So I Went to the Gym...

 Not voluntarily! Brie's car is in the shop so I had to take her to teach her dance/ fitness class. And she figured since I would be at the gym anyway, why not come in and work out? Um...because I wanted to sit in the car and read?

No such luck. I reluctantly followed her inside, signed in and had my temperature checked, changed into a pair of slightly not big enough sneakers (couldn't find mine so wearing Brie's) and then she led me to the back room that had treadmills and ellipticals and recumbent bikes. I was glad the room was empty because it had been a long time since I'd been on a stationary bike. But I had a Harlequin and a bottle of water so I was ready!

The recumbent bike was one of those new-fangled ones with lots of settings and such, so Brie set it up for me. "And mom it even has a fan!" "Oh good, turn it on because you know I run warm anyway." She did and it felt great! Then she set up the speed and the timing and the cycle and God only knows what else and then pronounced me ready. I commenced to cycling, gave her the thumb's up and began my workout.

I pedaled and pedaled, feeling good about myself. I looked at the timer: hmm, only 56 seconds had gone by. I pedaled faster, looked at the timer: one minute 12 seconds. Ugh. So I decided to read to make the time go by faster. However, that didn't quite work out for me because it was tiresome holding the book. So I put that down, took a sip of water and wondered why I was warm. Oh, the fan had gone off, Seriously. So I turned that back on. The TV was on the Tennessee / Auburn basketball game so I decided to watch that. I noticed my pedaling was down to 20 rpms. Whatever. Good thing I was alone because I had no one to impress.

Of course, as soon as I thought this, a gentleman came through to use the restroom. "How ya doin'?" he called cheerfully. "Great!" I said, picking up speed and pedaling furiously so he would know I was a serious cyclist. I even managed to keep up that pace until he came out, said "have a nice day!" and left the room. I was doing 70 rpms but backed off of that as I huffed and puffed. Man, I hope he's the only one that came through! But he wasn't! Probably five guys came through so I was like screw it! I don't have to impress these gym rats! However, I have a secret competitive streak, even with myself, so I not only pedaled faster to impress anyone that came walking through. But also to actually burn some calories. And eureka: I did! 62 to be exact, by pedaling four miles in 30 minutes. Not exactly my all-time best (I used to go 10 - 15 miles in spin class) but pretty good for a lady with bad knees and a long hiatus. So good for me!

And this past Saturday I went back! I am a warrior! I set up that bike myself and vowed to keep my rpms to at least 50. I was doing well, until the cute guy from the front desk came in and got on the bike one down from me.  Hmm...out of the corner of my eye I noticed him pedaling at a pretty good clip. Well two can play at that game! So I immediately started a contest with him (of course he was unaware) and I matched my pedaling to his. However, I had been on the bike for almost 15 minutes and he was fresh (and young!), so I couldn't keep up his pace. BUT he also only stayed on for less than 15 minutes while I was almost at half an hour, so I won the contest! Of course he'll never know unless he reads this blog post, or we start dating ha ha.  But the important thing is: I WON!

And I really did win because this Saturday I did almost 5 miles in 35 minutes and burned 84 calories. I'll take it! I'm getting there, and it's better than sitting home doing nothing and hoping I don't gain my lost weight back.

And just for fun: the first Saturday I saw those big ropes that you see people on Biggest Loser and sports commercials use. So even with my bad left shoulder I still had to give those ropes a try. They are heavy but I was so pleased to be able to do even a small bit with my left arm. I was killing it!

So until Brie either a) gets her car fixed (ETA end of April due to a part shortage); or b) gets a new car, I will be at the the gym at least every Saturday. And who knows? I could even add a couple of extra days. Go me!

Is This Weird?

All of my life people have told me that I have a weird way of eating. I have no idea why they would think that. I have always eaten the way I've eaten. But after a discussion with Brie earlier (I'm sure she is still laughing) I said, "I'm going to blog about this later, aren't I?" to which she replied, "You have to!" So here it is.

My first memory of "unusual" eating was probably when I was around four. Marie made me a sandwich and cut it diagonally. I picked up one half, started with a corner, and nibbled 4 times. Then I chewed what was in my mouth. I ate that sandwich corner by corner, nibbling four times each time. Was there relevance to the number four? Nope. Just the beginning of weird eating. My father said I ate like a rabbit. He was right! Anything hand-held got four nibbles at a time. Seriously.

Smarties were my favorite candy as a kid. So of course I had to separate them and eat them by color. Green ones, orangy ones, yellow ones, white ones, purple ones and saving the best: the pink ones, for last. Same with M&Ms: separated by brown ones, green ones, yellow ones, red ones and the favorite: blue. Life savers, sweet tarts, candy necklaces and the like were the same: segregated and eaten with their own kind!

Let's see if I can explain how I would eat my favorite childhood cookie: the Oreo. Try to stay with me. I was never one of those dunk it in milk kids. Oh no: I had an entire system. I would take the cookie and "unscrew" it. Then I would take my bottom teeth and lift up the creme and eat it. Then the cookie side that was left that might have a tiny spot of creme, I would put in my mouth smooth side down and suck on it until it was soft. Then I would chew it. The side that had no hint of creme I would then put in my mouth word side down, suck on that until it was soft and then chew it. (now we know why I'm the slowest eater in the world)

But what got Brie going today was how I eat my lunch salads from my work cafeteria. Due to covid (isn't everything?) the lettuce is already in the plastic containers so you just choose  your lettuce. I am a Spring Mix kind of gal. Then when they take off the lid to add whatever I wish to add, I have them take approximately 2/5 of the salad out and put it on the lid. Then I have them add turkey, ham, grilled chicken, corn, egg, shredded cheese and walnuts in the middle. Add some salad dressing (today it was Italian). Then I have Nicole put the rest of the lettuce on top and add some more salad dressing. This way I have to work to get to the good stuff so it's a nice surprise when I get there 😉 Yep: there is a method to my eating madness! Now when the ladies see me coming they know to automatically take out the Spring Mix container and remove the lid.

I could go on and on, and on but I think you get the drift. However, there is also the other end of the spectrum which is foods I wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole as a kid. Like spaghetti because it looked suspect. Like cheez doodles because they looked like caterpillars. Like hot dogs because the ends looked suspect. Pork because I never thought it was cooked long enough and you know what happens if you eat improperly cooked pork. Corn on the cob because a cousin was shucking the corn and there was a bug in it. Rice because it looked suspect. Raisins because once I saw some that had been sitting too long and they started to move. I'm telling you I ate pretty much nothing and subsisted on air when I was a child. However, if you've seen me you know I eat more than air now! Yes I got over my weird childhood food phobias. But not exactly my food OCD behavior. Some still linger...but I'm not going to tell you which ones!

Westward Ho!

 

On Saturday Keith came over to hang out for a bit. I’m never quite sure how to entertain him because we’ve never been close, but I strive to be a good hostess. I asked him if he wanted to watch something on TV. I said, “I know you watch those channels way up on cable. What do you watch on Saturdays?” He answered, “Well they have a western channel that I think starts at around 2000.” I turned to channel 2000 and then starting clicking up. And sure enough: westerns were on a particular channel. And I mean the westerns of our childhood: Bonanza, Rifleman, Gunsmoke and the like.

But what western was on at that time? Wagon Train! I started to laugh. He asked, “What’s so funny?” I said, “Do you remember when you, me and Carl were kids and we’d play Wagon Train? You and Carl got to sit on the foot boards with blankets over them like they were horses and ride, while I had to sit on the bed inside the wagon because I was a girl.” Oh how he laughed at that. “I remember!” he said. “And he and I had toy guns to protect the wagons.” Yes but I never got to have a gun or ride a foot-board horse. Apparently I wasn’t Annie Oakley!

This started a little flood of memories, but I had to ask him one question. “Do you remember our neighbor Kimberly and how she always wanted to play “Uncle Jeff and Uncle Stoney? Why were you Uncle Stoney?” He laughed again. “Stoney Burke was my favorite western character when I was a kid. He was in the rodeo.” Well of course he was!

We talked about some of the other shows, and how he always called home the Ponderosa, after the Bonanza spread. Brie popped in with, “I always wondered where that came from!”

He left after about an hour, and Brie and I went to lunch. While waiting for our food I had her laughing as I told her more about the “games” we used to play. “So my brothers always got to ride the horses while I had to sit in the ‘wagon’ with this blanket wrapped around my head like the virgin Mary about to give birth, holding this baby doll. Women folk never got to ride the horses!” I was very indignant as it all came back. “And when they were playing Uncle Jeff and Uncle Stoney, they wouldn’t let me on the swing set because they were ‘traveling’. Why couldn’t I swing on the regular swing? I didn’t want to be in the 4-seater with weird Kimberly and them.”

Brie was still giggling at the vision of me as the Virgin Mary. “I’m sure as the older brothers they felt they knew best when it came to your games, and lorded it over you.”

“That’s okay, I got back at them.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, one day we were in the bedroom and the boys were playing keep away with my doll. I finally managed to get my hand on the doll but it bounced off my hand and broke the bedroom window. I was terrified! So I told Keith and Carl that I would use magic to conjure up for them Mighty Mo army tanks if they wouldn’t tell mom and dad. They may have been wagon masters, but they weren’t brain trusts because they believed me. Then I went downstairs and told the parents that they broke the window so they’d get in trouble instead of me. And they did!”

Brie burst out laughing and so did I. That would teach them not to put baby in a corner, or Rita in the wagon!

What's In a Name?

 

I was working today and listening to my Victrola, which is what my girls call the music on my phone. The song “By the Time I Get To Phoenix” by Glen Campbell came on. This song reminded me of “Wichita Lineman”, another favorite that they used to play at the ice skating rink back in the roaring ‘20s when I was a kid. And that song reminded me of a childhood nickname my brother Keith gave me as a child: Piggy Fleming.

He thought he was so clever. He gave me this nickname because I was a terrible ice skater, so not worthy of the name Peggy Fleming. I remember in Junior High he gave me the moniker “Wilt Chamberchick” due to my questionable basketball skills at that time. Hater.

But Carl, my oldest brother, and Keith did have weird nicknames given to them by one of our neighbors. Her name was Kimberly and she was their age. Every time she came over she wanted to play this weird game called “Uncle Jeff and Uncle Stony”.  It always seemed to involve them sitting in the swing set in the ride that sat four people and them "traveling" somewhere. Yet I was never allowed to be the 4^th passenger. Carl’s middle name was Jeffrey so that nickname made sense. But why was Keith Uncle Stony?? Apparently for some reason my elementary school mind couldn’t comprehend. And I don’t want to comprehend it now either!

Somewhere around high school Keith acquired the nickname “Slick” and later it was “Uncle Slicky”. I wasn’t in with the in crowd so I don’t know where that came from, but I have a few ideas. I never called him that. My nickname for him was spawn of satan, but only in my head. I knew better than to say that out loud!

My sister’s nickname from my father was Rabbit. No idea why either: especially when he always told me that I ate like a rabbit. Keith gave the youngest his nickname. Clarence Jr. became Clancy, a good old fashioned Irish name. J Robin was Robespierre; and Keith also gave my parents their nicknames: Daddy Clank and Riri.

My actual family nickname came from my father. His name at work was Debbie, so I was dubbed “Little Debbie” and then just Debbie. But that’s only for family to use! And I actually prefer the nickname I was given in college: Brick House. The guys in the Radio Broadcasting program dubbed me that and I wasn’t mad about it!

Isn’t it amazing what goes through your mind just from hearing a song?? Or maybe it’s just my mind. Regardless: feel free to let me know what your nickname is, or was!

Rated R For Language

 This is going to be a quick one as I'm shooting from the hip, which is something I don't normally do.. And it may be the last one for some of you if you decide you no longer wish to read my posts. Trust me: I'm okay with that. But there is something I need to get off of my chest.

Why is it that so many people think that women, especially black women, can't get ahead unless they sleep their way to the top? I have "heard" people say that the only reason Kamala Harris is where she is today, is because she sucked or fucked Biden and who knows who else along the way. Some people don't want to give her credit for her education, hard work, dedication or perseverance.  Certain people don't think she deserves anything  except something subservient. Why is that? Why can't we use our brains to achieve our goals? Is that something just reserved for white women?

I can understand if you're jealous because she has broken so many glass ceilings. But that's on YOU. If you set your sights on being in politics: then it was up to  you to go to school and study and work your way up. If that wasn't your goal: then don't be a racist, jealous hater  who wants to diminish someone else's accomplishments. Can the woman have a few minutes to be proud of where she is now?

I remember several years ago, I was invited to attend a gala / fundraiser. I was so excited to go! One day at work I was talking to a couple of friends about it and one looked at me and said, "How did you get invited to something like that?" Instead of saying what I wanted to say, I responded, "Sometimes it's just who you know." Apparently she didn't think I was good enough to go to such an event with local celebrities. But bitch: I was! She had a sense of entitlement that didn't work out for her. And she was mad that I had such an opportunity. What she needed to understand is that a person makes their own opportunities. I've done a lot of things and been a lot of places because I worked for it. Not because I did sexual favors. Seriously.

I'm not jealous of Kamala for reaching one of her goals because I never aspired to be in politics. But I can surely celebrate with her! I'm just as sure that if she knew me: she'd be happy that I reached my goals of being a blogger and a published author. So if you want to be a hater and hate because of race: then maybe you'd better go back to school, educate yourself on a lot of  things besides politics, and speak to God about the hate in your black heart. And the way you think about Kamala makes me think that you might harbor some of that about me, your supposed friend. Food for thought.

And by the way: there are plenty of women out there that have no qualms about using sex to get ahead, no pun intended. Don't confuse them with the ones that stay on the right and narrow path. 

'Nuff said.

When I Hear Music

 My sister was truly a lover of all kinds of music. I am too, but there was some I would have missed if not for her. She and Clancy had collections of CDs and vinyl. Lucky them!

But Robin and I went to concerts together and such, so I didn't feel too left out. And if I happened to be listening to a classic rock station and an unfamiliar song would come on: i knew I could call her and she could give me the details about it.

That's a big part of what I miss about her. A couple of years ago I was in the car and the song Home By the Sea came on. Was it Phil Collins or Genesis? How had I never heard it before? And the first thought I had was, "I wonder if Robin knows this song?" Then I was sad because I couldn't call her to find out.

This happened most recently maybe four days ago. The local classic rock station was playing a John Mellencamp song I had never heard before and it was awesome! Robin and I loved John Mellencamp so I had no idea how we could have missed this one. The deejay mentioned something about 2006 so maybe it had come out then. Regardless, I had to download this song and play it continually.

This morning I was working from home and decided I wanted to see if there was a video of this song i could watch. I had to scroll through a little bit but then found a live performance on the David Letterman Show from 1993! I couldnt believe it was that old. Here's how he was introduced: "My next guest is from Indiana, just like me. He was going to do a fantastic song from his upcoming album Human Wheels but it was too long. So he's going to do another song that is just as fantastic! From his upcoming album Human Wheels." Or something to that effect. You can YouTube it.

Anyhow, the name of the song is What If I Came Knocking and it is killer. As I watched the performance it reminded me of one of the things on my and Robin's bucket list. We had plans to be on stage dancing with John Mellencamp! I'm not exactly sure how we were going to accomplish this but I'm a woman who makes things happen! I always got great seats for concerts. I got suite tickets for Eminem & Rihanna and the Derek Jeter Legacy game. I got free limo rides and free hockey tickets, just to name a few things. But I never got around to dancing with John Mellencamp back in the day. Now I'm sure neither one of us could do much dancing without creaks and groans and Tylenol! So that moves to the bottom of the bucket list.

So do yourself a favor and check out that song. You won't regret it. And if by some stretch any of you know Mr. Mellencamp: tell him to get in touch with me! 😉

Why the Dogs Got Nothing For Christmas

 In a nutshell: because they were BAD. They started out as good girls but then it all derailed!

They began the year loving each other. But then Lilly got jealous of Vivian because she created a new game called "Running Like a Crazy Girl". This involved when I got home, Vivian would run into the living room and then run at me and jump for me to pick her up. And I would because she's so tiny and cute. Lilly is cute but not tiny, so when she figured it out she would go maybe 10 inches from me and run 1 step to beat Vivian to me. I would pick her up and then Vivian would be jealous and go sulk. Then, it got to the point where they would greet me at the door, and then get into a fight with Vivian jumping on Lilly's back. Funny, but not appropriate!

Next, they began growling at each other: from opposite couches. So annoying when you're trying to listen to the TV! And this turned into Lilly attacking her sister just to be mean. That's what squirt bottles are for!

At some point Vivian decided she wanted to be pack leader and tried to bully ME. If she wanted a treat she would come to me, stand on her hind legs and push on my leg while verbally demanding a treat. That got old real fast!

But the piece de resistance (add your own accents) was their defiance if all 3 of us left the house and they were alone. I know they are needy and clingy and have abandonment issues. However, they started something new and a bit dangerous.

I was the first one home one day. They greeted me and we came into the living room. There, in the dog bed, was an opened package of dark chocolate M&Ms. Dark chocolate will kill dogs and mine are small! "Where did this come from???" I asked, like they were going to tell me. I snatched it up and threw it in the garbage. I also told them if they had eaten any: to pray to their God because Pumpkin used up all the emergency vet money. Thank God they were safe, although I had a sneaking suspicion that it was Lilly's doing and she was trying to kill her sister. Good thing there is no evidence that Vivian ate anything!

So over a few months we have come home to several unusual things in their bed. This includes a container of potato salad, marshmallows, popcorn, a strawberry Belvita biscuit, Hershey Kisses and other things that we had no idea where it came from. So we had to make sure everything was put away and there were no lunch bags left on the floor with leftover food. 

However, the best (or worst) thing I came home to was a chef salad in the dog bed. No lie! The container was bigger than Vivian so I know she didn't put it there. Thank God it wasn't open. But that one was my fault: I had gotten it the night before, didn't finish it and had put it back in the to go bag by my dining room chair: forgetting to toss it away. But still: the dogs knew we didn't serve them salad!

So there you have it: the first year our pets got nothing for Christmas because I don't reward bad behavior. Maybe they can redeem themselves for next year and make it back onto the nice list.