Fresh For Monday

 

THE SHOW MUST GO ON!

These are the things we must remember when it’s Monday and we just want to stay in bed for a little bit longer…or the whole day. When we don’t want to go to work, but bills don’t stop coming in. When we just don’t want to…the show must go on.

I’m not even sure how this happened, but it is already almost the end of 2015. I’m not ready! Summer just snuck by without me getting out to the range to smack some golf balls around. (Although we did get one of these to start doing more winter swing work in the basement.) And now, before anyone even knew it, it’s time to start waxing boards and looking for thermals.

How can I jump ahead like this? Well, it isn’t hard with Park City, Keystone, and Breckenridge all talking about getting ready to make snow and get the mountain ready for our impending visit(s). The weather is finally starting to turn and it’s in the 60s – it’s been way above normal until now – and it smells like fall outside. Plus, Halloween is right around the corner, which means Thanksgiving isn’t far behind. And if Thanksgiving isn’t far behind, you know that retailers will start putting up Christmas stuff in another couple of weeks. Yikes.

The end of summer/beginning of winter (see how I skip right over fall?) also brings about my birthday. In seven weeks and two days, I will have spent a whopping 42 years on this big ole ball of dirt. While I don’t currently have plans for the big day, especially since it’s in the middle of the week, I decided yesterday that I would take the next eight weeks and see what I could do with my body in terms of strength and flexibility in that time period.

I’m not totally off the deep end. Since I already have a base level of strength and flexibility, it shouldn’t be too terrible what I’m about to do. I just need to get it done and get it done right. First up is to start treating my body better from the inside out. I have been horribly neglecting my water intake and my body is hating me for it. You know I’m not totally right upstairs and I would know I’m not drinking enough water and want to see how far I could go. Yeah, I’m a nut. But I know better and am promising myself, at the very least, these next eight weeks of proper hydration. So hopefully no little nagging headaches along the way.

Just water won’t do it though. I need food. And lots of it. Back to having snacks and properly fueling myself so I don’t crash and burn when trying to work out. Snacks and protein shakes, welcome back into my life! Fortunately, sleep has always been a part of my life. And I find it to be very important so no changes there. Exercise, however, is getting a facelift.

After 7 weeks of Cize with Shaun T, I’m moving to something that basically targets the lower body since I’ll be needing a lot of that for the upcoming snowboarding season. So, like a lunatic, I put together a little morning regiment. I’ll start off with whichever day it is for the T25/PiYo hybrid calendar – today it was sculpt, which wasn’t as horrific as the first time I tried it. Follow that up with some gymnastics foundations work, then some stretching. By this time, I usually have to head upstairs for a bathroom break. This morning, getting back down the stairs was almost an incident. Legs tried to give out on me a little bit. But, Bambi legs and all, I made it back downstairs to finish up the morning work of an aerial yoga flow. That’s what I’ve got. 6 days a week for the next 8 weeks. 1 down, 47 to go. Will I stick with it? Only time will tell. All I can say is that I will try.

And with that, boys and girls, I think I shall call this a post. May the week ahead be filled with fun and happiness, and if not, at least may it not be filled with stress and hardships. Until the next post, I’m outta here!

 

1-2-3 1-2-3 Drink

 

Happy Monday. You know, I’ve known this song has been around a little while, but I never paid any attention to it. The only reason it popped up this morning is because I started my last week of Cize and this is the song. So wait, last week of Cize?!?! That means that for the last five weeks, I’ve been diligently getting up in the morning to go down to the dungeon and make my best attempt at dancing. That means that the last routine is so freaking hard that I will spend two weeks on it, making it weeks six and seven.  That means it will be seven of the easiest (mentally) weeks to get up and work out. And I don’t usually stick with things for that long, but I’m trying to change those sorts of bad habits.

Back to Sia. Have you ever listened to this?

Party girls don’t get hurt
Can’t feel anything, when will I learn
I push it down, push it down

I’m the one “for a good time call”
Phone’s blowin’ up, they’re ringin’ my doorbell
I feel the love, feel the love

1,2,3 1,2,3 drink
1,2,3 1,2,3 drink
1,2,3 1,2,3 drink

Throw ’em back, ’til I lose count

I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist
Like it doesn’t exist
I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier

But I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ‘cos I’m just holding on for tonight
Help me, I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ‘cos I’m just holding on for tonight
On for tonight

Sun is up, I’m a mess
Gotta get out now, gotta run from this
Here comes the shame, here comes the shame

So how’s that for a gut punch? Not so much for you? Good on ya. Hit me like a truck. I used to live this way. No need to point fingers or any such madness. I’ve grown beyond that point although it took a long, long, LONG while. Drinking to not feel the pain, drinking to feel included, drinking to the point of not caring, drinking like the party girl to not get hurt, “fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry”, “gotta get out now, gotta run from this; here comes the shame, here comes the shame”. Yeah, that pretty much wraps it up. I could go into detail about feeling like that, but that’s another blog post for another day.

On to lighter topics. Last night, I carved my first pumpkin. Ever. Sounds crazy, right? To be coming up on 42 years old and to have never carved a pumpkin? Well, it’s true. And to be honest, it’s fucking gross. The inside of pumpkins smell awful. All those pumpkin guts are nasty. There was no way I was going to toast those seeds. I just couldn’t see putting that in my mouth. Yuck! However, we got a book of stencils and we have at least four left which means that we’ll be doing a second round before Halloween shows up. Here’s round one:

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Lovey did the bat, and I did the other..thing. You can tell more from this shot that it’s two people holding hands than it’s also a skull. Gotta get that from just the right angle to see it in that way. Overall, I’m good with how these came out. Even though the pumpkin head on the left actually lost its head and it’s held together with toothpicks. I guess I won’t be quitting my day job to become a pumpkin carver any time soon.

Last thing I want to touch on before I move right along with my day is positivity and getting shit done. On the forward-facing front, I do well with the positivity. We all have problems and hearing mine doesn’t make anyone’s day better so I keep that shit to myself. It isn’t that I’m trying to present myself as something I’m not, I just internalize a lot of stuff. Then there’s that getting shit done part. Another of my weak points when it comes to my own personal life. At work, no problem. I’ll tackle my tasks, your tasks, her tasks, and his tasks, and likely get them all done. But when the only overseer is me, I slack. That’s right. You heard me. I slack on myself. Probably the worst possible place to be slacking.

All of this when I have goals, or at least things that I know I should do. Things I know I can do if I just put my mind to them. Things I know I can do and do well if I would just get out of my own head. Things that would get done if I could simply let go of this fear of failure. Because you can’t fail if you never start, right?

But that isn’t how I want to live my life. That’s not how anyone should live their life. I’ve been trying to ingest some positive vibes to keep myself on a good level and to encourage me to do what I know I can do. What I’ve been told I can do. What’s waiting for me on the other side of that door if I just grow up and open it. Starting today. Starting now. So, for the two people whom I “scope” the most, know that my effort is real. My effort is sincere. And my effort is for me. Here we go.

ROCO Friday – Safety Meetings

 

The congregation is at a near frenzy. The thought that the good Reverend might be returning today has an excited buzz rolling through the crowd. Electrified whispers start at the front of the room and spread to the back. Suddenly, a hush falls across the room as a solitary figure steps towards the pulpit.

*clears throat*

Good morning, my dear friends. You have been missed. Please know that the Reverend MiamiShyner has been itching to get back and speak to you. Let the congregation say ROCO.

Today, this wonderful Friday, let us talk about dancing, dancing safely, and safety meetings. We might also touch on the paranormal, but first things first: dancing. Oh yes, we all do it. Whether you admit it or not, at some point, probably today, you’ve either busted out a dance move, no matter how small. Perhaps you’re doing choreography in your head right now. If so, good on ya. If not and you haven’t even thought about busting a move today, get up and do so. I’ll wait……

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Yeah, Tina. Get it.

That’s also about how I look when making attempts at dancing. Yep, I am the anti-stereotype. Black girl that can’t sing or dance and has no ass. I also hate watermelon and fried chicken isn’t high on my list of loves either. On the whole, I haven’t dated within my race (OMG, the horror!) and that’s not how I married. I contributed to the world interracial fund with a daughter and I think everyone else should too. Let the congregation say ROCO. But I digress.

Weekday mornings, I rise from my slumber and head to the yoga dungeon/workout lair/basement to visit with Shaun T.  You know, you gotta love a Shaun T workout, unless it’s any of the Insanity ones in which case you can kiss the crack of my black ass. But Hip Hop Abs, Rockin Body, and Cize? Yeah. All day, every day. It’s dancing and dancing is fun. Or, at least, what I call dancing is fun.

Shaun T says everyone/anyone can dance. You know, I hate to call shenanigans on him, but I have to disagree. Everyone/anyone can follow choreography. Not everyone can dance. Like me, for instance. I can follow your choreography and get it down pretty quickly. Does that mean I look like I’m dancing? Nope. People around me might be doing the same thing and looking like they’re dancing, but I’ll look like I’m having a seizure. So, yes, everyone can follow choreography when broken down correctly, but not everyone can dance.

And I can’t dance safely. One might think for the activities in which I participate, that I would be much less of a klutz. But no, guess again. I fall over my own feet in any sort of complicated footwork, and this morning, I managed to strain my side. Dancing. Maybe I should just call what I do spazzing. The harder I try, the worse it looks, lol. You don’t believe me? Go ahead and watch that little clip below and laugh. My left side! It hurts, lol.

There you go. Proof that I can’t dance. And especially not safely.

I can, however, and have been known to in the past, ahem, conduct a safety meeting. What? I’m unapologetically me. I don’t do things to hurt others. And as long as I stay on that path, I’mma do WTF I want. Just like Eric Cartman. And, I live in Colorado, so bite me. Bite me like I’m a weed infused cookie that you’re dying to try.

Anywho, on a completely different topic, do you ever wonder if your house is haunted? When I was a kid and my great-grandfather died, we moved into his house. Now, we’re talking early 80s here. When houses were sturdy but wiring was probably questionable. After we moved in, odd stuff happened. Lights would turn off or come on of their own volition. A few electrical-type things happened, but the adults laughed it off. Once, just once, I heard an adult say that it was Grandpap doing it, but I think they also realized that I overheard that so then it became a full-on force about wiring. Adults, they’re crazy. Kids, they know the paranormal truth.

Jump ahead about 30 years and here we are in this house. We really know nothing of the history of it, and fortunately a Google search doesn’t turn up anything. However, the reality is that this neighborhood is basically a retirement community which means the probability of someone having passed under this roof is probably high. Not anything to be frightened of in my book. Many were the times I went into my grandparents’ house after my grandfather had passed there. I lived in my parents’ house after my father passed there. And now, on occasion, I hear people talking (and I make sure it’s not the landscapers) or I’ll hear music when I know that it isn’t coming from anything I’m doing nor anything my neighbors are doing. Fun, right?? I’m still waiting to experience something definite. I’ll let you know.

In the meantime, however, I’m off to do some Friday-type shit. Wishing you all a good weekend and a better Pittsburgh sports night tonight than last night was. #cutScobee

 

 

Hello, October

 

It’s Buctober!! Yes, after that 20 season drought, our Pittsburgh Pirates are in the playoffs for the third consecutive season. This is the year. This is the one where we go further. I’m hoping with everything I have that this is the year that we go all the way. I mean, who doesn’t want to see the Batman go out on top? AJ has put it in for us and I hope we can return the favor in this, his last season.

You know that song isn’t only about the Battlin’ Buccos (#theseguys), but it’s also all good for the gridiron gang, the Renegades, the Steelers. Even though our number one guy is holding it down on the sidelines with a bum knee, we still take the field strong tonight against the hated, dirty, filthy Ratbirds of Baltimore.  May the good guys prevail.

On to non-sports related items. On Tuesday, I caught up with an old buddy and we went to work out together. Good times! The text messages the next day were pretty hilarious as we realized that we’re a little out of shape and we commiserated on our pained muscles. Yep, we’re sore, but not so sore that we won’t try it again next week. Cuz we’re silly like that. And I need to get out of the house at least once a week to see people besides the one I’m married to. 🙂

In that same vein, more or less, for the last 2 weeks, I’ve been taking two supplements (which I got for free in exchange for an honest review). One is Ashwagandha (say that five times fast) which is sort of a stress reliever/fog clearer, and the other is a joint support formula that has glucosamine, chondroitin, and MSM.  More for me than for you, so I remember what I want to write in my month-end review, neither produces immediate results, which is typical.  I’m a chiropractic regular, so I asked my guy how long it would take before I might feel any effect from the joint combo. He said probably around two weeks and that’s where I am now.  First, though, let’s talk about Ashwagandha, going forward known as Ash.

As I come to a close on the second month of my new job, I feel as though the Ash is helping. A new job is always a little stressful and this one is tie-one-on-inspiring. I promise you that three weeks ago, when I made it to 5 o’clock, walking away from my computer was the biggest relief in the world. Walking away was usually accompanied by some sort of relaxing function…like beer. Currently, 5 o’clock rolls around and I’m still happy to be done with my day, but I’m on a different mental level. I’m not feeling like I want to throw shit or punch puppies or bawl my eyes out. Just happy to have finished another day of work. I haven’t been overly upset with anything else either. And I’ve adopted a life’s too short kind of attitude. We’ll see how that all pans out.  Go Ash!

Now, for the joints. Maybe you know, maybe you don’t, that I have a small partial tear in the labrum of my left hip. The tear itself doesn’t really cause any pain, but the muscles that tighten up around it trying to do their protection dance are real jerks. And, let’s face it, I’m not getting any younger and yet I keep putting my body through the paces of a younger person. In return, my body does most of this shit but lets me know it isn’t happy by groaning and creaking and sometimes crunching.

The crunching usually happens in the knees whenever I’m going down into or coming up from a squatting position. Has it stopped completely in the last two weeks? No. Has it gotten a little less loud? Yes. Joint point!

My feet. They’re a train wreck. My toes tend to raise up off the ground and I look ridiculous when I walk. Combining stretching, my gua sha tools, and the joint combo looks as though it may make things a little better.  My toes almost lay flat on the floor when I put my foot down now. By the end of the bottle, maybe they’ll be normal and I’ll stop putting holes in my fucking sneakers because of my mangle-toes.

Back to those hips. They don’t lie. They also don’t really like me. But, they’re warming up to me as I keep feeding them the joint combo. Notice I said warming up and not opening up because, even though I put in work on them for the month of September, there was only a tiny bit of progress. But hey, I guess I can’t expect magic in 30 days after 30 plus years of abuse.

So, we’ll see what comes of another 2 weeks of this horse pill regimen. Because if I can keep choking these things down, I can do anything! Like stand on my hands. I WILL accomplish this…before I turn 45, lol. Giving myself a little buffer.

Have a great night, folks. Get behind my boys tonight. All of them! #blackandyellow

 

Adventures in Baseball

 

Since we’ve been out here in Colorado, I do believe that we’ve made it to at least one game of each Pirates/Rockies series. This year was no different. It took a while to decide which game to attend since there was a 4 game series this time. Originally, I considered Wednesday evening AND Thursday afternoon, but then I changed jobs and didn’t have the ability to take the day off on Thursday. Sad face. BUT, it became a no-brainer when I found out that the Batman was pitching on Monday.

After the first tough decision comes the second of where to sit. Typically, at most games, I would sit along the first base line because that’s where most of the action is, but since it’s been all away games when we go (Pirates and Marlins), we’ve taken to sitting on the third base side. I contemplate switching it up and then I can’t bring myself to sit on the home team’s side. StubHub has been, and remains, my go to for tickets to almost anything. When I logged in there and found some club seats for $16 (!) each, I knew we had a winner.

As is typical for Coors Field, or any baseball field/stadium for that matter, food and drinks are overpriced and not as tasty as you want them to be. Expected. As is typical for an away Pittsburgh game, there were plenty of Pittsburgh fans to be seen, repping the city. We had some behind us, some in front of us, some to the right (we were on the aisle) and even the usher at the top of the stairs was a Pirates fan even though he’s lived in Denver for the last 50 years (which likely meant he’d been somewhere else for at least 20, but more on him in a minute).

The game itself was pretty spectacular. A lot of action and not much of it negative. Happy to see AJ in person one last time before he hangs up the cleats. ICYMI, Pirates won it 9-3. Remember that usher (his name is Carl)? Once on a trip back from the restroom, Carl wanted to chat me up. Ok, I can deal, it’s a Burgh thing. Yeah, until he calls me over and wants to stroke my arm in a totally creeper way. Dude! Pretty sure I managed not to flinch. He’s harmless. It was just unexpected. And weird. And a little yucky. But I survived.

Downtown Denver after dark. I don’t dig it. I’ve done my fair share of downtowns after dark: Pittsburgh, Miami, New York, but Denver actually leads the scary list. Yes, over New York. As Lovey and I were walking back to the car, well, there was plenty of blog fodder, but I’ll keep it to this:

We’re walking down the sidewalk and we’re approaching a group of five young men (and I use that term VERY loosely) sitting on a wall that we have to pass. I move a little closer to the edge of the sidewalk toward the street as I was a step or two ahead of Lovey. We gave each other the eye, confirming we were both aware and prepared for any bullshit in 3-2-1-now. As I’m passing, one of them screams, literally screams at me, “HEY!” Now, first of all, I’m no stranger to people with penises not knowing how to speak to people with vaginas. But really? Trying to scare the shit of someone isn’t the best way to try to grab their attention. Besides, it’s so disrespectful. Holla holla holla holla holla holla holla.

After this penis person’s “greeting”, I whipped my head around and gave him the most evil eye I could muster. Somehow, it wasn’t until the evil eye was thrown that Penis Yeller put two and two together that Lovey and I were together. Congrats, genius. And now that you know you have no chance (but really, you NEVER had a chance. NEVER. Because I’m way past the point that someone sitting on a wall with his boys at 10 at night might be of interest to me. 20 years past. But anyway) of getting anything beyond said evil eye from me, you turn your focus to Lovey. And you have the audacity (and maybe you know what that word means), to tell Lovey that “You better keep an eye on your girl *spoken loudly*, because I’m out here *spoken softly*” LOL!! I’m not gonna call you out your name here, but son, you done lost your motherfucking mind. Both Lovey and I know that I don’t need to be “kept an eye on” because I can handle my shit. And yeah, you’re out here. Out here not doing one damn thing. Oh Penis People, you never cease to amaze and astound me.

And that, my friends, is a night in Denver. Where even in the club seats at Coors Field, a mouse will run across your foot. Peace!

 

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