Over the summer I decided to start taking a Tae-kwon-do class. Drew has been going for over a year and has really been doing great. I spent an inordinate amount of time over the weeks watching his class and got to know his instructors pretty well. Seeing as how I was a regular in the gym I suppose that made me fair game for harrassment. SO...when I say I "decided" to take TKD what that really means is I finally caved in to the constant prodding and elected for physical torture as an alternative.
I am not what one would call "in shape." I am A shape, but one normally found in beer brewing companies and not so much in nature. A long, long time ago in what I am beginning to suspect was, in fact, a galaxy far, far away I was a dancer and was in pretty darn good shape. Now I find myself winded from running 5 measly laps around the inside of the gym. Not the big fancy gym you are probably thinking...NO...think closer to 3-car garage outfitted for no purpose other than to make you cry.
Anyway, these classes turned out to be the Most. Awesome. Thing. Ever. and I can't even begin to say thank you to Matt and Shirley quite enough to fully express my gratefulness for having had them browbeat me into finally agreeing to regular beatings and ritualistic humblings. Actually, I am not sure thank you is quite the sentiment I was hoping to express, but it'll do.
So tonight in class after the TKD version of waterboarding, otherwise known as Burpees, we got to spar. I'm not very good with sparring. The only thing I have going for me is really long legs with which, in theory, I can kick my sparring partner from about 3-feet away. However, in my focused attempts to kick them I tend to forget to consider what they might be attempting to do to me. That results in my getting my ass kicked.
Tonight I got punched in the stomach. I got punched repeatedly in the face. AND...yes...that's right...I got punched in the boob.
The BOOB people. And yet...I shall return. And probably get punched in the boob again.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Frankie makes it sound so easy.
This time last year I signed up for one of those auto subscription things to a business called Massage Envy. Basically, they take a set amount of money automatically every month and in return, I get a massage. Seemed like a fabulous deal for me - I mean, a massage? Every month? With no guilt? It was the Best! Idea! Ever!
Honestly? Those massages really feel like they are free because I don't have to pay for them when I go in. Some anonymous benefactor is covering the cost. I just have to tip. WIN! Well, in a little place called "Jayna's Delusions" they are paid for by an anonymous benefactor. In reality, I am the anonymous benefactor.
This past Monday I had my massage scheduled for 8:00. My plan: I would work all day, go to my Tae-kwon-do class and then head on over for a lovely massage. I would relax and enjoy and then go home, fall into bed and sleep like a baby for at least 8 hours awaking refreshed and happy and, with luck, richer and thinner. Yeah. Nice plan. Poor execution.
My inner monologue while on the massage table sounded something like this:
Oohhh...this table is so nice and warm. I am going to LOVE this massage. This is going to be so relaxing. I am going to clear my mind. Think about nothing. Clear my mind. Think about nothing but the soothing music. Music. Music. I love music. I need to get on iTunes and download some new stuff for my phone. I wonder if I should get a new phone. Eric really wants the new 3G and it would be nice to get it for Christmas. Ugh. Christmas. I need to finish Christmas shopping. I need to go shopping period. I really need boots for work and more pants. I mean, I only have a couple of pairs that even really look good anymore and I should get some that look better and...oh wait. Clear my mind. Clear. Think about nothing. Think about static on a tv. Nothing to see. Nothing there. Just static on the tv. I really liked that episode of Amazing Race on Sunday. I hope the team with the lawyer guy lose soon. He's an ass. He obviously has issues because he is all Mr. Workout with these huge muscles and he is so mean to his girlfriend. I hate guys like that. They think it is ok to treat everyone, especially women, like crap just because they are all buff and stuff. Thing is he isn't even good-looking! He is just an idiot! He should really get therapy. Speaking of therapy. I should get physical therapy on my knees. It is really driving me crazy how they hurt all the time and I am just sick of constantly being virtually crippled and...ah, shit. RELAX! STOP THINKING! SHEESH! Clear your mind. Relax. Empty head. Think nothing. Just empty your head. Deep breaths. Deeps breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Relax. Relax. Relax. Relax. Don't do it. When you want to go to it. Relax. Don't do it. When you want to come. ARGH! Stop it! What is wrong with you woman?! Why can't you just empty your freakin' mind like normal people. Holy crap! Clearly? You are insane! Ok...ok...I AM going to clear my mind. I can do this. I can. Clear my mind. Nothing to see here. Just my empty mind. Oh, wait. She is getting ready to work on the back of my thighs. I hate this part. I can just see the cellulite puckering up in all is cottage cheesy glory and this is really embarrassing. It's just hanging out there for the whole world to see. Good thing it's dim in here. Too bad I can't walk around in flattering lighting all the time. Wouldn't that be great? Also? I think it would be awesome to have a movie soundtrack in your head. That way, you would always know what was going to happen. You could really stay out of trouble just by listening to the ominous music that always plays when the psycho killer is waiting in the next room and it would make dating so much easier. Well, I mean, if I were single. Man, I am glad I am not single. Eric is so great. I really got lucky with him. I mean, met at a bar and all that jazz. It usually doesn't work out that way and it was just like we met and it was perfect and here we are 8 years later with a son and...AGAIN with the thinking! Just take deep breaths. Really?! Obsess much? Just clear your head you freaking loser! It can't be THAT hard! All you have to do is stop with the thinking...
...and so it went. For an hour and a half. An hour and a half during which I did not clear my mind for one single second. I did; however, mentally complete my Christmas shopping list, design the perfect Halloween costume if only I were 25 pounds thinner, determine exactly how many days I would have to starve myself in order to lose said 25 pounds before the Halloween party, calculate the emergency room costs for each visit made after fainting in Tae-kwon-do class after not eating on starvation days and planned a trip to Vegas during which I would hit a jackpot allowing me to be a lady of leisure and hire a personal trainer.
I think I need to work on that whole relaxation thing. Apparantly? I am not very good at it.
Honestly? Those massages really feel like they are free because I don't have to pay for them when I go in. Some anonymous benefactor is covering the cost. I just have to tip. WIN! Well, in a little place called "Jayna's Delusions" they are paid for by an anonymous benefactor. In reality, I am the anonymous benefactor.
This past Monday I had my massage scheduled for 8:00. My plan: I would work all day, go to my Tae-kwon-do class and then head on over for a lovely massage. I would relax and enjoy and then go home, fall into bed and sleep like a baby for at least 8 hours awaking refreshed and happy and, with luck, richer and thinner. Yeah. Nice plan. Poor execution.
My inner monologue while on the massage table sounded something like this:
Oohhh...this table is so nice and warm. I am going to LOVE this massage. This is going to be so relaxing. I am going to clear my mind. Think about nothing. Clear my mind. Think about nothing but the soothing music. Music. Music. I love music. I need to get on iTunes and download some new stuff for my phone. I wonder if I should get a new phone. Eric really wants the new 3G and it would be nice to get it for Christmas. Ugh. Christmas. I need to finish Christmas shopping. I need to go shopping period. I really need boots for work and more pants. I mean, I only have a couple of pairs that even really look good anymore and I should get some that look better and...oh wait. Clear my mind. Clear. Think about nothing. Think about static on a tv. Nothing to see. Nothing there. Just static on the tv. I really liked that episode of Amazing Race on Sunday. I hope the team with the lawyer guy lose soon. He's an ass. He obviously has issues because he is all Mr. Workout with these huge muscles and he is so mean to his girlfriend. I hate guys like that. They think it is ok to treat everyone, especially women, like crap just because they are all buff and stuff. Thing is he isn't even good-looking! He is just an idiot! He should really get therapy. Speaking of therapy. I should get physical therapy on my knees. It is really driving me crazy how they hurt all the time and I am just sick of constantly being virtually crippled and...ah, shit. RELAX! STOP THINKING! SHEESH! Clear your mind. Relax. Empty head. Think nothing. Just empty your head. Deep breaths. Deeps breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Relax. Relax. Relax. Relax. Don't do it. When you want to go to it. Relax. Don't do it. When you want to come. ARGH! Stop it! What is wrong with you woman?! Why can't you just empty your freakin' mind like normal people. Holy crap! Clearly? You are insane! Ok...ok...I AM going to clear my mind. I can do this. I can. Clear my mind. Nothing to see here. Just my empty mind. Oh, wait. She is getting ready to work on the back of my thighs. I hate this part. I can just see the cellulite puckering up in all is cottage cheesy glory and this is really embarrassing. It's just hanging out there for the whole world to see. Good thing it's dim in here. Too bad I can't walk around in flattering lighting all the time. Wouldn't that be great? Also? I think it would be awesome to have a movie soundtrack in your head. That way, you would always know what was going to happen. You could really stay out of trouble just by listening to the ominous music that always plays when the psycho killer is waiting in the next room and it would make dating so much easier. Well, I mean, if I were single. Man, I am glad I am not single. Eric is so great. I really got lucky with him. I mean, met at a bar and all that jazz. It usually doesn't work out that way and it was just like we met and it was perfect and here we are 8 years later with a son and...AGAIN with the thinking! Just take deep breaths. Really?! Obsess much? Just clear your head you freaking loser! It can't be THAT hard! All you have to do is stop with the thinking...
...and so it went. For an hour and a half. An hour and a half during which I did not clear my mind for one single second. I did; however, mentally complete my Christmas shopping list, design the perfect Halloween costume if only I were 25 pounds thinner, determine exactly how many days I would have to starve myself in order to lose said 25 pounds before the Halloween party, calculate the emergency room costs for each visit made after fainting in Tae-kwon-do class after not eating on starvation days and planned a trip to Vegas during which I would hit a jackpot allowing me to be a lady of leisure and hire a personal trainer.
I think I need to work on that whole relaxation thing. Apparantly? I am not very good at it.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The kid sounds just like me -- I don't think I'm allowed to complain
There are times I love to be a parent and sometimes I even think I want another little rugrat. Eric and I have talked about adopting. We have talked about getting pregnant. We have discussed the upside. We've lamented the downside. At times we have even been known to lean just a bit towards actually going through with it.
Just when we think we are ready to take the leap Drew speaks. The kid has got a MOUTH on him.
Granted, he got MY mouth so it is hard to figure out the best way to deal with it. We have tried time-out. We have tried talking to him about it. So far nothing we have tried has worked. I am starting to contemplate duct tape.
I just wonder how some people do it. I know there are a lot of Mom's who stay at home with their kids and they absolutely love it. Or, at least, they SAY they love it. I have my doubts. I am starting to think it is all a conspiracy. All I know is that most days I am more than happy to go to work because if I have to hear one more smart mouth comment or witness one more tantrum I am seriously going to sell Drew to a gypsy family. I am sure I'd get enough to at least move someplace they can't find me once they realize what they bought and try to return him.
Honestly, I do love Drew and I wouldn't really sell him or trade him or even return to the time before him. He is the greatest thing I have ever done...I just wish I would have made him with less mouth.
*sigh*
Parenting. Ain't it great?!
For your entertainment -- here is Drew at tae-kwon-do preparing to unleash some pent up rage. Well...as much rage as your average, spoiled rotten six-year old can have.
And here are a couple more pics just because...
Just when we think we are ready to take the leap Drew speaks. The kid has got a MOUTH on him.
Granted, he got MY mouth so it is hard to figure out the best way to deal with it. We have tried time-out. We have tried talking to him about it. So far nothing we have tried has worked. I am starting to contemplate duct tape.
I just wonder how some people do it. I know there are a lot of Mom's who stay at home with their kids and they absolutely love it. Or, at least, they SAY they love it. I have my doubts. I am starting to think it is all a conspiracy. All I know is that most days I am more than happy to go to work because if I have to hear one more smart mouth comment or witness one more tantrum I am seriously going to sell Drew to a gypsy family. I am sure I'd get enough to at least move someplace they can't find me once they realize what they bought and try to return him.
Honestly, I do love Drew and I wouldn't really sell him or trade him or even return to the time before him. He is the greatest thing I have ever done...I just wish I would have made him with less mouth.
*sigh*
Parenting. Ain't it great?!
For your entertainment -- here is Drew at tae-kwon-do preparing to unleash some pent up rage. Well...as much rage as your average, spoiled rotten six-year old can have.
And here are a couple more pics just because...
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Irony
Driving home today I was slapped in the face by the full meaning of irony. And you know what? It felt pretty much the same as irritation. Go figure.
I have a ridiculous commute given that I live in Idaho. It seems that everyone in the area is trying to drive the same direction at the same time on the same day. We do have an interstate here -- I know! Right?! -- and it does get filled with cars in the morning and in the afternoon. It is sort of like rush hour in most places only instead of tall buildings you get fields. Fields filled with vegetables of one kind or another. Or cows. Or sometimes both. Unfortunately, I live in a location where driving to and from work can take me upwards of 45 minutes when the same drive takes 15 minutes on a Saturday morning. Is that the worse commute ever? No. Is it freakin' ridiculous for freakin' Idaho? Ummm, YEAH.
I tend to avoid the interstate because that is where most of the morons drive. Morons = Californians. Instead, I drive the back roads. While I get to happily avoid the morons I instead have to deal with the idiots. Idiots = farmers in pick-up trucks. It is akin to trading Tweedledee for Tweedledum. It isn't really an upgrade, but it helps you pretend you aren't hanging out with crazy.
There was a 5 car accident on the interstate during afternoon rush hour so a lot of traffic diverted to the same side roads I normally drive on. Yes. I know they aren't technically MY roads, but I have grown accustomed to driving sans morons and am, apparently, quite territorial.
I got stuck behind a very long line of cars waiting at a four-way stop sign and spent a few moments taking in the scenery. What I noticed was, in fact, the definition of irony.
To my right - corn field. Tall, tall rows of corn and if I hadn't been so irritated by the traffic I might have actually been a bit afraid that some crazed child name Ezekiel or Malachai or Amos would come running out with a scythe and try to kill me.
To my left - muddy pasture with cows. And horses. And two men riding horses. Horses that were moving much, much faster than I was. And I was in a car. With an engine. That was running.
In front of me - large pick-up truck, dead stopped in traffic, during rush hour, with windows rolled down in 90-something heat and the vanity plate read ESCAPN.
If that ain't irony folks. I don't know what is.
I have a ridiculous commute given that I live in Idaho. It seems that everyone in the area is trying to drive the same direction at the same time on the same day. We do have an interstate here -- I know! Right?! -- and it does get filled with cars in the morning and in the afternoon. It is sort of like rush hour in most places only instead of tall buildings you get fields. Fields filled with vegetables of one kind or another. Or cows. Or sometimes both. Unfortunately, I live in a location where driving to and from work can take me upwards of 45 minutes when the same drive takes 15 minutes on a Saturday morning. Is that the worse commute ever? No. Is it freakin' ridiculous for freakin' Idaho? Ummm, YEAH.
I tend to avoid the interstate because that is where most of the morons drive. Morons = Californians. Instead, I drive the back roads. While I get to happily avoid the morons I instead have to deal with the idiots. Idiots = farmers in pick-up trucks. It is akin to trading Tweedledee for Tweedledum. It isn't really an upgrade, but it helps you pretend you aren't hanging out with crazy.
There was a 5 car accident on the interstate during afternoon rush hour so a lot of traffic diverted to the same side roads I normally drive on. Yes. I know they aren't technically MY roads, but I have grown accustomed to driving sans morons and am, apparently, quite territorial.
I got stuck behind a very long line of cars waiting at a four-way stop sign and spent a few moments taking in the scenery. What I noticed was, in fact, the definition of irony.
To my right - corn field. Tall, tall rows of corn and if I hadn't been so irritated by the traffic I might have actually been a bit afraid that some crazed child name Ezekiel or Malachai or Amos would come running out with a scythe and try to kill me.
To my left - muddy pasture with cows. And horses. And two men riding horses. Horses that were moving much, much faster than I was. And I was in a car. With an engine. That was running.
In front of me - large pick-up truck, dead stopped in traffic, during rush hour, with windows rolled down in 90-something heat and the vanity plate read ESCAPN.
If that ain't irony folks. I don't know what is.
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