On Saturday morning, I woke up to the incredibly annoying sound my phone makes when it is trying to wake me up. There are a lot of sounds I can sleep right through. TV, music, thunder and traffic are a few examples. Why don't I just change it? Because, then I wouldn't get up to hit snooze or turn it off. It would just keep right on beeping, playing, dinging, whatever. As bad as it is during the week, when the incessant squawking just reminds me that I have another day of work, on Saturday morning it was my worst nightmare. It meant that I had to get up and go to Boot Camp.
I have never been a boot camp kind of girl. Mostly, because I was scared. I mean, really, who actually likes to have someone in their face yelling at them while they are most likely doing something that they don't actually want to do anyway? Then I heard about the No Teacher Left Behind program by Jay's Boot Camp. Jay is the trainer for the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Who wouldn't want to look like one of those girls even on their "fat" days? Since I haven't been able to motivate myself to go to Yoga or work out on my own, I thought, "what the hell?" I forked over $100 for a four week session which allowed me to attend as many classes at any location that I choose. Since there are classes offered three days a week in Rockwall, it seemed perfect.
After class number 1, I came home and laid on the living room floor for 30 minutes until the nausea passed. The next day, everything hurt. EVERYTHING. The day after that, it hurt even worse! But, I attended class number 2 and repeated this process all over again. I kind of liked it. Class number 3, total exhaustion, but no more soreness. In class number 4, we did so many cherry pickers, it made me want to throw away the cherries I had bought the day before. Class number 5 made me never want to lay down again and Class number 6 brought back the nausea and pain that only bleachers can bestow upon a person. It was great.
The instructors are great and the workouts are unbelievable. There is no yelling. Just words of encouragement and the right amount of push. I've even taken a few of my workouts to school and had my varsity team do them. When even girls half my age struggled I started to feel even better about what I had accomplished.
Do I like being sore? No. Do I like vomiting during my workouts? Of course not. Do I like it when my pants are a little less snug and my legs don't jiggle? Heck yeah, I do. So yes, I will keep suffering through the pain and heat. Did I mention these classes take place outside at 7PM. 107 is HOT.
Now, I'm off to eat some Oreos and milk. That is something worth working out for!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Worst Blogger Ever.
I could possibly be the worst blogger ever. I have all these little things that happen or random thoughts that I want to talk about but never want to write down. I would probably be a much better radio or talk show host, because, as my husband will tell you, I can talk about anything for any amount of time without needing any input or guidance. Even if I don't necessarily know what I am talking about...I will still talk. If that means making things up, so be it.
I have this innate ability to drive my husband crazy by arguing with him. And I know everyone argues with their significant others every once in a while, but I will argue with mine even if I agree with him. Seriously. He will be making a point that I totally agree with but I will say something for no other reason that to challenge his perspective. This has yet to work out well for me, but I am still unable to resist the opportunity to push his buttons a little. Don't feel too sorry for him though. He knows all my buttons will push them until I start flashing like some sort of computer game.
Tangents are my favorite course of direction. That's another reason why talking is easier than writing. I can't look back over a conversation, get irritated that it makes no sense, and then go back and change it...100 times. Once its done, its done. Is it always done right? Of course not. But it doesn't bother me when I hear craziness. It bothers me when I try to read it. Each of my blogs went through a minimum of two drafts before being posted. I swear. The sentence that you should be reading right now was erased three times and now omitted completely because I couldn't get it our correctly.
My honeymoon recaps...they are still coming. I just have this particular way that I want to present them. Funny thing is, eventually I will give up and slap them on here. Then I will go in and periodically update them, because they are presented the way I wanted or simply because my mood changed and I just want to change them.
I might really need to be medicated. I promise that if everything that went through my head came out of my mouth, I would immediately be committed for observation. If everything that came out of my mouth went down on paper, it would be one hell of a story.
I have this innate ability to drive my husband crazy by arguing with him. And I know everyone argues with their significant others every once in a while, but I will argue with mine even if I agree with him. Seriously. He will be making a point that I totally agree with but I will say something for no other reason that to challenge his perspective. This has yet to work out well for me, but I am still unable to resist the opportunity to push his buttons a little. Don't feel too sorry for him though. He knows all my buttons will push them until I start flashing like some sort of computer game.
Tangents are my favorite course of direction. That's another reason why talking is easier than writing. I can't look back over a conversation, get irritated that it makes no sense, and then go back and change it...100 times. Once its done, its done. Is it always done right? Of course not. But it doesn't bother me when I hear craziness. It bothers me when I try to read it. Each of my blogs went through a minimum of two drafts before being posted. I swear. The sentence that you should be reading right now was erased three times and now omitted completely because I couldn't get it our correctly.
My honeymoon recaps...they are still coming. I just have this particular way that I want to present them. Funny thing is, eventually I will give up and slap them on here. Then I will go in and periodically update them, because they are presented the way I wanted or simply because my mood changed and I just want to change them.
I might really need to be medicated. I promise that if everything that went through my head came out of my mouth, I would immediately be committed for observation. If everything that came out of my mouth went down on paper, it would be one hell of a story.
Monday, July 11, 2011
A Honeymoon in Recaps
My Internet access in France was a little sketchy so posting didn't quite go as planned. Although, if I'm being honest, I was having way too much fun to sit around and write up my recaps. While I am sorting through my thoughts and figuring out the best way to present a magnificent three weeks in France, I have a top 10 ten list for you.
Top 10 things you may not have known about France but should.
10. The French drive like crazy people. If you are the least bit cautious then don't even bother getting on the road. If, however, you have the made skills of my coworker, J-Bo, then go for it.
9. Everything closes for lunch. If they are open it's because they are waiting on tourists like you.
8. Don't be surprised if, while parked on the side of the road, someone approaches you for sex. That's how the hookers roll. It's both legal and taxable. And since retirement is around age sixty, some of them are older than your mom.
7. Get comfortable with that roundabout over in Waco. In France, that is just a plain old intersection.
6. There is much more English here than French in the U.S. Many locals speak English. It is in your best interest not to talk smack thinking they don't understand.
5. "Ooh la la" is not used in a sexual sense. It is more like "good grief" or "geez."
4. If you are looking for a vineyard to do some wine tasting and you miss one, don't bother turning around. Chances are there is another one less than a mile up the road.
3. There are a lot of bars. However, these bars are open early in the morning and serve coffee. We call them cafes. Don't mistake this for a country of alcoholics.
2. Lunch can, and in my case did, include bottles of both wine and champagne. The statement made in point three may need to be reevaluated.
1. One trip will never be enough.
Top 10 things you may not have known about France but should.
10. The French drive like crazy people. If you are the least bit cautious then don't even bother getting on the road. If, however, you have the made skills of my coworker, J-Bo, then go for it.
9. Everything closes for lunch. If they are open it's because they are waiting on tourists like you.
8. Don't be surprised if, while parked on the side of the road, someone approaches you for sex. That's how the hookers roll. It's both legal and taxable. And since retirement is around age sixty, some of them are older than your mom.
7. Get comfortable with that roundabout over in Waco. In France, that is just a plain old intersection.
6. There is much more English here than French in the U.S. Many locals speak English. It is in your best interest not to talk smack thinking they don't understand.
5. "Ooh la la" is not used in a sexual sense. It is more like "good grief" or "geez."
4. If you are looking for a vineyard to do some wine tasting and you miss one, don't bother turning around. Chances are there is another one less than a mile up the road.
3. There are a lot of bars. However, these bars are open early in the morning and serve coffee. We call them cafes. Don't mistake this for a country of alcoholics.
2. Lunch can, and in my case did, include bottles of both wine and champagne. The statement made in point three may need to be reevaluated.
1. One trip will never be enough.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Random Observations about Today's Teenagers
Things I witnessed or heard and totally didn't understand.
- House shoes are called house shoes for a reason. They are meant to be worn at home. Let's keep them there.
- Why are you offended when you pierce that and then get asked if it is a zit? Plus, it's against dress code so you need to remove it. No, I'm not joking.
- Nike shorts rule, but the Uggs you are wearing them with look ridiculous, especially since its 90 degrees outside.
- Eyeliner and Mascara companies (probably make-up in general) must be thriving. I've seen girls reapply an entire day's worth of make-up at 10:30 in the morning. I wonder what they use to get it off?
- A lot of horses have died to create the long flowing locks that are so treasured by teen girls.
- "What?" is not an actual question. It is simply a teenager's instinctual reaction to any statement made by an adult.
- Most boys do not wash their hands.
- It's time to lose the Justin Beiber hair and while we are at it, throw in the faux mull-hawk (mullet/mohawk).
- Lay off the tanning beds. Orange and Bronze are not the same color.
- When you take away their phone you take away their reason for living, but not their ability to whine about it.
- Reading a book to pass the time is a completely foreign concept.
- Five students were asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. Four of them said "famous." The other said "what?" And it doesn't matter what they are famous for as long as it makes them rich.
Ah, to be young, naive, and totally oblivious of reality.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Little Shack of Horrors Pt. 2: The Roach Pit
Since it has been a while since my last post and in case you have forgotten. Yvan and I rented a nightmare. Seriously, if you stumbled into this house at night you would immediately begin looking for a guy with a mask and a chainsaw. Its that bad.
Now, I'm no stranger to bugs, but infestations are a another story. Yvan and I came to the house one night before we had officially moved in. We had driven back from a rodeo and it was around 10PM. I really don't even remember why we went there but it only took five seconds for me to tell him we weren't staying. As soon as I flicked the switch roaches went EVERYWHERE. I thought I would vomit. My eyes had never seen anything like it. To be fair, they weren't those gigantic waterbugs we normally refer to as roaches, but they were still gross. Also, unlike most waterbugs, the light did not faze them. There was no scampering for a dark corner or a cabinet or even the space under the fridge. They simply continued about their business, much like some of my students after the tardy bell. Horrified, I turned to Yvan and without even speaking, he knew what I was thinking. No way in hell would I be sleeping there, and what did he plan to do about it. With a Wal-Mart right down the road, we headed that way to pick up every kind of roach killer known to man. We bought sprays, foggers, gels and bait, and immediately headed back to the house to unleash our poisons upon the invaders. We used everything in are arsenal, saving the foggers for last and then heading back to the pest free home of my grandparents.
The next day, Yvan returned survey the damage. I believe his exact words were, "It looks like a war zone in there." Victory was ours. Or so I thought. Yvan left for Canada that weekend, and I took to unpacking. It didn't take long to realize that roaches weren't gone. They hadn't even slightly diminished. When I opened a cabinet, they were there. When I opened the blinds, they would fall out. Later, I would find one in the microwave. I quickly learned to unpack with one hand and spray with the other. Since, it seemed that the majority of these little invaders were based in the kitchen and made my first offensive stand there. I gelled the corners of every cabinet and counter and floor. I sprayed each cabinet shelf in its entirety before covering it with shelf liner. Any crack or crevice was immediately filled with gel poison. They were not going to beat me!
Roaches were not our only problem. Due to my poisonous assault upon the kitchen, there was a lot of clean up to do. I began the tedious chore of vacuuming the floor and counter tops. When I put the vacuum hose behind the microwave, there was that unmistakable sound of the hose getting clogged. My first thought, "What the hell kind of roach is big enough to clog a vacuum hose?" Well kids, there isn't. What is big enough to cause that kind of suction loss is a wolf spider. I turned to turn off the vacuum and heard it hit the ground. At first I didn't recognize it as a spider. It was all rolled up into a little ball. Suddenly, it flipped over and began to uncurl. She wasn't alone. You must be wondering how I am so sure about the sex of this nasty little creature. Well, the hundreds of baby spiders that came flying off her back answered that question. I immediately begin screaming and spraying. Those babies were fast! I think the shock of almost going through a vacuum hose paralyzed the momma because once she rolled over, she never moved. This would not be my last encounter with an oversized momma spider. At least Yvan was home the next time. I had just gone to bed and being the loving husband that he is picked up the blanket that I kick off the bed every night and threw it back up top. He jumped in the shower and I got up to take my medicine. While walking back out of the bathroom something caught my eye on the piece of the blanket that was still on the floor. That's right people. Another momma, with another batch of babies. I start yelling about the spider and without looking at what my fuss was about, Yvan just tells me to kill it. With what? A shotgun? There was no spraying it this time, it was on the blanket with all its babies. I finally pitch a big enough fit that Yvan peeks out of the bathroom to assess the situation himself. His reaction was the same as mine. The vacuum cleaner is our only realistic hope. I take the nozzle off, you know, so it will fit through this time. After making sure their are no babies trying to escape, I instruct Yvan to take the vacuum cleaner outside where it stays for almost a week.
They day I came home and Yvan said it was time to find a new place to live was music to my ears. We found a great one a have a contract on it. That contract is now on its third fourth extension but whose counting? That's another blog for another day.
Now, I'm no stranger to bugs, but infestations are a another story. Yvan and I came to the house one night before we had officially moved in. We had driven back from a rodeo and it was around 10PM. I really don't even remember why we went there but it only took five seconds for me to tell him we weren't staying. As soon as I flicked the switch roaches went EVERYWHERE. I thought I would vomit. My eyes had never seen anything like it. To be fair, they weren't those gigantic waterbugs we normally refer to as roaches, but they were still gross. Also, unlike most waterbugs, the light did not faze them. There was no scampering for a dark corner or a cabinet or even the space under the fridge. They simply continued about their business, much like some of my students after the tardy bell. Horrified, I turned to Yvan and without even speaking, he knew what I was thinking. No way in hell would I be sleeping there, and what did he plan to do about it. With a Wal-Mart right down the road, we headed that way to pick up every kind of roach killer known to man. We bought sprays, foggers, gels and bait, and immediately headed back to the house to unleash our poisons upon the invaders. We used everything in are arsenal, saving the foggers for last and then heading back to the pest free home of my grandparents.
The next day, Yvan returned survey the damage. I believe his exact words were, "It looks like a war zone in there." Victory was ours. Or so I thought. Yvan left for Canada that weekend, and I took to unpacking. It didn't take long to realize that roaches weren't gone. They hadn't even slightly diminished. When I opened a cabinet, they were there. When I opened the blinds, they would fall out. Later, I would find one in the microwave. I quickly learned to unpack with one hand and spray with the other. Since, it seemed that the majority of these little invaders were based in the kitchen and made my first offensive stand there. I gelled the corners of every cabinet and counter and floor. I sprayed each cabinet shelf in its entirety before covering it with shelf liner. Any crack or crevice was immediately filled with gel poison. They were not going to beat me!
Here are some fun facts I bet you didn't know about roaches.
- Heat will bring them out of hiding. The first time I cooked in the oven, they scrambled out of the cabinet faster than I could spray them.
- Roach bait does not work.
- They learn
- One minute in a microwave is not long enough. Yes, I found one there. Yes, I turned the microwave on. No, the little sucker did not die.
Roaches were not our only problem. Due to my poisonous assault upon the kitchen, there was a lot of clean up to do. I began the tedious chore of vacuuming the floor and counter tops. When I put the vacuum hose behind the microwave, there was that unmistakable sound of the hose getting clogged. My first thought, "What the hell kind of roach is big enough to clog a vacuum hose?" Well kids, there isn't. What is big enough to cause that kind of suction loss is a wolf spider. I turned to turn off the vacuum and heard it hit the ground. At first I didn't recognize it as a spider. It was all rolled up into a little ball. Suddenly, it flipped over and began to uncurl. She wasn't alone. You must be wondering how I am so sure about the sex of this nasty little creature. Well, the hundreds of baby spiders that came flying off her back answered that question. I immediately begin screaming and spraying. Those babies were fast! I think the shock of almost going through a vacuum hose paralyzed the momma because once she rolled over, she never moved. This would not be my last encounter with an oversized momma spider. At least Yvan was home the next time. I had just gone to bed and being the loving husband that he is picked up the blanket that I kick off the bed every night and threw it back up top. He jumped in the shower and I got up to take my medicine. While walking back out of the bathroom something caught my eye on the piece of the blanket that was still on the floor. That's right people. Another momma, with another batch of babies. I start yelling about the spider and without looking at what my fuss was about, Yvan just tells me to kill it. With what? A shotgun? There was no spraying it this time, it was on the blanket with all its babies. I finally pitch a big enough fit that Yvan peeks out of the bathroom to assess the situation himself. His reaction was the same as mine. The vacuum cleaner is our only realistic hope. I take the nozzle off, you know, so it will fit through this time. After making sure their are no babies trying to escape, I instruct Yvan to take the vacuum cleaner outside where it stays for almost a week.
They day I came home and Yvan said it was time to find a new place to live was music to my ears. We found a great one a have a contract on it. That contract is now on its third fourth extension but whose counting? That's another blog for another day.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The Little Shack of Horrors Pt.1: The Decision
I have very strong feelings regarding the rent house in which Yvan and I currently reside...none of which are of the sunshine variety...and all for very good reasons. There are a multitude of nicknames for said house including "The Little Shack of Horrors, Craphole, The Roach Nest, Piecer," and my personal favorite, "Chateau Sh**."
We rented this house as a last resort. I swear, it was literally THE LAST HOUSE for rent any where in an area that would keep both of us near work. Add in the fact that Yvan and I have very different ideas of what is considered suitable living space and we had our work cut out for us. You see, I don't need a yard and have no problems with neighbors. I can handle an apartment, condo, or house with neighbors. Yvan has never lived in a neighborhood, much less an apartment. He grew up in France, in a small village, in a home built into the side of a mountain that overlooks said village. I'm sorry babe, but we don't have that here in Rockwall. Since moving to the US, he has lived on acreage. Again, lucky him. So you can imagine the difficulties we had trying to find something that would work for both of us. Since he refused to live in an apartment, we were forced to go house hunting. The only thing we did agree on was not wanting to pay someone else's mortgage to live in their home. The cost of renting is ridiculous in Rockwall. Seriously, 1100sf, 2bed/2bath, no yard = $1800. Umm, no. Its not even the amount of money, its the fact that I am paying your mortgage and getting nothing in return. I finally gave up and left the searching up to Yvan. I was tired and way past done. Maybe I should have pushed a little more. Here are Yvan's Top 3.
3. Ranch house in Terrell. This actually would have been a pretty good deal if it was a little closer. It was right smack in the middle of a large (I mean huge) ranch. But, when even Yvan says it might take a while to get to work (like, 10 minutes to even get off the property) its a problem. I have varsity practice at 7am. The earlier I have to get up the worse it gets for anyone that has to deal with me that day. So that is a pass.
2. Ranch Style home in McLendon Chisholm. Ummm, I started crying when we walked in. The house was a disaster. The back door wouldn't open and the downstairs bedroom was painted pepto pink and covered with tinkerbell icons. The owners were willing to let us repaint at our own cost. Seriously? Upstairs wasn't any better. There was no carpet in the closet, but there was carpet nails. Again, the owners weren't willing to repair it, but we could at our own cost. SERIOUSLY? There are nails sticking up out of the floor. And then there was the back yard and full array of broken, busted little kid toys everywhere. Again, we could clean it up, but they weren't going to. I very rarely give up a fight, but I must have completely shut down mentally, because Yvan made all the arrangements to meet and sign papers. Luckily, his mother convinced him that he was being ridiculous. Any landlord that wouldn't fix problems like that before we move in, certainly wasn't going to willing to fix things later. And, hadn't he just rented out his cabin in Huntsville? How much time and money did he invest to make sure it was a nice space for his renters? Yvan finally came to his senses and told me we weren't going to live there. I cried again. This time they were tears of joy and relief rather than agony and total defeat. The latter would come again later.
3. The last resort. Yvan calls me and says he found a place. Yvan: "Can you come by and look at it tomorrow?" Me: "Uh, sure. Where is it?" Yvan: "About two miles from my school." Me: (to myself) "Of course it is," (to Yvan) "That's awesome!" The next day I swing by and meet Yvan at the house. There are workers present and going to town. And I'm thinking to myself, that's already a good sign. At least they are willing to fix things. We take a little tour and though it is very dated, it has two big bedrooms and two full baths. The kitchen isn't too bad. As we walk into the living room I start feeling a little drunk. As I'm trying to figure out what's going on, Yvan goes, "yeah, the room slants a little bit." No kidding. Without carpet, you could race matchbox cars down the living room. We briefly talk to the contractor about what work is being done and he states the basics, paint, new carpet, etc. I ask Yvan about the price and he says they want $475/mo. Excuse me? $475? That's it? I should have known. Good gracious, I should have known. But, we were both at our breaking point. So, I told him fine. Let's do it.
Worst. Decision. Ever.
As we would soon discover.
Stay tuned for how I, Prissy Krissy, became immune to all things creepy crawly.
We rented this house as a last resort. I swear, it was literally THE LAST HOUSE for rent any where in an area that would keep both of us near work. Add in the fact that Yvan and I have very different ideas of what is considered suitable living space and we had our work cut out for us. You see, I don't need a yard and have no problems with neighbors. I can handle an apartment, condo, or house with neighbors. Yvan has never lived in a neighborhood, much less an apartment. He grew up in France, in a small village, in a home built into the side of a mountain that overlooks said village. I'm sorry babe, but we don't have that here in Rockwall. Since moving to the US, he has lived on acreage. Again, lucky him. So you can imagine the difficulties we had trying to find something that would work for both of us. Since he refused to live in an apartment, we were forced to go house hunting. The only thing we did agree on was not wanting to pay someone else's mortgage to live in their home. The cost of renting is ridiculous in Rockwall. Seriously, 1100sf, 2bed/2bath, no yard = $1800. Umm, no. Its not even the amount of money, its the fact that I am paying your mortgage and getting nothing in return. I finally gave up and left the searching up to Yvan. I was tired and way past done. Maybe I should have pushed a little more. Here are Yvan's Top 3.
3. Ranch house in Terrell. This actually would have been a pretty good deal if it was a little closer. It was right smack in the middle of a large (I mean huge) ranch. But, when even Yvan says it might take a while to get to work (like, 10 minutes to even get off the property) its a problem. I have varsity practice at 7am. The earlier I have to get up the worse it gets for anyone that has to deal with me that day. So that is a pass.
2. Ranch Style home in McLendon Chisholm. Ummm, I started crying when we walked in. The house was a disaster. The back door wouldn't open and the downstairs bedroom was painted pepto pink and covered with tinkerbell icons. The owners were willing to let us repaint at our own cost. Seriously? Upstairs wasn't any better. There was no carpet in the closet, but there was carpet nails. Again, the owners weren't willing to repair it, but we could at our own cost. SERIOUSLY? There are nails sticking up out of the floor. And then there was the back yard and full array of broken, busted little kid toys everywhere. Again, we could clean it up, but they weren't going to. I very rarely give up a fight, but I must have completely shut down mentally, because Yvan made all the arrangements to meet and sign papers. Luckily, his mother convinced him that he was being ridiculous. Any landlord that wouldn't fix problems like that before we move in, certainly wasn't going to willing to fix things later. And, hadn't he just rented out his cabin in Huntsville? How much time and money did he invest to make sure it was a nice space for his renters? Yvan finally came to his senses and told me we weren't going to live there. I cried again. This time they were tears of joy and relief rather than agony and total defeat. The latter would come again later.
3. The last resort. Yvan calls me and says he found a place. Yvan: "Can you come by and look at it tomorrow?" Me: "Uh, sure. Where is it?" Yvan: "About two miles from my school." Me: (to myself) "Of course it is," (to Yvan) "That's awesome!" The next day I swing by and meet Yvan at the house. There are workers present and going to town. And I'm thinking to myself, that's already a good sign. At least they are willing to fix things. We take a little tour and though it is very dated, it has two big bedrooms and two full baths. The kitchen isn't too bad. As we walk into the living room I start feeling a little drunk. As I'm trying to figure out what's going on, Yvan goes, "yeah, the room slants a little bit." No kidding. Without carpet, you could race matchbox cars down the living room. We briefly talk to the contractor about what work is being done and he states the basics, paint, new carpet, etc. I ask Yvan about the price and he says they want $475/mo. Excuse me? $475? That's it? I should have known. Good gracious, I should have known. But, we were both at our breaking point. So, I told him fine. Let's do it.
Worst. Decision. Ever.
As we would soon discover.
Stay tuned for how I, Prissy Krissy, became immune to all things creepy crawly.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Sweat Yourself Skinny
I've never been the type of person that liked working out in the cold. Even getting to the gym during winter was a trial because I didn't want to get out of the car and walk through the cold to get to the gym. I always prefer to be nice and toasty when I work out and finish up a sweaty mess. This can be accomplished if you run long enough on a treadmill, but I've found something way more productive.
Hot Yoga. LOVE IT.
Now, I'm not one of those crazies that practices in a facility with the temp over 100. Your body has to be able to maintain its internal temp. And I certainly don't walk in wearing only spankies and a sports bra. I don't want to see anyone's butt while I'm trying to tone mine. That's just gross. I joined Sunstone Yoga about 6 months ago and it is amazing. After only two weeks, I was so hooked I canceled my other gym membership. I knew that going in there and spending an hour on the treadmill watching all the douchebags workout only their arms (with poor form) and then stare at their abs in the mirror was never going to be satisfying.
During my first class, I didn't think that I would ever make it through a workout in that heat. Truly, while I was lying down waiting for class to start I began to think that maybe I was nuts for trying this. But, once you start moving you don't even notice the heat anymore. The sweat, yes. It's dripping right into your face and stinging the crap out of your eyeballs. So yeah, it's noticeable. And a little painful at first, but you get used to it. Its so weird. I really don't feel the heat.
The temperature of Fire Class at Sunstone is set at 98 degrees with 60% humidity. Notice anything familiar about those numbers? Your internal body temperature is just over 98 degrees and your body is 60% water. I guess when your internal and external temperature and water levels are the same you just don't notice the heat as much.
The sweat, however, is impossible to miss. It soaks your clothes, your hair, your towel, the mat underneath your towel, and the carpet around your mat. Totally nasty. Its bad enough that they provide recycled grocery bags to put your workout clothes in...and I use them...every class. When Yvan gives me a hard time I just throw the bag at him. Always grosses him out and shuts his mouth. Wet yoga clothes are pretty heavy! Side note...make sure you remove your mascara before class. Nothing like walking out of class into the dressing room and realizing that the day's make-up is dripping down your face.
Sweating is not the only great thing about hot yoga. It is such a challenge every time even though we are doing the same sequence of poses. It is the only workout I've ever done that I haven't needed a distraction to make it though. I didn't even notice until my third or fourth class that there wasn't any music. None. With the exception of the instructor talking and everyone breathing, there is no noise. Amazing. And this workout is HARD. My muscles shake so bad and sometimes when I leave I wonder if I'm going to be able to push down on the accelerator hard enough to get home. But, my body feels amazing. I actually have withdrawals when I'm not able to go. According to my doctor, I'm also an inch taller. My back doesn't hurt and its really helping me tone up. Did I mention its not boring?
If you've never tried yoga before, give it a shot. Just make sure you do some research on the kind of yoga offered at each studio and the temperature they keep the room. I think those factors make a big difference.
Hot Yoga. LOVE IT.
Now, I'm not one of those crazies that practices in a facility with the temp over 100. Your body has to be able to maintain its internal temp. And I certainly don't walk in wearing only spankies and a sports bra. I don't want to see anyone's butt while I'm trying to tone mine. That's just gross. I joined Sunstone Yoga about 6 months ago and it is amazing. After only two weeks, I was so hooked I canceled my other gym membership. I knew that going in there and spending an hour on the treadmill watching all the douchebags workout only their arms (with poor form) and then stare at their abs in the mirror was never going to be satisfying.
During my first class, I didn't think that I would ever make it through a workout in that heat. Truly, while I was lying down waiting for class to start I began to think that maybe I was nuts for trying this. But, once you start moving you don't even notice the heat anymore. The sweat, yes. It's dripping right into your face and stinging the crap out of your eyeballs. So yeah, it's noticeable. And a little painful at first, but you get used to it. Its so weird. I really don't feel the heat.
The temperature of Fire Class at Sunstone is set at 98 degrees with 60% humidity. Notice anything familiar about those numbers? Your internal body temperature is just over 98 degrees and your body is 60% water. I guess when your internal and external temperature and water levels are the same you just don't notice the heat as much.
The sweat, however, is impossible to miss. It soaks your clothes, your hair, your towel, the mat underneath your towel, and the carpet around your mat. Totally nasty. Its bad enough that they provide recycled grocery bags to put your workout clothes in...and I use them...every class. When Yvan gives me a hard time I just throw the bag at him. Always grosses him out and shuts his mouth. Wet yoga clothes are pretty heavy! Side note...make sure you remove your mascara before class. Nothing like walking out of class into the dressing room and realizing that the day's make-up is dripping down your face.
Sweating is not the only great thing about hot yoga. It is such a challenge every time even though we are doing the same sequence of poses. It is the only workout I've ever done that I haven't needed a distraction to make it though. I didn't even notice until my third or fourth class that there wasn't any music. None. With the exception of the instructor talking and everyone breathing, there is no noise. Amazing. And this workout is HARD. My muscles shake so bad and sometimes when I leave I wonder if I'm going to be able to push down on the accelerator hard enough to get home. But, my body feels amazing. I actually have withdrawals when I'm not able to go. According to my doctor, I'm also an inch taller. My back doesn't hurt and its really helping me tone up. Did I mention its not boring?
If you've never tried yoga before, give it a shot. Just make sure you do some research on the kind of yoga offered at each studio and the temperature they keep the room. I think those factors make a big difference.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Spring Break!!
Two Words...Woo Hoo! Maybe that's one word, but who really cares. It's Spring Break!
The craziest Spring Break memory I have is gas only costing $.88/gal. Now, that wasn't crazy then, but it sure is now! It cost $12 to fill up my Ford Explorer. 12 years and a couple cars later it now costs over $50 to fill up my Equinox. How do college kids still afford road trips?
I am so not keeping up with this blog like I originally planned. I have so much to write about and no time to write about it. But now its Spring Break, woohoo, and there is some catching up to do. So prepare yourselves for the onslaught. There is much to be said about sweating, shacks, and the joy of teaching. I will not in any way go off like that teacher up north, because finally, at the age of 30, I am a good decision maker and I like my job. That said, bless her heart, I understand.
Spring Break! Woohoo!
The craziest Spring Break memory I have is gas only costing $.88/gal. Now, that wasn't crazy then, but it sure is now! It cost $12 to fill up my Ford Explorer. 12 years and a couple cars later it now costs over $50 to fill up my Equinox. How do college kids still afford road trips?
I am so not keeping up with this blog like I originally planned. I have so much to write about and no time to write about it. But now its Spring Break, woohoo, and there is some catching up to do. So prepare yourselves for the onslaught. There is much to be said about sweating, shacks, and the joy of teaching. I will not in any way go off like that teacher up north, because finally, at the age of 30, I am a good decision maker and I like my job. That said, bless her heart, I understand.
Spring Break! Woohoo!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
A Weight Loss Odyssey: Nutritious vs. Delicious
This is Part 1 of my newest personal endeavor. Let me begin by stating that I don't think I'm fat. I'm not trying to lose an unhealthy amount of weight and I have no desire to starve myself into the size 25 MEK Jeans that all of the high school girls I teach wear. I just don't want to be so mushy. I realize that at 30 a little excess cushion is unavoidable, but there is no excuse for needing to wear Spanx under my jeans at this point. After babies...bring them on! But, right now the muffin top is completely my fault. When it comes to food, I lack any type of discipline.
Please note that my education consists of a BBA in Management Information Systems. The only kinesiology requirement on my graduation plan was KIN 101. Now, I did do well in that class, but the only thing I remember was the hot graduate assistant having to rub my hands to get me to bleed for cholesterol testing. Seriously. Hot. The information you are about to indulge in is purely opinion and based on no facts other than the random Yahoo Shine! article.
There seem to be two main rules to successful dieting. Watch what you eat. Watch how much you eat. I only watch what I eat to make sure I don't consume something totally despicable like onions or broccoli. I am pretty good at watching how much I eat...I watch and watch and watch. About a month ago I finally realized that any type of healthy weight loss was not going to happen without help. So I enlisted the help of my best friend Vanessa and her charm of a husband, Chase. They used some super fun gadgets to determine my resting metabolic rate (Click here for wikipedia explanation). I then had the joy of stepping on a scale, getting my measurements taken, and the ultimate embarrassment of Chase pinching my fat. After reviewing all of the information we nailed down a healthy goal weight. A diet was then created just for me. And so it began...
Let me just tell you that Chase and Vanessa accomplished something that has never been done before. With just one meal plan, they were able to make me dread eating. To their credit the food wasn't all bad, it just wasn't what I wanted to eat. Does anyone know what the heck Quinoa is? Me either. Luckily I had my trusty little iPhone on hand in the grocery store so that I could google it. I had no intention of asking. Also on the google list: gluten free steel cut oats. Surprisingly, there were also some things that I enjoyed but they were usually paired with something not normally found on my grocery list.
Here is a breakdown of the good, the bad, and the down right ugly.
Good:
SunButter (a lot like peanut butter but made from sunflower seeds, great for people with nut allergies)
Any of the fruits (duh...I could live off fruit alone)
Sweet Potatoes
Kroger Corn Tortillas (they are made fresh, anything else tastes like dried cardboard)
Ziplock Steam Bags (I don't like anything that comes out of them, but I do like the convenience of the bag)
Bad:
Raw Broccoli (Be proud Mom and Dad. I sucked it up and ate it, but I had to stuff in it with pieces of salmon)
Pico (as mentioned previously...onions = bleh!)
Ugly:
Everything, after eating it for three or more days in a row. I am a variety type of girl. Other than Chiloso (Best Place EVER), grilled cheese, and cereal, there are very few things that I can eat for days at a time.
You see the thing is, I don't eat in order to provide my body with the nutrition it needs. I eat because I enjoy food. When I eat a grilled cheese, I'm not thinking about calories or protein or sodium. I'm thinking about the crunch of the bread, the saltiness of the butter and the creaminess of the cheese. I eat for delicious not nutritious. Now, Vanessa will tell you that protein pudding is the best dessert ever but the girl has never eaten an Oreo cookie. Seriously, never. Relative to the other food she eats, her protein pudding probably is the best dessert ever. She eats for nutritious.
So how is it all panning out? I've stuck to the plan pretty well. There have been several moments of weakness and the occasional arrival at school with the realization that my food is not with me. You would think that I would be excited because that would be an excuse to eat off the plan, but the truth is, I am truly disappointed when that happens. Over the last few weeks, my body has shrunk and I feel so much better. My energy levels are up, my belly is flat. This nutritious thing actually has some merit. And on those days when the plan is just not an option, I don't run to the nearest Chick-fil-a or vending machine. I run into Kroger and by a piece of fruit and a handful of almonds. I've also learned to keep a little almond milk and protein powder at both of my schools. This will at least tide me over until I can get home and back on the plan.
A huge thank you goes out to Mr. and Mrs. Chase Banks. You guys have done something for me that I haven't been able to do in years...look in the mirror and not be totally grossed out. :)
Next installment in the Weight Loss Odyssey series: Sweat Yourself Skinny
Please note that my education consists of a BBA in Management Information Systems. The only kinesiology requirement on my graduation plan was KIN 101. Now, I did do well in that class, but the only thing I remember was the hot graduate assistant having to rub my hands to get me to bleed for cholesterol testing. Seriously. Hot. The information you are about to indulge in is purely opinion and based on no facts other than the random Yahoo Shine! article.
There seem to be two main rules to successful dieting. Watch what you eat. Watch how much you eat. I only watch what I eat to make sure I don't consume something totally despicable like onions or broccoli. I am pretty good at watching how much I eat...I watch and watch and watch. About a month ago I finally realized that any type of healthy weight loss was not going to happen without help. So I enlisted the help of my best friend Vanessa and her charm of a husband, Chase. They used some super fun gadgets to determine my resting metabolic rate (Click here for wikipedia explanation). I then had the joy of stepping on a scale, getting my measurements taken, and the ultimate embarrassment of Chase pinching my fat. After reviewing all of the information we nailed down a healthy goal weight. A diet was then created just for me. And so it began...
Let me just tell you that Chase and Vanessa accomplished something that has never been done before. With just one meal plan, they were able to make me dread eating. To their credit the food wasn't all bad, it just wasn't what I wanted to eat. Does anyone know what the heck Quinoa is? Me either. Luckily I had my trusty little iPhone on hand in the grocery store so that I could google it. I had no intention of asking. Also on the google list: gluten free steel cut oats. Surprisingly, there were also some things that I enjoyed but they were usually paired with something not normally found on my grocery list.
Here is a breakdown of the good, the bad, and the down right ugly.
Good:
SunButter (a lot like peanut butter but made from sunflower seeds, great for people with nut allergies)
Any of the fruits (duh...I could live off fruit alone)
Sweet Potatoes
Kroger Corn Tortillas (they are made fresh, anything else tastes like dried cardboard)
Ziplock Steam Bags (I don't like anything that comes out of them, but I do like the convenience of the bag)
Bad:
Raw Broccoli (Be proud Mom and Dad. I sucked it up and ate it, but I had to stuff in it with pieces of salmon)
Pico (as mentioned previously...onions = bleh!)
Ugly:
Everything, after eating it for three or more days in a row. I am a variety type of girl. Other than Chiloso (Best Place EVER), grilled cheese, and cereal, there are very few things that I can eat for days at a time.
You see the thing is, I don't eat in order to provide my body with the nutrition it needs. I eat because I enjoy food. When I eat a grilled cheese, I'm not thinking about calories or protein or sodium. I'm thinking about the crunch of the bread, the saltiness of the butter and the creaminess of the cheese. I eat for delicious not nutritious. Now, Vanessa will tell you that protein pudding is the best dessert ever but the girl has never eaten an Oreo cookie. Seriously, never. Relative to the other food she eats, her protein pudding probably is the best dessert ever. She eats for nutritious.
So how is it all panning out? I've stuck to the plan pretty well. There have been several moments of weakness and the occasional arrival at school with the realization that my food is not with me. You would think that I would be excited because that would be an excuse to eat off the plan, but the truth is, I am truly disappointed when that happens. Over the last few weeks, my body has shrunk and I feel so much better. My energy levels are up, my belly is flat. This nutritious thing actually has some merit. And on those days when the plan is just not an option, I don't run to the nearest Chick-fil-a or vending machine. I run into Kroger and by a piece of fruit and a handful of almonds. I've also learned to keep a little almond milk and protein powder at both of my schools. This will at least tide me over until I can get home and back on the plan.
A huge thank you goes out to Mr. and Mrs. Chase Banks. You guys have done something for me that I haven't been able to do in years...look in the mirror and not be totally grossed out. :)
Next installment in the Weight Loss Odyssey series: Sweat Yourself Skinny
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Enjoying all that 2011 has to offer...
I had been anticipating 2011 for months. With a New Year's Eve wedding to get things started, I had huge expectations for an exciting year. Excitement I certainly got, but not exactly thing kind that I was looking for. I've listed the following incidents in bullet form because, honestly, it is an impressive list.
- January 1 - Woke up the morning after my wedding with food poisoning.
- January 3 - Back to school (okay, so I knew that what coming)
- January 8 - New husband rupture artery in leg riding a bucking horse
- Spend night in ER
- January 9 - Moved to ICU
- January 10 - Still in ICU
- January 11 - Moved to regular room. I make 9PM run to pharmacy to get Maximum Musinex so that I can ward off the sinus infection that I feel coming.
- January 12 - Released from hospital and goes home with mother so she can take care of him ALL DAY. Bless her heart. He owes her. I am unsuccessful in self-medication attempt. Schedule doctor appt. Cheeks so swollen even 800 of ibprofen does not provide relief from pain and pressure.
- January 13 - Diagnosed with first sinus infection of the year. I will be keeping a 2011 tally.
- January 14 - Go to Huntsville to relieve mother in law from nursing duties. Forget prescription. Forced to self medicate again.
- January 18 - Get elbowed in the face spotting in practice. Immediate swelling occurs. One hour later, bruising has commenced. It's gonna be a pretty one.
Here's the good news, also in bullet form but only because I like things to match.
- My injury is completely superficial.
- Yvan is getting healthy and should be able to ride again in four weeks.
- I have four more weeks without worry and anxiety.
- Tests show that I have a very good RMR. If you ask me to explain what it is, I will just repeat what Google told me.
- The Banks' are gonna make me skinny with this phenomenal diet plan!
- I did an Insanity workout and didn't die.
- Yvan and I are looking at houses to buy so we can get out of Chateau Crap.
- I have this amazing support system that extends beyond my phenomenal family and friends, to include coworkers, my gymnasts and their families, and others that I barely know.
With all of the craziness that this year has brought, there has always been an ear to talk to, a shoulder to lean on, or arms to cry in. If that is what 2011 has to offer, its gonna be a good year.
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