Thank you for dropping by!

I truly appreciate that you've decided to share part of your day in my world. I hope your time has been well spent and I've made you smile, laugh or think.





Wednesday, February 13, 2013

True Love

I had the misfortune of having a fantastic first love.

I know, rough, huh?

He was nice, smart and treated me with respect.  And was a good kisser.

We met when I was 13 and we broke up when I was 21.  It wasn't the full 8 years- more like 3--there are cute stories in the middle that sound a bit like a John Hughes movie- but anyone else that I dated in that time frame was pretty much a filler until we worked our way back together.  Although it was sad when it ended (timing, life paths in different directions), I have to say, it was a nice run.  And the bar was set very high.

Every guy that followed suffered the consequence of me knowing what it was like to be loved- really loved.   For who I was.  All of me.  The good, the bad and the ugly.

I dated a lot of very nice guys but it was never the same.  They tended to fall in love with my resume- I look very good on paper.  There never was that genuine connection.  Kissing was nice, but the wow factor seemed to be missing.

I once commented to a guy that I was dating seriously in my 20's that I didn't have the impression that he would run into a burning building to save me.  He said that was ridiculous- that's what firemen are for and I had unrealistic expectations.  We ended up friends and when he met the woman who later became his wife he told me he finally got what I was saying. 

I broke off an engagement to a fantastic guy because I told him even though we got along great, we both could live without each other.  We also stayed friends and he is now married to the love of his life, which was not me.  I was a fun girlfriend, not a soul mate.

I had almost giving up on the idea of having that spark.  I started to believe that maybe it really was just the memory of a first love.  The newness made it special.  I really was being too picky

Then I met my husband.  There wasn't the initial spark by any means when we first met.  For me.  I completely intimidated him.  I could tell.  I found it annoying.  He seemed quiet and shy.  I was tired.

Then there was a joke-- a comment by him that caught my attention-- a spark.

So we went out again.  A trip to the park with our dogs.  And as I like to say, we started the longest conversation of my life.

Then we kissed.

Wow.

I honestly think the fact that my husband is a very good kisser has kept us married because let's face it, every single freaking day is a really, really , really insane amount of time to spend together.  But there was a spark.  A big one.

And I mean kissing, people, get your mind out of the gutter...

He got over his intimidation of my resume.  He got to know me.  The real me.  The good, the bad and the ugly. 

He laughs at most of my jokes.  Appreciates the fact that my mind goes a million miles an hour.  Respects my commitment to public service.  Knows that I um, have difficulty putting things away.  

Thirteen years later, we are happier and closer than I ever thought possible.  I cannot imagine a day without him.

Well, that's a lie-- a nice day, alone with a good book and a cup of tea every once in awhile wouldn't be hell-- but you know what I mean.

I feel bad for friends that I know that have horrible relationships where they put up with so much BS.  And they have this fantasy that people will change or the situation will get better.  I want to slap them.

No one should ever treat you disrespectfully and vice versa.  If you really love someone there aren't any mind games or passive-aggressive one-up-manship.  Yes, you may have to deal with less than perfect scenarios-- none of us are perfect-- but the person who loves you most should, quite simply love you most.  Not in an obsessive manner, but in a quiet, thoughtful and kind manner.  Any relationship may have its quirks, but at the base is the foundation of love.  Real love.  The verb, not the noun.

The kind of love that puts gas in your car when it's low.  Or washes the dishes.  Or does the laundry.  Or holds the bucket when you have a stomach bug and can't make it to the bathroom.  Or kisses you when you walk by.  Or, more realistically, grabs your butt-- even though it's twice the size it was when you married.

Ours is not Kanye-Kardashian love-- the tabloids will never hunt us down.  No one wants to see pictures of us frolicking on the beach, trust me.  But it's very real and true.

How does it go....

Love is patient.  Love is kind.

Kind.

That's the one people forget.  Gentle kindness.

Like Mr. Bean.

Happy Valentine's Day!





Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Could this be a habit?!?!

Now I've probably jinxed it....

But seriously, I tried to sleep in today and I couldn't.  I have a stupid cold coming on and I thought "Hmmmm.... I need the sleep...."  I gave myself 5 minutes- the dogs gave me 2-- and I got up and went to the gym.

I'm having an awful time at night with eating.  It's by far, the worst part of my day food wise.  Once I start, it's like I erase all the good stuff I did all day.  I definitely think the earlier bed time is the key.  Or duct tape.  Duct tape would definitely work....

The juicing is going well.  I like it.  It gives me more energy.  I've got no complaints.  My skin, which had been looking good while I did the Whole 30, is  clearing up again.  And speaking of the Whole 30, one more friend tried it and lost 12 pounds!  Way to go Vicki!!  And like everyone else her comments focused more on how she felt- not the scale. 

With that said, I really need to get back on the band wagon with it.... I'm just being lazy.

But I am not being lazy about the gym.  Sorta.  I'm not exactly killing it when I'm there, but I am noticing a difference after 2 weeks.  I can lift a little more.  The jogging doesn't suck (although seriously, unless someone is chasing me- a clown with a knife, perhaps-- I have no desire to run).  My goal is to get a better baseline and then do Crossfit with a trainer over the summer. I'll have more flexibility then.  I don't think a class will work, but 1-2 times a week with someone trying to kill me sounds good.  Well, not good, but effective. 

So to bore you with details, what did I do today--- mainly an arms day.  I used the Freemotion machine to do tricep crossovers.  Then I used dumbbells to do the crossbody pulls-- where you hold the weight in your left hand, reach down to the right of your right leg, squat, twist up and open your chest (kinda like a yoga move- warrior to triangle).  Some curls with the dumbbells (about 60- 6 variations at 10 reps) .  Throw in some walking, a little jogging and 200 ab crunches and 30 back extensions- 20 with a twist.  Oh- and 15-12-10 set pyramid of squats (on the machine-- Doug, don't yell at me-- I know I should use the free weights-- next week... I promise). I burned 360 calories according to my heart rate monitor and my heart rate averaged 132.  Again, not killing myself, but right now it's about getting in a consistent routine, building some muscle and trucking along.  

Tomorrow will be focused on cardio.  Hopefully, I can get on the rower.  So abs, rower, jogging/walking and chest.  Can't wait. 

And I'm also not getting on the scale.  Maybe once a month I'll give you an update, but it really doesn't matter.  It matters that I'm going.


Friday, February 1, 2013

And Today's New Obstacle...

First, I apologize for the excessive blogging.  I use to keep 2 blogs because I feared my fitness quest would be annoying and overwhelming, but it's too much.  As my friend Helen pointed out, my fitness quest IS part of Mama Bean's World and people can skip them if they choose. 

Okay-- so today's new obstacle in my quest to stick to a routine..... drumroll please...

My dogs.

We have 3 dogs. 

A very old Bichon Charlie who is 15 and has been given 6 months for the past 3 years.  The dog doesn't want to give up.

A very new Lab Oliver who just turned 1 and joined us in November from what my daughter refers to as the Las Vegas Lavatory Rescue. (That should be labrador in case you thought we were into salvaging toilets).

A very perfect Australian Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix Dixie who is about 3. 

It has been slightly chaotic, but honestly entertaining.  We added Oliver to the mix because sweet Dixie really needed a playmate.  It has worked out well except for a few things:

Oliver is giant and thinks he is a tiny puppy.
Oliver doesn't listen.  At all.

We are trying.  He is sweet and that saves his butt. 

Oliver also talks.  Or vocalises as they call it in Dog Lover World.

It is hilarious.

But not at 4:45. 

He also eats more than any dog I have ever lived with.  He inhales foods and then looks at you like you Oliver from "Oliver Twist" with "more, please" in his eyes.  In fact, it's why we kept his name.  It fit.

So now, when the alarm goes off, I am greeted, in the dark with this howling "FEED ME!  I AM DYING" noise. 

Did I mention Oliver is a black lab?  Or in the dark, an invisible lab?

I have to work my way through the bedroom, get dressed in the dark, avoid the giant garbling ghost who is following me and telling me to move a little faster.  Or sniffing my butt.  It might be how he says good morning in Dog World but in the dark, half asleep, it's not welcomed.

Then I to work my way down the stairs over 2 wrestling dogs.  In the dark.  One who I cannot see.  Thank goodness Dixie is light.

I'm not sure if they are trying to see who makes it first down the stairs and end up fighting about it or if they are trying to kill me.  It's a toss up.

Then, this week my very old dog Charlie has decided to awaken.  Usually he sleeps 20 hours a day.  Lately, he seems to have perked up.  So now he wants to eat, too.  He flat out barks.  And I can't feed him because Oliver will eat it.  I have to wait until we leave for the day and Oliver is in the crate or I stand by his dish which I do not have time to do........  but on to the new routine...

By now, Oliver is DYING.  He is simply starving to death and singing an aria about it.  So I feed him.  Then I try to get Dixie fed quickly, because if I don't, Oliver will eat her food as well.

And poor Charlie, barking.  So I give him his morning medication.  But of course, he also has to go out.

Which would be easy of he could walk.  He is really having a hard time.  So I have to open the door and wait for him to go out.  We're not talking 2 minutes.  This is a 10 minute ordeal. Did I mention he has cataracts and is blind?  It's dark at 5 am.  So I have to call to him so he can find his way back to the house.

And not for nothing, I love my dogs, but IT'S 5 AM AND I JUST WANT TO GET TO THE GYM AND BACK!

I don't have any flexibility on when I finish.  I have to be back by 6:15 so my husband can leave for work.  Which means I have to stop working out at 6.  Period.  No questions asked.

I don't have an extra 20 minutes in the morning for dog loving.

Call me cold hearted....

My husband has managed to leave the house early for years and Charlie never even wakes up.  But with me-- eyes wide open, feed me, I have to pee, where are my drugs.  Oliver chills after he feeds them.  It was all working out so nicely.

Until I decided to mess with it.

Because it really is the only time I have to work out.

And now, it's looking like I'll have to add more time in the morning to allow for Dog Maintenance.  Great.

I will soon be going to bed at 8.

But I am not going to give up.  As much as it sucks, I am always amazed at how much better I feel so quickly.  I was going to sleep in this morning but I couldn't.  It wasn't the best work out, but I went.  Every time I try to lift a little more, go a little faster.  It ain't pretty, but I'm trying!