We are back from DC!

The last night there, we headed to Blues Alley to see James Cotton perform. We were right up front, so close to the action, blown away by the music, the band, everything about the night. Getting up at oh-dark-thirty to catch the morning flight home, of course, was another story. I hate coming back from east coast time ...

The Bug was happy to see us. And promptly, he pulled out a drawer, climbed up on the counter and sprayed something he shouldn't have into his eye. On my way over to save him, I stumbled and fell knee first into the corner of said drawer. After getting his eye rinsed out, I looked down and saw the bruised up, bloody mess of my knee. Good times, good times.

I started back with The Trainer yesterday, and I was in rough shape ... blisters on my feet and a jacked up right knee. He took it easy on me, then said, "You'll have to step it up next time!" and, appropriately, ducked.

And of course, my week wouldn't be my week without a repairman showing up for the third time to fix the same problem. This time, it's related to the microwave.

Also, I've given HDHusband a password to Blogger now. He will be posting comments and in all likelihood, I will regret having done so.

Labels: DC, HDToddler, home, music, trainer

HDHusband and I went to a friend's 60th birthday party on Saturday night. I have realized if I don't take my own picture, there will never be documented proof of how I looked from 2001 on. Therefore, a photo of me taken by me before we left for said party:





Also at the party were most of my neighbor's, and for those of you just catching up, they are usually quite bitchy and raggy. I've not seen much of them lately, primarily because I've changed my phone number and only exit my garage under the cover of darkness.

After a few glasses of wine, the following conversations occurred:

FemiNazi: Hey, I think I offended you the last time when I said I couldn't believe you had a nose ring.
Me: You did. You offend me most time you say anything, actually.

At one point, the BirdKiller (she slaughtered a bunch of birds in her back yard last spring because they weren't 'the right kind' in her feeder, I'm too lazy to link) told me she and FemiNazi had gone out for drinks at a local bar and "Gosh, we should have invited you!". They do this every time. Honestly, I'd rather have a full on root canal and listen to my husband's ridiculous Pakistani chant music than sign up for drinks with two bitchy women. No thanks.

A highlight at the party, of course, was the surprise stripper the birthday's gal's daughter had ordered. If you ever want to watch a room full of men clear in less than five seconds flat, have a man walk in the room willing to get naked for the ladies. Works like a charm.

Regarding my new work-out routine (and it doesn't involve this stipper either):

I've met with The Trainer twice. I look forward to going, because he's really a cool guy, he knows what he's doing, and the hour just flies by. On the downside, of course, I walk out with my legs shaking and a funny feeling that I won't be able to sit to pee for a while after. All of this is good - painful, but good.

Yesterday, I found myself doing lunges around the track at the gym with strength shoes on. Care to know what strength shoes are? Well, let me inform you:

Of course, mine looked a little bit different than those bad boys. Mine strapped on to the shoes I already had on. I did lunges, kicked ass, took some names later, and then passed out. You know, cause that's how I do things.

The Trainer also told me a bit about a movie he was in once with this actor, and how he used black shoe polish on his head to cover up the places he was going bald.

And last but not least:

I had a kick ass bumper sticker in the mail from Fyrchk yesterday. It read: If you are going to ride my ass, at least pull my hair. It's my new motto.

Labels: fyrchk, neighbors, party, trainer, updates

Like I mentioned a couple of posts ago, I've become a little more health-aware. Translation, when I went to put on a pair of jeans, they were too tight, and like hell is that shit going to happen.

I mentioned wanting to do cardio, but not the muscle building stuff (but hey, if that happens, then fine). My husband offered to ask one of the trainer's at our club if he'd be willing to work with me. The trainer agreed, my husband took his business card and gave it to me sometime last week. It's just been sitting there, staring back at me, ever since.

I don't like the health club. I used to go years ago and met with a trainer. She was nice, but I hated all things health club. Plus, this health club is full of all people I know from my husband's work. I wasn't the althetic girl in school. I don't do physical fitness. I'd rather be outside, walking and jogging.

But, I've hit a plateau and I need help.

Every time my husband has gone to the health club this past week, The Trainer would say, "Your wife hasn't called me yet".

Finally, last night, The Trainer said, "I could just call her if that's easier ..." , to which my husband so dutifully replied:

"No. You don't want to do that, TRUST ME. When my wife is ready, she will call. She hates the health club. You need to let her make the first move. Just like if you see a squirrel in the park and you want to feed it. You don't go all gangbusters in and try and feed the squirrel. It will only scare that fucker off. If you want it to come to you, you must move slowly and make no sudden movements. She really, REALLY despises the health club.



So, bottom line: if you try to make my wife do something she doesn't want to do, it'll be like trying to get the Russians to give up Stalingrad. It ain't gonna happen. Let her call."

My first appointment is this afternoon at 3 pm. He said he'll check my flexibility. I told him that shouldn't take too long then ....
Wish me luck!

Labels: hdh-isms, health club, trainer