regret

how could i make such a terrible mistake?
i knew it, i knew it in the first five seconds
my intuition screamed NO!
why? why did i not listen to my gut?
instead of waking up later
much later
in the throes of regret?
(hanging my head in shame & remorse)

to be continued...someday....on a better note..i hope...

Psyching up

ok, here goes.  i'm lazy, lethargic, just wanna crawl back in bed.
but i won't.
i am getting up, getting ready to go to this class.
just wait, mr. robb, i'm on my way..
(i know he's gonna wup my butt)
i can do this...pain is gain...

later alligator!



11:59 am. Squeal into the gym parking lot, one minute to spare. (why i always always allow only the least amount of time to get someplace that i possibly can, assuming i can drive 70 mph the whole way with no red lights, is beyond me,...) The entrance is in the back, so i almost have a head-on collision with another car just leaving.  Looking for a place to park.  Spot a personalized plated, gay-pride-stickered, silver Mercedes coupe.  yup, Robb's here.  A couple cars down, I find a space, next to another car with that same gay pride sticker. hmmm, now i'll be scoping around class, thinking, "which one of you is...?"

A tad late, but in time for the upper-body, boxing warm-up.  560 punches in just 5 minutes, including 3 short breaks, Robb informs us.  That's nothing compared to the final boxing track of 700-something punches, mostly hard consecutive hooks, all on one side, nonstop.  but that's later on..

I slip in behind mr. guido-man, and i apologize if that's sounds racist, but actually wikepedia says it's no longer a demeaning term, just a word for a working-class Italian-American who "conducts himself in an overtly macho manner".  like this dude.  He's shorter than me, so i have no problem seeing the instructor over his fuzzy little head.  rather squat & overly-muscle bound, too.  Reminds me of the  gorilla in the Donkey Kong game, but i try not to think about that or i crack up and can't concentrate.

and i need to concentrate here!

 Kung fu crane move starts our killer lower-body work-out, specifically one-leg squats, esquivas, and switch lunges. "Not a plyometric movement where you use a high bounce to propel you up to switch legs in the lunge, but stay low, use those glutes!" says Robb. ouch.

  Then my favorite: Muay Thai moves to Kick Start my Heart by Motley Crue.  Stick jabs, ascending elbow strikes.  "use your sharp elbow to tear up your opponent's face!" (I'm shredding him today!) Then on the knee strikes: "your opponent's head is not going to go voluntarily into your knee. Gotta put your hands together, yank his head down and JAM it into your knee!!"  (we be jammin here..)  Then we add that yummy push-kick, with the instructions to lean back, and with a flat foot, use a circular motion to push that foot into his belly..you should feel it "here" (points to mid-thigh) through "here" (mid-abdomen)  I'm doing my best to shove my imaginary opponent down to the ground with great force, and Robb points at me and says, "That was GOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!"  I feel so proud, like a grade school kid who just had her book  report praised by her third grade teacher.  So grinny that I almost forget how to do my other favorite muay thai move, the traveling brawler punches.  He reminds us to use the distance between our high-raised fist all the way down to our on-the-ground opponent's face.  Slam! Bam!  I visualize that youtube video of the Asian girl beating the stink out of that mean bully chick who totally deserved those brawler blows.




We do our 700-whatever punch super boxing track, "emptying our tanks" as he commands us to, and then we do our light jog around the room, high-fiving him on the way as we grab our mats and get ready to finish off with sit-ups and push-ups. Good stuff, but I really miss the hip escape push-ups we used to do. I think people complained too much, they were too "challenging" for some. What??? those things were awesome, and made you feel like such a sneaky ninja! oh well. one day, if i am ever a body combat instructor myself, i will throw in lots and lots of hip escape push-ups.

As i start up my car in the parking lot, the owner of the gay pride sticker car beside me also arrives to leave.  and sure enough, just as i expected, it belongs to this particular person that i suspected was "checking me out" in class a few times.  and it isn't a "he".  i'm so good at picking these people out, if i do say so myself... ;-D

Such a good work-out, i rationalized that i desserved a little retail therapy afterwards, so i take a detour before going home..


..and since i was still feeling a bit of residue from my yesterday's sadness, this therapy was well taken.  i mean, ask any girl, and you will not find one who is not at least a little bit cheered up by the purchase of a new purse, and new shoes.

ahhh, that's better.  

till next time!

(p.s. new release of the next Body Combat set coming soon!!)

sermon notes

1 Sam. 17

all i want is for people to know my heart.  my real heart.  that i'm not just a mean person but a person who is finally finding her voice and needs to say some things once and for all, words that are my truths. 

God is my provider.

.... truths that create a more accurate picture of who i am.

My past choices do not define who I am today.  if i could go back, i'd make some other choices, but time went on, my  voice got buried, things just happened, and so i aligned my life to look like the choices i made.  but it was just an image.  not the real me.  so God.  help me tear myself out of this false image, to crawl out, brush myself off, stand up on my own 2  very wobbly legs, like a newborn calf.

Don't forget what you learned when you were being tested.

  i will still struggle with difficult conversations, i still try to avoid awkward, uncomfortable situations where i need to speak up and say something but i don't because i'm afraid. or i pretend it's fine and i go along with people who try to persuade me, just to please them, to get them to stop pressuring me.  stop, stop, stop pressuring me.just let me choose.  just let me be me.  

i want my dream to come true, for once.  no more settling.  hear my prayer, Lord.   and if my dream cannot come true, at least let me be free to be me.

"A faith that has not been tested cannot be trusted."

"Faithful obedience may lead you to your biggest obstacle in life."

(see, i did TOO pay attention in church..)

this just in

for the greater good
i will smile
i will pretend
i will love
   as a friend
   a mother
   a servant
but one day
i will be free

More quirkiness at 2840

Whenever my siblings and I talk about our parents' home, the house where we pretty much all grew up, we just refer to it as "2840", which is the street address there.

So here are a few quirky things about this home, things I'll remember about my parents and this house after they're...gone.

The crow feeder.  This was once a squirrel feeder that I got my dad for Christmas,  but they have since become obsessed with the crows in the area and started feeding the crows table scraps on a daily basis.  They collect old meat scraps, bread, noodles, oatmeal, whatever, in a plastic bucket on the kitchen floor, then bring it out and slop it onto this wood thing.  Looks gross,  but they love watching the crows come to feast upon it.

I gave them this personalized rug for Christmas one year, and it hangs above our basement freezer. (the ice cream freezer).  It's from an old saying from their favorite radio show host, Garrison Keiler, of Prairie Home Companion.

ok, don't get scared now, but this is a part of the basement that always creeped me out: this dark tunnel that leads to an even creepier place, the storage room, a dark, damp place where my mom used to store all the jars of vegetables and fruits that she used to can, plus all sorts of other miscellaneous junk.  Once inside, with the light on, it's not so bad, but walking down there in the half-darkness always scared me, and pulling open that heavy door and listening to it scrape along the hard cement floor...I'd keep telling myself, "don't think about amytiville horror, nope-nope-nope-i am NOT going to think about amytiville horror and the last scary scene in the movie where they run back downstairs to get their dog and the walls are dripping blood...AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! (or something like that, i refuse to watch it again to remember the details..)

Then there's my dad's big wood pile.  He is 90 years old, and up until recently, he has always loved to have logs brought to our yard, where he chops them himself, creates huge stacks of wood outside and in our basement, and then heats the home almost entirely just by using this wood stove.  It's his passion.  But now that he has cancer and is not doing well, this may soon be a thing of the past.

and thinking of these things makes me sad...andgodijustcan'tdothisican'tican'tican'tmyparentswouldbewillbedevastatediftheyknowbuti'mdyinginsidesosadsosadjustwanttobreakdownandcrycrycryandhavesomeonetoholdmeholdmeholdmesomeoneicanmeltintolikeabigteddybearwithskinonbutidon'thaveanyonelikethatneverdidgodpleasebemybigteddybearandholdmeholdmeholdmewhileicrycrycrymysoulkeepsgettingcutopendeeperdeeperdeeperandisoundsostupidanddesperatebutiamlordhelpmepleasei'mdying

oh and here's our creepy yucky basement shower...complete with a plethora of skinny daddy-long-legs spider running wild and free, and a cold trickle of water that takes for-ev-er to get past the lukewarm stage, and then you'd better not dare close both eyes or think about scary shower movies while shampooing...just don't.

and finally, my dad's little man cave, or office. this is where he sits, or used to sit, while doing his writing. he wrote and published one book down here and has been working on the second one. both about his days as a soldier in world war II. 

i will always cherish these spots in our home, at 2840, long after the house is cleaned out and sold. its ghosts of our growing up there will always remain. just as our love for our parents will remain in our hearts. i love you mama & papa.

Trip to the library w/parentsf

                                   Papa needed more large-print books to read. so here we go...

                                                   

cool statue of girl reading book inside circle

funny signs...

sorry, no long naps here...

oh, gee i never thought of that.

awwww, look at dee itty-bitty bunny...how sweet!!!

it's hard seeing your parents get older. so much older.

Morning jog

A little walk/run around my old neighborhood this morning was like a walk down memory lane.

Just around the corner and a  couple blocks down...lies my alma mater.  North High School.  The place where some dreams came true... (made the dance team every year, got to hang out on the fringe of the "in" crowd all those years..a big deal back then..)  and some dreams were broken. (lost at love, learned to be cynical.)

Walked some more, ended up at my elementary school.  Walked in from the back.  This is the warming house, where we'd go in to warm up after ice skating on the frozen ice rink they'd create on the adjoining field every year.  We'd bring our ice skates and go skating at the noon recess and after school.

The bike racks.  It was nice living in a small town where the light traffic, safe neighborhoods and plenty of sidewalks allowed us to ride our bikes to school and home again.

And the houses on our block.  This particular one is still owned by the Anger family.  what a name, and what a family.  I was good friends with the second youngest, a girl just a year older than me.  She was the only girl, had about 8 older brothers, one younger.  Most were in some kind of trouble with the law, it seemed.  The saying "bad company corrupts good character" applies well here.  Soon after we became friends, she taught me how to smoke cigarettes, and once her older brother even introduced us to pot in the woods behind their house.  This same brother, she told me, once did "dirty stuff" with her...my first encounter with a victim of incest.  yuck.  I'm glad that friendship ended soon after I got caught smoking once by my parents.  We lost touch of each other, I think she became pregnant in junior high school.  Her dad still lives at this house, below:

just stuff you think about as you walk down these old streets.