Sunday, October 02, 2005

Me me me

Boy, I haven't written in a while. For a few days I even forgot I had a blog. My week started out with a delightful drive to my parents' home 250 miles south. We took a circuitous route--kind of like Dallas to Houston via Los Angeles--to escape Rita traffic, thereby doubling the usual drive time.

But the scenery and the company doubled the enjoyment too. It's been a long time since I had a road trip with my folks, and even though I drove, it was a relaxed and happy journey. We talked politics--family and national, we talked child-rearing--mine and theirs, we just talked.

Our week ended with some friends volunteering to watch the kids so that we could see the movie Serenity. Firefly groupies (all thirteen of them) flocked to the theatres this weekend to catch the premiere of the short-lived, much-lamented television sci-fi drama come to life on the big screen. Good flick. Satisfying, if gritty ending.

My son rewarded this nice couple by throwing up on them three times in the four hours we were away. Colleen cautioned perhaps no more Taco Hell for the kids, but I think the stomach trauma could have partly been caused by the excitement of seeing her dogs. He goes nuts over her dogs. (This does not bode well for the only non-pet person in the house.) In any case, he vomited two more times after we brought him home before calling it quits. Each time he just looked at me with a what the hell expression?

What the hell, indeed? I'm sorry, little guy. I wish I could have taken that bullet for you.

In between the beginning and end of last week, an old airline friend found me via google. Since I've moved my blog to blogger, Bystander is the first to pop up in a search of my name. Cool, eh? A year ago, he sold all his belongings, bought an Isuzu Trooper and moved to Costa Rica with his cat Sara. Sounds like me ten years ago.

After our airline went kaput, he'd gone back into hotel work in San Francisco, while I worked in fashion in New York. After a couple years of not hearing from each other, I came upon his work number and called him up. He answered on the speaker phone. Without saying who I was, I whispered, "Greg--they're after me! It won't be long now."

Pause.

"You know too much," he answered.

Hee hee hee. Some friends are like that, and I hope he always will be.

I lost a contest at the gym for person who takes the most classes for the month of September. I had a pretty good lead until Shannon decided to go to two classes a day in the last week. I refused to break my no-gym-on-Thursday rule and skipped Sunday spin to drive to Houston, but even with both of those, she'd a had me by one class. Apparently I've been to 24 classes and she eeked me out by three. What the award is, we don't yet know. I'm betting it'll be a t-shirt or something lame, but if it's a weekend stay at the Gaylord Texan, I may have to invite Shannon to put on the boxing gloves with me.

The gym manager, Stacie, held a seminar on nutrition Tuesday evening. She thinks I'm getting half the protein I need, so I'm trying a supplement. I admit to feeling the first three symptoms of overtraining listed here, (they miraculously disappeared after a 7-layer burrito yesterday however) and I seem to be stuck at some immovable plateau in weight loss. Not that I need to lose weight--I'm just mystified that with the intense workouts I'm not losing weight.

I told Stacie I was probably eating 1800 calories a day. She told me to write down three days of eating. Today is day 3. It does not look good. I don't think my 1800-calories assertion stands up to scrutiny, though I haven't given it a detailed analysis--I do however write detailed notes by each entry like, but I hardly ever go to the movies! or I usually stop at one! I don't mean to be defensive--I just remember during the seminar, when we were discussing meals and snacks, she looked at me accusingly and asked, "Are you snacking with the kids?" No! I swear it!

All of this exercise and diet riot may prove a waste of time if my elbows keep me from working out anyway. I definitely have to quit biceps, triceps, push-ups, and bag punching, but I also may have to quit picking up gallons of milk, jugs of laundry detergent and, say, the odd tall glass of water. There are other classes besides weights, but I cannot muster the rhythem to do step, and I can't sacrifice any more family time in the evenings for more yoga or that fourth spin class.

Speaking of family, baby is napping, pre-schooler is watching toons and the husband is hammering something on his truck. How does that saying go? And all is right with the world? All is right with the world.

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