Archive for the ‘ritual’ Category

Can’t get away fast enough…

I think that in a past life I was some kind of wood nymph or a bit of wind that moves leaves about and messes up your hair. No. I’m not getting corny on you. I’m just trying to come to grips with the fact I can’t seem to be content in the same spot for very long. Or at least the same spot that isn’t offering much in line of, well — life…

Ever see that movie Chocolat? I kind of feel like that. Like I need to keep moving…

With new developments at work, my life and the fact that I’m always wanting to see and learn more, I’ve pondered a few potential places of relocation. Because of it, I’ve not been a very good blog friend and need to catch up on all my reading here. I’ve been quite busy on journalismjobs.com. First pondered move? Alaska. That’s right. All I can keep thinking about is the beautiful scenery of Juneau. The photographic possibilities are ENDLESS…

There are other places too. I’ve received some interest per email and will let you know what turns up. What may turn up is nothing. And I stay here in the scenery flat tumbleweed of Texas. But I’m still seeking everything out like some kind of driftwood who has had just about enough of her share of being banged up against all the currents. 

I know life isn’t smooth anywhere you go. But if that’s the case, I at least want to be doing my not-so-smooth life somewhere with potential beyond the newest bottle service, overly priced martini lounge.

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Day 53: The moment of truth

5e2ad5283e968e3d32e7ff342cac848c.jpgHappy Gobble Gobble Day everyone.

I hope you have stayed thankful today. I have. I’m thankful I worked my brains out for over a week to get to this day and not be as worried about the food. I’m sitting here at the family’s house now, just pondering all that dressing. That’s the best part. Mom’s dressing. And I’m sore as hell all over from overdoing the routine so I can avoid the guilt of stuffing my face — so to speak.

I brought a little something too. Sweet Potato Thangs. Out here the lady who makes them also made a life-sized bride cake. We did a story on her and her family, both are absolutely delightful. And so are these “thangs,” which by the way I’m about to gobble on as soon as I’m done here. Come Day 54, trust and believe I’ll be hitting the gym before other day-off festivities begin. Namely the birthday celebration I’m concocting for one of my friends which can only mean more calories — only this time calories brought on by martinis.

I hope you are all having a pleasant day of merriment and that you won’t overdo it like I plan hope not to do.

Day 16: Suck my kiss and tummy rubs

So it’s Day 16 and I almost didn’t hit the gym being that I had work and errands to run. By the time I got there it was nearly 11 p.m. — which assured me I would be the only one there.  I climbed up on the balcony to reach the stereo planted up high in the wall (don’t know why they feel like only short people steal) and I placed my Blood Sugar Sex Magik into the player. Then after a little stretching, I got on the machine of hell PRECOR elliptical monster and got pumping. I picked the hardest level of course because as you know from Day 15, I was overcompensating. By the time I’m at the highest hill, Anthony Kiedis is screaming “suck my kiss!” and I’m clasping my hands as if to pray  (something I rarely do anyway) because damn this is starting to hurt.

Then some guy walks in — right at the crescendo of Flea’s guitar. Because I’m a polite gym bitch, and my being nice may shock you, I tell the guy he can turn it off. He insists I was there first so it was up to me. Of course I tell him it’s OK even though the only thing keeping me on that friggin’ machine was that CD — well that and the fact that I saw my back this morning and realized I don’t need that much spine coverage. The redeeming part of this tale is the guy was at least decent looking. He decided to search out a show on the television but I don’t think I heard him ask me what I would prefer to watch. I figured since I was so damn nice, if he landed on something I hated, I would tell him. He decided on Dirty Jobs, which pleased me.

So the guy gets to stretching and I see he is taking off his cap and I realize the view is looking better. Then once on the rowing machine he takes off his shirt and gets going. Yes, my last five hills were a bit more pleasant somehow even though I was trying not to look — which I managed to accomplish because my hair kept getting in my face and you would never know the corner of my eye was gawking a tad bit. Then an older guy walks in and the two of them seem to know each other. This one is in shorts and pretty fit for whatever age I  figure he was and I became intimidated by his speed on the treadmill. By that time I was really ready to go — too much testosterone.

When I got into the apartment, I finished up on my crunches. Tiger Lily decided to find her way to my stomach to hang out. Maybe to help because she kept kneading my tummy. As if she could push my gut down. But I think even Lily knew that was a tough feat and slowly she walked away to the window instead. Yet another mixed emotion countdown day, but I feel the progress coming on. I’m going to have to really give it everything because alas, Thursday is one last day at the State Fair.

Day one at the apartment gym

So the new apartment has a gym. And not any kind of apartment gym that may as well be a closet with some equipment in it. You can actually breathe in this one. And there’s a great view of all the foliage and the creek surrounding the complex. I have to say all of this makes life a little easier working out.

Prior to this gym, I was working out at Curves. Yes, as you may have stereotypically pegged — Curves is really more for the mature ladies. I used to think this was just a stigma that was attached to Curves by the naysayers of their 30-minute circuit approach. But I think I was the only under 40 chick there and the only one that wasn’t a school teacher. And even though they tell you that 30-minute circuit is as good as a REAL gym, I think they are wrong. I never felt like I really pushed it like I would at a regular gym.

Plus one thing all Curves around here share is crazy hours not fit for chick that has no real set 9 to 5 schedule. The hours are only fit for who my father says are “respectable women.” Don’t misunderstand. He’s not saying I’m not respectable (well I don’t care if I’m not, hahaha) but that mainly that’s the whole angle of the Curves franchise. The hours are pretty much for housewives, teachers, secretaries and veterinarians. Anyway, I’ll miss those ladies and their crazy neighborhood gossip

Other than fighting off a spider hanging from the lat machine, the workout went well and I’m sure the thighs will be sore in the morning. I like the burn. And I have to add that all of this is either ironic or appropriate after going on about the food at the fair earlier today.

the pressure of walking on eggshells

You wouldn’t think I would give much of a poo to walk on eggshells when my blog clearly reads as someone who says what she wants. But that isn’t ALWAYS the case. Maybe that is why I’m here.

Recently I discovered the agony of trying not to say something you are aching to say and in turn nodding in agreement and/or trying the most painfully diplomatic way to communicate a point or answer a question. My boss had me doing this after he asked me my thoughts about a coworker. I felt like I had just given birth by the time I tap-danced around all those damn shells that fell before me. Situations and people will make you do this — even when in most of your life you say what is on your mind. Guilty as charged. You have to do this because it keeps things as smooth as possible. 

But when you don’t, it just makes things harder for you because usually, and not so much in the case of work, who you are doing this well-crafted dance around has a history of taking you out of context…lost in translation. And a lot of times compounding that with the assumption that everything said has something to do with them when it never did in the first place. And when they do this, they can’t ever let you forget it. So for the most part you just learn to nod. It’s easier and you keep the peace, making sure not to stray too much from this ritual because you know it will not end well if you do.

I don’t think I can do that anymore. Unless my shell dance meant making the choice between keeping my way of life and walking around with a “Will work for food sign.” Otherwise doing all that shuck and jiving will eventually make you fall to your knees.