I Swept the Deck

I swept the leaves off the deck; mulched them and put them in a bin to be hauled off. So proud and I didn't have to hire a professional.


Let me go back to a conversation between Hubby and me a few days ago…


Hubby - There are bunches of leaves on the deck. It's a real mess.


Me - Yeah, I haven't had time or available bins to put the leaves in. I concentrated on the front yard so the Christmas decorations would look better without a bunch of leaves all over the yard.


Hubby - Well we need to hire a professional to get the leaves off the deck.


Me - A professional?


Hubby - Yes, a professional. It's such a mess there has to be a professional who can get the leaves off the deck. I just don't see another way.


Me - A professional… Today, could you take a broom and sweep the leaves off the deck?


Hubby - No, they need to be gotten up. I don't know. They need to be gone somehow.


Me - Like with the vacuum mulcher that I use in the front yard?


Hubby - Maybe. But they need to go away. We need a professional.


Me - If you sweep the leaves off the deck, I can mulch and bag them. The city will pick them up on Tuesday. They come every week.


Hubby - No, no. We need a professional. This is too big a job for us.


Today…


It took less than 5 minutes to sweep and about 10 minutes to mulch the leaves. I guess that makes me a professional. Wonder how much I can charge…

Food Prep

Have you ever been doing weekly food prep and realized you were short two entrees?


Have you rushed to the freezer in hopes of finding one thing, anything that would fill two more plates?


After scrounging through the freezer, stumble across something hidden in the back? Not just hidden, forgotten. So forgotten that one must chip away the frost to free the container from the shelf?


Have you ever hoped against hope that somehow this contains something still edible? What could this be? Chili or beef stew? When opened, it looked somewhat like Alpo.


“Maybe it's ok” you think as you thaw it in the microwave. But when thawed, it doesn't smell like stew but more like something fresh from one’s colon.


“What's that? You never did that?”


“Oh! Ah… me neither.”

Weary Mnd

When I lay me down to sleep;
It's to the gym my thoughts do creep.
With grunts and groans, my muscles ache;
My stomach growls; I want a steak!

I toss. I turn. I can not sleep.
I think, "Might try to count some sheep."
One Sheep; Two Sheep; There's a lamb.
My stomach growls, I want a ham!

Barbell, Dumbbell, Kettlebell and more!
They haunt my mind. This is a chore!
One more set. One more rep.
Bigger; Badder; I want a bicep!

Get up and try a pushup or two.
I swear an oath; "trainer, I will sue!"
Low these many sleepless nights I find;
No rest for my subconscious mind.

Training

The other day, a friend asked what body parts I was going to exercise in the gym.

I corrected him. I said I was going to Train my chest.

He asked if that wasn't simply the same as exercising my chest and I said "no."

To me, exercise is what an old lady does in front of the tv to a Jane Fonda video in hopes of working off a piece of cheesecake.

Training, however, involves commitment and a plan. I train. I meticulously track every set and chart progress. I look to see where I'm improving and where I'm lacking.

Training holds the expectation of improvement; a much higher expectation than mere exercise.

I accept that I may ache for days after, but still go in the next day to make another part of my body better.

Training means sacrificing time, sacrificing money for high quality food, staying hungry to cut to last few pounds of fat off the midsection.

Training is a lifestyle.

September 10

September 10 was my mother's birthday and I've been thinking about her a lot 
lately. 

 When I was about 13, she told me she was leaving my father. Their relationship 
had been rocky for years and it was obvious that she was unhappy. 

But there were signs much earlier...

When I was 7, she "ran away from home;" with me in tow. She went to Carolina 
Beach, rented a cottage, and we stayed there for a few days. 

I remember clearly eating hamburgers and instant mashed potatoes while she cried 
a lot and didn't talk. 

 Even at my young age, I think I saw the end of my parents relationship. I 
wondered if I'd live with my mother or my father. I didn't know which would be 
worse. 

 But they got back together after a few days. She used a pay phone to call my 
father. From the car, I watched the tears and her mouth form words that I 
couldn't hear. 

 The next morning, my father showed up and drove us home; my older brother 
driving my father's car. 

 But they didn't divorce when I was 13. Soon after the talk, the doctors found a 
tumor for which she had surgery. 

My father stayed by her bedside and waited on 
her diligently while she recovered. 

 Soon after, he went for a routine physical and the doctor found what he thought 
might be cancer. He went into cancer treatment, which kept him alive for years.

 My mother couldn't leave him after a cancer diagnosis. She was very concerned with how things looked 
and she couldn't leave a dying man no matter how much she despised him. 

 I know this sounds calloused and I shouldn't paint such an ugly picture the day 
before the anniversary of my mother's birth. 

 But I've been thinking about her...