Worms and workouts. Memorial Day redux, again.

The day before the last day of school last week brought a terrible thunderstorm to Northeast Florida. The rain poured down in sheets and wind ripped through the trees like a buzz saw. But the next morning was clear and cool as the Tyrant and I walked to the bus stop for her last few hours as a fourth-grader. We had our eyes down because she likes to look for doodlebugs. Or roly polys, or the latin word armadillidiidae, whatever you callRead more

HARDEN UP, PEOPLE. A CrossFit update.

I haven’t talked about CrossFit lately because it’s so fucking hard  the bane of my existence very challenging, and when I’m away from it, I need to focus on other priorities, like feeding the children and Facebook. But I am still doing it, partly because I’m aiming to one day wear some trendy booty shorts, and partly because it keeps me strong.But now that I’m more than a half-century old, I’ve readjusted my approach. My goals include being strong and fit, but notRead more

A new CrossFit gym, fallen heroes, and working out for a reason

Did I mention we’ve joined a new CrossFit gym? It’s called the Black Hive, so now I’m a member of the Hive. #badassish Hot Firefighter Husband and I are the oldest people working out there by about a hundred years, which is sort of awesome because people look at us like DA-AMN, I hope I’m like that when I’m old. Which we are not. But you know how silly those young hipsters can be. Also, there’s some sort of unwritten rule at theRead more

Who am I again? Remind me.

See here. Let’s talk about me for a while. I’m not really myself around the holidays. For starters, the stress of all this expectation (did you read last week’s post?) renders me emotionally paralyzed. I don’t know what to buy people. I don’t know how much to spend. I browse online stores for hours looking for the perfect gifts for friends and families, and quit when I get a headache. Then I wake up the Saturday before Christmas and think,Read more

Living with a CAVEMAN! Eating like one, too.

The other day I did a KILLER workout involving about a thousand push-ups, 500 pull-ups, and enough box jumps that if I had been moving progressively upwards I could be on the moon right now. Those numbers are all vastly hyperbolic. But it was really fucking hard, and I threw up a tiny bit. Hot Firefighter Husband did the workout with me. We both felt pumped and exhilarated. We came home….I stripped my wet clothes off my glistening body…..flexed myRead more

Fat and bad weeks and YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?

I worry too much about being fat, which is a colossal waste of time because, you know, I’m not fat. This is an important lesson for people like me who believe that life will be SOOO much better on the other side of 10 pounds. Listen, chicka. It won’t. The dog will still poop on the clean floor, the boy will still balk at bathing his rank dank self, and white wine will continue to inflict stabby headaches upon consumption.Read more

In which I succumb to the lures of the (anti)aging process

My trainer Son of Sam is out of town on a much-needed vacation. I knew it was much-needed because last week he made me do 1-minute sets of 180-degree squat jumps followed by double suicide sprints across the gym. I only threw up a little bit. “Take your time,” he said. But not on the sprints. So he’s gone this week, and next week I’m ON A CARIBBEAN CRUISE  in case you forgot, which means two weeks without the manRead more

YO! My boxing curve goes up again.

My trainer Son of Sam has begun teaching me fancy boxing footwork. He may have secretly entered me into some sort of fighting tournament for aging suburban moms. I’ll do it, but I am NOT going to do that whole drop-weight thing involving laxatives and sweating. Ew. Also, I’ll be so bummed if my nose gets broken. It’s a surprise to everyone that I’m good at boxing, including me. But there you have it. Some guy walked up to meRead more

In which I pole dance. Seriously. Me.

As a young woman, I always had the notion that if all else failed, I could become a stripper to make ends meet. And people were very encouraging during that one episode on a pool table in Greenville, Mississippi, which did not involve full disclosure, if you know what I mean. But Friday night I went to a pole dancing party, and now I’m extremely grateful that all else did not fail. Because me? Dancing around a pole? It wasRead more

Me and Roy Rogers and Trigger and life.

When I was a child, I wanted to be a cowgirl. I really wanted to be like Roy Rogers, and I watched his show every day. I DID NOT want to be like Dale Evans. I dreamed of having a horse like Trigger and a dog like Bullet. Dale Evans’ horse’s name was Buttermilk. Blah. Do you remember the Roy Rogers Roast Beef chain? There was one not far from our house, and one year Roy Rogers made an appearance.Read more