Professional Excuse Maker for Hire

In short, I suck at the gym.

A year ago, I joined a gym in the next town over from me.  I had high hopes, and, per usual, they fell short.  I went maybe once a weekend, almost never during the week.  It did come in handy for hot showers when we lost power for a week last summer.  But it just wasn’t convenient.  It wasn’t near the train, and it wasn’t on my way home from my job when I moved to RI.  Can you be a professional excuse maker?  Between that and worrying, I’m the best ever.

So, when my one year contract was up, I joined the gym at BAC.  Its cheap, and how much more convenient can you get?  Plus, I could run or walk during the day and shower before going back to work.  They even have towels and soap/shampoo provided.  Really, no room for excuses.

Ha.  Every Monday, I dutifully drop my bag off in the gym.  And every Friday, I faithfully pick it up.  It doesn’t move in the five days in between.  I open the door on Friday, and say hi to the girl at the desk.  When I do, I picture her thinking, “oh, good, she’s coming to work out.”  And then I feel as though I disappoint her when I slink out with my bag, avoiding eye contact.  I like to try to convince myself that she doesn’t know that I didn’t work out every day that week, maybe I’m just exhausted.  Maybe I spent 2 hours at the gym in the morning.  Who is she to judge?

But in the end, I head for my car (which is a long walk away, for the record.  And I take the stairs in the garage.  Take that gym judger) and home to my Chinese take out.  And I promise myself I’ll be better, yet cry a bit each month when the money for the gym is deducted from my checking account and I realize I’m averaging $20/visit.  I’ll go this week, I swear.

The Business of Being Baxter

When we got Baxter, I knew it wouldn’t be cheap.  He hadn’t had any shots and wasn’t fixed, and we had no dog supplies at all.  So I knew, roughly, what to plan for.  These were the things I didn’t expect:

 

One trip to the ER after John stepped on a nail chasing Baxter through the woods, plus antibiotics and a trip to McDonalds to ease the pain: $175

 

One phone call to the Pet Poison Hotline when Baxter ate an undetermined amount of my pre-natal vitamins: $65

 

Shoes of various kinds and sizes: $50 (Luckily, I like cheap shoes)

 

One dog bed, lifespan of 2 weeks: $15

 

Two harnesses, chewed off in desperation by the poor soul left alone for hours in his crate: $30

 

Three retractable leashes that proved no match to the strength of a 15 pound puppy: $15

 

One Build-A-Bear Puppy, who was humped shamelessly before he had his face chewed off: $30

 

One butter crock and one piece of pottery from our honeymoon to Costa Rica: $30 (plus tears)

 

He is really, really, lucky he’s so cute.

Once Again, I’m Back and I’ll Be Better

Did you miss me?  Here’s what’s been up in Beer Me Strength-land:

This little baby ball of fur:

Is now this giant beast:

Baxter now weighs around 45 pounds, and we think he’s a boxer/shepherd mix.  He’s about 5 months old, and very much a puppy, despite his growing size and strength.  He’s not even a little bit graceful – he’s just a big, clumsy mutt.  If he wants to be somewhere and you’re in his way, he walks right into you.  He barks at the doorbell on TV, he runs into walls, and he thinks lotion on someone’s legs is a special treat.  He loves other dogs, and especially loves the dog park.  He’s still a lot of work, we have to watch every little thing he does, but he is growing up and getting better and smarter.  He graduated from Puppy Kindergarten,  knows some tricks, and loves his crate (unless Uncle Greg is babysitting).

Aside from chasing after Baxter constantly, some of the things while I’ve been on hiatus include:

• We rang in the New Year with Chinese food, Baxter and Dick Clark.  Look how thrilled he was:

• My BFF had her twins in January, and after a stay in the NICU, they’re home screaming their baby heads off.  They’re adorable, and clearly love me the most.
• After a few months of being a stay at home dog dad, J found a job he loves, and we’re all adjusting to a regular schedule once again.  Baxter stays in his crate all day and wreaks havoc at night, J & I are back to sharing household responsibilities (rather than him doing 90% of them) and I am getting used to starting my own car in the morning.  Okay, I was a little spoiled by his work hiatus, but he’s really happy to be back at work, and its working out well.
• Since J has a new job and doesn’t want to take vacation yet, we took a weekend trip to Burlington, VT, to eat, taste beer, and hang with the dirty hippies.  We left late on a Friday night, and didn’t get there until midnight.  I hate long car rides, and was not thrilled.  But we had a blast Saturday and Sunday, eating gingerbread pancakes, cheese and bread, and awesome pizza.  We did a lot of walking, and took tours of Magic Hat and Ben & Jerrys.  It was an excellent fatty vacation.  And probably our last, since Baxter was so poorly behaved we lost the one person willing to dog sit for him.  Oh well!
• I’ve probably been doing a million things since I’ve been absent from blogging, but the biggest one is creating life.  From the mouth of Baxter:

Look how excited he is!  Someone new to torment & harass (and hopefully not eat, we’re working on that!)

J & I are thrilled that our baby girl will be here at the end of August.  I’m a little freaked out by the thought of a mini-me running around and treating me the way I treated my mother when I was a miserable teenager, but I’m trying to not look too far ahead.  I’m focusing on the important details, like: What color dress will she wear home from the hospital?  Will owls in her room scar her for life?  Why is it so hard to find bedding I like?

Focusing on the little things helps me not worry about every little pregnancy detail.  I’ve had a remarkably easy pregnancy so far, no sickness, no exhaustion, no excuses not to make dinner.  Everything is going well, I’m just a professional worrier.  And pregnancy is proving just how crazy worried I can get.  Aside from the fact I’m 90% sure I’ve gained too much weight (is this a surprise?  That fat kid inside of me loves this excuse to not diet, and she loves ice cream, so its kind of a given), the anxiety is the worst side effect I’ve had, so I’ll take it!

As I always promise when I’ve been away for a while, I’ll be better.  And I also promise the following will not happen now that I’m pregnant/about to have a child:

• You will not see the inside of my uterus via ultrasound pictures
• You will not see those weird 4D ultrasound pictures (because I won’t shell out the money for them, they creep me out)
• There probably won’t be a birth story, and if there is, it will be vague and leave out any details that would make you cross your legs
• After the baby comes, I won’t tell poop, puke or pee stories in graphic detail
• This won’t be a baby blog.  This will be a blog with a baby character.  I will still do/write about fun things that don’t revolve around the baby.

So there you have it.  I’ll be back to whine next week when my doctor puts me on a diet!  WIsh me luck!

Good Things

Since my last post was full of bad stuff, I figured I’d give you a good one to help balance out the universe and all. I do spend more of my time on things I like, as opposed to hating on Brett Favre, you know.

The big news is, I got a new job! I’m still at BAC, but will be moving to the office closer to home. I’ll be going from a 1.5 hour commute each way, to 25 minutes. I can’t wait to get 10 hours of my life back each week. I, of course, will spend that 10 hours working out, and will be nice & skinny ASAP, which is why I’m eating everything i sight now, to bulk up. More to come on the transition in the coming weeks!

OAR’s new album, King, drops on August 2. I pre-ordered it, and then learned (via the beauty of Twitter) that you can stream it for free on Rdio. Guess what I’ve been listening to non-stop? The concert in Boston is August 10, so I’m psyched to still be working in Boston that week.

I have some friends with some really great things happening in their lives right now, and I can’t wait to be a part of most of it.

My hammock. I puffy heart love it, especially now that my butt doesn’t hit the ground. My in-laws just left, it’s a beautiful night, and I am happily lounging.

Life is good.

Paint poll!

We’re re-doing our laundry room. We bought three paint samples. I don’t think I like any of them. What do you think?

(yes, I know the yellow is almost the exact same yellow as we have now)

Good Things

I got an iPhone. I’m blogging from the bike on the gym. How cool am I?

Speaking of the gym, I took a group groove class last week. I was awful, but it was fun. I feel like it’s step two on my road to being a hip hop dancer. Step one was mastering Just Dance 2.

I think we are in spring. You can see the grass, and the plow guards are put away, so that’s a plus. I ran my regular route yesterday, with no snow in my way. The sidewalk was full of rocks, which hurt, but overall, a good sign.

This weekend, we are going to see my current favorite band, OAR. I plan on going home with the lead singer. Don’t tell J. I have my flip video camera ready to go, so look for videos in a week or so.

We’re planning a family trip to Vegas. Based on how the planning is going, I can safely say this will be the last family trip we take.

Running Goals

I’m a slacker.  I can’t believe that I trained for Boston through the winter a few years ago, and now I haven’t run outside since December.  I think I ran on my treadmill a handful of times, and did some P90X and OnDemand videos, but most of my exercise has come from shoveling snow.  In my defense, I live in an awful place for running outside.  I have to go on the main road to get anywhere other than the 1/2 mile loop in my neighborhood.  And that main road does not have shoveled sidewalks, so I’m kind of screwed.  I don’t mind the cold, but I hate the thought of being hit by a car.  Call me a weenie if you like.

But I’m fed up with the snow, and I’m joining a gym (I think).  I may not use their treadmill more than I use my own, but I may feel some guilt about spending money each month and still not going.  I felt that guilt at home until the treadmill was paid off, its faded since then.

To help motivate myself, I’ve composed a list of races I plan on running this year.  I’m aiming for 12, and still have some spots open.  My plan is to update you, and the list, with my results, and then you can laugh at me.  I’m pretty sure I’ll get to 12, since races always pop up over the summer, and I’m sure I’m leaving out some others.  I’m going to look for a good July 4th race this year – I miss running the Hingham 4.6 miler.

February:

(I’m potentially attempting a 10K this weekend, but having issues signing up)

2/20 – Old Fashioned 5K/Foxboro

 

March:

3/5 – Irish 5K/Pawtucket

3/19 – St Pats 5K/Providence

 

May:

5/1 – James Joyce Ramble 10K/Dedham

OR

5/1 – Cox 5K/Providence

5/29 – Run to Remember 5m/Boston

 

July:

7/29 – Blessing of the Fleet 10m/’Gansett

 

August:

8/7 – Rock n’ Roll HM/Providence

 

September:

9/18 –  CVS 5K/Providence

 

November:

? – Mews Tavern Gear n’ Beer 5K/Wakefield

11/24 – Gobble, Gobble, Gobble 4m/Somerville

 

(I’m also thinking about the Disney Wine & Dine half on 10/1.)

 

So there you have it.  Hold me accountable, people!

My Love/Hate Relationship with Tony Horton

Last summer, in between vacations, I decided to buy P90X.  P90X is a twelve DVD exercise program that focuses on “muscle confusion.”  You work out 1-1-1/2 hours a day, six days a week, with one rest day.  Each week you usually do three lifting workouts that you combine with a 15 minute ab workout, two cardio workouts, and one, torturous, hour and a half long yoga workout.   The “recovery” weeks are yoga, core work, and cardio only.

All of these workouts are led by Tony Horton, a man with a small head and a giant body.  He’s not bad-looking for someone almost as old as my father, and he has the added bonus of being from the greatest state in the nation (RI).  But he’s a monster.  The man is nuts.  The DVDs are crazy hard, and then he takes it up a notch.  At one point he would do a push-up, launch his whole body off the ground, clap, and come back down into a push-up.  I just stared, and cried  a little inside.

I had dreams of losing 20 pounds, being able to do pull ups, and wearing a bikini in St Lucia.  I got up almost every morning at 5:15 am to work out with Tony & his crew before catching the 7:22 train.  I transformed my basement into a gym: I bought weights and a yoga mat, and strung up a band on top of the lolly columns that hold our entertainment center to do a modified pull up.

I sweated through the summer.  I couldn’t move the first week of the program, but I still stuck to the workouts, even when I was fairly certain my ab muscles were going to rip apart.  I wanted to cry during the hour and a half yoga DVD, especially when the dude in the dreadlocks tied himself into a pretzel with no effort.  The only pose I could master was the corpse pose at the end – where you lie silently on your for a minute.  I love that pose.  I grew to strongly dislike some of Tony’s minions on the DVD alongside him.  Don’t even get me started on Dreya and her stupid “World Famous Dreya Roll” on Core Synergistics.

I faithfully weighed myself every week.  I think I lost two pounds all summer.  I took “before” and “during” pictures.  They looked exactly the same.  In all fairness, I wasn’t eating well.  I sure as heck wasn’t following the P90X diet.  I was all set with cooking up 10 egg whites for breakfast & paying Tony for his “recovery drinks.”  I was also clearly unwilling to give up alcohol.

Despite the lack of the perfect beach body, I felt good.  I felt stronger than ever, and, even though I despised getting out of bed at 5:15am (I despise getting out of bed at 8am too), I had more energy and just felt good about myself.  But then we went away, and the resort didn’t have a gym, but they did have lots of fruity drinks, and, you know how it goes.

Along with every other person on the planet, my New Year’s resolution is to lose weight.  And I’ve learned the hard way that means eating well and exercising.  I’m not ready to make a full committment to Tony yet, I may cheat on him with his Beach Body buddy Shaun T of Insanity, but I did do Core Synergistics this morning.  And remembered how much I love and hate Tony Horton.  It’s a good thing I have tomorrow off, because I will definitely be hating on him when I can’t use my ab muscles to get out of bed in the morning.

Why Pets Shouldn’t Be Allowed on Public Transportation

http://www.boston.com/news/local/breaking_news/2011/01/woman_seeks_hel.html?p1=News_links

 

I really have no words.

No Cheeses for the Mices

J & I each have outside jobs.  His are mostly mowing the lawn and doing anything I deem too hard or too gross.  Mine are weed killing (whacking & pulling) and buying and accidentally killing lots of plants & flowers.  I also clean out the shed each summer.  Its a small shed, but I like to take everything out, make it easily accessible, and sweep.

This year I set out on my task a few Saturday mornings ago, while J was out buying gas for the lawnmower.  I moved everything on the floor outside, then started pulling down the stuff J put up on the shelf that’s about 8 feet high.  Obviously, I had to stand on a chair to get the stuff down, and heave it over my head.

Once outside, I knocked over a blue trash bun with some cushions & a tablecloth shoved in it.  A tiny mouse ran out.  I did a typical girl recoil, but did not scream.  My neighbor was outside, and I didn’t want to seem too weird.  I tried not to focus on the fact the barrel they were living in had just been over my head moments ago.  And that if a mouse had jumped out and landed on me, I would have fallen off the chair, wet my pants, and spent the rest of the day crying in a ball in a corner.  I don’t overreact much or anything.

Then I pulled out the chewed to pieces tablecloth and the poop stained cushions.  And another mouse ran out.  I screamed a little then, and kind of danced around in a panic.  I walked away from the scene of the crime, and debated texting J and begging him to hurry up.  But I kept my cool, went into the shed and finished my job, jumping a mile when J returned.

I understand that mice can be cute, and harmless, and if they’re in the shed they’re not really bothering anyone.  I don’t care.  I don’t like them, and I don’t want them living anywhere near me.  Any property I own should only be occupied by myself, J, and any domesticated animals or children we may elect to have.  Nothing else (that includes the spider watching me shower last week too, by the way).

So, we went to Home Depot and bought that nice, “humane” poison that makes the mice thirsty and they go far away for water and die peacefully in their sleep.  Where I don’t have to see them or dispose of their bodies.  I think we were supposed to use 2.  We put out 12.  Better safe than sorry, I always say!  The dead bunny on the lawn might have disagreed, he was an unfortunate mistake.

I haven’t been out to the shed this week, but I’m hoping nothing else is turd covered or chewed.  Because then things might get nasty.

(title is from a line in a song in A Muppet Christmas Carol, sung by Rizzo the Rat.  It might be the best version of A Christmas Carol ever).