Driving Miss Lindy

If my grandfather Poppy had a temper, I never saw it. He was friendly and funny. He would bring out his guitar and make up songs on the spot, and he loved to tell stories. Poppy would spend long amounts of time on the phone, talking to people. My Granny would ask after he hung up who was on the other end, and many times he would say it was just a wrong number or a salesman. However, he had taken it upon himself to invite them out for Sunday dinner, whoever they were.

Making crazy eyes for his granddaughter’s picture

Since both of my parents worked, Poppy would often have to drive me places. While we were out on the road one day, he was driving me absolutely nuts. Because I, unlike my Poppy, have always had a temper. I was a moody teenager, and was ten shades of hot that he was driving so slowly. Of course I would never say such a thing out loud. Not only was I a quiet child anyway, but we were taught to be respectful.

All of a sudden, because he was concentrating on something else, most likely singing a song to me, he started to speed up. I was pretty happy about this development. He got up to about 75mph or so, then realized what was happening and hit the brakes. My head almost exploded in anger. He then said something that has never left me.

“When you start drivin’, you cain’t drive fer yourself. You hafta drive fer the other feller.”

I instantly felt enormous guilt that I was so angry at my grandpa. That was him in a nutshell. Everything he did was for the other feller.

What is wrong with me?!?

As I said, I have always had a temper. I lose it often. I throw things, I swear, I stomp my feet, I wail and cry. I was on my way to work this morning, a string of bad things flowing out of my mouth while I was following one of those ten mile-an-hour UNDER the speed limit people. Suddenly, Poppy’s words came floating by.

How much of what I do is for the other feller? As I get older, this becomes more and more important to me, even if I do lose it occasionally on the road. We spend much of our time looking to enrich ourselves; get more stuff, get a promotion, make more money. It is easy to get caught up in that web of consumerism in our culture today. We think it is not up to us to take care of other people.

“They should get a job and take care of their own damn selves.”

I read one of those internet memes about how in today’s society, everyone wants a handout. “It wasn’t like that in the old days. We fended for ourselves!!” I remember the stories of my grandparents and of the Great Depression. In their recollection, there were many times that their neighbors had nothing. That their own families had nothing. But what they did have, they shared. Because taking care of others is what we are here for.


What are the obstacles you’ve had to overcome in your life? For me, I can tell you that my life was pretty much a cakewalk. I grew up with a big family, everyone loved each other and supported each other. And even though we were not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, we always had food to eat and a roof over our heads.

Some of those people out there that are being told to “get a job” have never had any of that. No love, no support. No stable home. Missed meals. No education. Violence. Go back and think through your life again and take all the good stuff away. Now add in some pretty crappy stuff. Will you overcome and find success? Or will you not even know what success means because you’ve never seen it?

I may sound like an apologist right now, but this post was only to clear my mind and maybe clear some others. Don’t make assumptions about someone’s worth until you’ve put yourself in their shoes.

You hafta drive for the other feller.



Fyi, obviously I haven’t posted in a good long while.  But once I get something trapped upstairs, I have to get it out!!  More to come on my soon-to-be revamped piece of the interwebs.



When did gyms become so anti-grunty? Everywhere you look, there are advertisements for gyms where the gym-goers are promised whole-heartedly that they will NOT be subjected to grunting during their workout. Any grunters out there will be hastily shown to the door in order not to offend the sensibilities of the non-grunters. Maybe it is my limited experience in gym settings, as I’ve only been going for about three years now, but never once have I come across a person grunting for attention.

Not grunting for attention. Saving the world.
Truth time. I am a grunter. I didn’t used to be a grunter. But that’s because I didn’t really work out all that hard. I climbed on the treadmill and walked vigorously while reading a book, and then moved some 2lb weights around while I did some video, but hardly ever needed to shower after. If that doesn’t tell you something, I don’t know what could! Now, I grunt. I grunt because I’m trying to pick up something heavier than I did last time. Or do just ten more reps in my ab workout (thanks Derek Weida! Your ab workout is killah!).


Derek Weida is the man. Follow him immediately.
I remember talking to my now ex-therapist, and she offered her opinion about people who were “lifting more weight than anyone needed to” and drove her crazy with their grunting noises. Is it her place, or anyone else’s, to decide how much weight another person should pick up? That person in the gym might be dragging your ass out of a burning house one day, and I kinda want them to be able to pick me up and pick me up damn quick.


I hope he doesn’t grunt too loud!!
Please. Every gym goer out there, love your fellow gym rats. Love us even though we grunt. Love us if we don’t grunt. Love us if we are wearing makeup. (Some of us came straight from work, you know.) Love us in sweats and a t-shirt, or if you are a human furnace like me, a pair of tiny booty shorts and a tank. Just be supportive of other people in general in the gym. You might be the reason they come back the next day. Or don’t.



Belly Talk

What should I talk about today? The fact that a coworker thought I was pregnant? Umm, yes. Let’s. So, first of all, it’s completely understandable that she would think I was pregnant, and I am not cross with her. The holidays were not good to me. Unless you consider gifting me with 10 or so extra pounds good. Then they were super awesome. I say 10 or so, because I really have no idea. I barely ever weigh myself. I don’t particularly care about my weight. I care about how my clothes fit. I care about getting stronger. I care about getting faster.

That being said, let’s go back to the clothes fitting part. They are still fitting, but back a few weeks ago, I noticed that they were starting to get on the tight side. One particularly sad moment happened when I put on a favorite shirt and immediately said to myself, “Nope! Not happening today” and peeled it back off. So this month, I’ve really started to get myself on a schedule again, and my workouts are picking up. And, I am pleased to state that I wore the shirt yesterday. So I am seeing progress, but I am still not pleased with the dreaded belly pooch. Ah well, what are you going to do? I PR’d on a workout I did last night. That’s what I care about. I was four minutes faster and went 10 pounds heavier than I did the previous time I completed it. So there, belly pooch.   


Actual food belly. Peanut butter pie a couple years ago.
Now let me circle back around to non-pregnancy. If you’ve read my previous posts, you’ll know that I am unable to have children. So these kind of comments are always a kind of punch to my overly extended belly pooch. I’ve been seeing a lot of posts on Facebook lately with a very good observation. And that is for every one of you women out there that are complaining about your stretch marks, or complaining about how tired you are with your newborn, or about how much it costs to add a baby to your insurance, there is a woman out there that would give anything to have those marks, to be that tired. To pay any amount of money they could if it meant having a baby. So before you look at a person, and feel jealous or petty about their life as YOU see it, consider what you have and be grateful for it instead. Getting down off the soapbox now… 
Thoughts for the lunch hour:

1. Cut back on my delicious wine, I guess. That’ll help on the workouts anyway.

2. Mmmm. Wine.

3. What was I saying?

4. Care about being healthy, not necessarily about looks.

5. Don’t ask women if they’re pregnant. If they are, they’ll let you know.

Happy Wednesday!


Toasty on the fish burner for her.  Or, reasons I should not handwrite blog entries.

When I don’t have access to a computer, and a thought strikes me for the blog, I’ll grab a pen and paper and do it the old fashioned way. My writing, however, is practically illegible. Part of that is intentional. I never want anyone to see what I’m writing until it is in its final form. So even if someone happens to be peeking over my shoulder, all they’ll get is a big heaping helping of WTF. I always have harbored a fantasy where my death is merely seconds away, and I am dragging myself and all of my scribblings over to the fireplace to destroy it all right before I expire. Dramatic much? Most of the time, I am able to decipher my ink mess. But sometimes, it even takes me a few viewings to figure it out. Here are some double takes from today for your viewing pleasure:

Toasty on the fish burner for her. What is a fish burner, and what am I toasting on it? When you google “toasty on the fish burner for her” this is what you get:


Mmmm, toasty fish
Wife a couple of lifters I have bitten. What a saucy minx am I! Polygamy AND love bites!!

Cuisine with a great mag rear. Is this about an aftertaste? 

Deviously I was cauterizing. Hmmm. It appears I’ve progressed from polygamy to something more ominous… 

Nailing Womaros bar fallout. Whatever is happening here, it sounds like a good time! 

Hear contrived sorceress. Speak up, witch woman! We obviously can’t hear you.   
Just a little bit of lunchtime rambling for my blogging peeps. Happy Tuesday! 

Starting Over, Part Deux. Trois? Quatre?

I saw a little meme thing on Facebook about how every person passes at least 20 things a day to write about. I can imagine that is probably true. I think about things all the time that I want to write about except that I’m driving and can’t make a note to do so. My brain has become a sieve that ideas just fall right out of if there’s not something to catch them underneath.

I made a commitment to write at least 30 minutes a day, but as usual my time estimates weren’t fantastic, so today might only be 10. But it’s 10. I quit writing back in December because I was suffering some serious writer’s block. One day went by, then two. I started to get nervous because I felt I was hitting a comfortable groove with my posts and I knew it was slipping away from me. So of course, that made it 10 times worse. I would write a sentence or two, and then…pooft! Nothing. Three days, four days. 

I decided at that point that I would wait. Christmas was coming, and at work we had a major to-do happening after the first of the year. So I made the decision to not freak out, and just step back and wait. Here I am a month and a half later, and I survived. I didn’t write a thing. I think I needed a recharge session, but it is time to start again, because the only thing to break through writer’s block is to start writing.   

The thing is, I started questioning where this blog was going.  My whole overarching theme for the blog kinda got torpedoed.  I was starting over as a single in a couple world, and figuring my way through it.  Now, I am fully immersed back in couple land, which is great, but where does that leave this?  Does my blog now function as a diary?  Do I try to re-theme myself?  Am I a fitness blog?  Am I a lifestyle/keeping your zen blog?  AAAGH!  Too much pressure!!  I can’t decide.  I guess for now, it is what it is.  I am eating out of the Cheeto bag of life, and sharing my cheezy goodness with you.  Orange fingers and all. 

Maxie smooches!!

Drowning in the Keys

It’s Friday!  Woot woot!!  Just a quick rant for you this evening as I’m about to pass out from exhaustion.


Have any of you ever put together a photo book?  I’ve been meaning to make a photo book of my vacation in the Florida Keys last year since I’m too lazy to go print off a thousand pictures and then spend the time sticking them into a thousand pockets of a photo album.  Anyway, a certain well known website which peddles such things had a sale ending today, and I also had an additional $20 off coupon for the site.  The race was on!!

Here I am five hours later:  sore, cranky, and exhausted.  Well known website worked for crap!!  It was taking over a minute to upload EACH pic.  Since I had over 300 pictures, I was about to go ballistic.  Not to mention that as I was trying to upload them to the site, they kept duplicating on my drive.  WHY DO THEY DO THAT????

I gave up on that catastrophe after well known site decided to mysteriously add an additional 61 pages to my book, and decided to try my luck at a big box retailer site.  Much better luck there with the uploads.  That didn’t take too long.  However, it still took FOREVER to get all the damn pics in the book.  But now it is done.

There are a few more photo books and pictures that I would like to get developed, but I think I might need to wait another year or two to recover from this one…

Take me back to Key Largo

Have any of you ever started something you thought would be easy and end up pulling all your hair out and yelling repeatedly at your dogs?  Or is it just me?