Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Weedy, just weedy!

So what started out as a weed pulling expedition turned in to a rip roaring, back muscle pulling good time!  I did not pull a muscle pulling weeds. I pulled it when I moved the 20somethingish hunk of limestone for my new flower/rock/something bed I inadvertently began to build last Thursday.

This is not a Pinterest project like the hallway closet is, this was a legitimate on a whim "hey this will be fun and easy" project I flung myself in to.  I started this project with the intentions of turning the current mud/weed bed in to something that at least looked better. The electric box is over there also so I was going to make a stone path for them to step on so they did not step on any flowers/vines that I MIGHT put there.

I started out using one side that the previous owners had down but alas, like everything else they did here it was askew. I do not care for askew unless it is MEANT to be that way and done properly.  :-)

After I got half way done with the askew project (trying to make the best of it) I was told by the other that while standing on the deck you can tell it is not straight, big time. He knows me and told me that it is better I know now instead of when I am finished because I will curse and huff and puff and re-do it anyway.

So I began undoing all the do I had done. (yes I meant for the sentence to say that)  That meant I had to take out the 12ish limestone pieces I had already placed. Not only had I placed them but I had been digging a trench of sorts so that they would all be even. I had to dig more and move more and the stones are a good 50lbs. I thought "man, I am a badass and getting a great workout!"  Take that Tony Horton and P90X!!  Thursday went swimminglyish, I did not get injured, stones got moved and put in place and I felt great about the whole project. Then Friday happened.  I was out moving and digging and moving some more and I felt a twinge. I told the other "I think I pulled a muscle" he answered that I probably had. End of convo. I kept moving 5 or so more stones and digging more dirt, also digging out around the stumps I have to cut out so that that they don't poke my weed mat full of holes.

Pretty soon the simplest thing such as moving my arm made me cringe. I REALLY hurt my back, for really real. Not a oh that stung a bit. It is a real INJURY! Holy crap! It hurt to walk and even to breathe. I texted the other that I REALLY hurt my back and had to come in and plant myself in bed. It has been 5 days and  I have been a horrible patient. I am not good at laying in bed. I am learning that I won't get better unless I rest though and the rest of my back and neck are making up for the injured muscles causing me to ache all over and have raging headaches.

I have been on facebook more (sad to admit) while laying there. BORED. I am reading a couple of books and watching the series Vikings, which is AWESOME!!!  I am also Pinteresting more. Mostly yoga and how to stretch this body when I am able to again. I can't wait to get back to yoga and working out.

Yes I will finish my stupid flower/rock/something bed I started. Can't get that far and just leave it. I am fairly certain that my thirst for curb appeal has been quenched and my yard is no longer in danger of being landscaped. Mowing and weed eating aside, if it ain't growing on its own it ain't growing in my yard :-)

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Oh the things I have done!

As mentioned before this is not my first rodeo as far as living in the country. It has been so long since the first time I think I have forgotten everything I learned, or else I didn't learn anything. I can't remember  :-)
I do know that I was young (20ish) and we did not have dogs.

We moved to the country in August of 2013, since then I have learned a handful of things.

1. There are lots of spiders out there. By lots I mean GAZILLIONS and this must be the egg-sack carrying time of year. Please excuse me while I go throw up! Before you get all "they are good to have around" on me, I know this and I don't give a rip. I HATE them and want to ban them from my property! All 10.5 acres of it!!!

2. I am not opposed to picking up random body parts from cows, pigs, deer and other creatures I could not identify. If needed I will have a tug-o-war with said body parts to keep Talia from bringing them in the house. She hasn't carried anything new home in a couple weeks now. Strange...

3. I have a soft spot in my heart for turtles, snakes, snails, moles, skinks, frogs, anything that is NOT an arachnid, flea, tick, roach or june bug.

4. Because of said soft spot I will slam on my breaks to "rescue" a snake, turtle, frog, or whatever little creature I happen to see in distress.

Since living on the farm I have rescued 2 snakes, 2 frogs, 3 turtles, 1 praying mantis, multiple snails and 1 mole. Yes I said mole. I was torn, they screw up the yard but they are sooooo cute!

I was on the phone with the significant other and saw Truman and Talia in the front yard. I looked out the door in time to see Truman toss something in the air. "What the hell is that?" I said as I walked out the door. Truman dropped it and it was a mole. I am not sure if it was a child, teenager or adult as the amount of mole knowledge I have could fit in a thimble.  I keep the dogs from coming back to it and tell the other "gotta go and save a mole". I tried to corral it with my sock feet and get it back to where I thought it belonged. It kept going in circles. Apparently being blind and tossed around by dogs makes you act like you have just had a long enjoyable evening at the bar.

I decide that I need to pick him(I don't know how to tell what sex a mole is) up and carry him across the yard to a "safer" place where he can burrow in to one of the many mole holes already there. I reach down and gently touch the little sucker while talking to him in a calm voice explaining I am not going to hurt him. He did the holy hell don't kill me flip to his back and cover his face with his front webbed feet. Ok so I guess I will just pick him up. Worst case is he scratches me with his nails and pees on me. As I began to gather him in my hands he screamed! SCREAMED I tell you!!  Did you know moles screamed? I sure did NOT!

Well that is not going to work. I decided to go in an grab a dish towel to wrap him in. I get the dogs to go in the house, amazed they actually listen to me, and grab a towel. I went back out and wrapped him up and took him to where I thought he belonged. He did not scream so I think the dark in the towel may have made him feel safe. What do I know? I am not a mole psychologist.
I got the little guy over to some soft dirt and put him down, I watched for a bit until I saw a freaking arachnid run across the ground. I said F this!  Good luck little guy, hope you find your mole family.

He must be ok since I have not seen a mole carcass in the last few days!

Friday, June 6, 2014

Sweatpants & Mumus

While speaking with the significant other regarding my perceived failure of attaining my "goal" in physical fitness he sighed and said "why can't you just workout for fun (because I DO enjoy it) and let your body be what it is?"
WHAT?!?!? I looked at him like he sprouted a second and third head! Are you insane??? That is the DUMBEST thing I have heard from you in a while!
How is that even possible? I hated my body when it was at the peak of its physical fitness pinnacle!  I was an embarrassing 132 lbs (which is about 12 lbs more than I was used to) and a tiny pillar of solid muscle. I was wearing the smallest clothes I had worn in years and I was fit! Yet when I looked at myself, which I desperately avoid, I was still out of shape, fat, blech. So if I hate myself at the most fit I have ever been and probably ever will be how in the world does he think I can "let my body be what it is"???

While I appreciate the fact he loves me and if I have an extra few lbs on me he doesn't care it is also difficult because he is so accepting and I am not.

I put on a pair of jeans the other day that a couple of months ago were loose on me and I had to do the fat dance and wiggle to get them over my thighs and ass. Then I cried AGAIN! If you know me at all then you know crying pisses me off, it makes me feel weak. But here I am trying very hard to get to a goal and I am going in the WRONG F'ING DIRECTION!!!!!!

I am frustrated and angry and sick of hating this body that God so graciously gave me. Just because I want to be a willowy 5'9" or so doesn't mean I will EVER get there. I can't I am 5'5" and "athletic" built which to me means chubby.  

I think the significant other is just as tired of me hating myself. I try to avoid any conversation regarding me and my body with him. I know he will sigh and say they same things over and over. He is tired of saying it and I am tired of hearing it.

I hate shopping and this is why. I don't like to look in the mirror and you kind of have to when you try clothes on. Plus when I get to the fitting room I shrink 3 inches and gain 15 lbs. Think I am going to a pool party or boating with friends??? Hell NO!!! I was talking with a friend this morning after my run and decided I will live in sweatpants and mumus.
My mom will bling them for me then I can be a giant sparkly tent!

I hope you all have a great weekend and are headed in the RIGHT direction of your goals!

Monday, June 2, 2014

Fitness

For most people the word fitness brings to mind your physical body, exercise, pain and tears! Especially when you fall off of a treadmill in a PACKED gym with lots of hot college dudes working out right behind you!

That is for another day unless I get back to it in a minute.

For ME fitness is about my physical health but also my spiritual health. MY spiritual health is equivalent to an 83 year old drinking, smoking biker chick with many scars from a life of chaos.  Ok maybe she is more like 32 but LOOKS 83.

I have dipped my toes in the religion pool, testing the waters of several denominations. I settled in to the Catholic pool and converted several years ago. At the time it felt like home for me.  As they years went by I started to feel worse AFTER church then I did before!  What the heck father!!!  I guess I took off my life jacket and submerged myself in the faith. Don't get me wrong, I am NOT dogging Catholics, their beliefs, their rituals, their church. I am simply stating that in MY opinion that specific teaching is very guilt based. I had plenty before I went to church I really did not need to add to my bucket!

I felt like I was drifting farther and farther from God instead of getting closer. No matter how hard I swam, flailing my arms and kicking my feet I kept getting swept down the river. It hurt. I was sad and disappointed and empty.

I stopped attending the church, unless I had to go for Dylan. I stopped kicking and flailing and let myself be swept away by the current of anxiety, grief, emptiness, and despair.  I didn't really give up on a relationship with God but I did stop fighting for it.

I have started swimming again, dog paddling my way back through the muddy, painful waters (for you Princess Bride people it would be like getting out of the pit of despair or for you NeverEnding Story people it is the swamp of sadness).  For me this means reading a daily devotional and when I start to feel like I am slipping back down the river I close my eyes and ask God to rescue me.  He does!

Both types of fitness take a conscious effort. EVERY SINGLE DAY! From exercising your body to eating healthier to praying and spending time in the word. EVERY SINGLE DAY! I am NOT on a soapbox or screaming this from my ivory tower (that sucker burned down with my soapbox in it) I am merely stating that taking time out of every day to focus on fitness is important, do as I say not as I do!  :-)

Ok really fast:  I was training for a half marathon and would sometimes go to the gym and run the treadmill. I was on the one by the wall and there were several weight machines behind it. They were packed with hot guys (in my mind they keep getting hotter) and all the treadmills were being used. I was running next to the full-face make-up walker while reading a magazine chick. So I had hit a baby wall at about mile 5 or so and like I do while running outside I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep cleansing breath.  I knew I was keeping up with the the treadmill pace I had set. After that one short second I opened my eyes and oh shit I was drifting off the back and to the side (wall side) so I stepped off (like a drunk trying to do the one leg stand during a car stop) and lost any balance I had and slammed my right side in to the wall. BAM!
Little miss make-up walker magazine reader looks over at me with a look of disgust as I am jumping back on the treadmill, I smile sheepishly then run the rest of my run with my head down. As soon as that sucker hit 6 miles I shut if off and sprinted to the door!  I never used that treadmill again!

Happy fitnessing to you! (new word I just made up! You are welcome :-)  )