother Efers are like the Michael Myers of behaviors! Just when you think you’ve beat them down, stabbed, shot, drowned, suffocated and tied them to a train track before dropping them into a 10 foot grave, someone comes along; lets out one little comment that resurrects these assholes into spring chickens! Once again proving the power of our Words.
That’s right folks, I let the words of a small group of naysayers bring me back to a place I thought was out of my life for good. Obviously that was not the case. Apparently there are a few people in my world who read this Blog anonymously. Meaning they are not included in the 712 out and about followers.
This handful of naysayers, who prefer to lurk in the shadows of my business and later zap me with my own words when the opportunity strikes are the real story tellers. That’s right folks, because every time they open their mouths to undermine my dreams, criticize or predict my doom they are letting the world know their story, not mine. So from this moment on not one more fuck will be given about their “opinion.”
My blog was born as a therapy session outside of my therapy session, not a NY Times best seller. It’s just a little speck out in the world that allows me to dump some long overdue baggage out the window and let shit go. So if a handful of people can’t deal with that the solution is simple …. stop reading it. That friends is not rocket science.
Letting go of some baggage over time has enabled me to start growing into my own badass self and I AM NOT APOLOGIZING for being ME just because a certain crew of negative people can’t seem to handle that truth.
I have spent 2 and a half years writing 180 essays on top of 3 years of counseling trying to bring my genuine self to the surface and it’s going to take more than a few mean-spirited naysayers to bring me down. Snap!
Now let me go dig into a nice big bowl of diamonds for dinner so I can continue to SHINE ON and Enjoy the Ride!
If you’ve been reading me for some time, you already know I admit to being the Mayor of Scardy Cat Town. I’m not embarrassed by this at all, it’s who I am. Lord knows I have entertained many with my fearful experiences.
Over the weekend, as I was casually walking my little lamb chop a/k/a my dog Peanut, I noticed this fucker creeping from under the bushes. Seriously! I’m not even sure what my reaction was other than a slew of obscenities with a side of what might be considered some sort of prayer. That is if repeatedly yelling “Jesus Christ!” “Jesus!” “For good sakes!” and “Holy shit!” are considered prayers.
Random mannequin heads lurking under bushes are just one kind of fear we have to deal with in our lives. These fears are sudden and usually provide a good bit of laughter in the end. Especially when you patiently wait for the next person to walk by.
Then there are those fears that get to us via the media. They just love to plant those hearty doom and gloom seeds in our heads about planes that have plummeted into the ocean or just vanish or engulf into flames or ALL OF THE ABOVE! As if my own imaginary scenarios aren’t enough to keep me grounded!
I won’t even tread into the murky waters of the World News, that shit is just too real. Information overload can consume even the strongest of minds. Thank goodness we control the “off” switch is all I can say.
Last, but certainly not least are those fears that run deep. Those lovely little gems from our childhood or traumatic events that we just love to keep close. No, not the boogieman or clowns.
I’m talking about those haunting fears of not being good enough, rejection, failure and the rest of the negative posse. We tend to keep these close like some sort of security blanket, just in case we need another excuse to move forward or perhaps when we need to point some blame in a direction other than the mirror. Safe, easy and paralyzing.
Why the hell are there so many fears in the first place? Well, I can answer that in one word … DOUBT. You know the sudden loud voice in your head that asks all sorts of negative questions just before you are about to embark on something wonderful. Guess what people? Doubt is an asshole!
At 50 years young I am finally realizing just how much of an asshole Doubt can really be. It shows up at the worst time; stays way too long and seems to ruin everything in its path. Just think of a drunk party goer who won’t take the hint that the party is over … yep that’s what Doubt is like.
It has stopped me in my tracks, whispered “what ifs” in my ear and managed to make mountains out of too many molehills. I’m not solving world peace for god sakes!
I vaguely remember my childhood aspirations to be a teacher, a judge, or a rodeo bull rider. I know a judge of all things right? What happened to those dreams along my road to adulthood? Doubt is what happened! You’re not smart enough. You’re not decisive enough. You’re not good enough.
Of course I could drive myself crazy wondering what my life would be like living on a ranch with the Marlboro Man or blaming my parents for not recognizing my passion for the Rodeo segments of the Wide World of Sports, but what would that solve? Zip.
Instead, I have chosen to little by little muster up the courage to punch fear in the face and bitch slap doubt every time they start talking shit about my fabulousness. It’s not really that easy, but it felt good writing it.
It takes time to put our fears in their place. Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither were you so have some patience.
It’s up to you to get in the driver’s seat.
When you do decide to head down your road to happiness, make sure you buckle up right next to fear. Look back at all your accomplishments. Pick up some positive reinforcements on the way. Let the accomplishments of others blow through your hair and don’t stop until you reach your destination … the corner of Awesome & Bombdiggity sounds like a good start.
Enjoy the Ride!
I must admit that my biggest peeve so far has been the loss of my once perfect vision. Perfect …. it was PERFECT!
Of course I know that I must sound like a whining ungrateful first world person with partial vision, but I don’t care …. I MISS MY SIGHT! I do not like depending on my young eye rolling daughter for assistance in reading price tags, text messages or labels. I’m basically sending her to college to be a guide dog at this point.
Ugh, the struggles are endless. Oh, yes I did say struggle and I’m not afraid to bump it up to hardship if necessary. When I’m out and about on my own I find myself scanning the room for a set of young friendly, potentially assisting eyes. I’m convinced the Cougars out there aren’t looking for hot sex, they’re looking for a good set of eyes!
I guess you’re all saying “Get Glasses!” right about now aren’t you? Well, for your information I have glasses, but I REFUSE to wear them on top of my head, where I know they’ll be entangled in my hair, creating the potential for a bald spot or heaven forbid having them dangling around my neck on one of those decorative chains that just draws even more attention to my loss of perfect sight. Therefore, my stubbornness has resulted in me CONSTANTLY loosing my glasses.
The reason I am bitching, moaning and beating a fossilized horse on this subject is something happened to me a few weeks ago that brought this acute Mr. Magoo lifestyle to the surface full force. For the crowd under 40, Mr. Magoo was a famous cartoon character who made a fortune off of his blindness.
A few weeks ago I went out back with my love bug Peanut for his morning walk. I’ve learned the hard way to always LOOK carefully before opening the gate, because critters are always roaming around waiting to scare the shit out of me. Animals have a sick sense of humor, especially in the morning.
There was no need for me to wear glasses on this trip out back … or so I thought. Just as I was about to open the gate I noticed a beautiful blue parrot just sitting peacefully in the field. I went back in the house to grab a phone so I could capture a photo of this once in a lifetime moment. My husband was perplexed at my behavior, but I assured him my excitement was justified.
I gently opened the gate, channeled my inner church mouse and proceeded to tip toe through the grass. I couldn’t believe my luck that the bird wasn’t fleeing as I got closer. It was like he was just waiting for me. My heart was pounding out of my chest with excitement over my luck!
As I got a few feet away my EYES started to adjust and I suddenly had the sad realization that I was not going to be the one to capture this beautiful bird and collect the handsome reward that would most likely be posted for its safe return.
Nope, I was not going to post a photo of this grand bird on my Facebook page, where it would no doubt receive millions of “likes” and be shared all over the world.
Nope, my photo was not going to blow up Twitter like Ellen’s selfie at the Oscars … it just wasn’t going to happen.
Apparently I had misjudged the identification of this species, most likely due to my recent case of Magooitis, but my friend Dan, who was obviously concerned, sent my photo to the local Bird Society where it was correctly identified.
I am happy to present to you the Herr’s Blue Chip Foil, normally found in the potato fields of Idaho, but due to recent climate changes high winds this beauty landed smack in the middle of Northeastern Philadelphia where it resided until the next big wind.
Needless to say when I realized what I had stumbled upon I went down on my knees, laughed out loud and of course … peed my pants. Even though I miss my 20/20 vision a great deal, I must say having Magooitis has provided me with some great laughs while I continue to … Enjoy the Ride!
I’m sure you were all wondering if I decided to drive off a cliff with the top down after turning 50, but actually it’s been just the opposite. That’s right I’ve been out and about spending my days being nothing short of FAB-U-LOUS!
My husband hosted a luncheon in my honor at the beautiful Bridgetown Mill House, where I was celebrated by my family. I must say the best gift of the day was not purchased at any store. I know that sounds like a cliché, but it is 100% true.
There is something extremely healthy about being surrounded by people who really love you with all their heart. Truly the best birthday EVAH!
After all the celebrating I made a decision to take on some fears that have been preventing me from being the best me. Fears tend to do that you know.
It was time to pack up my younger self for a short trip down memory lane.I gave her a big “it’s been real bitch”, grabbed my aging self and ran like hell! Honestly, the “who cares” phase is so much more liberating than the “what will they think?” phase of my life.
Next up was recognizing or admitting that I’m not getting those younger years back, so I better start a hot and heavy love affair with the future real soon. Once I realized that 50 was actually the threshold to get me to the future, I came to terms with the realities. Holding onto the past is only going to leave you standing out on the porch pissed off at the world.
Below is a sample of some truths that I chose to face before crossing the threshold.
- REASON: Panty lines are no longer a big deal when you’ve been forced to wear the equivalent of a twin sized mattress between your legs for fear of peeing all over the floor during a workout.
2. I really should have taken the time to appreciate what I saw in the mirror when I had the chance. I feel as though I wasted so much time and energy focusing on my “faults” during every reflection, I never got to appreciate the whole package.
- REASON: The day will come when you pass a mirror, take a few steps back, look again and say “who the fuck is that?”
3. Now when my phone rings in the middle of the night it will not be a drunk girlfriend summoning me to a club where there is an abundance of hot available men nor will it be a hot available man summoning my booty.
- REASON: Phone calls in the middle of the night now mean two things .. DEATH or DEATH.
4. Sight is a gift that I have taken for granted. I wish I spent my youth threading more needles, reading more newspapers or just “seeing” anything and everything.
- REASON: The day will come when you realize you now have the same vision as a naked mole rat. This means that your chances of mistaking a mannequin for a live person now have better odds than you winning the lottery.
5. During my 20’s I really should have taken advantage of going braless. I should have worked the perkiness of my breasts and flaunted them to the world. They were nothing short of magnificent!!
- REASON: One day you will wake up and actually justify rolling up your now sagging breasts, placing them into a something that resembles a medieval torture contraption … just to go food shopping.
I’ll admit crossing the threshold was filled with some mixed emotions. It was like being really happy at a funeral. If that makes any sense at all. I just stood in the doorway thinking “damn this is liberating” , until I noticed the sickle of the Grim Reaper shining just a tad brighter in the distance. Back It Up Bitch!
Instead of trying to beat age make the most of it. If that means bedazzling your adults diapers … do it!
Enjoy the Ride!
I’m not sure how many of you out there had the pleasure of being summoned to your school auditorium in 5th or 6th grade for a special screening of Puberty the movie. I know if you went to grade school in the 70’s like me, you were most likely faced with viewing this mandatory film starring none other than … the Birds and the Bees. You could hear the sound relief echoing through my neighborhood as that parental bullet was dodged.
The anticipation that lead up to the screening of this not so oscar worthy film on puberty, periods and pads, was the equivalent to waiting for the answer to “Who Shot JR?” Needless to say it was a huge confusing disappointment to find out there was a painful monthly price to pay if we ever wanted to look like Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. It wasn’t all bad though, in fact the best part about the whole experience was the lovely parting gift that was distributed to the now traumatized group of Catholic school girls … a real life maxi pad and security belt. Now go back to your classroom girls, brush this information under your desk until your wedding day and go on with your day.
Although the jury is still out for me on what’s worse, growing up in the 70’s with everything being hush-hush or growing up today where kids are a Google search away from seeing it all…and then some. When my son was about 10 years old I found the words “big bobbies” in the search engine of my computer. Um, if you can’t spell “boobies” you probably shouldn’t being searching for BIG ones.
Why am I bringing this up you ask? Well, because as awkward as it was to sit through that film, I want to know when I will be summoned to view the sequel. That’s right ladies its time for Menopause the movie. I did see the musical, which was informative and hysterical, but I still have questions.
I know at this age I’m expected to be mature, read books or make appointments with doctors for my answers, but those sources do not discuss the real facts, they just sugar coat what is going to happen to your body. I want to sit down for 30 minutes, hear all the raw dirty details and leave with a parting gift. Is that really too much to ask?
It has come to my attention recently that there are a few facts out there that seem to be kept under wraps when it comes to menopause. For instance the random hairs with the texture of electrical wiring that seem to make an appearance on your body. Chin, neck, cheeks (upper & lower) and nipples…oh, yes you did read that correctly. Where are the ads, commercials, leaflets, gum wrappers…anything for that matter with this information? I guess it’s not as important as the non-functioning penis we have to hear about during every show … every damn day.
Oh, I know you’re all saying “shut up and buy a pair of tweezers Lisa!” I really wish it were that easy, but it’s not. For starters in order to see these unsightly wire-like hairs I actually need the sense of sight which was strong-armed out the door by these aggressive intruders. No one ever said I would need to wear glasses in the shower and perform a full body search on myself … ever!
Seriously, I can do a Google search to find out all the medical facts I need to know about this subject. I’m a click alway from information on all sorts of remedies to reduce symptoms, prescription drugs to stop things in their tracts, but contain side effects that will ultimately kill you and products to prevent me from melting quicker than a snowman on the beach, but not one word about the fact that I may have the ability to grow a goatee quicker than my husband. That’s a really big piece of information to leave by the wayside.
So, after all of my unauthorized research, I have come to the conclusion that between the sudden hair growth, loss of eye sight, shortage of bone density, lack of tolerance for anything remotely resembling a member of the opposite sex, foggy memory, random feelings of bursting into flames and lack of sleep it’s safe to say that in a few short years I will be mistaken for at least 6 of the 7 dwarfs or a disgruntled garden gnome. Who said getting old isn’t fun?
WANTED: Pre-Menopausal woman seeking female friends under 45 with good eyesight who aren’t afraid to point out unsightly hairs while riding shotgun with at least 6 personalities as I do my best to … Enjoy the Ride!
Greetings! I thought I would take a moment on this beautiful Fall morning to give you all a shout out and a little explanation on what I’ve been doing lately that has kept me from writing as much as I would like. I’ll just assume you are all sitting on the edge of your seats right now.
First, I’ve been working very hard trying desperately to get into shape. Something other than a rectangle. This has consisted of attending a high intensity Cross Fit class 3 or 4 times a week. In other words I’ve been a sweaty bruised pain stricken woman who feels surprisingly great. Attending this class with a great friend is a bonus, but being surrounded by a group of people who just have a way of bringing out the best in us, well that is priceless. We have both come a long way over the past 8 weeks, physically & mentally.
The key is to eat like a caveman. No grains. No sugar. No flour. Nothing from a box and brace yourself … no Alcohol. In other words, NONE of EVERYTHING I have come to LOVE. However, something tells me if there was a big fat piece of sugary cake in the cave the females would be fighting over it like a pack of wild dogs. There is no scientific proof to back up that statement, just the personal knowledge of female hormones.
So, I have been consuming meat, fish, chicken, fruits, veggies and nuts since September 23rd. Thank GOD for the likes of cocoa and coconut to satisfy my sweet teeth…yes, that was plural. I’ve been splitting my hunting & gathering between Whole Foods and Local Farmer’s Markets, which by the way can be equally as dangerous as a jungle, especially on the weekend. We can not even discuss how expensive it is to eat like a cavewoman, but then again so are visits to the doctor’s office…right? Looks like I’ll be working some over time at the quarry.
Note: I spent $9.99 on a loaf of Paleo Bread after CRAVING some sort of grain. I have concluded that price in no way determines goodness…AT ALL! I will painfully finish eating the entire loaf of
dry wall bread due to the memory of my father’s voice saying “Are you out of your god damn mind?” I remember when he would complain over the increasing price of things like milk, bread & bridge tolls, so I’ll assume he is spinning in his grave right about now. Sorry dad…
This challenge is a learning tool to be used in making better future decisions. Honestly though the transition hasn’t been too hard and I do feel very good, but come November 4th you better believe I will be indulging in a Pumpkin Muffin … made from all natural ingredients of course.
One of the other things I was able to do this month was attend my 35th Grade School Reunion. That’s right, 35 glorious years ago I graduated from 8th grade and headed into the
hell hallways of high school. Can you feel me shuddering?
One thing I know for sure after this evening is that women, at least the ones from my class, aged much better than the men. I was only able to recognize 4 on site, the rest … well, they needed to be reintroduced. Yikes! Also, the most asked questions of the night “are you still married?” and “how many times have you ben married?” All in all it was a wonderful evening filled with old friendships and laughs…lots of laughs.
Next on my list is the request to appear in Federal Court today for jury duty. Yea me…NOT! I was all prepared to spend the next (3) days waiting to find out if I’ve been chosen to serve on a federal jury. I had my David Sedaris book ready to go, just in case I needed some random outbursts of laughter to make me look a little cray cray. I worked liked a dog to clear my desk, for the sake of my co-worker who will be holding down the fort. That is a post that has yet to be written. All these arrangements only to call the 800 number yesterday and hear the words “Report to your normal place of employment tomorrow.” “Do not report for jury duty.” This was equivalent to hearing All Public & Parochial Schools are Closed, after you already did your homework. Cross your fingers that I hear that message again today!
As if I weren’t busy enough, this weekend I will participating in 2, yes 2 fundraisers. One is being held this Saturday 10/26/2013 at the Cross Fit gym and it is appropriately called Barbells For Boobs. For every $80.00 raised a woman will be able to receive a Mammogram. My participation in this challenge will be on behalf of Susie over at Susie Lindau’s Wild Ride. She knows first hand the importance of Mammograms and early detection!
The next event is a 5k walk for the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation. My family, including Pea-Wee (Peanut) will be walking on Sunday 10/27/2013 to support our neighbor Joey. He was diagnosed in February and this is his first attempt to raise some money to Stomp Out Juvenile Diabetes.
This little boy is a wonderfully sweet, smart and creative kid. He has taken on his challenge with encouragement and hope that some day he will be the one known for stomping out the likes of this disease.
Live your life and Enjoy the Ride!