Monday, June 28, 2010


September 24, 2011. Mountain Grand View - Whitefield, New Hampshire.

I'm going to be a Mrs.

Let the planning begin!

Happy Monday!

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Under Where?

Being that Simon is my very first dog - I'm learning that just like my cats, Simon has his own little weirdo quirks.

For example - my laundry room is directly off of my kitchen. I leave the door open because the laundry room houses Ebenezer's favorite window. It's the window that overlooks our bird feeder, so this is where he chooses to spend a good chunk of his time. It also has a tile floor that stays cool year round. Newfoundlands don't do so great with the heat, so Simon likes to lay on cold surfaces. Since my two boys like to hang out in there, I always leave the door open.

The laundry room also houses my laundry basket that houses our dirty clothes. Including.....underpants.

Simon has a strange fascination with my underpants. He will nose through the laundry basket pull out a pair and drag them into the kitchen. He will then go back to the hamper, and get another pair, and put them in a different spot in the kitchen. Essentially he ends up surrounded by my underwear as he usually arranges them in a big circle around him and hangs out in the middle. He doesn't chew on them or eat them. He just kind of hangs out with them. It's a very strange site to come home and find my nickers strewn all over the kitchen -as if an underwear bandit tornadoe-d through without taking the underwear with him.

I'm sure his obsession with my delicates has something to do with my scent being strongest on that particular article of clothing and that's why he chooses them over say a pair of jeans or a t-shirt. I try to look past the gross factor of him putting my dirty underwear in his mouth and dragging them all over my kitchen floor. I try to convince myself that he loves me so much, he yearns to surround himself with my scent when I'm not around.

I'm working on the I'm still leaning towards the gross factor.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Jumping In

Last week while perusing through the June 2010 issue of Redbook I found an excerpt from a book called "My Fair Lazy," by Jen Lancaster.

It read as follows:

"If we can't...stop the aging process, then we're obligated to make the most of what we have, and the best way to do that is to expand the depth of our experiences. Do we want to spend the next 30 years waiting to see who wins America's Next Top Model Cycle 45, or do we want to fill our lives with a million new experiences, even if sometimes they're unpredictable or scary or take effort?"

I admit to being an offender - As of late, I only do or try things that exist inside my comfort zone.

Over the weekend, Brian and I made a trip to his parent's pool. As a kid, if I had the opportunity to swim in a pool, I was swimming and jumping off the diving board. I would create a unique move each time I jumped in. Cannonball. Cannonball with a twist. Backwards Jump. Upside down jump. No two jumps were the same. I would do this over and over and over again. For hours. Even if it was raining. Even if it was freezing. I would swim until my mom would drag me from the pool shivering and with purple lips. Usually I was dragged out kicking and screaming, not caring that a thunderstorm was overhead. I would want to swim through it.

Now, as an adult, I'm lucky if I dunk a toe in the water. I am guilty of the old lady pat down - a little cold water on the chest, pat pat on the tummy and a wipe down of the arms, and I'm back on the chair.

This weekend was different. The weather was hot, but the water was cold. I walked over to the diving board.

Brian asked, "where are you going?"

"To the diving board," I replied.

"You are?"

I then told him about the excerpt I read and how instead of being such a 'fraidy cat baby, I should jump in and enjoy the water because life is short and what is better than jumping into a sparkling pool of cold water on a hot summer day?

He rolled his eyes and shook his head as if to say, "another one of your cockamamie ideas."

I stood at the edge of the diving board with my toes hanging from the edge. I looked down and tried to think of the last time I actually jumped into a pool instead of floating in from the stairs. I couldn't remember when that was. I bent my knees, and jack knifed into the cold water.

Other than the bikini bottom water wedgie, and letting go of my fear of the freezing cold water - it was pretty darn awesome.

When was the last time you jumped in?

Monday, June 14, 2010

Taking a Break

No blogging this week.

Got a lot going on.

Not to mention I'm just not in the mood.

Be back next week.

Peace out.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Rude & Sucky

I usually arrive 10 to 15 minutes early for my 6pm Monday night Spin class.

I show up early in case I have a student that has never taken this type of class. I make sure to review bike setup and proper positioning. I let them know that my class is an advanced class and that it's OK if they can't keep up. I tell them that they shouldn't push themselves and that proper form is most important and to just pedal at their own pace when they find it's too much for them to handle. I am friendly. I am encouraging. I am nice.

I begin promptly at 6. I end promptly at 7. I firmly believe in the prompt beginning and ending of class because many of my students have to fly home to care for children, make dinner, grade papers, etc. The other reason for my "promptness" is that I only get paid for 1 hour. That's it. No more, no less. I'm already showing up for 10-15 minutes at the beginning of class that I don't get paid for. I sometimes stay past 7 socializing with my students, or answering questions. I am perfectly fine with that.

I had a student pull something on Monday night that I was NOT perfectly fine with.

When class begins, I start off with a 5 minute warm-up. This includes stretching and working all positions on the bike to get everyone moving and well, warmed up. By 6:10 we are all done with warming up, and we are full force into the meat & potatoes of the class.

Monday night, at 6:15 pm during a Beyonce remix, a woman waltzes (and I'm not exaggerating when I say waltz) into the room while I'm leading the class through jumping drills. I do not wear a microphone, so I am literally mid-yell. "5-6-7-UP! 5-6-7-SIT!"

So this woman walks in, towel in one hand - drink in the other, and says, "Where do I go? This is my first time."

I am mid-instruction with 12 pairs of eyes staring at me, their movements waiting on my command. I look away away from the 12 pairs of eyes to this woman standing next to me and tell her, "pick a bike." An easy task since there are only two left in the class. She walks over to a bike directly to my left, and I resume my yelling.

She then points to the bike and says, "this one?" I shrug my shoulders, shoot her an annoyed look and say, "Sure."

I ONCE AGAIN resume teaching the class to students that showed up on time. As I'm teaching, I begin an internal dialogue with myself. I'm wondering what she means by "first time." First time in my class, or first time EVER? I wonder if I should stop teaching and go over to her to see if she needs help. I wonder if I should ask her if she has ever taken a spin class before. I wonder if I should keep an eye on her in order to make sure she isn't doing anything incorrectly for fear she might injure herself.

I then remember that I show up early SPECIFICALLY to ask these type of questions and to cater to these type of students. I myself would not show up 15 minutes into a yoga or a pilates class- two classes that I KNOW nothing about - and expect the instructor to pay any attention to me. If it were MY first time, I would show up early to ask questions.

So now I'm mad. Really mad. I decide to ignore her. I decided that she was disrespectful enough to show up late and disrupt class so I was allowed to be disrespectful right back.

But wait - it gets better.

At the end of class, while everyone is walking out the door and telling me, "great class see you next week," Little Miss Disruptor comes up to me and says, "Can you show me how to use the machine, I've never done this before."

I wanted to slap her. First off, it's not a machine, it's a bike. Second, she was expecting me to show her NOW, but her tone suggested that she had expected me to help her when she walked in. She didn't even apologize for walking in late. So I smiled, and spatted out my best fake "SUUUURRREE." As I was explaining how everything worked, I also let her know that I show up early to class to go over these sorts of things, and that the best time for her to come NEXT week would be 10 to 15 minutes early. I figured she'd get my hint that not only did she show up late, but she was now rudely taking up my time after the class had ended.

I then move on to answer a question from one of my regulars who patiently waited while I showed this be-otch how to set up her bike. As I'm speaking to my regular student, Little Miss Disruptor interrupts to ask, "SOOOOO what is this like good for? Like, what does it work?"

Seriously? F-ing Seriously???????

I stop mid-sentence turn to her and state, "I'll be with you in a minute." And she waits, and stares at me, and waits some more......I'm finally done with my regular student and turn to answer her question. This woman kept me there until 7:20 pm with questions like, "Does it work your legs? Does it work your abs? Will I lose weight? How many calories do you burn? When are the other classes? What are they like? How about your upper body?"

Good God.

How is it that some people have ZERO clue that they are rude and sucky???

Did I handle this situation correctly by catering to my other 12 students instead of stopping to cater to her?

Monday, June 7, 2010

Little Big Man

My (not so) little Simon was born December 7, 2009. He weighed 18lbs when we brought him home.

At 6 months old today - he is now 65lbs

Owning my very first dog has been both a challenge and a joy. It was very difficult when we first brought him home as I was never sure of what he needed or what he wanted. Is he hungry? Does he have to go out? Why is he barking? Why is he not barking? Why won't he sleep? What is his fascination with biting my feet?

Brian would constantly reassure me that it gets better, and more importantly, it gets easier. These comforting words usually came as Simon was latched onto the bottom of my bath robe, yanking and pulling and tearing at the delicate fabric.

When does the easy part come?

I would say "easier" came around the beginning of May. Simon had graduated from puppy kindergarten with a set of basic commands. It's amazing how these commands make owning a dog 100 times easier. The best, most useful command he learned is "trade." Trading has been a life saver. No matter what he is doing (running at the cats full speed), or what he has in his mouth (oh, no, no, not Mommy's work heels) if you shout out TRADE, he will stop in his tracks or drop what he has in his mouth and come to you for a treat.

Best. Command. Ever.

I discovered that he understood this command when one day he had Ebenezer pinned in a corner. I knew he wouldn't respond to "SIMON" or "NO." I watched as he raised his heavy furry paw and was about to slam it down on poor little Ebenezer's whiskered face.

"TRRRRRRRRRRRRADE," I shouted. He whipped his body around, trotted over to where I was standing and plopped at my feet. He looked up at me as if to say, "this is the part where I get a treat."

"Holy Sh*t," I thought to myself, "he understands English."

Wednesday, June 2, 2010


Summer wedding number #1 is this Saturday. I was originally planning on purchasing this shnazzy little number:

At $360 bucks - I just couldn't justify it.

Yesterday - nothing like the last minute - I went on a hunt for a great looking dress at a reasonable price.

I scored this:

With a coupon, I walked away paying only....$138!

I'm thinking the money I saved should go towards a new pair of fabulous red shoes. Zappos here I come!