A Little Personal Training

So, I decided it was time to get off the couch and workout. What better place than in the mountains of Utah to get my body in shape. The cool air and steep climbs to walk. I also decided I need the extra help. A Personal Trainer. Yep, Tony thought this would be a good move and he agreed to the Personal Trainer.

I was lucky enough to find one in town. She is pretty buff and has those rock hard abs and great defined arms I have been wanting. I am hoping to get her body soon. She works out a lot though. I am just looking for "some company", someone to get me through the uphill walks and hold my feet down during crunches.

Oh, and she comes pretty cheap, $10.00 a week.

She told me I can tag along on any of her workouts. Its too good to be true!

Fast forward to my first meeting with her. She comes equipped with leg weights and dumbbells, asking if "I would use the ankle weights during the walk." To which I said, "Are you kidding?" I mean the walk at high attitude is enough pain, why would I risk my life with weights tied to my ankles. Plus, my ankles look good! She let me "off the hook" from the ankle weights.

We walked briskly for nearly 30 minutes when my trainer looked back at me and said, "Are you okay, do you need a break?" I guess my panting scared her a little. She was able to speak without being all out of breath and here I was gasping for air...imagine if I had those damn ankle weights now!

She was kind enough to let me rest...for a nanosecond.

Then, off to the uphill part, in which she found the deepest incline on the road and made us take that route. Ughh....I am starting to reconsider this Personal Trainer thing. But, I trailed behind her and finished the walk.

She told me she was going to start some cardio tomorrow and showed me her notebook filled with exercises. And, I saw a jump rope. Are you kidding me? Bet I'll have to wear the ankle weights too.

I would fire this Personal Trainer but I don't have the heart. She's so sweet and means well. I asked Tony to fire her for me. He said he won't get involved.

'Cause...you can't fire your twelve year old daughter!

(Thank you, Maddie!)

Bucket Lists...And My Mother In Law

My mother in law has a "Bucket List." She shared hers with her Beau, "T" and not only did he listen to her list...he made one come true. Isn't that sweet? Its nice to have someone make your dreams come true.

Peg told "T" that she wanted to take an Alaskan Cruise. So, he did what not many men do...he followed up and made it happen. He took her on that cruise. She crossed it off. One down....now I am hearing it is his turn. Peg will make something on his Bucket List come true. I can't share it now, but I will after he crosses it off. Maybe I'll get a picture too.

I am lucky enough to also have the kind of man who listens to the Bucket List. My husband taught me how to snow ski, water ski, jet ski,... yeah we like water sports. He also taught me how to camp, swing on a rope into Lake Powell and snowmobile. And right now, I am sitting in the cabin that was once on my "Bucket List."

If you have a Bucket List, share it with someone. You never know what might happen!

Tales of My Mother In Law...

Do you have a mother in law to talk about? A mother in law who doesn't make you cry, cuss or cringe...instead, she becomes part of your blog, sharing such funny stories, you can't avoid the material any longer. This post is dedicated to my dear 'ol mother in law.

Love can be found anywhere. But, my mother in law, Peg... found love on the Internet. After a slew of men, (who's names always started with the letter "B", we swear she was dating alphabetically)...she found a keeper. To keep his identity safe, we will call him, "T".

"T" asked Peg out on a date, to the furniture store. Yes, "senior dating" is not all that movie and popcorn crap, apparently, its doing errands together, like shopping for end tables. Did I mention Peg has a panache for decorating? Her decor consists of: floral print couches, crocheted afghans and a pinch of Forrest green. Her kitchen theme is Pigs. Pig cookie jars, ceramic pigs and laughing pigs, adorned in bandannas- rolling on their backs. So, who better to ask for "professional end table purchasing" power. But, I digress...

Peg and T dated and shopped. They bought new carpet, new paint, new ceiling fans and lighting. They picked out new bedroom furniture and the linens to match. Right down to the bath mat! Peg had a new hobby...reinventing her new beau. And gals, its never too late to find a man or change him. If you are waiting for Mr. Right...you'll be in for a long ass wait or simply lace up your white, mall walkin' shoes and get to changin'.

Peg has systematically redecorated each room of this man's house. She cleaned his kitchen cabinets, only to find six rolling pins, five containers of Garlic salt and more than a dozen salt and pepper shakers. I guess they needed an Intervention from Hoarders, too.

I had to laugh, because Peg herself, owns a potato ricer. Ever heard of one of those? Its old enough looking to have come directly from "The Potato Famine of 1845." I didn't know what the heck it was when I opened her kitchen drawer. Potato and rice? Two starches... I didn't get it. Recently, I saw a potato ricer in Target. So, people are still using 'em.

Peg also cleaned out his sun room and yard. As with all older folks, Gnomes and wind chimes were involved. Apparently, Peg has her limits.

The gnomes and chimes hit the garbage can.

Peg and "T" are having a "root toot of a time" dating/shopping. He is getting a complimentary interior designer. What luck! She is getting a boyfriend with good taste...hers. They have Before and After pictures, as well. If only I could get my hands on those.

I dare ask if the toothbrush holder contains one or two toothbrushes, though. Does my mother in law have her own drawer in the new dresser? Hmmm.... I hope she does.

But, the funny stories keep coming. Each time I talk to Peg, she tells me about the new plates, or the new coffee maker... because the other four didn't "look nice" on the kitchen counter.

Oh, did I mention their Bucket Lists? I'll save that for next time...!

Complaints Unwelcome...Comments Readily Accepted!

That's right...I have made the decision to not complain for 24 hours. A full day of "positive thoughts" only. Given that huge task ahead of me, I thought I would use the quote I use on my twelve year old daughter..."Are you complaining...or just commenting?"

Here are the comments pressing on my mind:
1. Dear Neighbor: If I can hear your dog bark in your backyard, can you hear him as well?
2. Trampolines make the finest reason to call another mother and tell them to check on their kid's bleeding lip.
3. Life is short...and will get shorter if you don't clean your room!
4. A diet will only cause me to gain three lbs...better not start one today.
5. "Parents of the Year" award goes to: ...the parents of the 16 year old sailing girl....lost at sea. Thankfully, she was found, or I wouldn't even mention this one.
6. Lovin' the trees planted by the pool...not lovin' the leaves in the pool.
7. Weekends call for windy weather, an unexplainable phenomenon in Nevada.
8. A dirty dish is always found after the dishwasher is turned on.
9. Brazilian waxing is not for wimps... merely expensive, self-induced pain.
10. Complaining will get you nowhere...but comments are most appreciated.

If you have any complaints, I mean "comments", post 'em to me. I would love to hear your "comments"!

Why My Car Insurance Won't Go Up...

I was thinking about all the car accidents I have been involved in. I counted three... no make it four within a five mile radius of the house. The first three accidents and really, is it an accident if no one else is involved? I didn't think so. And, if they all occur all within the driveway/garage area, is that an accident too? Yep, I didn't get very far.

#1. 1997 Acura TL- Pregnant with Maddie. I share that because I am sure she must have kicked in my belly as I was pulling out of the garage and right into the side of my new house....with my new car. The house was about three months old and the car...even newer. Oooops! I took a little stucco off the garage exterior wall...with the front corner panel. Ran in house and called husband at work...no, I didn't have a cell phone in 1997. Told him I had been in an accident and he responded, "Where are you, stay where you are...I am coming."

I told him I was in the kitchen.

Tony: "I thought you had a car accident?"
Me: "I did, but just in the garage and I wrecked the house and the car (crying and sniffling) and its a mess."
Tony: I will be home from work later, go do whatever shopping you had to do and we'll talk about it later...click."

We ended up paying for that one "out of pocket" because no sense raising the insurance on new car/house.

#2: 2000 Expedition, backing out of garage. Did you know the garage door opener takes more than five seconds to get all the way up? I really thought I was clear to drive but the garage door was a little slower than usual and it hit my back window. Just a couple cosmetic scratches. The garage door hooked onto my back window wiper though. The most damage was to that cheap, metal garage door. Tony hammered that one out with a rubber mallet when he got home. Again, no insurance call was made. Although, I did call Tony to tell him.

This time he said he'd be home at five.

#3: 2000 Expedition: Backing out, cleared the garage door before driving out to the driveway. I was heading out to a doctor appointment with two kids in car seats. I backed out and almost made it when out of nowhere...a car is parked behind our driveway/across the street. It must have been camouflage color, because I sure didn't see it back there..but I did feel and hear it. So, did the roofer building the house next door. That guy nearly fell off the roof yelling something in Spanish. Thankfully, those three years of college Spanish were gonna pay off. I called you-know-who again and told him I didn't scratch the garage wall or door this time. No, this time I got a car. And, I needed him to come home and help me out.

In the driveway.

Tony offered to pay for damage and all was good. Insurance claim averted.

#4: 2000 Expedition...man this car had some bad luck! Driving Maddie to gymnastics and a wayward tire iron (about the length of a golf club) came flying out of a pick up truck and bounced under my car. Couldn't swerve away from it. Had to drive over it. And, my left front tire found it...so did the front wheel well/fender. Caught my tire...puncturing both the tire and the front fender as I veered across traffic to parking lot nearby.

Yep...I called Tony at work to tell him of my accident. I told him no one was hurt and even though It was "a two person" accident...well, the other person was gone and never looked back for his tire iron. Tony showed up with tools and fixed my very flat tire. We even kept the tire iron for memory. No need to call insurance.

So there you have it. I have a great driving record and no accidents. I think I have the "good driver" discount!

Jeepers Creepers!

My Jeep is getting me down lately. I never thought a vehicle would frustrate me or that I would blog about it. Its "four wheels that get me from here to there" and back again. I wanted this Jeep so badly, my husband found one in Idaho, flew there, bought it and drove it back for me. (He spoils me so much!)

But lately...my Jeep doesn't like me. I may have the modern day "Christine" (reference to 80's Stephen King).

It all began when the car decided to not start one morning in the garage. Thankfully, I had Tony's set of keys and took the kids to school in his Monster truck...a 2004 Ford 350, lifted and with big tires. So ginormous, you need two parking spots. Don't even think about a drive-thru or covered parking.

But, I digress.

My Jeep didn't start for the three days Tony was out of town. I tried it a few times, thinking it might start again...but it wouldn't. I even called my friend's husband (he has the same Jeep and experience with Jeeps), he said it "sounded like the battery and not the alternator." He even offered to come by and check it. I told him I could drive Gravedigger a couple more days.

Fast forward to Tony's arrival. He jumped in the driver seat, and turned the Jeep over with one start. I was so peeved. He just laughed and walked back in the house. Grrrrr!

One week later, I headed to Walmart and found myself (again) stranded in a parking lot with dead Jeep. I looked to my right, as a Mercedes SUV emblazoned with "Roadside Assistance" written on it, parked.

Ah, there is a God.

I asked the two guys if they could jump my car, as I KNEW it was a battery. They obliged. In the meantime, I called husband to tell him of my Lucy moment. He told me emphatically, "it's not the battery Caprice, just jiggle the wheel and make sure the car is in park...wiggle that too." So, I did the "wiggle jiggle jig" as the guys thought they were charging my battery. And guess what?

It started.

It has done this a few more times and I do the Jig to start it. You'd think this was some 'ol Jalopy...no, its a 2008 Rubicon. Built on a Friday afternoon...just before Happy Hour.

Recently, the Ruby began making a squeaking noise. Tony thinks I dropped something down the dash board. I don't think I did. Although a year ago, I did lose my Lake Mead Annual Pass in the dash, minutes after the $20.00 purchase. I placed it on the dash for Tony to affix on the corner of the window...only to have it disappear into the Grand Canyon-sized hole, known as the dash board. I guess he knows me too well.

Anyhow, I have the fix for the squeak...just turn up the radio volume and AHA!...noise is gone. See, I can fix things!

A letter to My Daughter...

Dearest Maddie:

Please clean your room. I would like to see the carpet once more, but I am afraid your belongings are covering it. All of it. Actually, I don't even remember what color the carpet is. I will give you three trash bags to start the process. Use one for "give away", one for "trash" AND THE LAST FOR" stuff you think is not trash but is so trash, even a UNICEF kid would pass it up".

To help you, here are a few tips to knowing what trash looks like. Old balloons that lost their air and now lay 'wrinkled like old skin"...trash. The stick to a lollipop...trash. Papers from the 3rd grade (remember you are now in 7th) are also trash.

Candy wrappers, water bottles, broken hair clips and old bows from gifts. Dried up nail polish, used tissues and dolls without heads, yes these can leave your room, as well. Clothes that read "6x" (because now you're a 12-14), awards for school attendance (because Mom drove you to school everyday...in fact, the award is MORE mine) and hair scrunchies that have lost their elastic. Mom, can't sew...so throw them away.

I let the time pass.I picked my battle. I told you to study for Finals and to let the room wait. Lord knows if this junk had legs , it would have picked itself off the floor and headed for the trash can. Speaking of trash can, do you need a bigger one? Your father walked by your room, glanced in and reported that you "ought to have a larger trash can". Home Depot has a great one...would you like it in Grey or Moss Green? It comes with wheels so you can drag it to the curb every Monday and Thursday.

I have a nice shovel, it makes the job easier. Dad has rubber gloves for picking up the items that make you go "ick". The phone number for Hoarders is in my speed dial, just in case. So, is "Clean House"...would you listen to Niecy Nash tell you its "a hot mess" in that room?

I love you Dee, you are my only daughter who makes me so proud. You keep your grades up, never accepting less than than an A or B....as you asserted yourself and asked your math teacher if he "would round your 89.7 up to an A"...I had to laugh. When you went to State for Gymnastics and brought home 2nd place for Floor...and said, "It was fun and I don't care about the medals", you made me speechless. The trophies and medals will stay. Do not throw them away. Do not throw away your American Girl Doll, the one I picked out to resemble you. I know your brother says "its creepy-looking" but its all I have to remember the younger you.

Ahhh, the garbage truck will be here in 72 hours, do your best to clean the mess. If you need my help, I can rake through your floor and we can be done in an hour. If you need to touch every last piece of junk, reliving a memory...I understand. I too, was your age and know how hard it is to throw stuff away. But, I would like to vacuum and need to see the floor again.

Love,
Mom xoxo

On Shopping Carts...

On Grocery Shopping...(written in 2000)

This story is not for the weak. I must warn you now that what I am going to write is even more than my own stomach can normally handle. It is with caution that you read this story...

It all began one morning, as I prepared to head out for the grocery store. My husband, who was working out of the house, awaiting his new office building to be completed, had suggested I keep our toddler, Madison home.

She was still sleeping and would wake up to a morning of Elmo and Cheerios. And, she was not built for grocery shopping, not up for the long journey down each aisle, often whimpering at the temperature in the frozen foods. Shopping with one kid was a breeze.

Max was a quiet, easygoing and happy baby. At eight months, he would lie in his carrier and just smile with those “big blue eyes”. Easy with a capital E! Or, as his sister would say,” easy cheesy lemon squeezy" I was never weary of taking him places because of his laid-back personality. So, off I went, just: Max, my oversized, nylon diaper tote from the Gap and a grocery list. I was ready to wage wars with other carts, pick produce like a pro and stand in the long deli line for a pound of sliced smoked turkey and provolone.

I was strolling though the aisles, filling my cart with foods and necessities. I had already picked up a box of baby wipes and was nearing the end of my shopping. Almost time to check out...until I bent over into the cart to lay down the dozen eggs and got a whiff of something foul.

Notice, I didn't say fowl, like chicken, because I didn't have poultry in my cart. Instead, I had something much, much worse. And, it was leaking from my son's diaper and straight into my Gap (diaper) bag. Luckily, my own purse was placed strategically under this "misfortune of diarrhea" and dripping, stinking, yellow mess! It was the consistency of Grey Poupon (country dijon) mustard or any Dijon mustard, but not the French's mustard variety.

Max showed no signs of discomfort and continued smiling, despite smelling "like a landfill at high noon in Arizona". He must have "burnt out" his own olfactory senses, but mine were unfortunately in overdrive. I assumed the rest of the store was becoming aware of this rancidity of my sweet son. I prayed the fire alarm would not go off.

I quickly maneuvered the groceries away from the "trail of drips" and grabbed the new box of wipes to use on the cart, my son's legs and of course, my bag! I was so embarrassed, in a frozen state of confusion. Do I leave the cart and run for my car? Do I call the biohazard rescue team? 911? What should I do now? Well, as you all know, once you've spent an hour in a grocery store, you must finish the job.

I headed for the checkout lane, apologized for opening the box of wipes, before paying. I knew the pungent smell was following me like a bad habit. I hesitated on the way to checkout, to pick up a can of "Glade Springtime Flowers". Too bad, I only hesitated! I noticed about a half dozen women running the other way to the longer checkout lanes, they were obviously overcome by the odor.

I ignored the stares and coughs of people around me, including the elderly woman who began a gagging reflex behind me. I looked straight at her as if to say, "Hey, did you pass gas or what"? I began to pass blame like a hot potato. I quickly glanced at the checker (also overcome by the stench), giving her the eye roll and said, "Wow, someone really cut the cheese" all the while covering up my son's yellow legs. She agreed, as she pulled on a gas mask from under the counter.

I was eager to pay and leave before the "wet mop' was called to clean up aisle nine. I hoped Albertson's would burn the cart, in the parking lot. I considered torching the cart myself, but did not want to become an arsonist, as well. So, I wiped it down with the rest of the wipes and headed home.

*If you happen to have been at the supermarket on a hot, July morning, circa 1999...I hope you did not use this cart. I am sure it was deemed hazardous material and sent away by some men in white jumpsuits.

>>>This story was a favorite of mine, I will be posting some of my older stories to remind myself how quickly the kiddos grow. Max is now riding a YZ 85, not a shopping cart this summer!