VOTE! No Excuses!

VOTE!

USE YOUR VOICE!

Look, I know the system is not perfect.  And I know that with the electoral college it seems as though voting does not make a difference, but it does.  The system may need to be tweaked, but it is OURS, and we have to take it and USE it!  No matter your political leanings, just VOTE!  

While letting people know where their polling place is located, someone said to me, "I am not voting." When I asked why they said, "Why bother?"  Here is why you should "bother."  

These people DIED for the right to vote:

May 7, 1955 · Belzoni, Mississippi

Rev. George Lee, one of the first black people registered to vote in Humphreys County, used his pulpit and his printing press to urge others to vote. White officials offered Lee protection on the condition he end his voter registration efforts, but Lee refused and was murdered. 

August 13, 1955 · Brookhaven, Mississippi

Lamar Smith was shot dead on the courthouse lawn by a white man in broad daylight while dozens of people watched. The killer was never indicted because no one would admit they saw a white man shoot a black man. Smith had organized blacks to vote in a recent election.

September 25, 1961 · Liberty, Mississippi

Herbert Lee, who worked with civil rights leader Bob Moses to help register black voters, was killed by a state legislator who claimed self-defense and was never arrested. Louis Allen, a black man who witnessed the murder, was later also killed.

February 26, 1965 · Marion, Alabama

Jimmie Lee Jackson was beaten and shot by state troopers as he tried to protect his grandfather and mother from a trooper attack on civil rights marchers. His death led to the Selma-Montgomery march and the eventual passage of the Voting Rights Act.

August 20, 1965 · Hayneville, Alabama

Jonathan Myrick Daniels, an Episcopal Seminary student in Boston, had come to Alabama to help with black voter registration in Lowndes County. He was arrested at a demonstration, jailed in Hayneville and then suddenly released. Moments after his release, he was shot to death by a deputy sheriff.

January 10, 1966 · Hattiesburg, Mississippi

Vernon Ferdinand Dahmer, a wealthy businessman, offered to pay poll taxes for those who couldn’t afford the fee required to vote. The night after a radio station broadcasted Dahmer’s offer, his home was firebombed. Dahmer died later from severe burns.

These women were persecuted for the right to vote:

Women fought for 100 years to be granted the same right to vote as their husbands, fathers and sons.

The women were were jailed for picketing the White House. 

And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison

guards wielding clubs and their warden’s blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of ‘obstructing sidewalk traffic’.

They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.

(Dora Lewis)

They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging,beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.

Thus unfolded the ‘Night of Terror’ on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson’s White House for the right to vote. For weeks, the women’s only water came from an open pail.

Their food–all of it colorless slop–was infested with terrible vermin.

(Alice Paul)
When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press. Woodrow Wilson and his cronies tried to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. The doctor refused.  Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn’t make her crazy. The doctor admonished the men: ‘Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.’

http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/collections/suffrage/nwp/prisoners.pdf

(Mrs. Pauline Adams in the prison garb she wore while serving a

sixty-day sentence.)

(Miss Edith Ainge, of Jamestown, New York)

(Conferring over ratification [of the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution] at [National Woman's Party] headquarters, Jackson Pl[ace] [Washington, D.C.]. L-R Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Mrs. Abby Scott Baker, Anita Pollitzer, Alice Paul, Florence Boeckel, Mabel Vernon (standing, right))

(Helena Hill Weed, Norwalk, Conn. Serving 3 day sentence in D.C. prison for carrying banner, ‘Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed.’)   

http://www.snopes.com/politics/ballot/womenvote.asp

NO excuses.... Use your voice.  Go out and vote.

I GOT HIT ON!

It was a dark and stormy night.  I sauntered down the isles in search of sustenance.  Turning slowly, I saw him, young virile man with dark hair, deep set eyes and a dark complexion.  He looked up and I met his gaze.  Blushing I turned away, yet he walked toward me. In a deep voice he said “I am looking for something to dip this in. What would you suggest?” He flashed his dimples and my heart raced. His smile was intoxicating. I wanted to say so many things.  My hair cascaded over my brow as I looked down...... 

OK, this is not really how it went but when I replay it in my head that is what happened.  

Here is the real story.  It was a long day home with the family.  We were all off due to Hurricane Sandy.  We weathered out the storm at my parent’s house and had returned home after the storm.  That evening I realized that we did not have any bread and I needed something for my Little One to wear to school the next day that would make him look like a farmer.  His class was having a fall celebration and they were to dress as farmers.  I also needed candy for Halloween which was also the next day.  I am not the most organized of people, but throw in 2 days of chaos due to an unprecedented hurricane and my procrastination becomes a bother.  

I ran to Walmart for cheap candy, bread and a toddler’s farmer hat and boots. The store was empty as it was 7pm and so many people had stocked up before the storm that no one needed anything.  The Halloween costumes were few and far between, but I went to the toy section and found the perfect dress up cowboy hat and boots.  We had a flannel and jeans at home.  Next was the candy isle.  HA! what a joke, the only things left were the small bags of m&ms, KitKats, Snickers and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, or as I like to call them “pure heaven for your mouth.”  So I reluctantly stocked up on the small bags then ran and got the bread. Done in record time.  

I ran back home put the stuff away and when I opened the fridge I realized that we had about 4 oz of milk in the one gallon milk container that was in there.  I opened my mouth and my father’s voice came out saying “Who does this???!!!”  This was something my father said on a daily basis when I was growing up.  When he would attempt to empty the ice trays into the bin and the trays would be half full, when he would walk into the bathroom and the floor was soaked because we didn’t dry ourselves BEFORE getting out of the shower, when the cap to the toothpaste was left off...I could go on, but you get the idea.  

I look at the couch and see The Hub, First Born, Little One and the dog all sitting there mesmerized at the History Channel’s “The Men Who Built America.”  At the commercial the Hub looks up.  

Exasperated, I say “I have to go to the Giant. We have no milk.”

The Hub: “Weren’t you just out? You are going out again...right now?”  

Me: “Yes, I want cereal, so I am running out the Giant now.  Can you please get those two in bed, they both have school tomorrow and since we have been at my moms for 2 days and they need a good nights sleep.”

The Hub: “Ok, hey did you know that Rockerfeller may have CAUSED the Johnstown flood? He also was responsible for bankrupting the Railroad industry! AND he and Carnegie hated each other!”  

Me: “Hub, FOCUS!  You can watch this at any time, we have Hulu and a DVR.  Please get the kids ready for bed, I will be right back. Is this show appropriate for kids?”

The Hub: “It’s HISTORY!  History is always appropriate!”

At this I leave.  Back in the car, back to the store.  A different one this time.  

The Giant is my go-to store.  I know this place like the back of my hand and can navigate the isles with ease.  I realize that I should also get some more lunch meat and some night time pull ups for the Little One.  He keeps the pull ups dry every night, but the minute I put underwear on him at night, he pees the bed.  It must be a security thing.  Then I decide that after the milk I should get OJ since we are running low and the kids will most likely be sick soon. 

I dart through the isles and as I am making my way out I was in the dairy isle and I see a handsome young man looking perplexed.  I walked by him and he walked toward me holding out some pita bread, asked me what I would use as a dip for that kind of bread. 

I told him, “I like cheese.  Anything dipped in cheese always tastes good but if your are  going to melt the cheese on the stove, pour a little milk or cream in while stirring it so it doesn’t get all clumpy. OH you may want to try a Jalepeno pepper jack to spice it up.”

He was smiling at me and said, “that is great advise, I like the way you think. What else would you suggest?”  

I said, “Well, if you want to go a little healthier, you could get some extra virgin olive oil and put some rosemary, basil, a little garlic and some pepper in it.  That is always good, healthier and much easier.  But don’t go getting that dry seasoning, get the fresh rosemary and basil.  It makes all the difference in the world.”  

He seemed impressed saying “Wow, I like you. You really know your food, that sounds delicious.”  

At this point I got very self conscious.  He was CUTE and seemed very young, maybe in his 20s!  He was listening intently to everything I was saying.  Looking me in the eye, smiling!  He actually looked like my husband, with his dark complexion, a goatee and deep dark eyes.  MY husband... who was at home with my boys.  I suddenly felt guilty.  

Then I realized the scenario.  I looked at myself. Here I was, un-showered, hair pulled back in a bandana, no makeup, wearing 2 day old jeans, my Chuck Taylor’s, and a t-shirt that had at least one coffee stain right down the front.  I was a 40 year old mom of 2 who was giving food advise to a young college kid.  I probably reminded him of his mom.  At this realization, I smiled at this young man and started to laugh.  He looked confused.  

I just said, “Well, babe, I gotta get going.  Good luck with your dip! Have a great night!”  He thanked me again and flashed those dimples.  

I shook my head walking out of the store.  The initial feeling of being hit on made me feel like, 'I still got it!'   It felt good, and I do 'still got it' to an extent. Although maybe not in this scenario.  

So I tell myself that he was hitting on me and if I stood there and talked to him a little longer he would have invited me to his dorm room to try out his bread and dip!  That may not be reality, but it is what I am telling myself..... and everyone else!  

October 15th, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

The line was very faint.

I did it again and the line was darker.  

Different brand and the plus sign was there.

I jumped into the bed with The Hub and showed him the sticks.  Finally!  Finally, after trying for almost 2 years and I was pregnant.  It was a sigh of relief.  No more fertility shots and runs to the Dr.  No more stressing every month.  We did it.  

I called my fertility Dr. and got in to see him.  The blood work came back positive.  I went in again for the initial ultrasound to see the gestational sac in the lining of my uterus. The little Pebble was there!  I got more blood work.  The Dr. called me that same day.    My hcg levels were not doubling like they should.  He said to wait 2 days and come back.  I did, the levels were continuing to go down.  I was miscarrying.  

The Pebble wasn’t staying. Pebble was leaving.  I was only 6 weeks along so I would just have to wait for it to be over.  I had been emotional from the hormones, to begin with, so the chances of me handling this well were slim.  

I cried.  I was pissed.  The anger was unrelenting.  I cried.  I felt broken and not whole.  I cried. I could not get pregnant like most women do. Then I could not stay pregnant.   I was angry and tired and frustrated.

I stopped crying.  I looked at First Born and said, ‘I must focus on him.  I am Momma. I don’t have a choice.  I did a beautiful thing in making him and I needed to cherish that.’ The Hub and I decided we would continue to try to get pregnant.  

7 days later. BAM.  Literally, BIG BAM. I was t-boned by a Jeep Grand Cherokee.  I was driving my old Nissan Sentra.   

I don’t remember the accident.  I do remember parts of the helicopter ride.  I do remember screaming for my First Born who was, thankfully, not in the car at the time of the accident.  I do remember the pain.  The white hot pain.  

The accident broke my collar bone, pelvic bone, pubic bone, 2 vertebra and gave me a concussion.  I also remember having the Trauma Dr.  yell as they were bringing me to get a cat scan and xrays.  He stopped the gurney and said.  “The blood work says you are pregnant.” My hope sparked for only an instant before I realized that it was not warranted. I had already been bleeding for 6 days, I knew the Pebble was gone.

I felt Pebble leave me 4 days prior. I explained that I had miscarried and had been bleeding and still was.  The Dr. said he had to call my fertility Dr. to verify.   Anger.  My word was not good enough?  Fuck You Doc.  When was the last time you miscarried?  Oh wait, you can’t, you have a dick.  Why don’t you call my other Doc who also has a dick so you two dicks can confirm what is happening inside my uterus?  No hurry I am only broken apart and possibly bleeding internally, but please, cover your ass.  (some of my anger is still there)

I healed.  It was difficult to say the least.  First Born was only two and a half.  I still rocked him to sleep every night. He was away from me for the first time for the week I spent in the Trauma Unit.  He was not able to see me.   I was devastated.  

I did not have time to wallow in self pity, I needed to get my life back.  My beautiful, wonderful, blissful life with First Born and The Hub.  I worked hard.  I healed.  We took a year off from trying to conceive.  

If I had not miscarried, my broken bones would not have been able to carry the pregnancy.  If I had not miscarried, I probably would have from the impact. 

Little One did not make his presence known until 2 years later.  He stayed.  He did not leave.  It was another hard fought battle of 9.5 weeks on hospitalized bed rest to keep him in my belly then another 18 days in the NICU to keep him healthy.  But he is here and I was blessed again.    

I can not have more children of my own.  It makes me sad at times.  I always wanted a lot of children.  If I could get pregnant and carry babies I would have had 2 more.  But it was not meant to be.  I adore my boys.  I am so very, very thankful -  thankful is not enough of a word for what I am - I am enveloped in humbleness by my children.  My love for them is stronger than all the forces of nature.  My blessings are not measurable.  My children are my greatest contribution to this world.  

At times I think about what Pebble would have been.  I think maybe Pebble was my girl.  Then I think, if I had the Pebble, maybe I would not have had Little One.   Pebble came and left for a reason.  A reason, I may never know, but a reason none the less.  

Today is October 15th,  Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.   This is dedicated to all the little Pebble’s who left. No matter how short of a time you were with us, you have impacted our lives.  Momma loves you, thank you.  

It's A Major Award!

You like me, you really, really like me!  At least Charity Gaspar from http://www.lifeaftermykids.com/ does!  She nominated me for a Liebster Award!  I am psyched, because it gives me a blog topic and I have never been nominated for anything!   THANK you so very much Charity!  

So when you get a Liebster Award there are some rules.  You have to give 11 random facts about yourself.  You have to answer 11 questions, posed by the person who nominated you. (In my case by Charity Gaspar at http://www.lifeaftermykids.com/)  and you have to nominate 11 of your favorite bloggers then ask them 11 questions.  Capisci?   Here we go.

11 Random Facts

1. I am 4’11and 3/4”
2. I can never decide what my favorite color is.
3. I can put my left leg behind my head.
4. I was a gymnast for 13 years.
5. I want to be an actress someday.
6. I love to swing (on a swing set.... not in the sex way.... not that there is anything wrong with that.... I mean if that is what you are into..... Personally I couldn’t be bothered with all that.... I can barely satisfy myself and The Hub, let alone others....It kinda skeeves me to think about others.... I don’t mean that in a bad way..... Ok.) 
7. I believe in spirits/ghosts/communication from beyond.
8. I love to read.
9. I climbed a 350ft rock.
10. I love 70s Funk
11. I once worked for a Dr. named Dr. Ruth.  I used to snicker every time I answered the phone and said, “Dr. Ruth’s office, How may I help you?”

Here are the 11 Questions posed by Charity of www.lifeaftermykids.com 

1. Favorite way to relax?   Reading, yoga, sleeping in my car....
2. What would you do with a million dollars? I would set up my kids with education and savings, pay off my house, pay off friends/family members houses. I would give a bunch to ModestNeeds.org, women’s shelters, to help victims of childhood abuse. I would get my basement finished also add on a porch and 3 season room.  I would buy a place near my brother in Hawaii and a place in Italy, Oh and a place in Ocean City NJ.  
3. Movies, Books or TV? yes in the order of Books, Movies then TV
4. What is your favorite movie, book or tv show (related to above answer)? Books: there are just too many, but the ones that stand out, are Beloved - Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon - Toni Morrison, The Color Purple - Alice Walker, Memnoch the Devil - Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat - Anne Rice, The Witching Hour series - Anne Rice, The Other Bolyn Girl - Phillipa Gregory, What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day - Pearl Cleage, Mary, Called Magdalene - Margaret George, Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte, The Handmaid’s Tail - Margaret Attwood..... OK there are just too many.... I like to read.
   Movies:  I can’t even BEGIN, because I like movies too.... So I will give you one, Young Frankenstein.
   TV: Arrested Development, Mad Men, Modern Family, 30 Rock.
5. What would your super-power be? Time Travel
6. Favorite song/artist? NO way, the list is just too enormous.  I love music, although I have not really gotten into Country or BlueGrass. Other than that the list is endless.  
7. What was your favorite book as a child? Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret? - Judy Blume
8. What are you reading right now? Game of Thrones, (second book)
9. What song were you listening to last? My Sharona - The Knack
10. Where is your computer right now? on my lap
11. Where do you get your ideas for your posts? My life and current events pertaining to my life

And here are the 11 Nominee’s

1. http://4godssakeboys.com/  My Four Boys 
2. http://ilovemykidsgofigure.blogspot.com/ I Love My Kids, Go Figure
3. http://amydenby.wordpress.com/ Crazy Life, SImply Explained: Dear Babies
4. http://www.momaical.com/ Momaical
5. http://www.angrivated.com/ Angrivated (by The Hubs of PIWTPITT Fame)
6. http://www.peopleiwanttopunchinthethroat.com/ People I Want To Punch In The Throat.
7. http://mommysdownsizing.blogspot.com/ Mommy’s Downsizing                                                                  ...The next 4 are ones that I enjoy reading, however are more on the serious side and not everyone’s cup of tea. I can’t see any of them doing the followup to this Leibster Award, but they deserve a shout-out, none the less.  
8. http://bilgrimage.blogspot.com/ Bilgrimage
9. http://enlightenedcatholicism-colkoch.blogspot.com/ Enlightened Catholicism
10. http://the21stcenturyamericancatholic.blogspot.com/ The 21st Century American Catholic
11. http://catholics4change.com/  Catholics 4 Change

Finally here are my 11 Questions for the Nominee’s

1. What color are your eyes?
2. At what age did you first ride a 2 wheeler?
3. What is your favorite song to dance to?
4. What time is it, right now?
5. What book(s) are you currently reading?     ................(Yes, these next ones are  from Inside the Actors Studio and Bernard Piviot)
6. What is your favorite curse word? 
7. What sound or noise do you love?
8. What sound or noise to you hate?
9. What turns you on?
10. What is your favorite word?
11. If you believe in God, what would you want God to say to you when you arrive in Heaven? 

So there you have it.  I won my first award and I have passed it on.  Enjoy and read those blogs I mention above.  I would also like to mention a couple of other blogs that are amazing but are on a bit of a hiatus right now, 

http://debmoblog.com/

http://onehundredaweek.wordpress.com/

http://richwomansfam.blogspot.com/

http://therealbroads.blogspot.com/

It's What's For Dinner!

Why is he such an idiot?  I mean he is a friggin engineer!  AN ENGINEER!  Super smart, and he can’t engineer a dinner?  Every time he makes dinner - and it happens possibly once every 2 months - he can’t seem to do it by himself.  Every. Time.  First, it starts with this great announcement.  “I got dinner, hun!”  Then the banging starts.  The banging of pots, pans and slamming of food onto the counter.  Mind you, he has no idea what food we have or what he is making.  But the noise starts.  Then comes the curses and the proclamations of “Why don’t we have______ ?” (insert any inane ingredient)   and “Where is the ______?”  (insert ANY kitchen object) and comments like “When are you going back to the Giant?”  I refuse to answer .... now.  After almost 12 years of marriage I have figured out that it is easier on all of us if I ignore these questions.  Then he finally figures out what he is cooking and says..... again...... “I am cooking dinner.”  This is where I go upstairs to “go to the bathroom.”  Because I cook every meal, all the time, with one or both kids and a dog up my ass, I don’t feel guilty about this. 

When he has some inkling of what he has to cook, it usually requires the grill.  NO, not a gas grill, he refuses to use a gas grill.  We don’t even own one.  He insists it is because he is a Barbecue purist.  I think that is part of it, but the other part is he is also paranoid and convinced that the gas grill will blow up - one way or another.  

His timing is all wrong.  He starts to actually make dinner at the time we should already be eating dinner.  Most of us who cook dinner on a regular basis, know that no matter if you are doing Rachel Ray’s 15 Minute Meals or if you are making a gourmet meal, you have to budget at LEAST an hour, start to finish.  NO meal takes 15 minutes, unless you are ALONE in a perfectly equipped kitchen, with EVERYTHING clean and ALL ingredients prepped ahead of time.   I wanna see Rach, make a meal with someone throwing a fit about his math homework and another coming out of the bathroom with his ass high in the air, yelling at her to wipe him. Yummo!  But I digress.  Where where we?  Oh yes, The Hub, cooking dinner.  

He starts at 5:30, and since he is going outside, the kids want to help him.  Inevitably, I have to come back downstairs from “going to the bathroom.” This is where The Hub sends First Born in with a request.... “Ma, I need more hamburgers.”  “Mom, where are the buns.”  “Mom, do we have hot dogs?”  Meanwhile, we have no buns, there were only 2 turkey burgers in the freezer and we have 3 hot dogs left, again with no buns.  The requests keep on coming, from tin foil to a spatula to a plate.  The table still has crayons and play-doh on it, intermixed with three days of the Philadelphia Inquirer, that neither of us has had a chance to read.  

Flashback.......... remembering Sunday morning,1999..... 9am.....laying in bed with The Hub before he was The Hub, when he was just Dude......  He gets up, makes me scrapple, eggs, bagels, a pot of coffee......serves me breakfast in bed.... we share the newspaper.....fill our bellies, then fall back to sleep for a little cat nap before getting up.   Ahhh, I miss being wooed.

Ok back to reality, messy kitchen table, not enough food and everyone is hungry and irritated.  The Hub cooks 3 hot dogs 2 burgers and a pan of frozen french fries on the grill.  He walks in the house with the boys.  He puts a cookie sheet with said food on the counter and says.  “OK, dinner is ready. Boys go sit down.  I am going to go cook my hot wings and sausage now.”  Exit The Hub.  

He leaves me with hungry, arguing boys, a cookie sheet of meet and french fries and the table a mess.  This is dinner?  I get heckled when I make a meal that does not include hot rolls along with the meat, starch, and veggies!  I have to explain that the butternut squash, parsley couscous is both a veggie and starch combined, so NO I am not missing a side!   What the fuck!  OK I need to simmer down.  

I make the best of the “meal” for the boys.  I cut the hot dogs up in to little pieces and stuck toothpicks in them.  The boys love poking things with pointy objects.  The burgers were put on english muffins, that I had to thaw in the microwave and toast, since they were in the freezer.  The boys loved the fries.  I added yogurt and an apple and called it a day. 

When the boys are about finished, The Hub comes in with his wings and hot sausage and sits down to eat.  I look at my clan, look at my kitchen with every conceivable pot, pan and utensil sitting out somewhere it does not belong.  Tin foil still out by the grill and I realized that the dog did not eat.  So I get up and feed the dog so she will stop begging at the table.   “Hey Mom, can I have some more milk?” I swear First Born would drink a gallon a day if I let him.  “Hey Mommy, Daddy, First Borny,  Look, look I made a hotdog telescope.”    Little One has 3 toothpicks set up like a tripod with a piece of hot dog on the top. We all giggle with him.  He really cracks us up.  Spurred on by this, he makes mini barbells and other strange, toothpick, hotdog objects.  We are all laughing now at his silliness.  I love this kid.  

Then my stomach grumbles.  ((big sigh)) I did not eat yet and there is nothing left.  MoFo's!!! But Little One has me laughing too hard to be mad.  Smiling I walk over to the microwave and nuke the leftover butternut squash, parsley couscous.  That shit is good! It’s what’s for dinner!  

Working it Out

Zumba, Yoga, Body Pump, Body Combat, Spin, Pilates, these are some of the group workouts offered at my local YMCA.  I have been a member of a YMCA off and on since I was 5 years old.  I was always an active child and competed in USGF Gymnastics from the age of 7 until I was 18.  I practiced  4-6 hours a day, 6 days a week for most of my young life.  I loved it.  I was committed to it.  I had some crazy-ass coaches who would probably be put in jail or sued in today’s world, but I still loved it. 

I was in peak physical condition with 2% body fat (I know, because they checked our body fat right after they weighed us in every week)  I ate ANYTHING I wanted, and a LOT of it.  My metabolic rate must have been off the charts.  I did not hit puberty until I was 16.  So my body changed a bit after that.   When I stopped competing I was still pretty active but no where near to the point of before.   It took years for my metabolism to change and slow dramatically.  However I still continued to eat.  It caught up with me in my mid to late 20s.  

I am 40 and just started to do something about it.  I exercise 3 days a week. OK that is a lie.  Some weeks I get to exercise 3 days. Some weeks I don’t exercise at all. Some weeks 2 days.... you get the picture.  When I have my period I don’t exercise at all. AT. ALL!  I groan, and whine and eat chocolate or pasta.  Then, when I feel better, I usually get back at it.  

I have been eating better and cutting out the carbs.  Ok that is also a lie.  I SHOULD be cutting out the carbs because my triglycerides are through the roof but I am definitely conscious of my carb intake and make an effort. 

I am comfortable with my current weight and my body.  OK I AM SO LYING!  BUT, I am definitely headed in the right direction.  The weight is ok, I balloon up 5 or so lbs every once and a while but I bring it back down.  My body is mezzo mezzo.  I am so so so jealous of that kick ass body of my early 20s. I mean God DAMN!   What I wouldn’t give to be back in that body just one more day.  (I am also sorry my husband never had that pleasure either!)  

Now, I have stretched out boobs, belly and thighs that shimmer with silvery stripes. I have a  gut that has been carved open and sown back together twice, with the precision of a haggard, worn out, OB/GYN who just saved my life.... again.  But I wear these with pride.  They are my battle scars and I earned those stripes. However, I do want to take care of myself and be healthy.  I think that my motivation is not appearance but longevity and health. The “looking good” is a bonus, if it happens.

I have tried many different types of workouts.  I have done the at home dvds, Wii, and the myriad of YMCA group classes as well as their fitness room.  Each have a different affect.  Each a different purpose.  Everyone has their own.  

Let me start with Spin.  The spin people, are fucking crazy!  And I don’t mean that in a bad way.  I mean with all due respect.... CRA CRA!  I got on that bike and within three and a half minutes I was drenched with sweat and looking at the clock in amazement that an hour did not go by.  I laughed when the instructor, who is a friend, said to “turn it up” (meaning the tension on the bike.)  Turn it up?  I can’t even pedal with it off, let alone with tension on it!  And Girlfriend is an absolute NUT!  I mean her energy level is beyond intense. She draws a huge spin crowd. Girlfriend has her own following and for good reason.  One workout will guarantee you walk crawl out of there 5 lbs lighter...  Just from sweat! Being a fellow Italian, I can also say she is loud.  I mean, my-Aunt Rose-yelling-at-the-kids-to-get-off-of-her-stoop kind of loud.  With her voice and her spinning legs, she could power the Mid-Atlantic region.  I am in awe of her and will never go to another spin class again, until I have trained for some sort of bike marathon.  Then MAYBE I will attempt another of her classes.  

Then there is Pilates.  SNOBS!  Seriously, W - T - F!  Now, let me preface, I have not been to a pliates class in a very long time and have never been to one at my local Y.  But the one I went to years ago, when Pilates was all the rage, was awful.  If you were new to the whole scene you were looked down upon. If you wore sweats and an old Bonner High School football T-shirt, you were looked down upon.  If you laughed when you were in a seemingly, very sexual position, you were looked down upon.  The competition seemed almost dangerous.  When these women should have been concentrating on what they were doing on those crazy machines, they were too busy trying to outdo those around them.  I walked out of that class, the lowest on the totem pole and was happy about it.  Bitches, man!    

Then there is the whole in-home work out thing.  Which you REALLY have to be motivated to do.  It is just too, too, too easy to turn off the DVD and turn on The Real Housewives of New Jersey.  Although if I had to recommend any DVD, Shawn T. is the bomb! His Hip Hop Abs, Rock!   Not only do I love love love watching him he is very motivating. 

Then we have Zumba, which I LOVE!  I love to dance.  I am not good at it, but I love it.  The whole Zumba vibe is chill and fun and no pressure.  There are old and young, fit and not fit, good dancers and really bad dancers and I always feel comfortable shaking my groove thang with these ladies.  A good friend of mine is a Zumba instructor. She is amazing. She exudes positive energy. I love when she says, “No one is looking at you except you!  Cause we are all too busy looking at ourselves so just keep moving!”  She picks really great music that makes you want to move.   She choreographs the moves with the music AND the words, which makes you feel like you are a backup dancer at a concert.  Which helps when you feel like you are going to pass out... You don’t want to let Justin Timberlake or PitBull down! 

My other new favorite is Yoga.  I have been to many Yoga classes.  There was only one class when I did not like the instructor.  She just seemed miserable which just does not vibe with Yoga.  I don’t know how you can do Yoga and not feel good.  It is almost impossible.  

I have done the hot Yoga.  The first hot Yoga class I went to, I was unaware that it was a hot yoga class.  So when I sat down on my mat I thought, ‘wow, when are they going to turn on the air?’  The room was packed and I was sweating just taking off my shoes.  I practically water boarded myself while doing a downward facing dog.  I was breathing through my nose, as I was instructed and thought a bug flew up my nose.  It was not a bug but my sweat dripping off my chin and upper lip into my nostrils.  In Yoga, breathing is key.  It’s rhythm and flow is an essential part of the practice.  So, when you are drowning in your own sweat, breathing becomes difficult.  OH and the smell emanating from my body was, how can I put this, was like walking through the zoo on an August afternoon.  Not pretty. I was not aware that my body could produce smells like that.  Combine that with everyone else’s smell, the fact that there was no other air to breath and concentration becomes compromised.  When I was not water-boarding myself or smelling myself, I was in a great zone.  That is what Yoga does for me.  It puts me in a “me” zone.   The peak pose that day was wheel pose, which is a back bend.  I was able to do it and felt great that I did.   

The other thing I love about Yoga is you are forced to concentrate on you. Your mat, your breath, your pose, your body, your muscles, your flexibility.  It does not leave room for other distractions like, what am I cooking for dinner?  What time does First Born have guitar lessons?  What do we have going on this weekend?  Will Little One ever want to sleep in his own bed?  When is the car inspection due?  etc. , etc., etc.  Those thoughts may try to creep in, but you are always brought back to your breath.

Sometimes I need to release those good endorphins with a high paced, great cardio like Zumba.  I need to shake what my mama gave me and feel sexy.  Other times I need to just be with Yoga.  Right now they are the only two programs I stick to, mainly because they are the only exercises that I WANT to do. I look forward to them and hope I will continue to do so.   Those are my favorite.   The next on my list to try are Body Combat and Body Pump.  As soon as I try them, I will be sure to report back!  Do you have a favorite workout? My blogger friend wrote a piece on running.  Great stuff.  I will never be a runner.  I just don’t have it in my nature.  But I envy those that do. I did run across another blog all about exercising and being healthy called “Mommy’s Downsizing”  It is a hysterical blog and I recommend it highly. 

Gimme a W, Gimme an A, Gimme an L....

I am at Walmart today. OK that already sucks, but here it is.  A Walmart opened in my neighborhood, and while I would have been fine with a Target or Kohls or Whole Foods, Walmart will do.   

We are a one income family so every penny pinched helps.  Especially when cereal is ridiculously cheaper at Walmart.  Seriously, why is it, that the same box of Honey Bunches of Oats is almost $3.00 more in the regular grocery store?  

Anyway, back to my point.  I am in Walmart, getting my cereal, and a box fan for the window... and a drill... and Kashi bars (again so much cheaper!) and I hear claps and a group “woo hoo.” OK? Not sure what that was, but I go about my business and again I hear 2 distinct group claps and a “woo hoo.”  I then see a group of Walmart Associates in a huddle in the middle of the store, and every time someone says something, the group claps twice and says, “woo hoo!”  

It was an employee meeting/pep rally/revival.  I was too far away to hear the content of the meeting, but my first impression was.  OH HELL NO!  They are making them hoot and clap?  At a meeting?  At the beginning of their shift?  They just got there!  Why are they making them do that?  Then I thought, well maybe they want to.  

NO, there is no way grown adults want to do that at work, in unison, before they start working.  Then I thought, that finding a job now is difficult and this particular Walmart just provided my community with 300 new jobs.  Kudos.  I do like that.  But in order to have a job there, do you have to pretend you are in love with Walmart?  I mean I liked working in many different jobs, but there was never a day where I would WANT to stand with my fellow coworkers, and management and clap and hoot, like I was at a ball game.  The only time that was acceptable was when I worked as a summer camp counselor.  And we did it for the 5-12 year old kids. 

"We need to talk about your flair."

It reminds me of the movie Office Space.  Where Jennifer Anniston’s character is being talk to about her “flair.”  OK maybe I am too cynical.  Maybe I need to lighten up.  But I almost felt as though the employees were being disrespected.  

It was like they were being told  ‘To work here, you have to fall in line with our over the top rah rah sessions and drink the kool aid.  If you don’t like it, well that is not an option if you want a job here.’  

Am I crazy?  Is it really that bad?  Maybe it would be fun to cheer and clap at my job.  Maybe they know more about what motivates employees then I do.  They sure know more about how to make money.  They sure know more about how to get that cereal for $3.00 cheaper.  

I tried to put myself in those employees’ shoes.  Standing in a morning meeting, in the middle of the store,  I would be so pissed if someone MADE me hoot and holler and cheer.  I would not be on board with that.  But if it meant feeding my family and keeping a roof over our heads, I would be doing backflips if need be.  That is where I feel like they have people by the balls.  

I know that there have been times, when I was working in the corporate world, where I have done and said things that I hated doing.  

“Yea, I’m gonna need you to come on in on Sunday.”

Once when I was an executive assistant, my boss, a middle aged rich white guy, came out of a meeting and handed me a crown.  No, not a crown for my head, which I deserved, but the crown from his tooth. It had fallen out while he was in a meeting and his first and only thought was to give it to me!

He grabbed my hand and put his tooth crown in it and yelled, “MY tooth! My tooth! Call the dentist and fix this now. This is an important meeting and I can’t deal with this shit!”  

This is the same man who would stand in front of my desk, eyes closed, with his hand on his forehead like he was Yeats writing a poem, to dictate a letter to an investor.  He was crazy.  He had his own CD.  He would practice his singing in his office and have me schedule his appointments with his vocal coach.  He also demanded that when I came in in the morning, I was to go into his office and open his blinds, arrange his mail and make him a cup of tea, so when he came in he wouldn’t have to do these things.  When he would leave, I was required to make sure his lights were turned off, his blinds closed and his desk straightened up.   

So I get it.  I know that we all have worked for crazy.  I know that although I hated much of that job, I did like some of it.  I also knew that to keep my job, I did not throw the tooth back in his face or mail obscenities to the investor, or spill the hot tea all over his perfectly coifed hair, or scratch his Jaguar in the parking lot.  

There is definitely a difference between a good job and a good paying job.  I have had many of both, not necessarily at the same time.  But I get it.  We do what we have to do. Walmart is no different.  I just hope that the people in the Walmart I was in, know that when I saw them in their meeting, I felt for them and it made me think.  ‘Do they want to cheer?’  I tried to smile and be extra nice to the Associates I saw that day and when I checked out.  Maybe I had no reason to feel for them.  Maybe they were cool with it.  Maybe they are not as cynical as I am.   Please tell me your work rah rah horror stories.  I have more but I need to save material for future blogs!