Posts Tagged "workout"

A Perfect Sunday

Dear Kid,

A Perfect Sunday (obviously) starts with the night before. Last night Dad took me to see the North College Hill Community Theater production of The Real Inspector Hound. The accents came and went a bit, but it was delightful (I LOVE Tom Stoppard [the author]) and a nice little space. The only thing that could have improved it would have been to tie it with another of Stoppard’s one act plays. On the flip side, with only one act we got home before bedtime.

Also last night the Puppy slept through the night. Which was a Big Freakin’ Deal. We are quite hopeful that this is a sign that the 4am barking phase is over and done with.

Today, I hope to get to the gym early and be home in time for the most important event of the year. You got it: the Puppy Bowl.

This year they’ve included several “disabled” dogs. Um, “differently-abled” please. The really wonderful news is that all these pups are from shelters and have now been adopted. Big cheer from the endzone if you ask me.

Also, flippin’ cute.

As a conversation stopper, "I don't drink caffeine" was right up there with “Let’s talk politics and religion.” DearKidLoveMom.comThen there’s football.

I really hope it’s a good game. It’s the last one of the season and I hope, hope, hope it provides 100% in the way of entertainment and sport and 0% in the way of scandal. We, the People, need that.

Meanwhile, the sun is shining, the streets are clear, and the coffee is hot.

This is shaping up to be a perfect Sunday.

Love, Mom

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The Truth About the Olympics

Dear Kid,

Well, it’s official. Usain Bolt is faster than you are. DearKidLoveMom.comWell, it’s official. Usain Bolt is faster than you are.

He’s also taller. And has his own pose.

Simone Biles is bouncier than you.

She’s also shorter. And her eye makeup is more sparkly.

Ryan Lochte is cooler than you. His response to being held up at gunpoint in Rio was (and I quote) “whatever”.

The American women play volleyball better than you do. Other American women play soccer better than you. Or maybe they don’t.

There are a bunch of people who fence better than you do (but not better than Inigo Montoya).

There are people in Brazil who have cried more than you over the last several days and people who have screamed more than you (mostly fans).

There are athletes who lift far more than two of you. And Michael Phelps is going to have to start lifting heavier weights to be able to carry around all his medals.

I love watching familiar and less familiar sports.

I miss sleep, but I love the Olympics.

Go USA!

Love, Mom

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And Reality Begins to Set In

Dear Kid,

countdown to college move in 3“Who wants to help me make cookies and then go for a long walk?” your sister asked.

Not a completely unreasonable suggestion (for it was more suggestion than question). Except that it was already 9:15pm when she asked.

In between watching the Olympic races (mostly swimming at that hour), Dad and Pi baked 4,892 chocolate chip cookies. Dad announced every few seconds that this was the first time he’d ever made cookies from scratch. It was kind of a sport in and of itself: mix cookie dough, race back into the family room to catch up on the Olympics, race back to the kitchen before the dough is overmixed, yell to find out who the announcers are talking about, scoot the cookies in the oven, pray that the next race will end prior to the timer going off. You get the picture.

By the time Pi and I set off for a walk it was next Tuesday. Who goes for a walk at 11pm? Your sister that’s who. Who thinks it’s a good idea to go for a walk at 11pm when it’s raining and the humidity is about a zillion percent? Your sister that’s who. And who accompanies her? You got it on the first guess.

We had took the Puppy with us on the first lap, but then he was smart enough to want to go inside where it was dry, there was a comfy pillow to sleep on, and someone might be talked into giving him a treat.

Pi and I and our umbrellas continued to walk. Our Fitbits appreciated it. We also got a bit of time to catch up which is always nice and frequently entertaining.

Today’s plan (if she ever decides to wake up) is a mad dash to get her ready for college.

Yikes! My baby goes to college this week.

I’d best go lie down for a bit.

Love, Mom

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15 Reasons NOT To Do the Insanity Workout

Dear Kid,

Your sister has decided to kill me.

15 Reasons NOT To Do the Insanity Workout DearKidLoveMom.comI know this because she has been doing the insanity workouts this summer and has decided I need to join her in these workouts.

Anything that includes the word “insanity” and is not immediately followed either by the word “chocolate” or “coffee” cannot possibly be good for me.

In order to preserve my sanity, my capacity to breathe, and my ability walk upright, I’ve decided to begin compiling a list of reasons NOT to do the insanity workout.

  1. I have a hangnail.
  2. I don’t have an Insanity Workout outfit.
  3. My eyelashes hurt.
  4. I sprained my eardrum.
  5. I want to be able to work out tomorrow.
  6. “Work. Out.” ‘Nuff said.
  7. I have to cook dinner.
  8. I have to write a blog.
  9. I have to paint the garage.
  10. I have to finish knitting a sweater.
  11. I have to learn how to knit.
  12. I have a date with a pillow.
  13. I need to text someone.
  14. I have to be home in case the political pollsters call.
  15. I’d rather binge out on Oreos.

I don’t think she’ll accept any of those, but a girl’s gotta try.

Love, Mom

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Mom Versus the Sports Bra

Dear Kid,

Anyone who says that men and women are identical in all things has never experienced the joy of a sports bra.

A well-crafted sports bra is all about, um, restraint, and is built with more attention to engineering than the space station.

Wriggling in and out of a good sports bra involves the grace of a drunk water buffalo and the agility of a contortionist. DearKidLoveMom.comA sports bra “fits” if it is 4 sizes smaller than that which it is trying to contain. Wriggling in and out of a good sports bra involves the grace of a drunk water buffalo and the agility of a contortionist. Scientists have determined that more calories are burned dressing and undressing than during most workouts.

You think Game of Thrones contains battles? Ha! That’s nothing compared to the Battle of the Sports Bra.

Yesterday I almost lost the battle. The particular garment in question has a clip thing (no problem) AND a zipper (big problem). To correctly fasten the zipper you have to exert 2 billion pounds of force to bring the two sides together and then zip the zipper. While you hold the edges still. This works better if you’re an octopus. Having only standard issue limbs, I struggled.

Somehow, the zipper misaligned and I found myself in the grip of industrial strength elastic. The zipper would neither zip nor move down. The elastic tried to simultaneously strangle me and pull apart the entire contraption.

I tugged, I tweaked, I coaxed, I cajoled, I pulled, I lost. I tried holding part of the zipper in my teeth. (Yes, mom, even after all that orthodonture.) I was mere moments away from calling the rescue team to bring a pair of scissors to cut me free when I finally (finally!) muttered the proper curse and got unzipped.

After I got the whole thing refastened, I hit the gym floor. It seemed like a lot of effort to stroll once around the track. (I’m kidding. I strolled several times around.)

Equality, my Aunt Fanny.

Love, Mom

 

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