Shimmery Cheese

Life is a curious place sometimes. I pulled a muscle in my gut (actually I re-pulled it upon reflection), the abs workout in the Insanity program is truly a torture. Its saving grace is that it's only about 14 minutes long if you don't count the warm up or cool down. I gave in yesterday because you just can't jump up in the air, simultaneously bringing knees to elbows while trying desperately to stabilize your side with one with one hand. I tried, you shouldn't. Giving in really didn't interest me but how would the potential medical staff feel about the Insanity program if I'm a patient awaiting a procedure to repair a hernia? Can you jump while holding the offending muscle in place WHILE wearing a jonnie? Maybe, but it would be messy. So I took myself off to the cleaning room for a shower, etc. Someone I'd been hoping to recruit as a friend had invited me to dinner and I really wanted to put a good foot forward. Particularly as I'd have to do it without that little shine that says "I just worked out.". The shower part was easy, but the post water decorating was a little harder. My potential friend has travelled the world (legitimately, not lie me) as an embedded reported for the Beeb and NPR and had let me know she'd been working since 3:00 a.m.on a grant and wasn't dressed for dinner. Now the pressure was on. I knew I couldn't even approach the possibility of considering the option of matching that and had visions of her showing up clad in a khaki war-weary vest, maybe even with old reporter credentials attached to a ripped but patched pocket, not unlike skiers who keep every lift pass they've ever had on their down jacket. Thinking quickly, I opted for a tight black t-shirt, hair up but not too much effort . . . And matching black flats. About the shoes, I hate them. They look great but the liner always comes up when I wear them and they look a little preppy. As an artist, this look does not fly, but they would have to do. Next was make up. Problem was, I didn't have any at home. I do have a stick of Burt's Bees chapstick in shimmery pink . . . What works for the lips should work for the eyes, right? What better touch to simulate that dewy exercised look? It had a mint undertone which after less than a minute on my eyelids became much more pronounced. I'm committed at this point, there isn't time to scrape it off and my thinking was it would only end up in my eyes, which would have been bad, and interesting if it was happening to someone else. Really? What were you thinking? Squinting slightly but dutifully keeping my paws out of my eyes, which are now a little watery and becoming bloodshot, I need to consider my choice of handbag. Using a pair of tongs from the kitchen, which also do double duty in the winter time returning errant coals back to the fireplace (the handles are a little worse for the wear and slightly sticky) I coaxed a nice black Coach bag from that portion of the closet that houses all the rejected but retained purses and bags that a girl collects. Don't get the wrong idea, my husband purchased it for me, proud of the brand and excellent price (I'd never heard of Coach, sadly). After repairing my hair - the bag fell on my head with considerable closet detritus, I went off to fill it with those items that were necessary to not just make it through dinner, but that would also enable me to make a good impression on my friend. If only I'd been able to finish my workout . . . Dinner actually went well, I went for self effacing artist (stick with what you know) and although the food was a terrible pile of greased cheese, the conversation was good. My friend is a lot like my husband so we have relationship potential, I just hope my gut muscle gets with the program.

Day Off

Today is a day off from the Insanity program and I'm feeling a little restless. Being a creative person, the part of life that inspires tends to come at me through a series of patterns.  While any traces of OCD are not noticed by most, patterns can definitely take me down the road less traveled.

Last week while in San Diego, I was wandering through Target.  Confession: I find a reason to go to Target in SD almost every morning during the week - it's silly I know, but whatever, it works.  Last week it was little grey athletic socks with colored bands running along the bottom of the soles and 1/2 price workout clothing. . .  Anyway, I was headed to the escalator with a nifty thermos that had a built in tea strainer and a roll of duct tape, and there was a fellow in front of me with one of the niftiest tattoos I've ever seen.  It was a series of complex circles running down his left calf, several of which were nested circles (think miniature solar system depiction) with dots and lines. 

Here is a sample of my art, hence the fascination with patterns:

I forced myself to say something to him, after all, how could I let this tattoo walk away without at least finding out what the circles meant?  He was a little startled at my compliment and replied that they were binary circles that translated to his last name.  How fucking cool is that? So, I raced back to my computer and looked up binary circles.  While the crop circle pictures and accompanying alien theorists were interesting, it didn't answer my question: how to translate binary circles into letters???

Get this, yesterday I received an email from a client and below here name was a series of zeros and ones that looked like this:

01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101100 01101111 01101111 01101011 01100101 01100100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01110101 01110000 00100001

The wonderment that is google quickly let me know that the O's and 1's translated to my client's name. ONE STEP CLOSER.  By now you are probably bored and wondering what this has to do with the Insanity Program.  Nothing, but it is my day off and I'm more than just a gorgeous carcass in the making.

After sifting through more crop circle photos I found a site that explains how to translate the binary into a circle.  Sadly, it's a little over my head but I'm still working on it.

Apples & Bones?

So why the blog title?  Words and letters have long intrigued and there is something about the phrase "apples and bones" that I've always liked.  Imagine my surprise when, upon googling the phrase to see if someone else was using it, I found the following interesting items.

• Roger Williams, the founder of Rhode Island ( my humble home state), was buried with his wife beside a large apple tree.  The tree was attracted to his bones and sent a root from his skull, down his backbone to the hips, then divided in two to trace each leg.  The root bent at the knees and formed a man-like shape, in the process digesting every bit of Roger Williams' body.  

I actually did a few more searches to be sure this wasn't an urban legend and it isn't.  Apples trees crave calcium and what better source than someone who doesn't need their ample supply any longer?

• The tidbit in the other direction: apples contain a number of flavinoids and chemical compounds that increase bone health and density.

Now you know.

And another thought

Some days you get no posts, some days you get two. . .

When I was younger, depression was always lurking just around the corner.  I was brought up to believe that it was something that controlled and ruled.  Needless to say, I spent many many days under the grey blanket or worse, the black one.  It came when it did and left when it was finished.  It never occurred to me that I had any choice but to accept it, until I was 29.  That's a damn long time to be subject to such an awful waste of time and energy.

The depression is has been banished, but I didn't lose the manic high, for which I am eternally grateful (and responsible; no more lackey to the whims of some faulty genetics).  Now, sometimes life is so crisp and clear, like cold water or stars in the middle of the night.  Usually it's the tiny things that spark a high.  Today I was in Starbucks in Hillcrest, was waiting for my tall blonde, when a 20 something kid placed an order for a coffee and his credit card wouldn't work, despite some conversation with the barista who took it well and some examination of the magnetic strip on the back of his card.  He was about to walk out of the story (this should have been store, but I like story better) when I stopped him and paid for his drink.  He was so grateful and so startled, I didn't expect it, likely he didn't either.  We chatted for a moment and I told him to pay it forward and I believe he will.  If I can purchase a high with $2.65 for a coffee that I don't drink, it's a good price.

For years I have been so utterly desperately desperate to run.  When I was in boot camp, running was fine.  I had two memorable runs.  The first one was a five mile platoon run toward the end of training.  I was just behind our company commander.  She was a major if I recall and I carried the guide on (flag) the entire way behind her, yes, it was heavy toward the end of the run but, I don't think my feet touched the ground.  The second one was our final PFT (physical fitness test).  Private Shimp had already washed out of her first platoon due to an injury and had been recycled into ours.  If she didn't make the test, she'd be discharged, which she surely didn't want. Her dad was a Marine.  I knew I could run a lot faster but she was seriously not going to make it so I stayed with her, despite a big dose of abuse from more than one drill instructor. . . I'd be failed if I didn't keep running, run, run, run. . .  I just couldn't leave her.  We both finished just under the time limit.  High.

Now I feel as if I'm turning the corner, not just physically, which would never have been enough to really run, I just know it.

Starting Over - Today is Day One!

So I only missed two days this week in the Insanity program, but between that and the bad disk (which I was able to replace for $14), I'm taking a mulligan.

Lately my whole outlook has changed, well not really changed, just solidified, and after only 46 years you say?  What caused this?  It could be any one or more likely a combination of a number of items.  On New Year's Day I started a journal, for the first time you say?  Oh, no, for the 40th time, but I actually kept writing in it instead of polishing off one page then moving on to the next brightly colored object.  Truth be told I started it in mid December, but whatever.  The point it that I wrote down the things that were important to me to accomplish and even if I didn't go back every day and re-read them, somehow just by writing every day or two, I reminded myself that one of the things I do best is change.  I can change anything I want to and now, instead of it just being what I eat (or don't) or think about (or don't) I decided to start being me.  The first page on December 15 2011 says at the top of the page, "I am here impersonating my self".  Yup, myself is supposed to be one word, but I like to write meaningful six word sentences as a way to clarify or just amuse.

So rushing forward 3 months, I was holed up in a hotel room for the weekend with The Bear and came across a blog written by an ultra runner and came away truly inspired, not just by her story, but by her own self imposed challenges.  By a show of hands, who among us doesn't have some serious self imposed challenges??  As the resident Queen of self torture (all mental and spiritual) and self denial, I could almost hear the click in my little tiny rat brain when, after approximately 9 hours of reading, I ended up at the beginning of her story (you can read someone's blog from last to first or first to last post, I did the former).

I also spent some special time watching the TV guide channel.  You can tell a lot about a lodging facility based on the quality, or lack thereof, of the viewing options.  Pickings were slim but I kept secretly going back to the guide channel because they were showing the Beach Body Insanity cardio workout with Shaun T.  In my defense, I don't go in for any AS SEEN ON TV items although I admit that I will watch the Time Life ads for music collections, over and over - it's almost like a little taste of life, pre-MTV.  Anyway, being a swamp yankee, I wasn't going to pay $120 for the program, but let's all say yay for craigslist.  $60 later, my disks were winging their way to my house.

“At times our own light goes out

and is rekindled by a spark from another person.

Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude

of those who have lighted the flame

within us.” 

- Albert Schweitzer

 

SLG, you don't know who I am, but I am thanking you for helping me to wake up.

Week 2

Despite my in ability to spell and some logistical issues of a reasonably sized hotel room, I managed three workouts since landing in SD on Monday.  One of those days was supposed to be a rest day, and Monday I was just wiped, still suffering the ravages of my beloved Junipers. This is why they are so near and dear to me.  I carve non-functional wooden spoons, when not obsessing with being able to run again.

  

All of the wood starts out as potential household heat in the firewood before I start, but it's the same tree that grows all over our erstwhile back yard; someone else cut it down.  Anyway, there is something about the cedar smell of it and the surprises that often come out of the wood while I work it, not to mention the peace of mindless carving.  We went to Hawaii last summer and on our final day there we stumbled across a small warehouse that sells wood.  The owner was so kind and let me rummage through his odds and ends in the back of the shop, then he boxed up and shipped my prizes home to me; all of which are still stacked neatly on my work bench.  Maybe because it's finite, that I actually had to pay for it or because it doesn't smell, I just can't bring myself to use it.  Here is another photo of a spoon I gave to my dear friend Kim.

Now you know why Monday wasn't a workout day, the Junipers were still trying to do me in.  The workouts are getting a little easier, maybe in part because it's becoming familiar, don't care why.  

I've had some terrible plantar fasciitis over the past two years, just awful and I'm finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.  My theory on the sudden improvement is that the Insanity program is strengthening muscles that were contributing to the imbalance that caused the PF.  Needless to say, I'm getting pretty itchy to actually run again and even ordered a second pair of Merrell Pace Gloves yesterday.  I love Amazon. . .

Moth to a Flame

The last few days have been a struggle with allergies and the return of some lovely bronchial congestion.  This in and of itself is not really a good thing but I remain undaunted, which is.  Thursday night I ended up on the couch, miserable with a 200 lb. something perched precariously on my chest.  So that, topped with poor sleep left me feeling a little less than stellar yesterday morning.  I made a last minute appt. for acupuncture and I have to say, what a thing of beauty those little needles are.  I left feeling like the aforementioned 200 lb. beast had been removed to points unknown.

In addition to the physical care (which I don't believe is just physical more on that later) but this was a big deal to take the time and space to actually take care of myself.