Workout post ad naseum

500 swings - umm, not sure f the exact breakdown, sets of about 150 reps? Some singles, a lot of 10 per arm before transfer. In between sets, would do squat thrusts (20), squats (10), and lunges (10 - lunges and squats with 8kg cleaned on each shoulder).

Tired now, stressed. Taking Trixie to be put to sleep in an hour. Not a fun day, but what can you do?

workout post

300 kb reps - no gymboss or timed sets - 155 swings, mixing up single trans and 5 per arm w/ 8kg, then the rest single trans and then 50 of 5 per arm with a c&p before transfer.

Bike ride up to get Addie with the tag along attachment, and pulling her 40 pounds of dead weight home "I'm too tired to pedal, mommy" - and now, I am beat!

Eating vegetable korma and chicken leftovers (homemade, not bad.) no rice. Eating has been vastly better. Late night eating is better, though I'm making pies today - got company coming for dessert, and I plan on ALL leftovers leaving the house!

Where I say 'why yes, I AM out of shape'

Workout day. Oy.

200 continuous swings - 100 single trans, 100 5 per arm with 8kg. 

20 medicine ball slams

10 squat thrusts

AND scene!

Ow. I have a lot of work to do! It didn't help that I am having tummy issues today. But no excuses. As quick as I lose muscle, I always gain it back in an equally timely fashion.

Bryan and I are in the thinking/dreaming/talking stages about moving overseas. After... the end of this crap. Not to be morbid. It's nice to dream about the future, about a life vastly different than what I have now. Nothing concrete, or even close. Just daydreams, for now.

Where I really try to write more than a few sentences

It's been a rough few months. I'm so relieved the holidays are over, and so far 2009 sucks balls.

The news from Dr. Kelly was not good, as you may have surmised. His off chemo and onto more radiation. You can read the cancer blog for the details.

I've been struggling with a myriad of issues. It's not just about Dad being sick: it's all the shit that goes with it. Your entire life, from the top on down, is affected. Nothing stays the same. People you thought were your friends, as it turns out, aren't. But then you find friendship and support in the most unlikeliest of places. I've spent months being really angry about it, feeling abandoned and ignored, and only recently have I begun to understand it. 

Life isn't perfect. Fifty years ago, our grandparents understood that. Past generations knew. People were used to struggle and hardship, they didn't expect life to be smooth sailing. There were horrible wars to be fought, there were epidemics of influenza, polio, measles, mumps - diseases we don't worry about that back then would wipe out tens of thousands of children. There was starvation, there was the dust bowl. Life was hard, and you tried to take joy in the little things in life. 

We've come a long way from that era. We are in a world of total excess. We are the society of 'gimmee', of instant gratification. Twenty four hour news desensitizes us from the horrors in the rest of the world, though most people don't pay attention to the news, as it's 'too depressing'. We shop at Costco and buy our chicken nuggets in bulk, we buy more food than we could possibly eat, and live our lives like the glossy cover of a magazine, never wanting to delve  below the surface. We envy, we covet, we buy into the bullshit. We believe our lives are supposed to be perfect. I admit it: I moved to suburbia and I bought into the lie. I believed that I had to fit in - and fitting in means having more. It means masking reality. It means: no tragedy.

When something bad happens, you can see some people recoil. It's palpable, visible on their faces. It's like the lions picking out the weakest member of a herd - they sense the weakness. Some people don't know what to say. They know that they should say something - but you can tell that when they ask 'how are things?' - they really just want the stock answer. And it's those times I have to struggle to not be rude and say 'really? Don't bother.' - because I feel sorry for them, I do. I'm sad that they're so disconnected from other people that they are completely unprepared for dealing with any raw emotion. 

Then there are those that just don't want to be around it, period. People that are so focused on presenting the perfect, idyllic, strife-free life that they are woefully unable to deal with sadness. They think that illness and death is somehow contagious, like an airborne virus they'll catch just from being in the same room with me. It will infiltrate into their painted on perfect life, and eat away at the facade until they, too, can see they it's all a lie.

Am I judging? Yes. And I do it unashamed and unabashed. Because here's how I deal with tragedy and loss: when my neighbor was sick and dying of breast cancer, I went to see her at he hospital, several times. It was difficult, and I dreaded doing it, but I kept thinking: if the roles were reversed, and it was me dying, what would I want Buffy to do? I would want her to suck it up and come see me. 

I'd never been around someone who was dying before. You could feel it in the air. It was oppressive, dark. Death was crouched in the corner, waiting. The last thing I said to her, I whispered in her ear I would keep an eye on her kids, I'd look out for them. Because if it was me? I would've wanted to hear that. This is where I differ with the vast majority of the rest of suburbia. I am able to put myself there. I am over actively empathetic. I always think 'that could be me.' Easily. Where do I get off thinking that nothing bad will happen to me or my family? The hardest part for me is faith. I struggle to hold onto my faith. I pray for guidance. I don't pray for miracles. God doesn't strike bargains. I believe He has a plan, but sometimes I think His plan sucks. I try to make the best with the hand I'm dealt. I try to make each day good, even if it's in the smallest, most imperceptible way. And I try to have compassion and empathy for everyone, as best I can. Because I always ask myself: if it was me, how would I want to be treated?

Where I begin the End

looking down on empty streets, all she can see
are the dreams all made solid
are the dreams all made real

all of the buildings, all of those cars
were once just a dream
in somebody's head

she pictures the broken glass, she pictures the steam
she pictures a soul
with no leak at the seam

lets take the boat out
wait until darkness
let's take the boat out
wait until darkness comes

nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey
nowhere in the suburbs
in the cold light of day

there in the midst of it so alive and alone
words support like bone

dreaming of mercy st.
wear your inside out
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy('s arms again
dreaming of mercy st.
'swear they moved that sign
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms

pulling out the papers from the drawers that slide smooth
tugging at the darkness, word upon word

confessing all the secret things in the warm velvet box
to the priest-he's the doctor
he can handle the shocks

dreaming of the tenderness-the tremble in the hips
of kissing Mary's lips

dreaming of mercy st.
wear your insides out
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms again
dreaming of mercy st.
'swear they moved that sign
looking for mercy
in your daddy's arms

mercy, mercy, looking for mercy
mercy, mercy, looking for mercy

Anne, with her father is out in the boat
riding the water
riding the waves on the sea

No real blogging until after the holidays

But I'll leave you with a daily dose of kitten cuteness to tide you over. This is little Moses, our Ragdoll kitten. Santa's elves brought him early! He's already got a long list of micknames: Mo, Momo, Mosey, Mose, Mojito, Mohinder (anybody watch Heroes?), and Mozambique. Notice the big ass band aid on my wrist? No, I didn't try to kill myself, he has claws like f-ing Wolverine!

Happy Holidays, internets!

Where I am reminded why I train in the basement and that I have really low ceilings

500 reps today - 200 swings with the 8kg (10 per arm before transfer) and then another 200, but broken down like this: 40 with both 8kgs, 5 swings, then double C&P. Yeah, 40 was all I could do. Wow, that was a little intense. Switched to the single 8kg, did 5 per arm, with a C&P before transferring. Then the last 100 of that set, I did snatch, neg. press, press, transfer after each 5th swing. Make sense? Then 100 swings with the 12kg. 

Oh, and I dropped a KB for the first time in ages. There is s big dent in the floor. Oops. Also, tried to do some burpees, and umm, yeah, hit my hands on the ceiling. That's going to have to be an outdoor activity. And since it's 12 degrees out, that means SPRING!

M'kay, cookies to bake (and not eat!). I'm off.